“So you took a handsome toa to bed and you haven’t seen him since?” a voice emanated from somewhere below, and Amihan lifted his head. Visitors? This deep in the jungle? At his back, Des lifted his head from Amihan’s haunch with a sleepy noise and yawned, his jaws stretched wide in the corner of Amihan’s eye. “Who’s here?” he asked, licking his tusks. Amihan shrugged, and peered over the edge of the branch he and Des were sleeping on, squinting to see past the leaves and flowers to the jungle floor. There were three ketucari there. A blue coated phoenix, their back a paler blue, was perched across the tree roots, talking to a massive ginger-coated ryno with overo. Hiding in the shadows, seemingly clinging upside down to the roots of the tree was… Mumotsu? ‘Mumotsu’ spoke next. “Describe the toa you speak of, Oren.” her voice shrill and haunting but very not Mumotsu’s. Des stood, bracing himself over Amihan’s back to peer down with him, flicking his ears curiously. “Should we go down

Threats always seemed to have the worst timing. That was something Ōkamiza had learned the hard way over his decades in the undercity of Messus. Most folks didn’t bother looking at the old city, hell most didn’t even realize it was there. Even so, the few that learned that there might be a tantalizing secret in the sunken streets always seemed to learn it when said secret was most vulnerable. How they knew, Ōkamiza would never understand. Perhaps he wasn’t as diligent as he liked to think himself. Perhaps it was as simple as coincidence. Perhaps there was a mole. Whatever the case, every time a vulnerability came up, their paranoia crept up with it. After all, Ōkamiza could only be one place at once. It made it difficult to guard the tunnels, or worse, leave them. He couldn’t leave his mate. The precious secret under the city was holed up in the back room of what had once been a cathedral and was now just a magnificent, beautiful stone hollow under the heart of Messus. It was a

Yocury I imagine that Yocury would be an optional boss, a little like Crossbreed Priscilla from Dark Souls. He doesn’t actually want to fight, and his main goal is to get away. At least, until the tail end of the fight. He’d be rather “easy” until very low on health, at which point he’d start dropping near constant ‘Desperation’ attacks. The flow of battle would be a long stretch where he keeps his distance and shoots icicles at his attacker, peppering them with low damage with a ‘bleed’ effect that’s difficult to heal. Until about 25% health, at which point he switches to fast and aggressive close range attacks with his spear, while using larger ice chunks that ricochet off the walls of the arena to control where his opponent goes, and “Cryoblast”, in which he summons a ring of sharpened ice from around his feet and head and a blast of cold wind to deter, knock back, or stun opponents. Special notes would be that he’s Fast and has good range coverage. Long distance attacks would do

If there was anything that Neve knew for certain at this point, it was that she was incredibly, hopelessly, lost. She had been running for what must be hours. The bleats and shouts had finally faded off, and she could slow down and catch her breath. Her legs shook from the strain and plumes of white crystalized around her face in the cold with every ragged breath. Okay, checking out the two-leggers had been a bad plan. A very bad plan. Now she had… even less idea where she was than before, and even less direction. The sky was grey and churning above her, a blast of cold wind slapping her thick fur against her legs. She needed shelter, and fast, but in the seemingly endless expanse of white around her, interrupted only by the (rare) tree and occasional bush or rock, and a distant river peaking out from behind a hill. She couldn’t even see the forest anymore, and that sent a pang of… something she had no words for into her throat and chest. Jolly... Neve lifted her head, the instinct to

Neve had never seen a two-legger before. She watched curiously as the two-leggers moved around a large wooden box on wheels, pulled by large, hooved quadrupeds with short horns from the center of their faces. The two-leggers themselves were Interesting. Walking on their hind legs. They seemed hooved, but it was hard to tell with the cloth and wrappings around them. Some had short, swept back horns that stood out against their white fur. Others--larger, bulkier figures--had rows and fangs and deeper, darker colors in their fur. They hadn’t noticed her yet, which she was grateful for. She kept low, moved carefully. Just because she’d left the Forest didn’t mean she wanted to be found by those outside of it. And two-leggers were the biggest concern. They were speaking to each other, or at least she assumed the noises they were making were some sort of language. She caught a word here or there, or… thought she did. They were too scattered for her to parse. They were laughing, chatting to

The wind tugged at the young ketucari’s fur as she crested the hill top. She wasn’t sure how long she’d been running, only that her paws were sore. Jolly’s betrayed scream still rang out in her ears. I’m sorry. She knew it wouldn’t count for much. Jolly would never know what caused her to run. They’d never know each other’s Names. With a heavy sigh, Neve dropped herself into the snow and tried to catch her breath. The cold wrapped around her like a soothing blanket, and the fluffy snow quieted the world. A clear sky rose above her, filled with stars she’d never seen in the forest. She closed her eyes. She could picture it so clearly, the feeling of carrying herself through the skies on powerful wings--wings she didn’t have. She had a start though. She had her Name. Neve. Once again, the name burned bright and fierce in her chest. She had her Name. It wasn’t much but it was a start. And there were flashes now, memories. Voices. What had the strange kadin said? Find me when you’re ready.