The wailing star

<font color='#000080'>Day: 2
Season: Tessera
Year: 3


The velvety black sky, thrown across the lands like a blanket, blinked shyly at the ground below with its thousands and thousands of little bright eyes. The sloping hills were clear; every rock, every isolated tree was set apart from the silver terrain it stood on by its own shade, which stretched behind it like a bride's veil. The night can be a beauty in the mountains. And it was, here, in the Nyonge Mountain Range, wasting all its splendour on the shimmering hills and rocky slopes, with only scruffy blackness left for the lower-lying regions of desert and everlasting sand. Maybe it was just as well. For among the dunes were the ruins of an ancient city, in which crooks, assasins and rogues took refuge when no one else would come near them. And they needed the blackness, under which's enveloping hug they could carry out their suspicious missions.

But let's return to the Nyonge mountains. More precisely, let's rest for a moment outside a small mountain inn. Sounds of song and laughter have found their way outside through cracks in the boarded up windows, through which also warm light filters, sketching golden rectagles on the trampled grass in front of the tavern.
A white figure sat near the building, yet avoiding carefully the dancing light and taking equal care not to let anyone see her. She was a young Pendragon, of around 1700, even though the look she now had on her pretty face would've suited more a sour 9000 year old Kiom.
The Pendragoness's name was Ronnica. Ronnica Vox. She was chewing on the insides of her cheeks, and making a horrible face, as if someone had poured lemon into her mouth by force. Sometimes she would cease practising this highly immature habit and, bringing one of her front paws to her mouth, she would lick a wound that had formed just below her elbow.

"Great," she mumbled crossly, standing up and walking a few paces into the forest that begun right behind her back, "Another scar! And such a stupid reason to get injured!"
Almost absentmindedly, Ronnica plucked a few leaves from a nearby tree and plonked them across the bloody gash. A smell of putrid water filled the air and the leaves fell away, leaving below them a nice, clean scar. Ronnie smiled; sometimes it payed of to be a Healer. Well, most of the times, actually.
Grinning, she trotted down a steep mountain path, trodded down over the years by many paws and hooves. She was a strange sight. Her body was a scarless, undisturbed flow of light grey scales, disturbed only down from the knees by a numerous number of small or bigger scars. Ronnica shook her black hair, feeling it tickle her neck and the skin above her eyes. She had been rather hungry and tired earlier that day, and had stopped in the inn for something to eat. Yet she got into an argument with a drunken Pendragon about something; a burly mounteener with small piggy eyes and a rather short temper. The argument grew into a fight, and though she fought, in her own opinion, heroically, she didn't have much of a chance againts a 'dragon who was older, heavier, stronger etc etc... Anyway, in the end she had made a rapid strategic withdrawal through one of the boarded up windows... ouch... her nose still throbbed when she thought of it contacting with the wood. She had hidden in the woods nearby and found all the healing supplies she needed to make herself look normal again. Now she was very eager to be as far away from that damned tavern as she could.

She thought over the events of the day, not really caring where the path led. Suddenly she jerked out of her musings, for in front of her the path curled and dissapeared into a narrow and shadowy gorge.
Hesitating only for the briefest of all moments, Ronnica smirked and pressed on, into the darkness. After all, there's nothing dangerous lurking around a peaceful mountain range at night, ain't it?</font>

 

<font color='#000080'>She had just stopped for a moment, for her sensitive nose had caught a whiff of another Pendragon in the area. Suddenly she felt a light tap of her shouder. Ronnica swirled around, hunched up a little, her brown eyes narrowed into slits and her maw scrunched up in a silent growl. Yet the only thing she saw in front of herself was another Pendragoness. With a sigh, Ronnica stood up straight, letting the pale grey scales around her face form into a hint of a smile.
"Oh... hello. Who are you?" she adressed the stranger, her thoughts racing. Finally, she remembered all the stories about witty and brave heroes her friends and village neighbours told her when she was young. The main hero was always being pursued, usually by a huge, menacing and evil villain. Ronnica eyed up the girl in front of her. Hmm, nothing menacing here... We'll see if she is evil. Of course, Ronnica, being the romantic soul she was, always had to think of herself as the main hero.
"Why are you following me?" As soon as she blurted the question out, she was sorry. How stupid it sounded! Why in Ramath-lehi would this Pendargon follow her.
You aren't a heroine, girl, so behave according to it, she scolded herself in her mind.
Yet she still stood there, blocking the pendragones's path and staring into her face. Who was she?</font>

 

<font color='#000080'>OOC: I'm sorry if I sound a little bit mean. Ronnica is just a sneery cow who needs to be taught manners sometimes.

IC: "Oh great Kythlekh..." sneered Ronnica, moving a little out of the path. "Your last name is not needed, fine, you're right. You do sound like out of a story book... Cool." She whistled a little, her eyes never leaving Xela. The wind ruffled her hair, and the shadows threw their creepy fingers across her pale back. She could have looked like a spirit, a mountain ghost in the dusk, save for the tune that emerged from her lips. After a few minutes, she grew tired - or did she grow bored? Who knows - and stepped even further away from the passage.
"I should have introduced myself. I am Ronnica Vox. Anyway, if you like the darkness, I won't stand in your way." The Pendragon waved her scarred paw owards the gorge. "There's barely any light in there. Personally, I prefer daylight, but we all have a different taste, isn't it so?" Her voice was back to normal, a somewhat singy, cheery tone, even though a trace of suspicion never left it.</font>

 

<font color='#000080'>OOC: Action? I'll do my best!

BIC:
This whole thing was beginning to annoy Ronnica. She had understood that this Pendragon is probably one of the so-called evil ones that appear everywhere, especially in the Machina ruins. She definitely sounded like it, all snobbish and meanish-like. The white femme sighed desperately, catching the last question. Her eyebrows flew up into the folds of her black locks in surprise.
"Big job? Hey, do I look like a crook? Or an assasin? If yes, I better get something done with myself..." she mumbled a little, turning round on the spot and trying to take a peak at her back, her hair and her paws. Yes, dear men, it was one of these rare moments, when vanity got better of a lass, that evoked and gave birth to the centuries long mock-talk of "females doing their manicure and hair while males fight and hunt" that feminism fights so ferocioulsy against. Why not in Pendragon terms also? Luckily for herself and all of her friends, Ronnica realised the absurdity of her behaviour right away and whirled back to all fours, facing Xela. She shook her head distastedly.
"I'm not doing anything, I look just fine. If someone mistakes me for a member of the local mafia, well, it's their problem." Another shake of her hair. "I'm a Healer, and I just like walking from place to place. I hunt for food and trade hide and meat for whatever else I need." Her hair was now flying wildly over her ears, scorching slightly the top parts of her eyes. Ronnica blinked. "But I guess that's not what you do, anyway. What are you exactly? Apart from someone who seeks action, that is." For a split second the white girl froze, a shadow of surprise fleeing across her face. Then she relaxed again, sitting down on her haunches, and bringing her weight on her front feet, which were firmly poised on the ground. Her hind legs gathered to spring.
"I'd watch out if I were you," she said warningly, "There is something hovering behind your back." With that, she leaped up from the ground, sailing through the still air, her orbs, narrowed again, trying to penetrate the thick void of darkness behind Xela.</font>

 

<font color='#000080'>OOC: Err, have you read Ronnica's Character profile? It may explain some of her magic-related actions later

IC: A dark SORCERER?! What!? A wave of fury, spite and uncertanity rushed through Ronnica's mind, but she had more important matters to take care of now. Something had been indeed hovering behind Xela, little bead-like eyes glinting in the dark and large leathery wings flapping noiselessly through the night. An avian-related best or something, was Ronnica's first guess, but as she lunged herself at the shadowy form, she found out it was a Varsinid. It slipped with ease from her paws as she attempted to tear it down from the air, the two little rows of pearly teeth glittering menacingly. Yet the Pendragon was no beginner. Dependant on the resources Nature provided, the bird-like Varsinids often ended up like her dinner. With one big sweep of her scarred leg, she distracted the Varsinid and then brought it down with her second, free, paw, right from the opposite direction. The creature squeaked and tried to regain it's balance, yet already Ronnica's jaws had clamped themselves around it's head.
Too bad, little Varsinid, thought the pale femme, laying her prey on the ground and licking her maw, gathering the scarlet drops of life that littered the white scales. She kicked lightly at the dead animal, glad that her Biology professor wasn't here right at the moment. Gawd, a stupid Varsnid wouldn't do any harm to a Pendragon! It was just probably wondering if the two females had any leftovers, so it could scavenge on them, together with its beastly flock. Ronnica turned away, facing Xela.
"You hungry?" she asked, rather up-tight. Her stomach was full with the food she had had at the inn. Even the disastrous end to her dinner hadn't been able to squeeze the food out of her, so she just pushed the bird away form her.
"If you want, tuck in. Varsnids are really good, though I prefer them roasted."
She fought desperately to remember what Xela had said before, something about what she did, about her trade. Ronnica had forgotten about it in her surprise at finding "only" a bird where she had expected a three headed shadow chimaera at least.</font>

 

<font color='#000080'>OOC: That she is a dark sorceror.

IC: She sat off to the side of the burning fire, cleaning her paws and claws, until the dull grey reflected the dancing flames. The pendragon smiled as smoke reached her nostrils.
"Pretty. You're fast at making a fire," she remarked, eyeing the cooking bird, "I usually can't be bothered. One of my friends lights fires using only his tail-flame, but since I'm deprieved of that..." she sighed, "I use matches too. Or flint and steel if I can't find them. Anyway, the tail-thingy is still too much like magic to be safe, that's what I always told him..."
In a flash, she remembered the conversation before the varsinid came down. Xelahad said she was a... sorcerer. A dark sorcerer. Ronnica smiled a little uneasily, and, without changing her sitting position, moved back a couple of paces.
"You said you were a dark sorcerer," she uttered, biting away the end of the sentence, "I thought you were 'evil' at first, then decided against, but seeing that you study dark magic, I'm not sure again. Do you think of yourself as an 'evil' pendragon? It would be sweet." A glimmer of hope unseen before washed over Ronnica's face. "If you do, maybe you could explain to me how one decides if he's 'evil' or 'good'. It's one of the things I never really understood." Oh dear, here it comes again: Ronnica shook her head. "One of the girls in the village I lived in before was called 'evil' by the elders and the others, because she mocked and bullied everyone, tore up things, destroyed things and was generally a pain in the neck. But then, a Seer managed to read her mind or something, and she told us that the girl didn't know she was acting different from everyone else. She was a little... well, crazy you could say..."
Ronnica stopped talking, a memory clouding her eyes and brain.</font>

 

<font color='#000080'>"Hmm... hmm..." her head nodded in rhythm with the other's words. Ronnica sat as still as a statue, looking at Xela through half-closed eyes.
This is impossible, she thought to herself, her orbs snapping open and looking over the other female once again.
She's a hero. A hero, just like Magan the Great, just like all of those ancient pendragons the scrolls tell about!
It was a strange situation, and Ronnie, even though she considered herself able to react quickly, only dropped her mouth open, dumbfounded. To hell whether Xela was a sorcerer or not, the pale girl didn't care anymore. Imagine meeting someone you have looked up to and adored your whole life. It was like this now. Ronnica looked to the other yet again, her eyes and heart brimming with awe.
"Wow, that's just... unbelievable. I mean, you're a heroine. You've saved someone's life! I've never met someone who really did... maybe I've already started to believe that it occured only in stories and old library scrolls."
Shaking her brain free of all clouding memories or awe-inspirations, Ronnica made a disagreeing look.
"I don't know. I don't really care if people think me evil or not. I can't really be bothered to be mean to other pendragons, why should I? It's just a waste of time. If someone harms me, or attempts to, I fight back and then leave them, never to return again. And anyway," she looked usllen and determined, "there are people that will like me whatever I decide to be like."
She emphasized her words with a stamp of her foot.</font>

 

<font color='#000080'>It never came into Ronnica's mind not to believe Xela. She had mused over whether to believe others or not for ages. After a suitable time, she had decided that she will believe the tales pendragons told. After all, it wouldn't harm her if did, and usually no one ever knew if the stories were real or not, so it didn't really matter.
She waved her hand dejectedly, refusing silently the offer that was being made.
"No thanks. I've already eaten tonight."
She watched Xela take the roasted bird off the makeshift roasting fork, thinking carefully about what she had just heard. She wasn't so sure about having so much things in common with Xela, she had known the other only for a few minutes. That wasn't nearly enough to make a satisfactory decision. That the other pendragon had so openly and early told Ronnica what she thought of the certain similar facts aroused a slightest flame of suspicion in the pale pendragon's soul,  a distrust that had been stamped out only a few seconds ago by the heroic story.
"But feelings do matter to me," she said at last, biting at the insides of her mouth, "Even though I'm not obsessed. I do care if I hurt someone who hasn't had the slightest grudge against me. I am just not interested in the opinions of those that threaten me." Like that weird mountaineer earlier today, she added in her mind, her face sporting a sneer yet again.
She drew in a long gulp of night air. It was overfilled with the scents of meat, smoke and woods. Not anything unordinary.
The pine cones crunched under her toes and she was reminded of her village, of the pine hills that surrounded it. Sunshine filtered through pine needles, creating geometrical patterns on the forest floor. All of a sudden, Ronnica felt so homesick she had to fight against a tear that threatened to leave the hideout of her eye and trickle quickly down her cheek. She had never missed her family and childhood friends before, the bitter taste of betrayal hanging like Tantalos's boulder over the village of her memories. But now... the pale pendragon had no idea what had come to her. She turned slightly away from the fire, and looked into the dark gorge that lay in front of her - deep and mysterious in the dark silence. That was the way... the way home.
"Have you got a family, Xela?" she asked, not turning back. Yet even the smallest whisper was distinguishable against the crackling of the pile of flaming twigs.</font>

 

<font color='#000080'>"Oh, I'm sorry about that," she answered quietly, seeing that she had evoked some long forgotten memories in Xela aswell. Dead... poor girl. Ronnica had thought her parents dead to her ever since they sent her away, but it wasn't as if they were really gone. She could always call back onto them, her mother had told her that through the film of tears that had coated her daughter's face. Xela couldn't.
"I don't miss them. You are right, I do have a family, parents, but they did something unforgivable to me," she continued, stopping for a second to decide whether she could spill out the thoughts that had smoldered inside her for eons. Hey, it's not a secret, so why not? came to her at last, and she cotinued.
"They sent me away to the Academy without even as much as telling me about it. Just one day - whoosh! I woke up and found out Mother had packed my bag and that I was to be crated of to some alien city in a few minutes' time! I didn't have time to even say goodbye to anyone!"
She was yelling by now, accusing the whole world of what had happened to her. Accusing the forests, the mountains, the fire, the roasted flesh that was being pried of the bird by Xela's knife.
"Being backtracked, betrayed and sent away by your own kin!" she fumed on. Had she been one of the dragons that pendragons took their name from, smoke would be coming out of her flaring nostrils.
Then she collapsed. She went down in a crumpled heap, tears streaming down her face, red in embarassement. She wanted to run, to flee away from everyone, to the depths of the white nothingness that the rapine served... or to Fronima...

The cold clang of the word made her look up again. No, she didn't want to die, no, not because of such a stupid thing she thought she had got over when she was seven hundred years old. Now what did Xela think of her? Such un-adultlike behaviour!
She rose slowly, her knees wobbling a bit.
"I'm sorry," she mumbled, "It's just the memories that got hold of me. I had never behaved so uncontrollably, and so childishly." She wiped her sweaty face with her paw.
"I must get away from this place," she said, her eyes bright and clear, and motioned towards the pinecones on the ground. "And I will never return home, not for as long as I live. My parents sent me away, well, I deny them!"
She growled, then turned around and bounded down the rocks of the slope, in the opposite direction than the valley lay. A few metres below, she stopped and glanced back, looking if Xela would come too.
As different and independent she may had seemed, Ronnica did like company. Two is better than alone was one of her mottos, especially when travelling around.</font>

 

<font color='#000080'>Like a white bullet she flew across the slopes, the wind whooshing in and out of her ears, her heart as wild and free as a lion's. The eastern horizon was starting to grow light with a very soft pinkish glow, as first hints of the sun sought to climb some heavenly staircase that ended in the skies, hight above Ramath-lehi. Regardless of the small rays that tinted her skin a ghostly white, Ronnica bounded on, neck stretched forward, eyes narrowed, keeping out any twigs or dust particles that could attack their delicate brownness.
Gradually, the mountainside leveled a little, to reveal a well trodden down road that snaked among the trees. It was complete with a set of lines that marked the way heavy carts had pressed into the harsh surface on their descent from the Nyonge mountain range. The road was quite wide, and Ronnica drew to a halt somewhere in the middle, her legs making vertical line in the sandy gravel.
"Ouch!" the female exclaimed, immediately lifting her paw and examining the bottom of it. With a grunt, she let it fall back to the ground, and waited until Xela caught up.
Now that her body and mind were both calmed down and at peace, the heavy burden of memories left behind at the smouldering logs in the pine wood, Ronnica could think freely again. She herself didn't really care where they were going; like Xela, she wasn't needed anywhere. But she had to decide on some sort of direction. She looked up and down the road, then tried to penetrate the thick folds of leaves in the forest around. Finally, she shrugged.
"I have no idea. If we follow the yellow brick road down the mountain, we're bound to encounter some village or a small town. If we go back up, we'll be basically retourning..."
She moved her shoulders again, her face suddenly lighting up. Had she been in a comic strip, a lightbulb would have appeared above her head.
"See that stick over there?" she exclaimed, pointing to a completely dry, black and shriveled down branch lying at the foot of the nearest tree. "We'll just position it on its tip and then let go. It will fall and we'll go in the direction it points to!"</font>