Trials by Fire Act I

[Fletcher]

"Master?" Carbuncle called up to its master who was sitting up at the table while the fox sat on the floor. The dwarf quirked a brow and looked down, mid-mouthful of sandwich over lunch. The fox scratched the spot behind its ears that was causing it irritation before continuing. "What is, cheese?" This had been the way for a while since Carbuncle had clued in on Fletcher being able to somoewhat communicate back to the oddspeak of the non-vocal follower spirits. While it was great at first, Carbuncle had found that it didn't seem to know much about how adventurers or anything beyond followers operated. This of course had led to some innane questions such as the present one about cheese.

Fletcher swallowed what was in his mouth and bent over to pick Carbuncle up, setting it down onto the table before him. The dwarf at times had found some questions a bother to answer, or very hard to explain. At least explaining what cheese was was simple given the contents of his sandwich. In a quiet voice Fletcher spoke to the fox in its own tongue, making sure not to be audible over a whisper to avoid the odd looks of people hearing him speak not in the common tongue. "Cheese." The pulled a bit off from the bigger chunk from his sandwich and held it in his open palm for the Carbuncle.

"Cheese." Carbuncle looked at it, giving it a thorough smell before deciding to lean in closer to investigate. It was an odd thing, yellow and smooth, although the fragrence coming off it was hearty and strong. Carbuncle thought back to how Fletcher had just pulled it off the bigger piece and concluded that that too was cheese, even when it quite literally crumbled away from it's place on the bigger chunk. "Eat?" Fletcher nodded and shook his hand to emphasise the fact, watching as Carbuncle delicately lifted out the piece of cheese with its mouth before sitting back, chewing.

The dwarf looked around at who was currently in the tavern. It was quiet for the time of night, although it was still early. He was waiting for Warren to close up shop for the day so he could buy him a drink for helping him out with a task earlier in the day. Apparently there was something else that Warren needed to talk to him about due to a hastily scrawled note left attached to the door of the shop when he had stopped by before. Carbuncle had finished the cheese and was now also looking about the tavern and spotted one of the regular bards walking in for an early dinner. "Master! Master! Music Man!"

Carbuncle was visibly excited and was pawing the spot in front of it with its front two paws. There were times that Fletcher forgot that Carbuncle was an incarnation of the Light element with how much it acted like a child and sometimes just like he imagined a wild fox would based on old internet videos he watched back when he was younger. The excitement was a nice change though, as he'd seen very few younger adventurers, and all the young Landers were out working in farms and generally kept away from any adventurer activity. Either way, Carbuncle was enough 'young' to cover both of them, and at times tried Fletcher's patience when they weren't in battle. When it came down to brass tacks the Carbuncle performed well and truely above expectation, in every other time it relished its freedom. "Yes," Fletcher chittered in oddspeak. "Now simmer down, he's early and probably wants to rest before getting into the swing of things."

Carbuncle's ears drooped and it was clear that it was disappointed. It's not as if it wouldn't get to hear music at some point soon anyway, a lot of that hinged on when Warren rocked up. Speaking of, a very out of breath and raggidly dressed dwarf rushed into the tavern, looked around, and then dashed over to Fletcher, dropping a parcel and a bunch of papers onto the table and causing the fox to jump. In any usual case, Warren would be already in a bickering argument with the fox at the top off his lungs about something the fox was doing; in this particular case it'd be about it jumping up on the table thinking it was people and so on. However no such remark came about and instead the dwarf started looking in the pile of papers for something. "Aha! This!" With one ungraceful motion, Warren slammed a piece of paper down onto the table before the older dwarf, looking at him enthusiastically.

"It's... a map?" Fletcher looked up at Warren confused, the enthusiasm on his face drying up when the summoner didn't get what was so exciting about this map. Carbuncle wandered cautiously closer, knowing how volatile Warren could be and confirmed that even in the eyes of a Follower, it was still just a map. Fletcher wasn't good with geography, but he could navigate. What this map was to however was a mystery. Presumably it was to somewhere within their reach, but again it was just one of those things were he just had to rely on the other dwarf to fill in the blanks. It could've been a map of literally anywhere; Londinium, Sarum, any region near Thule, you name it.

Warren rolled his eyes and sighed, frustrated. "This is the Sarum Frontier. It's my map, so you can't have it, but I dug it up to show you something." He rummaged in the pile again, discarding papers left and right until he settled on another seemingly random sheet before holding it out to Fletcher. "After you came back from Thule and told me that crazy story, I remembered a story that pops had told me when I was a tyke. Basically out on the frontier somewhere is a statue of a dragon that randomly sits out in the middle of nowhere, but that statue was placed where a summoner of great renown perfected one of the great summoning arts." Warren seemed impressed with himself, chuffed that he was schooling Fletcher is summoner lore.


Word Count: 1032

[Fletcher]

However, the older dwarf sat there unimpressed, bored, and was making no effort to show it. "Warren." Fletcher closed his eyes and spoke again in a tired tone, cracking his eyes open to check on Carbuncle before closing them again. "First off, I told you all I remembered about those pacts. Salamander seemed to have made that pact at the end of the journey on the Sarum Frontier. As far as I can tell, Salamander isn't even one of the more powerful Followers." Warren made to interject but Fletcher raised a stern hand, indicating that he was not done talking. He continued speaking in a matter of fact tone, the same way that a parent would a child after they were trying to perport to know better than the adult. "Secondly, while I appreciate the help, you aren't a Summoner. You haven't made a pact nor know where they live; if Salamander were out there, the frontier is the least likely given the climate. Thirdly, you're recalling nothing more than folklore. Chances are it's just a statue that someone built out of boredom as they were making their crossing. Forgive me for not being absolutely enamoured by the prospect by wandering around the frontier in hopes of a more than likely mundane statue."

Warren was shot down cold, left mouth agape, eyes flicking between the map and the other dwarf, lost for words. Carbuncle chirruped but stopped midway through, noticing the bard pulling out his harp and plucking the strings; the fox was clearly not going to be paying much more attention to the dwarves now that that was happening. "B-But! You don't know that! You've only been out onto the frontier a few times, you couldn't possibly know all its secrets!" Warren huffed folded his arms, frowning. "It's not as if you have anything better to do!" It was true; following the events of what had happened on Ultima Thule, Fletcher found himself a tad remiss about being significantly lower levelled than he was during that fight, not to mention his Followers were all back to how he remembered them. That wasn't a bad thing though, as the other ones had taken to calling him 'Lord Syllabus', leading the dwarf to conclude that they were a set of followers on loan from another time, place and belonging to another summoner.

"Look, that may be the case, but what vested interest do you have, anyway? I'm not at my fullest potential, so there's plenty of time." While the dwarves conversed, Carbuncle had taken it upon itself to get a front row seat to the bard's performance. A few other patrons who knew the bard were also getting a little closer, a few torn between sitting closer to the bard's table versus the big open area where performances were sometimes held. Carbuncle looked amongst the people gathering and saw no other of its kind nearby, it was highly possible that Fletcher was the only one in the establishment that was a summoner, not that the fox minded given that if it had something to say, Fletcher could respond. "Also, what's with all the papers, anyway? You've only used two out of a whole stack." Fletcher gestured to the large stack of paper that was spread out over the surface of the table, the only two pertinant sheets pertinant to the current conversation in Warren's hands.

"Oh, uh... A lot of this is to do with researching that train thing that Stella mentioned. Figured I'd look into what kind of parts they might need so she'd have an easier time sourcing them for the project." Warren's face said it all, and Fletcher could see as plain as day that this was spurred by the motivation to get Stella into the shop more often. As an Artisan that mostly dealt in trash, there was little reason to be looking at event half of these schematics, but his affection for the Half-Alv in question was reason enough. When Fletcher maintained his look showing that he was absolutely not convinced by his story, Warren began to backpeddle. "Well actually more like everyone on the project can source them easier. Store is in St Pancras, after all." Warren seemed pleased with his recovery, but it only got the older dwarf to shake his head in response.

Fletcher then realised that Carbuncle was missing and looked around for it. "Carbuncle?" He checked under the table and looked to Warren who only shrugged in response. Meanwhile, the bard strummed his instrument, looking around the tavern. He got a kick out of performing at these kinds of places, namely cause the food and company was great, not to mention the appreciation for his artform. it was an added bonus that the inn was attached and was just upstairs in the off chance he was he was too inebriated to get back to his own lodgings.Carbuncle crept ever closer, keeping its head down low and navigating between the chairs that had formed a small wall between where Fletcher was sitting and where the bard was. Upkeeping a Follower in town was free, so there was no way to tell if Fletcher was upkeeping the fox or if someone had shanked it while he wasn't looking. A grave comparison and one that wouldn't really happen, but it was worth noting as a possibility as the dwarf continued to look for his companion.

"Hey there, little guy." Carbuncle froze, looking up at the bard who had noticed him and greeted him with a warm smile, setting aside the instrument before leaning forward in his chair to get a better look. He'd seen Carbuncles before, and most of them looked pretty similar with the ruby on their heads and the greenish blue fur varying wildly on the spectrum. The fox before him chirred in delight and started padding the floor with its paws again. The bard laughed heartily and picked up Carbuncle, thinking it was trying to dance rather than just expressing its excitement, setting it on the table before picking up his instrument again. "Nice moves, little guy; but how's about we add some music to that jig you've got there." With that, the bard picked up his lute and began to play a mazurka rendition of something he'd heard played with violin.

Carbuncle's excitement climaxed and it began to do tight circles as the music played, settling down long enough to sit bolt upright and see Fletcher's unimpressed gaze directed towards the table. Its ears lowered and it hung near the edge of the table, knowing full well that Fletcher wasn't going to be happy that it ran off after being told before not to run off lest they end up like the Summoner and Carbuncle that had swapped bodies. The dwarf pushed his way through the crowd and picked up Carbuncle by the scruff and frowned, the fox not meeting his gaze and making itself look as small as possible. "Come on, I told you not to run off."

Word Count: 1169
Total Word Count: 2201

[Fletcher]

The bard stopped performing and looked at the disgruntled dwarf and frowned, glacing between the summoner and follower duo. "You should be nicer to the fox, man. Little guy was just chilling out to some tunes." The bard shook his head and there were some mutterings from the crowd as to what had just happened. Fletcher could feel the weight of every set of eyes that was upon him but straightened up and puffed out his chest, staring down the bard with a frown. This had no effect, and the bard just sat there with a frown to return in kind. Both had their points to make, but neither seemingly wishing to back down. The bard didn't like it when people treated animals as items to be used or owned, and Fletcher worried deeply about Carbuncle's wellbeing on top of not wanting to have to be stuck in a body that wasn't his.

Warren was the one that broke the tension between the two and by extension the crowd. He spoke up in a louder than required voice, speaking to no one in particular but drawing the attention of both of the frowning gentlemen. "So I heard about this thing about the Sarum Frontier today. Something about a statue and a summoner and something?" He trailed off and was greeted with silence. Fletcher gave him a confused and slightly irritated look, while the bard looked thoughtful by comparison, eyes flicking back to his instrument. Warren looked back at Fletcher and shrugged, gesturing that his comment was the best idea he could come up with.

"I think I know that story." The bard still looked thoughtful, trying to remember the melody as he plucked idly on his lute. He shook his head, failing to remember and looking at Warren. "Is that the one about the dragons?" There was some murmuring amongst the crowd at the mention of some winged reptiles but no one made a move to ask further. Carbuncle kept its head low, looking up at its summoner and trying to keep itself look as small as possible, making any movement it did as subtle as possible. Fletcher was looking between Warren and the bard in disbelief, unsure if someone was lying about this story or just in disbelief that this exchange was happening in the first place. The bard strummed his instrument, getting the chord and smiling with pride before reciting the story as best he could to the melody.

[INSERT BARDIC PERFOMACE HERE]

Fletcher frowned, wondering what it all meant. The details were vague enough about how Salamander if it was in fact Salamander, let alone where on the frontier it took place. The crowd however seemed to enjoy the impromptue performance and called for an encore, some of the patrons calling out their own favourite tales for the bard to perform. The disagreement about handling Carbunle was effectively years in the past from the viewpoint of the crowd and Fletcher conceded that it was probably for the best. Carbuncle yipped quietly, looking up at Fletcher with embaressment and looked apologetic as one could look when you were a blue fox and held by the scruff. Sighing, the dwarf excused himself out of the ring of people and placed Carbuncle on his shoulder, approaching Warren before crossing his arms and wearing an expression which clearly implied he wanted an explaination. There was no show of appreciation for the diversion and Warren decided not to try and pursue on, merely gesturing Fletcher over to the table at which they were sitting before. "So... I was thinking that if you wanted to start looking, based on the locations that have been mapped out by adventurers already, you should start here."

Warren pointed to a spot on the map that was mostly blank in the way of details but had the rough outline of what was expected to be there given surveyance from a distance. Fletcher scratched his chin, thinking; he really didn't have anything else to do, and given his track record of finding followers on his own, any leads were bound to be helpful. Sylph and Carbuncle alone were not adequate for him to be a summoner, especially as his level grew higher. "That's a fair hike. What I wouldn't give to have a car or at least a mount of some description." There was the possibility of one of the Landers renting him a horse, but chances are that it wasn't going to be a cheap rental, especially if anything happened to the horse while he was out on the frontier. Having a mount that could fly would be even better, but as far as he knew, aside from calling upon Phoenix, a feat he couldn't accomplish without the aid of the Pebble of Philosophy, he was stuck travelling by land.

Word Count: 803
Total Word Count: 3004

[Fletcher]

Warren shrugged. He didn't get out much, so the problem of trekking so far didn't even register as an issue on his end. While yes, the stereotype of dwarves having shorter legs than most made their travel times on foot much longer, no one had done anything about it; he figured that it mustn't be that much of an issue. Fletcher was frowning and Warren looked at him sheepishly, when he claimed that Fletcher had nothing better to do, he forgot to weigh up how much of that free time would be spent walking to a random spot on the map in hopes of finding something. "Well, you have that Call to Home shtick to get back, right? So you're only really travelling tthe long distance only once!"

Was that really an option: If Fletcher borrowed a horse and went out to the frontier, would it return with him when he used Call to Home? It was unlikely that it would, but even then, he couldn't go into it with that kind of risk. What it really boiled down to was if he was willing to take the trip out to the frontier without any promise of there being anything out there for him. Granted,m he was accomplishing nothing just by sitting here, so he'd have to check it out as a potential lead at some point anyway. With a heavy sigh, Fletcher agreed. "Alright. I'll go out to the frontier; but I'm going to need a drink when I get back."

And so it was decided that Fletcher would go out the following morning to the frontier in search for this draconic statue that Warren had mentioned. He'd taken down a part of the map just so he had a rough idea of where he was going, but he was no scribe. What he was left with was closer to chicken scratch than a functional map, but at least he knew that once he got out onto the frontier there'd be a vague direction in which to head. He took the road out of town leading to the Windsor Greatwood, knowing full well that beyond the reach of the trees lay the frontier. If he was heading to Sarum itself, there'd be a convenient path he could continue along but alas when venturing out into the wilderness he had no such luck. Carbuncle was dismissed the moment he stepped out of Londinium, he couldn't afford upkeeping the fox just in case he was jumped by Gerald when he entered the woods. It'd make the journey lonely, but at least it'd be safer. He'd become stronger over the time that he'd journey into the woods, coming here so many times must've paid off, although beyond the woods was unfamiliar territory. Did he had anything to fear given how much he had grown? Or was it because that he had grown that he was ready to face the dangers beyond the woods, and this was just the world's way of telling him that he was ready.

Voices kept prodding at his mind as he made his way through the brush, some familiar and others barely recognisable from white noise. The ones he did recognise were those of his followers; even in oddspeak he couldn't really make out what they were saying, but they seemed to be reassuring him. Carbuncle was probably moreso than Sylph, but both seemed to agree that their master could do this. For all Fletcher knew it was just a hallucination, but it kept hiim going through the silence of the woods. At the fork branching to either Windsor Castle or to Savill Flower Grove he took the shorter route past Windsor Castle, wanting to get out into the open sooner rather than later. Brier Weasels and skeletons skulked the path around Windsor Castle Grounds but paid him little mind, either from the distance he was from them or his level, it was hard to say. Live and let live seemed to be the way everyone was living by today, so Fletcher continued on into the deeper parts of the woods.

Eventually, the trees thinned and before him lay the expanse of the Sarum Frontier. The path he was on would eventually lead him through to Sarum if he chose to follow it, but that was not his destination today. Stepping off the path with a resolute sigh, he ventured on into the frontier in search of a statue.

Word Count: 741
Total Word Count: 3745

[Fletcher]

Fletcher took his first few steps out onto the Sarum Frontier and stopped, eyes wide and in awe of what was outstretched before him. It was grand and expansive, rolling hills and the plains were dotted with a few clusters of trees in seemingly random positions. Looking back at the woods he had just exited from, he wondered if it was too late to turn back now. Before leaving Londinium he'd stocked up on the cheapest food he could find, which he admitted was just the generic menu crafted stuff, but that was a decision made out of convenience rather than having a decent meal. The worst thing would be coming out all this way only to die of starvation and end up back where he started with nothing to show for it. The prospect of losing some of his memories at the same time didn't sit well with him either.

He'd decided that a lot of this journey would need to be done alone, with no help from Carbuncle just from the strain on his mana for upkeeping the little fox just to sit on his shoulder. It was going to be lonely, but this was also a precaution taken out of safety just in case he got jumped and needed to defend himself; a task much harder done with no MP spare to back him up. In retrospect he should've invested in a better weapon as well, but there was something about how whips operated and gave no significant boost to any of his skills that just made him stop caring at some point. As a spellcaster he could shift to using a staff or perhaps a grimoire, but when then they each had their own faults. He could always just pick up a sword and start swinging, but he had no practise after coming so far, his lack of training would be quite obvious if he needed to perform on the front lines in a party. He shook his head, deciding to worry about it when he had the means to do so, the wilderness was not the place to go window shopping for more armaments, although the chances of finding something out here as random loot was a possibility however slim it might be.

Continuing on, Fletcher hiked down the hill leading away from the path heading towards Sarum. The valley between two hills guided him further into the plains, leaving him tired from how much he'd been walking already. It was time for a snack, and Fletcher took out one of the generic globules of food matter and shoved it into his mouth. It was tasteless and was the equivalent of shewing gum in consistency without being so stringy. Swallowing bitterly he sighed, looking around before looking back at the crude map. He had no idea how far he'd come, but he'd only been walking for a couple of hours. Given the plains continued to stretch onwards before him, he had a long way to go. He trekked up the hill he'd stopped near to see the tree at the top and perhaps get a better view of whatever it was that he was searching for. It was an older tree and some of the branches were damaged with tears in the fibres of the wood itself. "What kind of bird could've done that?" He mumbled to himself, vocalising his disbelief as he climbed up the tree just enough to snap one of the branches off to get a better look. It had deep gashes in it, deep enough to tear away the bark and just dig into the wood.

He gulped, for a moment looking at the tree branch and making an immediate connection in its size to a limb. Whatever had done this could easily to this plus more to something made of flesh. Fletcher scanned the horizon, but the sky was clear of any birds, although who knew what was lurking behind some of the clouds high in the sky. Was this perhaps griffon territory? They seemed possible for being part bird and living out in a landscape such as this away from the majority of people. He figured them to like mountains, however it was just as likely that they be out here if they were to exist. Speaking of things existting out on the plains, he'd yet to see anything remotely dangerous, which then raised some suspicions as to why. Could it be that there were only big things, things capable of damaging branches in such a way out here and anything smaller was in hiding? Could it be that given that there just wasn't a lot out here that nothing really could thrive? Either option was possible, and Fletcher wondered whether or not wandering the plains alone and in the open was a wise call. The third option was that everything was nocturnal and because it was the middle of the day he'd yet to see anything.

At the moment, nothing was threatening his life, and there was nothing else to do aside from moving ever onwards. The branch he decided to hold onto and use as a walking stick, half of the mind to check the next tree that seemed to dot the landscape for similar markings if only as a driving force to keep him moving forward. Seconds turned into minutes, and minutes turned into hours, the dwarf trudging along from tree to tree, checking the branches for any more signs of a creature capable of doing this kind of damage. The markings grew in consistency, but never more comparitvely lethal to the hypothetical wounds inflicted on the original branch. It was a little annoying not even having a feather or the sort to give him a clue, there were just more of the same marks. It was entirely possible that trees grew this way, or were big fans of inflicting self harm, or perhaps photosynthesis in this world was just a bunch more kinky than he had originally gave it credit for. Perhaps also the heat was getting to his brain.

The dwarf stopped at the next tree and neglected what had become the customary treatment to any new tree and decided to take a break underneath it, revelling in the shade after walking a vast majority of the day. Looking back at the path he'd travelled, the tree line of Windor Greatwood could be seen in the distance, and somewhere past there sat Londinium. Off to the side, he could see the vague signs of where Sarum would be, although from his angle and elevation he couldn't be certain. He'd come so far, but still no statue for him to find. Perhaps it was just a story and even the bard was mistaken about the location. It wouldn't surprise him, Warren wasn't exactly the most reliable when it came to this kind of thing. Junk was his specialty, but the dwarf was reluctant, usually, to take him on his word about anything else. Why was this the exception he wondered? Perhaps his desire to make another pact outweighed his sense of reason and he didn't fight against heading out here as much as he should have. It was too late now, he'd invested a whole day into this venture, at the very least he could take a little more before heading home.

Word Count: 1227
Total Word Count: 4972

[Fletcher]

Fletcher continued on into the sunset, the amber light coming from the setting sun causing the hills to light up and shimmer like gold. The sky transitioned to a fiery pink, then red, then purple, and as the last ray of sunlight faded from the sky it was replaced by a sea of stars stretching high above. Fletcher paused to look up at the sky, holding himself up on the branch he'd picked up, taking everything in. It was massive, and made Fletcher feel insignificant on the grand scope of things. How was he meant to compare to anything when he was just another spec of dust in the cosmic landscape? Existential crisis aside, he looked back at the road travelled, the Windsor Greatwood being the only thing he could identify given it's size, although that in itself was still tiny from how far away it was now.

Before him was just more grassland, although the landscape seemed to be shifting from rolling hills and trees to more rocks and plateaus. If he was uncertain about gryphons before, he was almsot certain that he was getting closer to their hypothetical habitat. But that was going to have to wait; he was exhausted, hungry, and at the moment neglected to wonder what he was going to be doing for sleeping arrangements given he owned no tent nor other sleeping gear. He sighed, hiking down into a valley where he wouldn't be out in the open at the very least. It wasn't much, but there was a small overhang which he could use for shelter for the night, although sleeping on the ground with no padding wasn't seeming to promise a decent night's sleep. He racked his brain for a solution but came up short, trying to get as comfortable as one could while laying on hard soil.

Being a dwarf, he hoped to whatever gods that rules over this place that he'd have some affinity or at least something from being a dwarf to be able to find the earth itself comfortable, but it was just too good to be true. Grumbling Fletcher rolled over onto his side, facing the rock wall and closed his eyes, trying to get some sleep. The night air had a biting chill to it that nipped at Fletcher's ears; he'd put on his Alchemist's Gloves to cover his hands, but had nothing akin to a hat to keep his head warm, it would have to be something he'd ask of Sark when he got back home, that's for sure. Otherwise the night was deathly silent, occasionally the wind picking up to be as loud as a hushed whisper but nothing else stirred. Perhaps this is what space felt like, being alone in the great yonder with no one around for miles. If he were a more debaucherous man he'd take advantage of it and come back with enough of a setup to get some stuff done.

The night toiled on, giving Fletcher no amount of decent rest although from fatigue alone he found himself dozing on and off at various stages. The morning eventually came, but moreso from hunger than anything else. Expecting the sound of chirping birds as he awoke with the sun, Fletcher got up and stretched, feeling the number that the ground had done on his back and groaning from the stiffness. Alas, no birds sang in the morning sky, leaving a lone dwarf and his stick to continue the walk alone. Out from his hole he crawled and brought the stick with him, using it to prop himself up on account of his back from the night before. Onwards he walked, further and futher away from Londinium, keeping the Greatwood at his back. He'd given up checking trees by this stage, the results yielding the same information without giving an additional hints to their cause.

The second day was much more of the same; walking, walking and more walking. As the day went on, what started at a march turned into a slow crawl as hunger set in again, and the thought of ingesting more tasteless goop turned him off eating completely. What he wouldn't give for a home cooked meal from a personal chef right about now.Sadly he lacked a personal chef to call his own, and in addition had lapsed on his capacity to use Call of Home to just head back to Londinium. Further he walked until eventually the landscape became half rocky dirt and the other half lush greenland. It alternated in patches, but he had to check his map again, figuring that at this stage he'd lost his way. He was in the spot that was circled as to where the statue should be, although the region marked was huge if the scale was correct. The dwarf scanned the horizon, looking for anything that would resemble a rocky dragon but found nothing of the sort.

The sun set, as Fletcher was climing a rocky hill, probably more classed as a mountain from the height difference between him and a normal person. He was aiming for the top before hitting the sack, so he had a decent vantage point in the morning. He could've stopped sooner, but he had a goal in mind and didn't want to have to be deterred from achieving something for the whole day of walking with nothing to show for it. On the final approach, the branch broke, the bottom half sliding down the side of the path he was traversing before falling down the side of the mountain, disappearing from sight. The rest of it was not worth holding onto, and was discarded by casually tossing it in the same direction the other half went, so at least the two halves could be reunited in some form at the bottom of the mountain.

Step by step Fletcher walked on, hunched over and sore. His back was aching, feet were blistered from the worn soles in his shoes, his hands stiff. The dwarf's vision began to blur as the top of the mountain opened up to him and he tried to focus on what he could see. In the center of the summit stood a rocky sculpture, looking hand made and crudely of a lizard with wings. It wasn't impressive, nor did it look like a dragon unless you knew to look for something that vaguely resembled as such. He couldn't help but laugh, a tired laugh that turned to tears when he got up close to it, buckling at the knees and curling up, tired. Well, he was here now, so what did he have to do? Yes, the journey was scenic, but he didn't exactly have a summon to show for two days of dedicated journeying. Fletcher felt his eyelights grow heavy and he realised that he hadn't had any water in the past day, either. Dehydration was making him loopy, and for the first time in a while he felt parched, but lacked the strength to do anything about it.

As he fell unconscious, he could've heard the sound of something approaching, but he couldn't be sure what. It sounded like the beating of many a great wings high above where he currently lay, but from the cold and the darkness issued in by the night, he couldn't tell for sleep soon took him.

Word Count: 1225
Total Word Count: 6197

[Fletcher]

Thunder rumbled overhead, the inconsistent flashes of lightning lighting up the landscape below. Hours had passed since Fletcher fell unconscious at the top of the mountain, and a heavy downpour had developed while he was no longer of the waking world. The ground's thirst was quenched, leaving everything green in a state of renewal and everything rock look glossy from the water on its surface. Another rumble of rolling thunder and the rain got harder, pouring down on the world below. Fletcher began to stir, stray droplets of water landing on his face. He stirred further, feeling the temperature difference of the moist wind that blew across his face, reminiscent of the ocean without the briney smell. The dwarf cringed, feeling disoriented as he came back into consciousness, hearing the rain and feeling just as saw as he last remembered. He had no idea how long he was out, but he assumed it was rain causing all the racket.

More thunder confirmed this and he winced, trying to open his eyes. Even though he'd had some rest, his hunger still persisted, something that a heal spell wouldn't fix up. His eyes opened, slowly adjusting to the new light or lackthereof, and suddenly grimmaced in discomfort as another flash of lightning stunned him. it was definitely raining, but upon further inspection he was still mostly dry. With the amount of rain falling he should be drenched through. Another rolling of thunder rumbled overhead, followed by another flash of lightning as Fletcher got up to his hands and knees, taking a slow start to his renewal. He remembered walking all day, and then climbing to the top of the mountain and finding the statue. It definitely felt like he'd been walking all day, so chances are this wasn't just some kind of hallucinogenic dream he was having.

Another rumble of thunder as Fletcher remembered one last thing before blackness, and that was a strong wingbeat. His vision shot skyward, and rather than the heavens above he was greeted to the sight of a large dragon, or the underside of one of it's wings. Fletcher looked out from underneath the wing to see the large, red dragon staring off into the distance with a stoic and vacant expression on it's face. No, it wasn't so much vacant as it was focused on something, it's brow was furrowed in a way to show that it was looking out for something in particular. Tendrils of steam escaped the corners of its mouth, and on various spots on its body where they resembled something akin to geothermic vents. Another rumble, although it became apparent that it wasn't coming from the sky after all; the dragon's throat vibrated violently as more flames were stoked internally, making more steam tendril off the beast that to this point had been playing umbrella to him. It's eyes widened and looked down carefully, maintaining its expression.

"Are you alright, sire? Rarely do I get visitors these days." Fletcher looked up at the dragon, dumbfounded. This was the kind of things you'd hear about in fairytales, where dragons would descent from on high and either hoard treasure and take maidens, or bequeath unto a chosen one knowledge or power. Oh boy did he hope for the latter, although the former wouldn't be so bad so long as he didn't get mugged by a dragon the size of a cement truck. Fletcher dusted off his sleeves, trying to make himself look even a little bit more presentable before addressing the dragon back, but the dragon seemed to wish to interject before the dwarf could say a word. "You should not have come here alone, and so thoroughly unprepared. I would think one such as yourself would have a higher regard for one's wellbeing." Fletcher couldn't register if the dragon was mocking him or trying to give genuine advice. That said, at this point it was hard for Fletcher to really argue the point with him being so small and his adversary being so big.

Word Count: 671
Total Word Count: 6868

-AP CLAIMED-

[Fletcher]

If the dragon was going to just berate him on his carelessness in coming out all this way, he need not bother. The dwarf was well aware as to what his limits are and how how'd recklessly overstepped them in this particular venture. The dragon seemed to be smiling at the dwarf's inability to answer or retort in defense of his actions, a lull forming in the conversation between the two. The rain continued pouring, and occasionally the dragon would rumble some more to build up more heat, and letting off more steam in the process. "I admit I was a fool for coming out so far on my own." Fletcher spoke with a faint rasp, his throat still parched from the journey even though there was bountiful water literally falling from the sky. Coughing, he continued."I came out here to find a dragon statue and meet up with someone, turns out I found one of the two."

The dragon watched curiously as Fletcher placed a hand on the dragon statue, wondering. Why here of all places so far removed from where the adventurers normally called home? In fact, most days people just threw that this statue existed to the winds, believing it to be some folklore told to children at twilight. Oh how the years had passed since its construction by a budding artisan in tribute to a time long past. The dwarf had a familiar air about himself that the dragon could not place, something that he'd heard echoing in his mind from a time long ago. Or perhaps was it recent? It was hard to say, but the dragon was experiencing that feeling one felt when one knew someone, but just could not place from where or when. "A friend, you say? All the way out here?" The dragon rumbled, curiousity growing as time grew on, lowering its head more to get a better look at the dwarf. "I dare say sire, but your choice of meeting place should be re-evaluated for the next time you and your friend reconviene."

Fletcher smirked, causing the dragon to flinch in surprise, not picking the reaction. Maybe it was old age; maybe it was exhaustion; maybe he was born with it; but Fletcher couldn't help but smirk when he had been bested by logic. A better meeting place would indeed be chosen for the next meeting, but the first had to be here. "I agree. The next time I meet with them, I shall definitely need to do so closer to home." The dragon continued to eye Fletcher off curiously, wondering if he was up to something before his thought train was derailed by Fletcher talking again. "I'm going to go out on a limb here and say that you might be the one I'm looking for. If not, you'd surely know where to find him." The dragon backed off, semi-offended that such a presumptuous notion had been proposed. How could he know of anyone that the dwarf could possibly be referring to? All his companions had moved on to greener pastures, ascended, or were dead in the ground in more ways than one.

"I regret to inform you sire, but that's impossible. All of my companions are no longer within the world in which you walk so easily, I am afraid that you are not someone that I know nor could you be looking for anyone that I know, for there is none." The dragon frowned, looking down at the dwarf. There was something familiar about how he was composed and his expression was one he'd seen before. It brought back memories of a happier time, a less lonely time. "Perhaps you could tell me the name of the one you seek? There aren't many beings out here I don't know, they are so few in number after all."

Fletcher looked up at the dragon, looking it in the eye before speaking calmly and as composed as one could in his shoes. "I seek Salamander." The dragon went wide eyed at that name in disbelief and bewilderment. That firm, not quite clenched jaw, the hands balled up into fists at his sides, the determined frown; he'd seen it all before from his previous master. "My name is Fletcher, and as a Summoner I have come to make a pact." Not only was he so similar, he was also a summoner! It was just his luck, and also something that struck a chord with the dragon.

But then the dragon gasped, stumbling back and dropping both of its front paws on the ground, dropping its forehead to touch them before speaking. "I pray forgiveness, m'lord; I did not realise I was standing in the presence of a pupil." Now when the dragon moved and then performed its apologetic bow, two things happened. First, Fletcher lost his cover from the rain and immediately became drenched from head to toe. Second, when the dragon shifted from it's location and scrambled, dropping its weight suddenly on another part of the mountaintop, the whole thing shook causing Fletcher's balance to be thrown off. "I am Salamander Prime, the alpha incarnation of the current line of fire elemental followers; it truely is an honour to see you return, m'lord."

Return? Now that was oddd, although caused Fletcher to dig around ini his pockets to double check something. As he thought, the Pebble of Philosophy resting against his fingertips was slightly warm to the touch; Salamander Prime must either be reacting to that or sensing Lord Syllabus. Fletcher didn't bother trying to pick the dragon up on making him wet and tried in vail to squeeze the excess water out of his beard before speaking. "This is my first time here, are you perhaps referring to this?" He pulled out the Pebble of Philosophy and held it up to Salamander Prime, the crystal shining in his hand.

Word Count: 981

[Fletcher]

Upon presenting the Pebble of Philosophy to Salamander Prime, the dragon's expression grew grim, not only a reminder of an event long ago flashing across its memory, but a realisation that whatever hope it had for its prior summoner to come back to their meeting plain had been in vain. Lord Syllabus was dead, a long time ago he died in a fight that he could not prevent nor have a say in. He was not called. He was not needed. Instead, the others reclaimed him from the ether and delivered the news and he came here to wait eternally holding out hope that they were wrong. Then what did he have? Before him stood a weary dwarf that seemed to know what he was thinking, or knew that the crystal in his hand was connected in some way to the former summoner. Salamander Prime straigthened, closing his eyes and taking a couple steps back, lifting his head back and breathing a puff of smoke into the stormy sky, unsure of how to proceed.

it was undeniable. Lord Syllabus's anima was housed in that crystal that the dwarf carried, or at least enough of it to give him a false reading on the person before him if he wasn't paying attention. Fletcher pocketed the Pebble of Philosophy, satisfied that he was right about his assumption about who Salamander Prime thought, or rather hoped he was. "So that's that. Now, back to making a pact. Do I form a pact with you, or a littler version of you, or how does that work?" It was an honest question given that Sylph was much easier to form a pact with as it was required to gain access to the fairy village, and when he got there he learned that there was not just one, but many incarnations of Sylph. Here it seemed a little harder given his perception only pointed him in the direction of only one incarnation of Salamander. The biggest shock was how big he'd grown since he had called him when fighting Brachyura; granted, they were talkingg potentially hundreds of years if not more, so there was plenty of time.

Salamander Prime had nothing to say in relation to the formation of a pact between him and the summoner, leaving only his silence as the answer. The rain continued pouring down, and the pair lit up as another bolt of lightning streaked overhead, Salamander Prime blowing puffs of smoke into the air, lost on an express train of thoughts and emotions. Fletcher shivered, the cold bite of the wind niping at his face and drenching him even further. Salamander Prime spoke soon after Fletcher began shivering, looking down at the dwarf. "Apologies, sire." He lowered his head, looking at the dwarf at his height before continuing. "There is no pact for you to make here." Fletcher looked at Salamander Prime in the eye, a miniature contest of wills occuring between the two before it was Salamander Prime who broke away, unfurling his wings. "If it pleases, I will take my leave."

The first beat of the dragon's wings buffeted rainwater into Fletcher's face and stunned expression. He frowned before piping up in an irritated tone, raising his voice above the level of the thunder rolling overhead. "No, it doesn't please me!" The dragon stopped, staring down at the dwarf with a frown. "I walked my ass off from Londinium to some god forsaken statue to get a pact with an incarnation of fire. I'm not leaving until I get what you personally invited me here for!" Fletcher pointed at the dragon, clothes and beard dripping with water as he did so, the sudden movement making him stumble forwards with the reallocation of his weight. His hand was shaking as he pointed from the cold but his expression was fiery, determined, and fierce.

The dragon snapped back, bringing his head back down and gnashed at the air in front of the dwarf before lowering his tone and speaking through a snarl. "You listen, and you listen well." He huffed, eyes narrowing on the dwarf before continuing. [collor=vermillion]"As a practitioner of the summoning arts I have a respect for you on a professional level. But try my patience, dwarf; try my patience and I will demonstrate just how low on the food chain you are compared to those of the spiritual plane."[/color] The pair locked eyes again, neither yielding or speaking more, both in their own way sizing up their opponent to see what they'd be up against if it came to an all out fight. For Fletcher, he'd be fighting a full grown dragon, the very lord of fire who seemed to represent all followers of the fire attribute bearing the name Salamander. After using Salamander in battle once before, he knew that with his current arsenal of familiars he wouldn't last long at all.

For Salamander Prime his problem wasn't beating the dwarf, but rather the implications of doing so. This was not a fair fight, but not fighting at his full strength would be an insult to his opponent. If he did follow through with just slaughtering the summoner in training however, there was no telling when someone would come visit, if at all following word travelling as to what happened on the frontier. All traces of his existance would fade with time, and his pact with Lord Syllabus would be broken through there not being a Salamander summon family to call from. Still, the dwarf didn't seem to be deterred from his threat, so there was some promise there after all. Unlike most stereotypical dragons from folklore, Salamanader neither wanted nor needed a hoard of treasure, a harem of virgins, or a daily sacrifice of livestock; but there was a chance that the dwarf didn't know that.

Word Count: 970

[Fletcher]

Neither spoke a word, locked in a battle of wills, eyes locked and unmoving from each other. Unlike the last time a pact was made in this way, it was not the dragon that was struggling for life through lack of mana, but it was the dwarf who was struggling to live from exhaustion. When all was said and done though, being a summoner was much more common than it was back in the day, and the dwarf did come all this way out to make a pact. The part about him being personally invited by the dragon itself puzzled him though; he never sent an invitation to this summoner, so why was the dwarf under the impression of such. It warranted further questioning, but he was in no mood to exchange pleasentries with one who was inexperienced or arrogant.

Keeping his gaze narrow and eyes still locked with Fletcher, Salamander Prime reared his head, embers crackling from the corners of its mouth. Fletcher's eyes grew wide, disbelieving what the dragon was pulling; there was no way he'd scorch him now, was there? No, it was entirely possible given their past exchange, meaning it was game on. He was in no position to be able to withstand such an inferno, but as tired as he was he still wasn't going to just sit down and die. Salamander Prime inhaled before breathing a torrent of fire down on the dwarf, who had a response queued up. Bringing his hand up, he called to Carbuncle who appeared in a flash with a barrier. Alas, it was never going to be enough and the barrier shattered as the flames impacted upon it, swathing the mountaintop with a blanket of fire.

Fletcher opened his eyes, arms covering his head as he stood in the middle of a raging fire. Salamander Prime circled him, walking amongst the fire, assessing his reactions. Had he missed on purpose or was it just a lucky break that the fire hit everywhere else but him. Carbuncle was already gone, defeated in one fell blow and dismissed back to the spiritual plane. "Your reflexes are good, summoner." The way that Salamander Prime said that was bothering him, the dwarf said nothing. "Now that you're in no position to go anywhere, let's have a little chat." Salamander had a nasty grin on his face, relishing the predicament that the summoner was in if only to see what he'd do to get out of it. "I want to know what you meant when you said I invited you here, for starters. Tell me exactly how that could have happened when I've spoken to no one but my own lord in my time as a primal force of nature."

Fletcher was trying to size up the dragon's intention from drawing out a conversation but failed from the waves of heat distorting his vision. How was he going to explain that he went back in time and gotten the invitation from a younger version of the same beast? Should he omitt the part where it was possible that the dragon back in Lune might have assumed that he was, in fact, Syllabus as opposed to being who he really was? It was a traumatic event for all parties involved to be sure, but Fletcher couldn't help but feel that it was also possibly just an instance of one event that had happened in the past, meaning that really they only secured the lives of Syllabus and Pavi and not anyone else. It was saddening, but not the pressing issue given that Salamander had just quirked a brow at the dwarf from not responding straight away, and possibly seeming lost for words. "How much do you remember about Lune?" Salamander Prime's expression went serious, unsure of what to make of that question but remained silent. "The Fountain of Fate, specifically; do you remember anything about a battle that had occurred there?"

It was a while before Salamander Prime said anything, mulling over the implications of what the dwarf had said. Yes he remembered, or at least he thought he did up until now. Memories were flooding back, but things were not as he remembered them. Could it be the stone that the dwarf held? He definitely felt some kind of power radiating from it, but it wasn't malicious from what he could tell. Mere cantrips were not going to be enough to sway the mind of a dragon such as himself, but if the dwarf did wield more power than what he was letting on, then there was a problem on his hands. If the dwarf was telling the truth though, then what he remembered was a battle much different to the one that originally had crossed his mind when Lune came up.

He remembered the raging fires burning around them, narrowly fighting off the beast before returning to his master. Something was off though, because while he commanded him the same way his master did, he smelt different, his aura was different. However, while different, the battle was won because of him and his other friend. Salamander Prime's memory was becoming clearer as he tried to remember, coming into focus bit by bit, gradually as if someone were cooling molten glass. The haze over the dragon's eyes cleared up,, confused about what he had just remembered; had this always been the case? Had he been lashing out over a half remembered memory of a time where he failed to protect his master? He was sure that he wasn't called again after that fight the other Followers had said as such, but was that true?

The fires died around Fletcher and the dwarf sighed a breath of relief, finding the lack of imposing heat a refreshing change. The dragon seemed out of it, lost for words, but cleared his throat before addressing the dwarf. "How... It has been a long time, Sir Fletcher." Salamander Prime looked pained, trying to shake off whatever residual cloudiness that it had gotten from recalling who it was that stood before him. "I'm having trouble remembering clearly, but what happened that day? What happened when you came to our aid in Lune?"

Word Count: 1032

[Fletcher]

Fletcher looked the dragon over, wondering what he could say. While he remembered the fight at the Fountain of Fate all to clearly, surely the dragon did as well? Fletcher sighed, unsure of how to tackle that question or how much detail he should go into; perhaps this moment of clarity was only caused by the Pebble, in which case saying something wrong could rouse a similar fiery rage to what he'd just escaped from. "When Sark and I arrived the place was on fire. We didn't know anything that was going on minus the fire, swarm of bees, and that we were sent to stop something from happening."

Salamander Prime frowned. "You had a seeress look into the future to tell you to arrive? I find that hard to believe." Salamander Prime settled back down, another crack of lightning streaking overhead as a reminder to the pair that it was the middle of a thunderstorm. Salamander Prime took note of the fact that the dwarf before him was drenched and while his facade was strong, was still shivering with wet clothes sticking to his skin. "Ah; apologies. I had forgotten about the rain." Salamander Prime lifted a wing over the dwarf and breathed a warm wind over him in an attempt to dry him out and warm him up. He'd offer food as well, but when you lived as an incarnation of the elements, you drew energy from less refined sources than food.

Now that Fletcher felt less likely to suffer from hypothermia due to the wet and the cold, he straightened up. "I wouldn't call myself a seer, but I saw it myself. We knew something was going to happen, all we knew is where to be thanks to the Pebble of Philosphy." It seemed to be the cornerstone of any explaination, an object that seemed to house unlimited potential the same way that Elemental Source Spheres held a similar amount of their respective element. Salamander Prime wasn't convinced, but it hardly mattered; something had changed within the timeline because of this dwarf and his actions on that day, and for that he had to be grateful. Fletcher on the other hand was getting anxious, unsure of whether or not his comments on the how and why things had played out was going to go down wel.

As best he could while keeping the dwarf sheltered, Salamander Prime straightened, putting on a regal air of dominance and power before addressing the summoner. "Sir Fletcher, if you wish to be my lord in place of my former, then a pact shall need to be made." A glint behind those amber eyes told Fletcher that the dragon was looking at him a different way than he had before, and he suddenly felt very exposed. "Two pacts you have made already, one with the beast of light, Carbuncle; and the other with the fairy Sylph. Is this correct?" Fletcher nodded and Salamander Prime continued on. "Then you know that each pact comes with the relinquishing of something else in exchange. Everything else has a price, every debt needs to be paid. When I forged a pact with Lord Syllabus, the exchange was my continued existence in exchange for servitude. However, if my memory serves me correctly, you wouldn't take such an offer and nor would I offer it given I am not on death's door like I was all that time ago." Fletcher steeled himself, awaiting what the cost was. he didn't realise he'd paid something for Sylph or even for Carbuncle, but before he could ask the question, Salamander Prime chimed in. "I am forbidden to tell you what you have lost already, as the agreements forged by you and the followers you accompany are strictly speaking, confidential. The pact I will offer you is as follows: In exchange for something you hold dear, of my choosing, I will lend you my aid. You are not of sufficient mastery yet to have me as I am, but return when you are ready and we can make the exchange back and reforge the covenant for a power you are ready to wield."

Fletcher frowned. "And what would be this something dear you'd take as payment?" The dwarf's steely gaze met with the dragon's and the pair had yet another contest of wills, although it was the dragon that broke first, Fletcher did not win.

"That is not part of the agreement I am offering. That will be chosen when I can know you proper, see what it is that you hold dear. If you are worried about your followers I cannot take them from you as they are protected by covenants of their own. As for what you measure yourself in, levels, those are tied to your existance, and without them our pact would not exist and in turn neither would the part of myself I would be bestowing upon you." What did that leave? Fletcher could come up with more mundane things that he could take, but there was nothing that explicitly seemed obvious. Anythind he did come up with seemed to fall into the bracket of 'things that are tied to your existance', so as far as he knew he was relatively safe. "You should also know that once the pact is made, it cannot be unmade as per terms I have already laid bare. Unless you attain mastery over yourself and by extention the summons you posess, you cannot come back and renegotiate."

There was a brief pause before Fletcher nodded. "I accept the terms of this pact. I will be back to meet you at this spot when I have mastered my art." It was better to just plunge into these things on the off chance that Salamander Prime was testing his resolve. Perhaps it was a bluff, but either way the dragon smiled warmly and nodded back. A warm surge of energy shot through Fletcher's system as if he were electrocuted, causing him to double over. It was a powerful and invigorating feeling to offset the miserable weather. He felt something moving inside, settling in before pulsing once more with warmth and subsiding. It was a familiar feeling to how he felt when he summoned Carbuncle for the first time, although not nearly as strong as this. He looked up at the dragon and wondered what he'd done and what he's taken, but Salamander Prime stayed silent in regards to Fletcher's visual quiry.

"It is done. I hereby acknowledge you in part as my master and lord. Arise Sir Fletcher with your head held high as you return home. You know how." Salamander Prime beat his wings and took off into the stormy sky, getting Fletcher drenched again with rain. Another rumble of thunder and crack of lightning made Fletcher not want to stick around much longer if his task was done. So he returned home, not knowing how steep a price he had paid for his new agreement, but only time would tell if he'd regret it.

Word Count: 1172