[01-010] [Froxxe and Noir] The journey was wrought ten rotations later when Froxxe and Noir

arrived in Halenthal. Although harrowed with the constant threat of the two nobles ensuing, they managed to continually elude their 'noble' captors. With any scraps of day lit rotation remaining, the two took up more practical training skills and, if not anything-- increased the pace of their operations. Through hills of exhausting heights, through forests in day and night, they arrived in the Capital city of the Arkedon Kingdoms. The Capital city was smaller than imagined, but compact in its ornate qualities. The houses were made from stone, and trimmed with gold. Noir noted with continuous disgust, the city oozed a natural condescension towards anyone who wasn't similarly dressed in the golds. It was of this fact that Noir and Froxxe did not feel so terrible when they arrived early in the city, and could fly to the Aatra-Shii on board a large cargo vessel. Later, it was no object of surprise that they realized the cargo vessel had shipped that earlier moot claim-- gold. In rotations of three, they made it to the Aatra-Shii before the race had begun-- leaping off of the cargo ship moments before it drew in port, and spiriting away into the Aatra Islands. It was midday, and Noir remembered her words shortly before they left Halen Arboria-- their syllables echoed incredulously in her mind. She shook her head. The succubus still couldn't believe that she agreed to steal an airship; she scorned herself for the hasty decision. But, she was a woman of her /word/, (with dual meaning) and she would keep to it. Being here reminded her of the days when she first left her homeland to travel with the male who convinced her to leave. The memory played distantly and somberly in the back of her mind. For a brief period of her life she did not have to seduce or kill-- life was as free as the sky, the two exchanging jokes and smiles on how easily they'd best the competitors and even each other during the Race. Friendly jeering and warm laughter would not go any further however, to turn that dynamic into something more meaningful they would have to wait

for-No! Noir gasped aloud as she heard the sound of her own voice, wary palms snapping to cover her mouth. The memory had grown dark, a wash of dark reds and blacks seeped into her mental image. She found herself removing a quavering palm to the flat of her abdomen, circling it with the ghastly color projected onto her fingertips. 'No...' she thought, she did not have the time to relive such unpleasantries, not now, or ever. Of all the times...Of all the places... She peered sideways at Froxxe to see if he heard her, and straightened up with an obviously strained smile, the incedent fading away from the surface. Well. She spoke, as if nothing had occurred, Let's get on with this, then. Walking though the web-works of dock and island, both boy and woman's eyes were poised for any possible threat. They hadn't seen Scaera or Haathrak in a week, and as soon as they began to suspect that they'd lost them, their scent would float by in the most unlikely of times. The area was busier, more crowded and more active than Diallerin if that were to be believed, a maze of leather and metal regalia. Noir scanned the people of the docks, every sorts of Sentients present-- animals with human bodies, elves of both northern and southern descent, winged fellows and even a few daemons-- they were all vying for the chance to get at the grand prize. Noir had to admit that she liked the idea of being immortal, but that goal was much easier spoken than committed. They trotted on the oddly buoyant docks-- made this way, Froxxe later learned, so patrons of the islands could reconnect and reposition the wooden structures on schedule, every day. Accepting the sights and sounds, Froxxe remarked in solemn murmur, I thought we were going to be late...? His frown was betrayed by a grin to illumine a healthier, more sturdy visage. Noir's mouth curved down into a skepticism-- We needed to maximize time. And we succeeded. She nodded curtly, eying a nearby vendor of airship paraphernalia, and lead Froxxe to it.

Two ticks of rotation and twelve gold coins later, she looked him over. At this point they acquired a new armaments, Froxxe pulled back his redwhite hair into a smart braid, and replaced the rags with leathers and neutral fabrics, hood extended-- a continence just tough enough, and inconspicuous enough to pass. Noir acquired a new cloak, in addition to a new repertoire of destructive instruments, giving the succubus the appearance of pure assassin. You know, your dreams of gods seem to reflect upon you. Now that she looked over Froxxe, she realized that the boy had a certain glow about him, an eminence that poured from his vision. Yet not as bright as a full god, it was much like the knighting stars among the wash of black space. Of course, it could have also been her imagination. The air ships were an amazing sight, a field of color and life. Froxxe's knowledge of Aeternum was expanding and complexifying very quickly-here new objects were discerned and apprehended, a growing compendium of connecting information. He saw the same strange objects from earlier at Froxxe's Plummet, poignant metal cages of dubious composition and intention. They rested in boxes, not yet active, but ready to deliver their dark payload at any time. The boy quickly learned that these objects were apparatuses of war, that each molten core would detonate minute amounts of a substance called Black Radiation. Black Radiation? Froxxe spat the word out onto the ground and stepped on it, While Aeternum may indeed be beautiful, there obviously reeks of a corruption beneath, hidden and ugly. Noir nodded, It's the truth, bub. The Black Radiation has been used for years to intimidate and control others. Froxxe perhaps heard some amount of melancholy slip into her tones. He learned this substance would infect all those using magic, it created a web of sporadic and dangerous failures. Black Radiation was an uncontrollable force, destroying all those in it's path, but as Froxxe quickly learned, these places of plague were focused on one specific continent: Shattria-Oniah. Although the two were in no immediate danger, the threat bloomed

imminent as the geological source of the Radiation powered through Shattria-Oniah 'The Spine of Chaos...' Thought Noir. Suddenly she was transported back to where she was raised, on those jagged, black steeps of the Spine. Her parents were fools to raise a child there, she thought, but then she gave a faint smile to how successful she later became. Regardless, the two turned about their business with these things in mind, yet another factor to play into matters of safety. They walked with purpose on the decks, scanning vessel after vessel to find a with a crew with the appropriate parameters. They discussed it earlier-- they would find a crew of mostly academic endeavors, a group with likely less ardor as the other notably hardy and burly lot of Sky-Sailors, and sneak on just as they did on the cargo ship. As the airship would set to sail, Froxxe would use whatever magic he could muster up to keep the crew still enough for them to understand the importance of his travel. They'd have to be agile and precise about what the importance was, and how it could help the crew with their own goals. If that didn't work, the alternative would be-- Well, they'd figure that out when they got there... Sixhundred-step later, they found themselves with an appropriate vessel, and Noir looked pleased as she smiled up at it-- a small bronze airship named the Aethella. *~*~*~*