Where do I buy a tub?

Edmund was ecstatic to begin his quest. Mother was right that the bloodbath wasn't a necessity, but he was grateful for her indulging him. Ever since the idea had come to him, the young Ancient had felt his inner flame giving off embers, restless and eager for that which was yet to exist. There was something just undeniably appealing about a giant basin of blood. And for the still new Ancient, it was a powerful desire. The hardest part in his mind was deciding where to put it. Where in the Climb would it be most accessible for other Ancients? But the spot also had to be somewhat private, so trespassers were less likely to wander in. Edmund's tail lashed at the idea of strangers entering his territory and stumbling upon a place crafted by his mother. No. Only Ancients should be able to access it. Everyone else would need to be escorted by one of his own. Edmund ceased the pacing he'd been doing, deep in thought, when an idea emerged. There was one other Ancient that might be willing to help. He didn't know the man's name, but he knew what he looked like. And that he had at least somewhat approved of the arch once he knew its purpose. Mind made up; Edmund searched the Climb until he spotted a set of diamond horns.  Leaping down from a stone pile, he landed beside Dantalion, "Hi! Remember me? I need your help with my quest from Mother." Short, sweet, and to the point. From what Edmund could tell, this Ancient didn't like to waste his time on anyone's terms but his own. Dantalion Edmund the prince of torchline

I used to hold your haunted neck; I know I'll miss you if I close my eyes

"Get your fucking own, Zef," is what Danta instinctively snaps as Edmund jauntily leaps down beside him - having been digging into the meaty, superheated flesh of a lial, he straightens with a bloody face and hands crimson up to the wrist, only to notice the little baby construction worker. And while his hackles are less raised, so to speak, at the sight of the young Ancient, his tail still lashes from side to side at the prospect of giving up his meal.

"Our lady mother gave you a quest?" Eyebrows raising, Danta crouches back down to finish his feast. "Tell me more," he invites, though Edmund will have to sit on a rock somewhere while Danta finishes up. Then maybe they'll talk, once he's heard the details. And not a second before.

Dantalion

Edmund doesn't flinch at the sight of blood, having grown used to such things by now. Though he does scrunch his nose at how messy Danta looked. Tables manner didn't really apply to eating a lial, but still. Did Dantalion have no class? Sitting on a nearby rock, tail curling excitedly, the young Ancient nods at the question. "She did!" He caught Dantalion's tone but wasn't sure if it was incredulity or bafflement that he heard. Disregarding it, Edmund happily explains his quest. "I'm making a bloodbath but I don't know where to put it. I need help figuring out where in the Climb is best." Gesturing with his hands, the younger goes on to elaborate, "It'll be one more way to get out of stasis but also a place to relax. It needs to be defensible but easy for us to get to. I don't know where in the Climb that might be." Edmund was still relatively new to being an Ancient and the secrets of his new home. From what he knew, Dantalion was far older, and would be able to help. If Edmund could convince him. "Will you help? Please?" Edmund the prince of torchline

I used to hold your haunted neck; I know I'll miss you if I close my eyes

Dantalion has plenty of class, thank you very much, but what one gets up to when others aren't meant to be watching is one's own business. Regardless, given the Climb's relative lack of cutlery and crockery, he continues to tear apart the lial with hands and fangs, and he's unapologetic about it too.

Luckily Edmund takes the hint, and around the crunching of bones and flaying of flesh, Danta hears out his quest - and his plan for it. Sitting back on his heels and licking his fingers clean, it doesn't take much for the Ancient to agree given that he's very much a devout when it comes to their mother's wishes, and he nods and straightens up.

"I reckon Frey's Breath might be a good place for it," he says. "Already hotsprings there, so you could hide the pool out of the way. You been? I can show you if you want."

Dantalion

In the near distance, around another bend and of caverns, a roar can be heard – loud, potent, powerful. And were those flames, rounding along the corner?

That could be a black dragon: a pernicious beast of legend, ready, willing, and able to defend its home for little to no reason.

Maybe it would be best to go another way?

---

You’ve encountered a Black Dragon. This counts as an uncommon creature encounter for the purposes of levelling, but does not count as a Random Event for levelling or MP. There will be no further admin/re intervention. If you choose to follow this creature, you do so at your own risk, however, just having it in this thread is enough to satisfy your levelling requirements. (You may not kill this creature without admin permission. )

Black Dragon (uncommon/mythical) - Black dragons of average size. Highly aggressive with fiery breath that can instantly melt most substances.

Running from the direction of the roar darts a wiry figure. Small in stature with shifty and rat-like features, the..man? maybe? grimaces and wipes at a cut on their forehead that's weeping blood.

Breathless but observant they draw to a sudden stop, eyeing Danta and Edmund each before smiling widely. "Lads!" They cry, clapping their small hands together. "How's about you do me a little favour?" Something in the pocket of their heavy coat bulges, before falling still.

Edmund nods, grinning as Dantalion agrees. "Awesome! I've never been, so please." Despite his new life, some habits were too deeply engrained to change. The manners his mum had beat into him certainly fell under that category. The young Ancient opens his mouth before a loud roar interrupts him. Jaw snapping shut, he turns and scans the area in the direction that the noise had come from. The dragon seems far enough away that he forces himself to relax. And then something else happens. A person he hadn't spotted in his scan comes from the same direction. Eyes widening, Edmund glances at Dantalion before coughing and addressing the stranger. His hackles rise for a reason he can't pinpoint but he gives the strange man a smile, nonetheless. "What do you need? Are you ok? I think there was a dragon over there." He notes the blood as well, face pinching with concern. Edmund the prince of torchline

I used to hold your haunted neck; I know I'll miss you if I close my eyes

There's still blood all over his face and under his fingernails, but this is as good as it's going to get with Danta for the time being, and he's about to set off dutifully towards Frey's Breath when the roar definitely doesn't make him jump out of his skin. He doesn't have time to finish baring his teeth instinctually at the Black Dragon that isn't even there when, all at once, a skittery little figure makes their appearance.

Running his tongue across his fangs, Danta is not nearly as eager to please as Edmund, and he regards the newcomer with a furrowed brow and folded arms. "What's in it for us?" he calls, a still-sticky hand reaching out to grip the younger Ancient's shoulder, as if to stop him running off to be helpful.

Dantalion

"A dragon?" The man? thing? whatever, offers Edmund a perplexed but knowing smile before once again wiping away the trickle of blood from their forehead. Reaching into their pocket as Edmund seems to agree, the tentative smile on their face grows tight—just briefly—as Dante chimes in.

"Why, everyone knows helpin' out a stranger gets you speshul treatment in Mort's realm." The figure answers, flashing a smile. "But if that isn't enough to wind yer watch, what would wet your whistle, mm? Besides, alls I need is a bit of water. Nothing two strong lads like yerselves couldn't do in just an afternoon." So saying they pull out a tattered and tired-looking bit of parchment which they waggle between their fingers.

Edmund frowns when Dantalion grabs him but doesn't move away from the other Ancient's grip. And as the man speaks, he's glad for the other Ancient's presence. This stranger is...off. Not hearing the dragon? That knowing look? That sends warning bells and trepidation through Edmund. He eyes the paper and pursues his lips in thought. "If we agree to help you, would water from Frey's Breath work?" The way Dantalion had spoken, the place sounded like it wasn't' too far away. "And what's with the paper?" He left the true negotiation of reward to his older counterpart. Dantalion had picked up on the stranger's oddness before he did. Perhaps the other Ancient would have a better idea for a reward? Edmund the prince of torchline

I used to hold your haunted neck; I know I'll miss you if I close my eyes

Stepping forward as if to place himself in front of the younger Ancient, Danta watches the not-quite-right stranger through a predator's eyes, as if trying to discern whether or not he would be good eating or if the sickness permeating his body and soul would spoil the meat. He glances towards Edmund as he chimes in with his questions, running his tongue across his teeth before considering a good reward.

"What's in your pocket?" he wonders after a beat or two. "If it's anything good, could we take that?" Otherwise, he sUpPoSeS food or maybe a nice pair of new boots would do the trick. (No, not everything there takes Edmund into consideration, and no, he isn't sorry.)

Dantalion

"WH-? No, it won't--" Sounding exasperated, the little man looks at Edmund with growing skepticism before Danta puts himself before the boy to seemingly take charge. Tilting his head to the side (and causing the trickle of blood to begin to drip down his cheek), he gives his head a firm shake. "That ain't nothin' to worry about. " He huffs, now sounding clearly frustrated.

"Listen, either you's do it or y'don't. Ain't like you two'r the only ones around here I can ask." Waggling the paper between his fingers at Danta one final time, the little man raises his eyebrows.

Edmund lets out a long exhale. "Ok." Stepping around Dantalion, he takes out his waterskin from his jacket and hands it over the stranger, his other hand outreached for the piece of paper. "Hand the paper over." The young Ancient's hackles remain raised, his body coiled and ready to spring at the first sign of deceit or danger. He doesn't like this, but giving up some of his water might be worthwhile. Depending on what this strange man is holding that is. Edmund really isn't sure what he's expecting. A map, a note, a drawing? Regardless, the strange man seems to consider it valuable. That alone is enough to make the young Ancient curious. Edmund the prince of torchline

I used to hold your haunted neck; I know I'll miss you if I close my eyes

Danta's mouth opens, ready to tell the weird little guy with the weird pockets and the bit of paper to get to fuck, but wouldn't you know it, the baby little Ancient has found his teeth and claws and out he fucking comes. Drawing himself up as if making himself taller will somehow make up for the fact that his imaginary authority has been squashed, he nonetheless resigns himself to whatever is happening now.

"If that waterskin doesn't do the trick and Frey's Breath won't work, I'm not sure where else you're expecting to find water in the Climb," he remarks, a bit sulkily, because he doesn't really have anything else to add. And to think he gave up a perfectly good meal for this?

Dantalion