The "Iron Chef" Group

Origin: House Chagga, Paniya Isle, Alskyr

(formerly ironchef-1)

"If you just hold out another week, I know I can get the -"

"I do not have another week. We've been in port for three already, and missed two good tides just in the last day." The dangerous tone of the captain of the Gargoyle's Tangle made Brelag wary. He backed off, averting his faintly green tinted hazel eyes from the glowering orbs of the sea man.

"Then I ... do not know what I can do for you." Brelag said. "I suppose that I will have to wait to book passage elsewhere."

"Damned right, but you owe me and my crew for the time we've wasted on your sorry excuses! You promised us grains! Meal for animals! Where are these things I ask you?!" The man was hardly as tall as Brelag, but his years upon the choppy seas of Alskyr had made him extremely strong. And, bitter.

"I am a woodsman by trade, sir, I ..." Brelag looked around at the ship. "I could help fix any damage you've got, or make almost any piece of furnishing you'd require."

The captain eyed Brelag, with a sneer. "You're no seaworthy man, you belong in your woods then. I'll not forget your face - I expect not to see it again, not on my ship and not on any of my Guild's."

When the captain turned away from Brelag, three of the men aboard moved in to threaten the young wood carver. He held his hands up, and they were as used to hard work as the sailors'. They did not care much about that. Brelag left the ship, heart pounding. He hardly admitted any fears to anyone, not even his closest friends, but this time...

It wasn't that he was afraid of the captain, or of the ship crew, or indeed even the sea as many land-bound people were.

Brelag had heard that someone saw him committing a crime, just outside of the Tsan Nu territory north-east of Chagga. And though everyone locally knew that Brelag could not have been there at the time of that crime (for he was within his Guild hall working on a group project, convienently enough), he himself knew the explanation for it.

His twin brother was on Paniya - looking for him, no doubt.

Brelag knew now that he could not outrun his brother. Somehow, he'd have to gain the courage to face him again. The last time... Haunted by those memories, Brelag made his way back to his dorm in the Guild hall just east of Chagga's wide port. It was a long walk. He had a lot of time to ponder his situation, and he didn't much like any of the thoughts he was left with at the end of the walk.

***

"Javalen, could you possibly not do that when you're cooking? I mean, I know it's fun and all, but you're really quite loud and you're scaring the children." Sighed the young woman at the daycare service Javalen worked at. Javalen hardly heard her.

He was standing over a large sizzling wok of some kind, apparently doing a chant over the food. His arms held wide, with a grip of herbs in one hand and a whisk in the other, he would throw the chives or whistleleaf or whatever green-black stuff it was (the woman didn't have a clue) into the pan - and then, yelling at the top of his lungs, Javalen would stir it energetically.

"JAVALEN!" The woman yelled, and finally got a response. He wasn't deaf, he was just so consumed with his work that he rarely looked up or tried to listen beyond the kitchen.

"Sorry, what?" Javalen said, casually. The girl was cute. Not his type, but certainly someone might think her hardly-padded frame would be ideal. He liked his women to have a bit more flesh to them. "Is something wrong?"

"Yes, Javalen, there is..." She sighed. This was going to be a long day... and the children out in the main room were the least of it. Javalen was polite, from a good family, and quite talented in the kitchen. But his people skills really needed some work.

Fortunately, that was not this girl's problem. Javalen continued to cook, almost unconsciously, as they spoke. The girl wasn't too hot on the idea of so much big-people food going to feed this group of ornery (and unappreciative) children in the first place. His budget for cooking was more than most people paid for their children's care at this point, so that had to be chopped down. And, the yelling and chanting... That was just the end.

"So... you're saying I'm fired?" Javalen said, putting his whisk down and blinking seemingly for the first time during the conversation.

"I - well, no, not exactly. I'm saying that you have to ... pull in a bit. Think lower." She held her hand down, palm flat toward the floor, about at kid-level. "And cheaper. We don't need a gastrnomic exploration crew, we just need a cook. Do you understand?"

"I am a chef," he announced, with a kind of masterful drawing-up of his shoulders. "So no, I do not think I do. I'll serve this omlette and call it a job - and I expect payment before I leave."

He harrumphed and turned back to his wok.

"... that is an omlette?" The girl whispered to herself, gazing at the mountain of colorful steaming food in the wok.

***

"Please can't we go to that race?" Thaulian asked, tossing her hair over her shoulder. There was a tiny hummerflit on her shoulder, which got tangled in the hair, and she absently removed it with a little kiss and an apology to it. She glared back at her uncle, who ran the farm which she worked on.

"Thauli, you know we need every hand we can get right now!" He said. He was exasperated, but not at her, nor at any of the other workers. He was tired of there being so little for them to actually do. His words, that they were all needed, were a lie. He needed them to make himself look better off.

"Uncle Dez, there is no crop coming up that needs six of us working on it in addition to the other men. It's silly. And we've already got someone who will take us, they're headed to the big race anyway. Everyone in the village will be there except you." Thaulian looked up at him with a resentful glower, "it's not fair to keep us here just because you don't like the races."

"You're kept here for the work!" Dez bellowed, "and don't take that tone with me young girl!"

"You have no right to boss me around like that, this farm is as much mine as it is yours-" That elicited a gasp of anger and surprise from Dez, but it was true, "and you know just as well as I do that that field will not be yeilding enough work for five people, let alone those of us who want to go." She stamped her foot, "damnit Dez, sometimes I swear you can be the biggest idiot on Alskyr."

She turned and walked away at a brisk pace. No one interrupted her when she was storming around like that, they knew better. Before Dez could project any of his anger at the other workers, they had either scurried off to their private ways or gotten back to work at something.

Thaulian muttered to herself the entire way back up to their house. Three houses rimmed the farmland that they and their workers toiled upon, her parents', Dez's, and Thauli's aunt's family. And, in her opinion, everyone knew that Dez's was the weak link. He knew next to nothing about farming - he was so concerned about this party or that lordling looking his way so maybe he could advance into the ranks.

What he'd do once there, Thaulian pondered bitterly, was ruin things at a higher scale? That seemed his lot in life - but it was not to be hers. That, she had determined years before. When she'd gotten out of the Guild's classes for farming work, at about 14 years old. She understood everything from soil composition to bundling harvested goods - she hardly needed to glance at the instruction books, she lived for this work.

Before she got more angry with everything, a pair of flying lizards came into her room and chittered at her. They would always have better news for her, than Dez.

***

"How are we going to make this season's goals?" Asked someone, in passing, "it's so bleak, I can't believe I'm seeing this."

Droppi didn't look up from her book. There had to be something in it that would show her how they could get a better yeild from even this dry season's soil. They had not been quite desperate enough to start adding things to the soils, it had only been two seasons worth of drought after all. There might be a big rainstorm on the next big wind...

Wishful thinking, according to Droppi's calculations. Every Isle along the normal rainfall route was experiencing some kind of difficulty, and theirs would suffer accordingly. Once one of the isles claimed a good rainfall, everyone would breathe a sigh of relief. Coffee beans needed little care otherwise, but they did need at least some kind of rain. They liked their soil to be a particular way, but they still liked their leaves to collect dew, to have some kind of wetness available. And that just wasn't there this year.

Droppi almost felt sorry for the plants. Certainly, more than some of the idiotic people who required their beans! 'Oh, please, we must have our coffee drinks! We can't do our paperwork without them!' She scoffed at such things. After having lived and worked around coffee plants all her life, Droppi had either become so used to the plant's effects, or turned off from it entirely.

She wasn't perky - but she was attentive, and that made a world of difference in her line of work. She spotted something in the book about a certain type of dung being required in a fertilizer mix. That would do it! That would provide the chemical that they needed most...

And where would they get such a thing at this time of year? ... Hmn. Droppi checked the book back in, after making notes, and left the Guild's library. The morning sun illuminated the peak of Mount Gherna, no cap of snow (even a little one) this year either... Not a great sign. But, they could hardly make snow.

Unless... They asked the aerie gryphons. Perhaps if they asked nice, they could get some water-shaping gryphons to help this whole matter! "Oh, they'd have already thought of that," she chided herself. She got back to the problem of finding a half-ton of dung at short notice.

***

"Adadar, you have to do this at least once. It'll go great on your papers!" The head medic claimed. "And if you don't go, you will not gain your rank."

"You can't threaten me with that! I'm not even interested in packing poultices on people's wounds! I'm a-"

"You're an herbalist I know I know, I've heard it a million times. But girl, you are a medic, and those trained here are going to have to understand that when you know how to save a life, you've got to be able to actually get out there and... save lives."

"Master Hesch," Adadar sighed, knowing that this was a losing battle. "You know I don't like being around crowds. They make me very nervous. Couldn't I do some other kind of test for my final rank?"

"No, Ada, you cannot. This has never been challenged in the decades I've been here, and it will not after I leave." He sternly looked down at the girl. She was seated - that was the only reason he could look down upon her. Her tall frame brought her half a head of height on him. He could see that she was distressed about this, but she'd have to overcome her fears if she was to be a decent medic at all.

"Ada," he asked, after a pause, "why did you want to become a mediciner, if you are afraid of people?"

"I'm ... I thought that with my expertise with plants, I could just do that, just plant and harvest the right kinds of plants. I like people well enough, but..." She gazed up guiltily, "one at a time, you know?"

Hesch's stern face turned softer, and he nodded. "I've known many that thought that too. But all of them eventually have gone on to be talented medics in their local areas. You cannot ignore the fact that you are making your herbs for the purpose of healing people. People are the key. Otherwise, they're just herbs that might not serve any useful purpose."

"I'm not concerned with usefulness, particularly, some of them are quite pretty, some make good cooking spice in addition to their medicinal values." Adadar said, almost flippantly. Why did she want to cheapen her chosen craft so?

"Well I'm glad you realize that, but even then, cooking for whom?" Hesch prodded. He'd get her to volunteer her service, somehow.

"Maybe just myself," Adadar grumbled, folding her arms across her broad chest. Her heavy frame was intimidating to some people, but Hesch knew her better than to think she'd use it against anyone. More, he was worried that her weight had something to do with her fear of crowds.

"Maybe a crowd of race fans? Who might get trod upon, or stuck by something sharp, or even break a limb?"

Adadar gave a sarcastically exhausted glare at her master medic teacher. "All right. Fine. I'll get my things and go to this stupid race. If it'll get me my rank letter, I'll do it. But after that I don't have to go to any more of these things. I'll just live," she said, standing up and straightening, "alone in the woods like a hermit and people with problems will have to come to me."

"That's the spirit," Hesch laughed.

***

(formerly ironchef-2)

The thunder of hoofbeats and the cries of dozens of racing animals woke Brelag. He'd been exhausted by his long walk - normally things like walking could hardly give him reason to, but he was also quite depressed. He hadn't found a way off this isle, away from his brother, and now it looked as though the jerk was trying to perpetrate more crimes that Brelag would have to pay for.

Not this time. Brelag dressed and pulled on his work gloves, hoping that maybe he'd be able to get a little carving done before the day got too warm. It was too much to ask that the noise outside be tamed. The races had come to Chagga again, and of course, this nice wide land that the Woodworkers Guild owned was just great for it.

Dozens of people from all over Alskyr would follow these silly races. They would gamble their earnings away, have pickpockets work them over, get into fights... All for what? Some silly steed or running dragon or even gryphon that would cross the finish line before the others?

It was madness. Yet, Brelag's spirits began to lift when the singers and dancers drifted through the Guild's hall. They were trying to get more people to attend the race, naturally, and it worked for the most part. Brelag thought maybe if the groups of students or workers there left he'd be left in a more quiet state. Not so, of course.

"Brel, come on! They're serving wine and food - you'll like it! You've been working too hard lately!" Said one of his friends. "We're going to check out the gryph race!"

"You go ahead, I've got this piece I'm almost finished with. Maybe later, I'll bring something to barter for your gambling losses." Brelag said, and his friend, already apparently fully into the celebratory efforts, laughed loudly and continued down the hall.

Brelag sighed. The piece was nearly finished, at that. But it wasn't all that great, he had started it distracted and he'd finish it that way too. The races outside would be going on for a couple days, at the least, so he would have time to play a bit.

At the moment, though, he just didn't much think it would be wise. What if... What if his brother were there?

***

"I cannot believe this food - it's SO great!" Yelled an onlooker with his cheeks stuffed full of mushrooms and peppers. "Have you tried this!?"

Javalen was very proud to have put down a stall and gotten the results he wanted. His powerful spices wafted along the heated air, and his novel chanting-to-enhance-the-experience went over very well indeed with this crowd. He continued stirring the pepper dish, adding a handful of crumbling cheese to one bowl and then pouring the sauce over it for one woman's dinner.

He was completely in his element. Javalen's first day at the races was quite profitable, if a bit exhausting. There were so many people, and his overwhelming instinct was to feed them all!

He hardly got any time to watch the daytime races, but there was to be a night time performance of some dance troupe, which he intended to watch while he relaxed. He'd even been able to swing a private tent with his great food, a tent that he'd be sleeping in that night with his pots and pans and supplies.

While the runners and steeds were led away into their own spacious area for the evening, Javalen sat down on the low cot in his tent and took stock of his supplies before fixing the flap down and heading out to the dance performance.

***

"Are you sure that we really should be here?" Whispered Eva, whose red hair constantly dropped into her eyes. Thaulian groaned yet again, and turned her friend's head to face the dancers on their round stage.

"Of course we should. Dez can't keep us at the farm when there's nothing to do on it. It's my farm too, and I say we enjoy ourselves today." Thaulian nodded, and pushed her hair behind her ears. There were not one but two hummergryphs nestled on her shoulders this time, so she patiently plucked them from her hair and watched them fly off disorientedly into the evening sky.

The dance troupe was far more exotic than anyone at Chagga expected. They were 'supposedly' from Nsomeka's territory, but obviously not having widely been seen by foreigners. With their dark skin and black hair in dredlocks or decorated with leather straps, they lept into the air, tumbled and danced to a group of equally talented drummers.

With everyone applauding to their latest thrilling stunt, Thaulian was slightly distracted. But she wasn't so easily taken by the pickpocket who wandered by the trio of young women. She spun and snarled at the skinny young thief.

"You'd best just hand it back, boy, or you'll find out how hard my fists are." She growled. Her two friends turned, and saw the look of fright on the child's face. They were about to fall for it, when one realized that her small coin purse was also missing.

"And mine," she demanded. By this time a couple of the nearby onlookers had seen this, and blocked the boy's escape. He tossed two purses back at them, and bolted into the dark guild land.

"Good thing you didn't come to blows, Thauli," Eva said, "because we all know how easily you bruise."

Thaulian growled at her friends, and stomped off. They enjoyed the rest of the show while she wandered about. Her nose stopped her at a tent which smelled particularly good. She thought she'd smelled that particular spicy (drool inducing) scent earlier in the day. Resting beside it, Thauli caught the highest leaps of the performers, and their spinning torches which they juggled and caught to the beat of their drums.

***

While the day had worn on, Droppi talked to half a dozen steed owners who all agreed that she could 'have' their horse dung when they were 'done with it'. Thinking she was rather insane, they let her think that somehow she'd be able to whisk it all away back to whereever it was she would put it.

Not that they were about to let their steeds step in their manure, though. They certainly had enough stable boys and girls on hand to leave their piles in bigger piles for her. It would surely keep the Guild's grounds better maintained and nicer smelling, when they were done, if she did take the stuff away.

They had enough fertilizer as it was, apparently. The hard wood and old growth trees surrounding the glades where the woodworkers Guild rested grew with or without much water. They withstood this drought better than any other plants, Droppi noticed. She was far more interested in the plant life and the people who worked the woods, than the visiting steed owners or even their races.

Because she represented the coffee growers guild herself, she'd been given a stipend to spend on lodgings and food, and whatever transportation she'd need to get their fertilizer back to the hillside. Droppi's tent wasn't all that close to the action - which was fine with her. She wasn't much for gambling either, not liking the random chance that even the weather could bring. If Droppi could do anything, she'd fix it so that the weather was always stable or predictable, and give the land all it needed to prosper.

Her work arranging things done, Droppi wondered if there was anything else other than the music and dancing and performances to do here. On a whim, she decided to enter the Guild building. Her guild badges displayed prominently on her scarf, Droppi boldly came into the building to look around. No one stopped her, she was after all a very pretty girl with an easy smile for everyone.

***

Adadar cringed every time the black skinned young man would twirl that flaming baton in front of his chest. He was bent halfway backwards over his own heels, spinning the club over himself while two others did flips over one another.

So if this was to be her lot, tending the hideous burns or leg-breaks that these performers could sustain, she wanted no more of medicine.

It wasn't that bad, she thought, at least at night she could concentrate only on the performers and not worry herself about the crowd all around. During the day, it had been almost too much for her. She had to retire into the medic tent several times, just to get away from the press of dozens of people.

No one knew why Adadar was so fearful in the packed parts of Chagga, or why she required her space. Not even she knew, really. All she knew was that this was one fear she didn't plan on trying to conquer, she just wanted to let it have its way and live alone or with one or two others.

There were dozens of places she could live, she pondered while the flames entranced her eyes. A small community could do well with a person like herself, who had seeds and plants, and the knowledge necessary to keep people mainly healthy.

With a jolt, she realized that the troupe had finished their performance, and everyone was applauding. She switched from a bleary eyed daydream to her typical fearful state in moments. But it was her duty to remain on hand, just a little longer. She forced herself to obey the rules that she'd learned. Only when everyone seemed well off, filing away from the round grassy stage area, did she get to run away.

The medical area had several tents, and two people were in hers asleep already. They'd come from another isle, and had been traveling all day beforehand. They certainly deserved this rest. Adadar nodded off on her cot, the warm air helping her sleep.

***

(formerly ironchef-3)

Waking with the dawn wasn't something that Brelag always did, but this time, it was more because of the noises outside his dorm's window, than because he was an early riser. There were dragons, and gryphons, and tons of people now. When would this crazy racing thing end?

He didn't really want to work on his carving, so he didn't even bother picking it up. Instead, he dressed and convinced himself that today he could go outside and enjoy himself. Just this once. He got out into the wide warm hall, and nearly tripped over the slumbering form of a young woman who decided that the lounge wasn't quite good enough for her to sleep in.

"Sorry -" he said, helping her up and trying not to appear too ahead of himself when he said, "you could have stayed in my room."

Groggily, Droppi rubbed her eyes and grinned with the just-woke-up confusion most people had. Especially, when they had just been tripped over to be awoken. "I should have stayed on a cot..." She said, rubbing her side.

"Well, yeah," Brelag said, with a grin. "I'm pretty sure they're softer than half a carpet roll and the floor." He helped her to her feet, and looked at her Guild badge. "You're from Chagga's coffee house, that's interesting. Here for the race I assume," he tried to avoid rolling his eyes and looking away.

"Well, only for a kind of ... other reason," Droppi giggled and half blushed. "I'm trying to fix our plant growth problems, by bringing steed dung back for fertilizer. All the chemicals would be perfect on our soils in the plantation."

With a relieved sigh, Brelag laughed. "Forgive me if I sound like a total jerk, but that's fantastic. I'm glad you're not here with the rest of the idiots betting and -"

"Gambling away their hard earned money!" Droppi completed with a grin. "I hear you. I've made some deals with the visiting racers, and they're going to help me out. I don't even have to pay for dung, of course, I just didn't want to get treated like I was part of a clean up crew."

"There's something to be said about hiring people to do dirty work like that," Brelag nodded. "Come on, we might as well look at the steeds. And I heard dragons out there this morning. I bet there are some riders who might help you out too."

Droppi tilted her head, strawberry blond hair dancing over her eyes. "You mean to say you're going to help me collect dung, just like that?"

"Of course, what else do I have to do all day - work?" He winked. Droppi thought that Brelag was handsome enough to keep her attention - and he was being quite nice. She didn't really understand that his own motives for having her around him were a bit more selfish than that - he didn't want to be alone out there in case his brother showed up.

***

Javalen was up with the sun because it was his way - he always loved cooking big hearty breakfasts and he knew that this crowd certainly would enjoy the same. When he stepped out of his spicy smelling tent, he saw a smallish young woman stretching and yawning. Her hair had some long grass stuck in it, and she seemed to have around six or seven alis gryphs and flitters that didn't much like being shooed away when she stood.

"Hey -" she said, glancing at him. "You the cook? It smells great."

Drawing himself up, Javalen nodded and said, "thank you, I am the cook. I was planning on starting some egg dishes - but I'm about half out of eggs. They won't last until noon at the rate I'll be using them up. Would you like to help me find some more?"

He completely missed Thaulian's half-exasperated eye roll, but mostly because she hid it behind her hair. She did want some food, after all, and the usual trade was staring her in the face: if she got him some eggs, she'd get a free breakfast.

"Sure, I'll help, I think I saw some poultry sellers on the sidelines." She said. "Where is your stall?"

Javalen pointed and showed her where the dark-topped tents were, the cooking stalls all arranged in one area to share the benefit of hungry patrons - as well as keeping the trouble down to one locale. They traded names, briefly, and Javalen collected his cooking tools and headed off. Thauli started walking in the other direction. Other sellers had shown up during the night, so it was actually a little more work for Thaulian to locate what she needed.

Thaulian jumped out of her skin when the feathered form of a huge winged blue colored gryphon strode by, his rider proudly walking arm in arm with some local girl. Thauli calmed herself - it was just a gryph. It was already bonded. It wasn't going to...

"I'll take whatever the biggest eggs you have," said someone nearby. "I will be needing a number of them."

Thaulian turned, and saw a haggish looking older skin and bones woman trying to get her eggs!

"I was here for the eggs first," Thaulian snapped. "It's for a local stall, here last night. You might have smelled it, the spicy one."

The old woman grunted, "huh, that stink? I've smelled better food in a pig sty!"

Thaulian turned and her green eyes burned. "Obviously that gigantic nose of yours doesn't work properly. You might get it fixed, while *I* buy these eggs."

Before the pair could begin truly fighting, the poultry seller held his hands up and said, "ladies, ladies, please. I've enough for both of you to buy. You wanted the biggest ones, and you asked first," he said to the elderly woman, "so I've got those over there." He indicated a basket that had fist-sized eggs in it. Her cloudy eyes glimmered at the sight of them. Thaulian knew she didn't really need the big eggs. She was so very tempted to try buying them out from under her - or breaking them - but then the seller pointed her in the direction of several other baskets layered carefully with eggs from smaller birds.

With a quick estimation in her head, one born from long days on the farm rather than any formal math classes, she thought that she was clearly getting the better deal.

Thaulian took her time bartering for the eggs. After all, they weren't hers, and Javalen had better pay her for them.

When she found him, he'd set up his wok and spices, and people were already starting to mill about. Firewood was in plentiful supply here of course, so they had only to hash out which chefs would be working what shifts - and how much they would each pay for their share of the tent space when they were done.

Javalen didn't even blink an eye when the tent master asked his price, he didn't have to keep track of any financial attachments and had an easy way of making his money. What he did balk at was that today there were almost three times as many cooks in the tents than the day before! He was snippy, and kept his spice racks sealed until he needed something from them - he clearly didn't want anyone taking his private stash.

"Got your eggs," Thaulian said, holding the basket. "This should hold out until you're done, unless you're going to cook nothing but eggs all day..."

"Eggs are a perfect food," Javalen said, his voice almost a preacher's tone. "And with the right egg laying bird at hand, one can live indefinitely on them!"

Someone else commented that they'd rather eat the chicken outright, yet another yelled something about having a rooster and a chicken coop and getting the whole deal.

Thaulian laughed to herself. Javalen clearly had his standards. He also had a great smile that she noticed drew in more people than the other chefs. "Is there anything else I can do?" Thaulian asked, almost entirely submerged in the idea of breakfast.

"I'll have to get a couple loaves of bread," Javalen was muttering to himself. Thaulian took mental notes - he liked bread with rich grains present in them - she could appreciate that because they had the most flavor. They would make the best pieces of egg-soaked toast, and she loved that breakfast.

Thaulian found herself laughing because here she was, playing gopher not to her uncle Daz, but to this crazy chef.

***

He was a good looking dark-skinned man, broad in the chest and with a relaxed-afro hair. His smile was quick, but there was something about him that made Adadar look twice. None of his clothes or accessories matched. He had boots that had patches of different colors on them, leggings of a dark brown leather, but a tunic in faded yellow cloth that looked more cut for someone taller and leaner. She recognized him as a thief immediately.

Why would a woman like Adadar know anything about those strange things? She had trained with her mother until the woman got them kicked out of Tsan Nu. Anger welled up in Adadar, but not at the man who walked around like he owned the place. No, at her mother. If she'd become a tailor, like she'd originally wanted to as a young girl, Adadar would never have to deal with so many people at a time, ever. She'd have been able to sit down one on one and fix things one person at a time.

But now, she wasn't a tailor. She was a medic, and she kept her eyes open. The first day of the races had been tame compared to this mess. Dozens more people filed in off of caravans and even more came in carried on the sleek backs of dragons or gryphons.

She was distracted by all the people around, but still, Adadar kept her eye on that handsome man. Something suspicious about him, something dangerous.

When a child tripped and was then tripped over by several bigger adults, Adadar rushed over to help - and lost track of the mystery man.

***

(formerly ironchef-4)

The races went on largely without any troubles. There were some wild steeds, and one which almost came out to trample people - but their trainers were handling it nicely. Medics were scattered around the whole place, hired on by the organizers of the races just to cover themselves in case someone got hurt and tried to stop their races in the future.

Droppi and Brelag walked casually around the racing tents, Brelag telling the girl about how this usually was the area where the cut wood was kept, here and there she could see where the students and masters at the woodworkers guild would plant themselves and work on a single piece for days.

Droppi guided him toward the tent where a couple other coffee-guild members had been assembled. She told them that she'd arranged the okay for picking up the dung - wasn't that great she laughed - and that it was their turn. They had to get a couple nice carts, perhaps a single large one, to load everything back up and get it back to the guild and the hillsides. They chatted for a few minutes, and then Droppi suggested they get something to eat.

The big black-covered tents in the northern edge of the clearing were busy this morning, by far more so than the day before. Everyone rubbed elbows and jostled a bit but in the end, everyone also wound up with something good to eat while they waited for their races to start or finish. Traders and gamblers and ...

Droppi noticed a young woman with the healer's guild insignia on her shoulder, a big-boned very pale skinned woman who seemed to be staring oddly at Brelag. There appeared to be a look of confusion on her face, as well. So strange was this, that Droppi tugged on Brelag's elbow and nodded toward the girl, but by that time, the pale skinned healer had been jostled out of their sight.

Droppi thought that the look on Brelag's handsome face was even stranger than the one on the healer's, when he asked what was up.

"You look as though you've seen a ghost," Droppi said, warily. She didn't want to lose this precious hold she had on a handsome man, even one she'd barely just met. "What's wrong, Brelag?"

"I -" he looked down, but someone else was glancing at him oddly too - it wasn't his imagination, Droppi saw it too. She guided him around to some of the scattered tables for picnickers and they set their food down on one when it came open. With a sigh, Brelag added, "It's not me, seeing a ghost. It's those folks."

Droppi had rarely seen an expression so haunted on a man's face. "Why?"

With another long, pained sigh, Brelag looked around briefly, and then back to Droppi. He rather liked this girl, trusted her at first sight. Normally he was not so trusting, especially of strangers, especially because of...

"My brother, my twin brother," he admitted, "is a murderer and a thief. He killed our parents, made it look like they'd suicided together for some dumb reason."

Droppi gasped, shocked. Then she noticed that the tall pale-skinned girl had returned, with that same odd look on her face. She glared at the younger woman briefly, but then brought her to Brelag's attention.

"If you've seen someone who looks like me," Brelag said, hardly moving to see Adadar, "I'd like to know where, and when. It's important."

Hesitating, the young healer came to their table. She was quite nervous, every time someone came near her even just in passing she twitched, and pressed herself to the table. "I have seen someone - it wasn't you, though. You're different somehow."

Droppi thought of some choice words, but didn't say any of them. They all involved how he was chisled (like his tools) and rugged (like the land)...

"It's my twin brother," Brelag said, "as I was telling Droppi here. I'm Brelag, by the way. My brother... his name is Brental. He's older than me by about an hour, but he's ... completely different from me."

"I thought there was something strange about him," Adadar said, glad to have some kind of distraction. "He isn't as clean cut as you, his clothes were -" she stopped, hoping that she didn't sound like an idiot, "his clothes didn't match, they looked almost like they were from oth-"

"Other people," Brelag said, "they were. He's never settled down, after he arranged the murders he wouldn't go with me to our cousin's family. He said he had better things to do, and he's threatened me often enough whenever we've met. I'm pretty sure he wants to kill me, just to keep me quiet."

"Why haven't you said anything? To the authorities? The dragon riders would do something about it, wouldn't they?" Adadar asked, somewhat naively.

Brelag leveled his hazel-brown eyes on her pale blue ones, "you've never been threatened with your life, before, have you?"

Adadar looked down at the table, eyes wide, and shook her head. "I can't say as I have, it's scary to think about. You've lived with this for a while, haven't you?"

"We were ten," Brelag said, and Droppi gasped. "He's always been like that. Always scheming and always plotting something. I don't know where he's been for the last couple years, but the last time I saw him he threatened me with a crossbow and almost put a bolt through my head." He leaned in, and pointed at a narrow almost-imperceptible scar that was just by his hairline. Adadar knew immediately that the scar was from the slender tip of a weapon like a crossbow bolt - she'd learned all sorts of weaponry and what each could do to a man.

She wasn't sickened because of the wound - but because of the source. "That's terrible. I've seen him a couple times yesterday, and once today. He was wearing the same clothing, a faded yellow tunic and brown leather leggings. The tunic's tight on him, too long."

Droppi glanced at the healer, and her eyebrow went up under her strawberry hair. "And you've quite an eye for detail."

"I wanted to be a tailor," Adadar admitted with a weak smile. "But it comes in handy. I thought he appeared to be a bit suspicious. Smiling too much, no warmth in his eyes."

"That would be Brental." Brelag slumped.

***

From the shadows of the cooking tent, Thaulian listened to many conversations, but this one was the best by far.

Her stomach full, two flitters on her shoulders, she sat just on the inside of the tent and stayed out of the way of the busy cooks, hidden from sight of the crowd outside. The tent flaps were loose on the ground, it was a warm day and hardly a breeze, so they didn't want to stifle the poor chefs. But it let her listen in for quite a while. She occasionally stole a glance between the flaps of this dark-skinned man, and the two girls who spoke quietly to him. He looked oddly familiar, too. Maybe she'd seen the guy he was talking about in the crowd?

Her spying was interrupted when Javalen staggered over to her and sat down on the chair beside her. He looked exhausted, his normally-straight hair was mussed, he had a couple fresh spatter-blisters from the fat in the woks. But he looked happy as a clam... "Everyone likes my egg dishes," he proudly said, voice hoarse from endorsing and haggling. "I've made enough to get a nice suite at Chagga for a month, here - couldn't have done it without you."

Javalen handed Thaulian half a dozen large-denomination coins. She heard in his pockets the jingle of more, but realized that he'd just given her the big ones and kept the bulk of the smaller, surely they added up to four or five times what she had. But it was kind of him, and suddenly she realized that he could just as easily have wandered away or slighted her.

"That's ... very kind of you. I hadn't expected this much just for haggling some eggs. Oh! Hey - the other eggs I didn't get, they were really big ones."

Javalen's face pulled into a kind of grimace. "Can't use the Puffit eggs, they're too much white and not enough yolk, not to mention that the shells are harder than stone. You have to use a chisel to break the things."

"Well good, some old lady bought them instead. But I was visciously trying to figure out a way to get her back for being such a bitch at the poultry man's stand."

"You're rather cruel, Thaulian," Javalen grunted, but he had a smile on his face. He was still young enough that this sort of thing could entice him just enough... "I'm done here for the day. I actually don't want to cook another meal right now, and it's hardly a feeling I have often. Let me get my things, and, heh, let's go see his old hag of yours."

Javalen stood and argued to one of the other chefs that his stuff was right under the new guy's, don't mix it up, don't you dare get into my spice rack... He was quite possessive of those spices. They carried the supplies (much lighter now that there were no eggs and no other vegetables to be dragged along) back to Javalen's tent. Unloading his things, and then changing into less smelly clothing (although all his clothing smelled of herbs and spices, these just were clean), Javalen wondered how long he and Thaulian would be together - all day? Tomorrow? She was hardly a 'nice' girl, but she was fun. They wandered away from the tents and into the throng of people.

Along the way, he saw a seller of herbs, and told Thaulian that he wanted to get back there some time soon, just to see if there were any spices he was low on. They walked around, and Javalen saw the spice tent.

"Sure. Why don't you do that, I'll go looking for my hag." Thaulian grinned evilly. "I'll come back here or your tent, maybe I'll spend some of these coins I hardly earned on a race."

Javalen watched the well-padded woman's butt as she walked away, noticing that there were always a couple flits of some kind dancing near or on her. They were never the same ones, always a couple here or a couple there. Weird.

He made it to the spice seller. They were selling both medicinal and cooking herbs, in pots of varying sizes and fullness. The commoner spices were already low in their pots, but those were hardly the ones that Javalen was looking for. He spotted something, a red-colored leaf that he hadn't seen in years.

"Is that blood-drake?" He asked carefully, staring at the leaves. Something in the back of his mind, actually a queer low-level psionic power, told him exactly what it was good for. The merchant grunted a yes, what did you think it was, and listed off some inordinate price. Javalen was generous - but he wasn't stupid. He began to haggle for the very useful and very colorful leaves.

Thaulian on the other hand made her way across the race area, not betting but laughing at those who lost, until she saw a familiar skinny bent looking woman. Oddly though, there was a broken smile on the old hag's face, her mismatched teeth making a dangerous visage indeed. But it was a genuine smile, generous. And around her, in the narrow tent she had set up, were eggs.

Carved, blown-out with candles in them. Beautiful things, making Thaulian suddenly pause. She hadn't realized that the old woman was a craftsman, and certainly not one this good. Thauli didn't dare approach the tent, for fear that the woman would drive her away.

Thaulian didn't often feel this tightness in her gut, really. She was hardly the guilt-ridden type. So instead, she walked back to the spice merchant, where Javalen had finally haggled his way into a generous pouch of some red-leaved stuff and a pair of vials of oil pressed from an exotic root. He turned and saw her, almost bubbling with happiness.

"Do you know what this is? It's blood-drake! It makes the best curry! I want to put this back in the tent, for safe keeping." He started to rush away, dragging her along. "Did you find the woman?"

".... I did," Thaulian said, "And you won't believe it. You've got to see it," she added. "I thought she was just another peasant or something... You've just got to see it."

Javalen saw the change in Thauli, her typically brash and closed-in feelings were changed to a soft, almost careless awe. They made their way back to the old woman's tent, where Thaulian held back a bit. Javalen could appreciate the workmanship, he'd seen a few of these in his travels.

"Come on, Thauli," he said, beckoning her. "I'm sure she won't bite."

"I might," the old woman behind the flap of the tent said, glowering at Thaulian.

"I ... I guess we both got what we needed, huh?" Thaulian tried a weak smile and a half laugh. "This is the chef I was buying for. He said he couldn't use those eggs anyway." She waved her hands at the decorative blown eggs. "These are really pretty. I'm sorry I was so rude," she added quietly.

"Well then," the old woman said, "that's good. B'cause y'were. But I won't hold it against'ya." She turned her attention to another customer, while Thaulian and Javalen looked at the lovely egg work. There was one which was carved around the sides to have a beautiful gryphon in flight, among clouds that got thicker around the bottom and top. A work of art. Which made Thaulian jolt when Javalen showed it to her.

"Oh - uh, yeah, that's ... nice."

"You don't like gryphons much, do you?" Javalen asked. "Why not? They're really cool."

Thaulian glanced away, and then her eyes were drawn back to the exquisite work of the carved egg. "When I was little, like three or so, I was working on my father's farm and a grypyhon came swooping out of nowhere. I didn't know it was my aunt's partner, she'd never even been to the farm before, and I only knew her as some woman I got named after. Theline." She held the egg in her hands, almost nervously - but this wasn't a real grypon, this was merely a carving. Not like the gryphons that stood guard over the whole race at the edges of the glade...

"They came for a visit, but the gryhpon - or my aunt, I don't know for sure - thought it would be great if I got to fly with them. They swooped down and the gryphon grabbed me with her front claws. They ..."

"They took you flying," Javalen said, "without even asking you or introducing themselves?"

"They thought I'd love it... They hoped it was in my blood, bonding gryphons. I've been terrified of them ever since."

"I've been scared of heights about as long," Javalen admitted with a grin. "But you know what? We don't need to worry about gryphons or heights. You're a farmer and I'm a chef!"

Their laughter drifted into a kind of wistful sigh - both of them realized that it was in her blood, it was something that Javalen would love to do - if only...

"Y'gonna pay for that?" The old woman asked, of the egg in Javalen's hands.

"I - yeah, actually, allow me," he grinned at Thaulian. "And accept my apology too - I sent her to the poultry stand to buy for me."

They wandered away from the stand, Thaulian practically staring at the egg the whole time. It was hardly delicate - not nearly as delicate as it looked. The shells really were hard as stone in places, so the hard work that went into this egg carving was clearly going to last for a while.

It was a good thing, too, because Thaulian bumped into a wall of a man, Javalen barely avoided doing the same behind her. The egg almost dropped, but the man turned and caught it.

His dark tan skin contrasted with the gleam of his bright teeth, as he smiled and handed the egg back to Thaulian. "That's a very pretty present you have there. Nice work..." His grey-brown eyes looked over Javalen, oddly. "Nice tunic. I think it'd look better on me though."

He grasped their wrists, Thaulian clutching the egg in one hand and her other arm crushed by the strength of the man's grip. So surprised they both were, that neither cried out at all as Brental dragged them to the back of a corner stall, behind the race arena.

***

(formerly ironchef-5)

Brental gave off a laugh, as he watched the expressions on their faces change. "So, off with it," he told Javalen.

"It will hardly fit you," Javalen said sharply. He backed up a bit when Brental pulled a sharp yet small dagger from his belt. "You'll have to cut it to fit anyway," he replied to the threat. Thaulian was getting more angry than scared. Brental had continued to hold her wrist tightly, but had to use his off hand to hold his knife.

"STOP IT! HELP!" she yelled suddenly, so loudly that both men jumped. But it was almost hopeless - there was so much noise with the race and the gather crowd...

Or was it hopeless? While Javalen was squirming and half-out of his own clothing, Thaulian made sure to watch as Brental turned on her. Behind him... yes. He couldn't see.

"That will cost you, more than you should have to pay..." he said with menace in his voice.

"It won't cost as much as you will be paying," said another quiet, but strong voice. It was Brelag, behind them. But he looked scared, and according to the expressions on the two women next to him, they were scared too.

Brelag narrowed his eyes, "let her go, Brental," he warned.

"Make me," the twin snarled. He twisted Thauli's arm around, making her yelp in pain.

"Stop!" Adadar shouted, "I am going for help!" She rushed off before anyone could stop her.

"That won't prevent this-" Brental waved the knife back at Thaulian instead of holding it to Javalen's chest.

But before he could do anything more, a toughend hand grasped his wrist and pulled it down behind his back.

Thaulian escaped from the man's grip herself, and kicked at him just because she could. "Thief!"

"Murderer," Brelag said, "he's a murderer." He turned to face the tall and strong dragon rider who had intervened. Adadar appeared half a moment later, clutching her hands together and staring at the rider. He'd been told apparently, by his dragon who was watching from the hillside.

"Yes, murderer," Brental grunted, from his odd position on the ground. "But so what? It's old news. Too old to worry about."

"We'll see about that," said the rider. He motioned to two other riders who appeared momentarily - dragons speaking to one another seemed to spread information like wildfire. They took the man out of the gather grounds with some difficulty, he did have a tendency to slip out of their grasp. But they were stronger than he, and eventually the group of five were assured that he would be dealt with according to his crimes.

"But what will we do with you lot?" Asked the rider.

"We haven't done anything wrong!" Thaulian said, irate. Her grip on the egg shell almost threatened to break the thinner bits, and she tried to calm herself.

"No, of course not," the rider laughed. "I meant, where do you wish to stand? You're all certainly rider material. You two," he looked at Javalen and Thaulian, "however.... It won't be a dragon that calls you partner."

"Wh... what do you mean?" Thaulian said, her hands dropping to her sides.

Javalen nudged her, after he'd straightened out his tunic again, "he means gryphons, doesn't he?"

"I think I do," the rider said. "You three, you can come with me. Brynmor Caer is having a bit of trouble finding bonders to stand."

"Why would a place like that ever have trouble?" asked Droppi. "I mean, they're lovely dragons."

"Well, lovely and all, we need bonders. You two? There are gryphons up on the hill that might help you decide where to go."

Thaulian muttered, "thanks," as they walked away.

Javalen turned to her and grinned. "It looks like we're going to be having to overcome some fears, huh?"

She nodded. They in turn went up to the hillside, where a pair of striking colored gryphons eyed them with interest.

"You will do," one of them said. "Xidaver Isle has a nest waiting for you. Elpress Aerie."

"We'll have to fly there, won't we?" Thaulian moaned. "I'm not ready for this!"

"Of course you are," Javalen said. "You have been ready all your life. So have I."

It only took a few more minutes of arguing. Then, they had to race around gathering their goods and posessions. They'd be leaving right off, and Thaulian didn't even want to bother yelling something to her family on the farm about it. They would find out sooner or later.

***

(Bonding pages on each character with duplication in the stories, Ironchef-6 through 9)

Meanwhile, the riders from Brynmor escorted the threesome to their various places of residence. Since the gather grounds were still busy it was fun for them to watch from overhead - people the size of Ants...

And shortly, not more than a day later, they were off to Brynmor. And even then, shortly, the hatching went off!

There was an air of expectation - Adadar and Droppi both noticed how very VERY pregnant the Caerlady was, and that she seemed quite uncomfortable in her weight. The other thing was that there was a big thunder shower outside, complete with bright bolts of lightning.

But the eggs commanded their attention quickly enough. Though it was almost a dozen eggs in, that even one dragonet looked toward any of them.

A pair of purples hatched, and one went to the mother's side, but the other? She walked to Adadar.

"It’s nothing to be scared of, Abaerynth. Just lightning.” She paused, as the dragonet asked, it was not all these people?

Adadar blushed, and could be heard by some as saying, “Well no, people are different from lightning.”

Shortly after then, a pair of browns of very different shading came to the boys. The lighter of the pair bonded, and the darker nipped at him as they left. He was much darker, and much bigger than the other - burly. I think I am hungry, is food good for hunger?

"Food is good, Ashasuth," Brelag smiled and they went to the food area.

For quite some time, there was nothing but action - no eggs hatching, though! Droppi watched the Caerlady go into labor - her mate picked her up and took her (hopefully) to the infirmary or their den. But then... As the storm outside brewed thickly and loud, there seemed to be no more eggs breaking.

Droppi was going to be disappointed. But...She then noticed as a batch of eggs did break open, a cream came up to her and demanded attention.

Fine! You want to stand here all day? You can do that. I'm going to the food! The cream said, and tugged on Droppi's pant leg.

Her eyes brimmed with tears. This was ... the best! However, there were still shaking eggs and all..."But, Aberenath, the hatching isn’t done!" She was dragged away none the less, by the demanding cream.

(ironchef-6)

While the three dragonbonders waited at Brynmor, pairing up to wonderful Cream, Purple and Brown dragonets, Javalen and Thaulian managed to keep themselves quite busy at the Aerie. Both of them had to get over their fears, first.

Thaulian was difficult to teach - she was quite jumpy, because every time one of the few resident Gryphons would 'sneak up' on her, she'd jump out of her skin. But slowly, they convinced her that her aunt and her bond had been correct. She truly did belong in the sky.

Not dangling from a gryphon's talons, of course. Riding upon the gryph's shoulders, where she belonged.

Javalen kept himself busy in the kitchens, and apparently people really liked his breakfast dishes. He was made to work on his studies, about gryphon behavior, magick and tactics, and everyone knew his head was still in the spice rack.

Eventually, not long after their arrival, the pair were called in very privately to the Aerie where the nest mother stood guard over her eggs. No one else was present, while they were allowed to view the hatching.

The thrill of even being there over-rode any fears that either had. They were out on a ledge, practically falling off the cliffs... But neither cared. The eggs broke open one at a time. The first was a lovely copper and black, just like his father. Two eggs broke open shortly, revealing a lovely black and white hatchling who strode up to Thaulian.

She was so graceful, one might think she'd have been practicing for this moment! But Thaulian knew that the gryphlet had never been outside her shell. I am Garessasss, she announced. Do you like my feathers?

"I do, oh - I so do like them," Thaulian said. She was crying - here was her gryphon - no other. She left the nest thinking of nothing more than this.

The other egg to hatch had been a green, while the next was a black who remained unbonded like the very first of the nest. Another hatched, showing a second black, who paired up with a female bonder. The other...

A striking silver and blue walked up to Javalen.

I am Lerasssssss. Why do you not eat your food raw? You waste all the blood when you cook it.

He was stunned. The gryphlet was giving him advice about cooking?

"Raw food and human stomachs don't always get along, Leras's. It's just the way we are. You can eat whatever you want, raw... I'll make sure that you get tasty meat anyway."

Thank you, my friend! I like that. Now... I am hungry...

(ironchef-7)

Garessasss opened her wide white wings, and Thaulian's heart nearly exploded.

"Garess," she said, clutching her chest, "don't do that. Your wings aren't fully feathered!"

"I will be able to fly soon!" Garessasss announced. Her sharp wings were growing, but they were truly not quite big enough to soar into the sky yet. That might come shortly, and it would still be at the expense of Thaulian's panicky sanity.

Javalen on the other hand laughed now, while Lerass'ss' picked up his feet and shuffled his taloned claws against the stone floor of their nesting area.

"Do you want to give Thaulian a scare?" Javalen asked, "you could swoop down-"

"I do not want to do that!" Lerass' said, his crest perking up and flattening. "She is already scared, like you are, to be up here in the nests. The aeries are no place for scaredy humans."

Javalen glanced down the tumbling rocky cliffside, and whispered, "you got that right..."

***

The pair of huge feathered gryphons swept through the air in a race. Their riders stood below them, hardly willing to brave that kind of pressure. The rest of the Aerie watched eagerly to see who would win. Neither Thaulian nor Javalen felt like betting on the race. Over the year and a half they'd spent together, they were far too close friends to waste their time competing directly with one another.

I would love her, too, but she's too skinny! Those feathers are ready to moult!

Don't say such things! My feathers are in pristine condition! Bellowed Garessasss back at her companion. And besides, you are my clutch mate, and I will not have you for a partner!

That will not stop them, they are not siblings. Watch out for that tree!

There is no tree that can withstand my wrath! Garessasss snarled, and lept onto the nearby pine. She bowled it over, it bowed with her weight, and she bit off part of the top of it. See!

Laughing, the riders merely gathered their belongings. They were going to try finding the others now. They weren't sure if dragons grew more slowly than gryphons, but that seemed to be the case.

Aberenath was the first among the trio's fledgling dragons to spread her wings and fly into the air. A short flight, but a success story none the less. She was very proud of herself, and Droppi couldn't get the big smile off her broad face the whole time.

"Good work," said their fledge trainer. "Now... you're going to have to keep her training for strength. Next month you're going to be on her back when she lifts off."

Droppi's smile faded only a notch.

"We can do that, sir," she saluted him and the trainer walked on to the next in line...

That would be Brelag and his brown. "You've got no lack of muscles," the trainer told Ashasuth, "but you need practice. I want to see more out of you than that last... little effort."

Brelag bit his lip and looked away as the other fledgling riders chuckled at him.

"Ash needs...." Brelag said, "well he needs to get that tail off the ground, sir. I'll make sure that he does it right, next time."

"Good," the trainer said, and arrived at the purple's station. Abaerynth. She was a shy girl still, somewhat like Adadar. But because she had to work with others on a regular basis now, both of them were coming out of their shells.

"I'm happy with your progress, Adadar, and I think your work in the medical wing will be appreciated by the less fortunate fliers."

"I'm glad to be of help, sir," Adadar nodded, she still had a hard time standing in lines like this and being scrutinized. But Abaerynth cooed and swished her tail around, with the confidence she needed. "We'll be required to fly supplies to battle sites, and we can't afford to become a casualty too."

The trainer nodded to her, and went down the line to the others, for their own little debriefing form the day's flight trials. Some dragons would be best at takeoffs, some at landings and some... just loved to fly. All three of these fledgling dragons would eventually find their niche.

***

(ironchef-9)

"Dragons sure take a long time to grow up," laughed Thaulian. They had finally caught up with the trio of dragon bonders, right about the time that they were being shuffled off Brynmor. Thaulian looked over the dragons, though, and whistled. "They're beautiful, though."

"And you!" Adadar exclaimed, "Garessas' is lovely!"

"I can hardly tell their names apart," Javalen said, looking at the paper which had directed them to the Caer. "I mean, got more A-names?"

"Got any more s's on those gryphons?" Laughed Brelag.

They all began to make their way to the dragon flight area, and Droppi quietly said, "you know, it's just about time for another festival, back at Paniya. Do you think ..."

They all grinned widely. Of course they would head back to their home - but this time as escorts to the gather-goers, guards against crimes, and more importantly, as friends.