Fantasy Gaiden

"They must have known, or guessed. Everyone... who wasn't part of the crew was off the ship." Aurelia nods her head, figuring it out as she speaks. "We weren't worth the hassle or risk."

"Hah." Aurelia smiles. "Smart captain."

"I shall take to the sky and see if I can spot the ship." Jörmungandr says, before stretching his wings, and pushing off the ground with his powerful legs.

He soars into the air, cutting a magnificent figure as he circles around, examining the surrounding waters for any sign of the ship.

In the sea not far from the island, is a bit of floating debris, alongside a few scraps of clothing and floating body parts, such as the occasional arm or leg.

It seems that they had tried to get away, but didn't get very far at all.

Jörmungandr lands and reports his findings, a hint of satisfaction in his voice.

"It seems justice has been done in the end, regardless of how it happened."

"But, now we've got to take a risk with the... teleport, as you say it is." Aurelia is still unsure if that is what the magic thing is.

"My people would not have built it if it were dangerous to use. We Secondborn are weak to magic, so the Firstborn wouldn't have made a device that would harm their brethren.

If you wish, I will go through first. If it is dangerous, I will end up dead, and if not, I shall return henceforth immediately."

"I'll not risk your life without need. There should be a better way to test if it's still working right." Aurelia starts back to the house. No need to talk while staying put.

Lumina follows along with Goredim in tow.

"Do you have any ideas?" she asks Aurelia.

"Uhm... No. Not particularly. Magic? Perhaps a trinket that can return to it's owner? I tend to avoid leaps of faith unless the situation calls for heroic action."

Lumina thinks for a moment before continuing.

"It's a bit of a stretch, but my Holy Symbol allows me to generate lances of light so long as it remains intact." she says. "We could send it through, and if I can still form one, then we'll know it's safe."

She looks at the symbol in hesitation. "Though if it is destroyed, we'll lose a valuable light source for the nights."

"We'll find no lack of light, when the need comes. We'll try your plan, and know that you're brave for taking the risk."

At the teleporter, Lumina carefully sets her Symbol down on the stone and steps away from it.

The humming sound rises to a higher pitch, and the purple light travels in an arc until it forms a perfect circle.
The Holy Symbol begins to glow purple soon afterwords.

After a few seconds of this, it suddenly rises up into the air, turns into an orb of purple light and shoot off into the night sky like a falling star.

Lumina waits for about thirty seconds before holding her hand out.
A small ball of yellow light appears in her hand and elongates into a small javelin of light.

With a sigh of relief, Lumina clenches her fist, causing the light to extinguish like a flame. "It's safe." she says.

Aurelia heads through the teleporter first.

In only a matter of seconds, the group's vision is bathed in purple light and a feeling of nausea hangs on the air around them.
As the purple light dies down, and the feeling of nausea slowly leaves, the group finds themselves in a large city. Its towering buildings and bright stonework looking like some sort of fusion of both Archannia and Harmonia.

The group cannot enjoy the scenery for long, as without warning ten large Dragonkin rush over to meet them, pointing large glaives at them and raising large tower shields to defend themselves.

"Who are you?" one asks.

Unlike Jörmungandr, these Dragonkin have no wings, their heads are more like normal dragons, and they are actually clothed.

Lumina looks up, and though scared inside by the tall and muscular Dragonkin, manages to speak.
"I am Lumina Faylen, a cleric from the Holy City of Harmonia, native to Antarion." she begins. "These others are Aurelia, Bella, Jörmungandr and Goredim. We were marooned on an island and found a portal that brought us here."

The Dragonkin exchange glances before the one who spoke switches his glaive to his offhand, steps back, and snaps his fingers at the soldiers.

"Take them to his majesty."

Very crude city map!:

The group is roughly pushed towards a huge wooden gate that opens up into a large courtyard.
The courtyard is rectangular in shape and looks more like a garden than a courtyard, as whatever isn't cobblestone on the ground is grass, flowers and trees.
Another teleporter sits in the middle of the courtyard, and the apparent leader points towards it.

"Get on." he orders the group.

Aurelia won't be herded. When a guard gets close to her, her hand goes to the sword sheathed at her back. She glares with undisguised warning.

Jörmungandr reaches his hand out and tries to stop her.

"Don't. Unlike the Secondborn, the Firstborn aren't weak to magic. Let's just meet the King for now. We are in no danger yet."

"It's a matter of honor. If asked, I'll move of my own accord. I won't be shoved."

"I, too, have my own honor. But honor won't do much good if it gets you harmed or killed. Let us just do as they say for now without fuss."

Aurelia ignores the last of what Jormugandr says. "So, if you would back away, I'll lead myself to your king." Her hand doesn't move an inch from her swords handle.

"We are simply doing our jobs." The Firstborn replies. "We mean you no harm unless you force our hands with violence."

He looks to the others and they stand up straight, holding their shields to their chests and their glaives to their sides.

"If you are willing, you may walk on your own."

"You cannot speak of hands being forced, when my group has been shoved. As I said, ask us to move and we shall. But we'll not be moved." Aurelia takes her hand away from her sheathed weapon. "Take us to your king, then."

The Firstborn nods his head towards a few of the others and waits until they've stepped on the teleporter.

"Go with them if you will, and they will lead you to his majesty." he says.

Aurelia follows along.

As the group steps on, one of the Firstborn soldiers slams the bottom of his polearm's haft on the teleporter's surface.

"The throne room!" he says.

This time, the teleporter simply flashes a bright white, causing everyone standing on it to see nothing but white, like a large empty void of light.

Only a few seconds after this, the end to an argument can be heard between a gruff baritone voice, and a gentle elderly one.

"I am not done speaking!" the gruff voice shouts. The elderly voice replies as the white void begins to fade and the large throne room begins to slowly come into view.

"You are now, Hazhulkhen. Be silent and we will continue this later."

The group finds themselves standing in the middle of a large throne room.
The throne room is made from white marble, and it is given light from a giant crystal chandelier that hangs directly above the group.

The ceiling is one-hundred feet high, with the room itself being one-hundred feet long and fifty feet wide.
The room has many double doors on each side of it's width that are spaced by about ten feet each.

Along the length of the room is a long red carpet that begins at the large double doors at the entrance and runs up the stairs of the large throne.
The throne itself is on an elevated platform with stairs leading up. It is in the image of a large dragon with its head coming up above the king's and its arms being the arms of the chair. Its wings fold around the chair, making a shield on the left and the right.

Seated there is a pure white Dragonkin, much smaller than the rest; being only the size of an average male Orc.
The Firstborn's head is full of tiny spiky looking protrusions from his brow to the back of his neck.
His fangs are short and blunted, and his silver eyes look tired and dull.

He is clad in a simple silver silken robe, with a grey wool cloak draped across his shoulders.

Flanking him on each side, rather than two guards, are four young adult male Firstborn, and four young adult female Firstborn.
Each one seems to come in a pair, with two orange ones, two green ones, two blue ones, and two black ones.

The small king addresses the soldiers. "Who are these people?" he asks quizzically.

Exchanging glances, the soldiers look to the group and then to the king, one of them speaking up. "We don't know, your majesty." he says. "They appeared through the teleporter you made on that strange island along with those purple eyed Elves."

The king slowly stands up, his eyes twinkling in the light of the chandelier as he slowly walks over to the group.
"May I please ask who you all are?" he asks with a smile.

Lumina places her left arm behind her back and her right hand close to her left shoulder, giving a slight bow of respect. "We apologize for trespassing, your excellency." she says. "My name is Lumina Faylen, a Cleric of the Holy City of Harmonia. We were all on a ship, but were marooned on an island by our captain. We had no choice to but to use the teleporter we found."

Giving the Dawn Elf a pat on the head, the old Dragonkin coos as he ruffles her hair. "That's quite alright, I do quite like visitors on my island. Don't get them all too often, and the very few that do end up arriving don't stay too long. Scared of my children I think, they can be a little overprotective. Especially Hazhulkhen, my eldest. He's quite the fiery one."

While the king speaks, Lumina turns her eyes to the others as if to ask for help, her expression a look of embarrassment, fear and bewilderment all wrapped into one. Was this normal for a king to do?

"So who are your friends?" the king happily asks as he turns to look at the others; still ruffling Lumina's strawberry blonde hair.

"Aurelia." The Drow says tersely. She can already tell, that this is going to take a long time. She just wants to leave this place. One hand rests on her hip, the other against her swords sheathe, a clear stance of defiance. "We cannot stay long." Aurelia says, to the king, but mostly to her group.