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"You have no need to worry. From what I've seen here I understand if you felt a need to, ah, keep in hiding from the others." Perhaps it was just due to the situation or the tone used, but the reassuring voice of the knight felt like a balm to Raki's ears. This person had no more intention of starting a fight than he had. "But I do think I would be remiss if I did not ask what you are doing in these parts. There was some recent...troubles here as of late you see. I don't suppose you know anything about that?" "Thank you, that's good to know." He gave a last look at the quarry, checking for confirmation from Timmy of what the man had just said. Speaking of which "I take it you recently arrived here too? But yeah, troubles would be the word. very, very weird troubles." He shuddered, recalling the sensation of four sand-colored limbs dragging his belly on the ground. He really wasn't used to be the one with scales. "It lasted quite a lot, but all I know is that I'm glad it ended. Couldn't do much while transformed into a lizard. Not that anyone else could do much either." "Yeah, yeah, yeah. Did you do any like weird dark magicy magic stuff? Like making a a biiig flying rocky wyvern - " The boy blinked. Then frowned. "Dark magic? No. no, not in a hundred years. How would a rock wyvern fly anyway? It's rock." Of all the things, to be mistaken as a practitioner of that. Raki scratched his head, as the girl appeared to be reaching some stunning realization. Not that he had any idea what said conclusion was. Irritation left space to confusion as the girl kept her piercing gaze on him, unwavering. Somehow, next to the armored giant, she felt twice as menacing than him and the other two girls combined. Not that he could put his finger on what she was threatening of, but she sure did be threatening. "I just thought she could help because... wait, how do I explain it." It was in that moment he finally heard a crack in the the distance, wood breaking under the strain of a gargantuan mass in movement. "I... think it will be easier to see than to explain. Also, for what I'm doing around here" he blushed slightly as an approaching figure came into view from the forest. "To be honest, we got lost. Would've been in serious trouble if Timmy and Lassie hadn't found us." The wyvern finally emerged out of the trees as Raki approached her, dark blue scales that faded into purple as they reached the chest an then the belly. "But they found us, so all is well that which ends well, right? Anyway this is Garinphasia." But other than coming to a stop and a small tilt of the head as he reached her side, she appeared to have other interests at the moment. Raki followed the gaze of his wyvern to its target, first another tilt towards the two dogs, then fixated on the four people she had no knowledge of. Her jaws were ever so slightly opened, with a low growl coming from within. He swiftly moved between the two. "Oh, come on, they're friends! Er... she's a bit wary, but I assure you, she's really cool." he added, turning back towards the group.

Storm Well, things are certainly starting to brew, aren’t they? There are three watchdogs on Andalou, and each of them, even though they know how little good it will do in the grand scheme of things, has decided to petition the deities they serve. Olive has placed a coin at Hinder’s altar, Kitt is mediating at the forge of Taros, and Joy has returned home after another successful party. Now, nobody would call any of this breaking the rules, and besides, watchdogs are under much looser rules anyway, but even still, the kind of advice these dogs are looking for is not advice the gods can give so easily… by themselves, that is. It is nighttime, though, and channelling a message through Myria’s domain takes but a moment of cooperation. The only cost to this loophole is a small fraying of reality. But wasn’t it always going to fray anyway? Static The glint of Lar’s hearthfire reflects off of the metal slab of an altar left to Taros, which slowly morphs into a vision provided only to Kitt: Kitt’s vision is that of a cave carved by human hands into the side of a mountain. Time moves quickly in his vision, so he can see everything, from the initial excavation to the support beams going up and, eventually, carts being wheeled in and out, carrying precious ore. Iron is this particular mountain’s yield, though as time continues to speed by, the carts become less and less frequent, and their returns less rewarding. Less and less iron is extracted from the mountain. But the carts never stop entirely. Even when they’re only carrying out stone, they still keep cycling through, and slowly -- and yes, it is slow even in the vision’s sped-up state -- the mountain begins to shift. It becomes clear: the mountain is being hollowed out, stripped of everything it ever held, until there is nothing left to take but the exterior rocks. When those are gone, then, one by one, the carts are broken down and the pieces loaded onto the next so another cycle can be made. The last cart is wheeled off, and nothing remains of the mountain, and, as the sun sets on this final, day, it starts to flicker, and the illusion breaks, and the reflection of Lar’s fire returns to the fore. Sleep Joy has a dream that night. She dreams she’s at a party with everyone she has ever known. Everyone on Andalou is there, of course, as is her family, as are the religious elders she trained under. Even the other watchdogs on the island, two people she has known for barely a day are there, even if their forms are hazier, their words distorted by a subconscious lack of knowledge. She ignores them anyhow. They are not the center of the party. No, the person -- the being -- commanding the most attention, the party’s lifeblood, is Laeta herself. Everyone surrounding her gets equal attention in turn. The stories she tells involve her entire audience, and the jokes and games get everyone in uproarious laughter. And yet still Joy pushes through, closer and closer to her goddess, the one that now defines her as much as she, her god, desperately trying to break through the crowd. Laeta has to single her out to give her what she desires, gently taking her hand -- the one thing Joy manages to pierce the final crowd barrier with -- and guiding the rest of her forward, letting the crowd dutifully split apart now that the goddess has taken action, before pulling Joy into a warm hug, the warmest she has ever felt. “Oh, my child…” she says, pulling out of the hug to smile down on her watchdog, her hand moving to caress her face, “Oh, sweet thing of mine, guider of our future… “Do not screw this up.” Like Antennas To Heaven… As soon as Olive places the coin on Hinder’s altar, the coin begins to shift, growing and warping until it adopts a new form: the thread from the Sindalium Spinning Wheel, the very thing he stole to gain his initiation in the first place. Hinder was there too, sitting on the altar as though he didn’t care much for the importance placed on the thing, and if Olive were to look around, he’d notice the room had shifted to match the circumstances as well. “Here’s a fun fact for you, boy-o:” Hinder says, picking up the thread and vanishing it just as he did the first time they had met. “You and my other watchdog? You’re almost nothing alike. Which is weird, right? You’re supposed to be all the same because you’re supposed to be like us. That’s kind of silly, though. I mean, stick two Taros watchdogs in the same room and they’ll have disagreements about how to make a hoe or whatever problem they’re trying to solve. “But hey, there are still some similarities between you two,” Hinder continues, now kicking off the altar and pacing around Olive. “I mean, you’re both watchdogs now. That’s something. But also this: They, and every watchdog of mine stretching back as long as watchdogs have existed, have ended up with the same questions. And I get it. It’s a lot to just dump on someone, whether they’re asking for it or not. But they never seem to figure that ‘every’ part out. They just stop at the questions and don’t even think about anyone else. Hell, some of them that do still get bent out of shape about it. “Honestly, I think it’s neat. Every human, no matter their differences, having the same problems certainly makes you easier to con.” He grins, produces the string again, and transmutes it back to a coin. “But also, if they realized it a bit sooner, that’d make the problems a lot smaller real quick.” He sits back on the altar and flips the coin back over to his watchdog. The room starts to shift back to Andalou’s temple. “Olivander Steele,” Hinder says, “my advice to you, then, is this: I could tell you all the fluff, about how you’re my watchdog and I’ll support you no matter what. What you are asking of me, it’s been asked before. But I think just that, that you’re all feeling the same stuff, is pretty powerful on its own.” OOC