Including Fairy, Butterfly, Nyx, Nyxefel, Rer, Reralae...

But Vanadia isn't one of them, and I can't take credit for her amazing character or contributions to Bladesinger lore

When I originally designed Saeriel, I didn't put much thought into her handedness. At the time I just went 'feels left handed' and it felt right. 

Now with that scene, it feels like it was intentionally planned on purpose

If you were curious about their duet in battle, I end up thinking that this song I found feels appropriate 

357 E.R, Megilindar Nost

"Argh! I just don't get it!" Aranwen sighed, sitting down on the grass in a huff.

Saeriel sat down beside Aranwen, reaching her arms around for a gentle embrace, "It's not something to be forced," Saeriel offered gently.

Aranwen sighed once more, taking a deep breath as she calmed down. She motioned in front of them to the other trainees, "It just feels like we're getting left behind, again. Look, and listen. They practise their forms with grace and song. Why does the song elude us?" she asked.

Saeriel gave a soft giggle, "No, Ara," She shook her head, "Listen to their voices; what do you hear?"

Aranwen tilted her head a bit as she looked to Saeriel, before closing her eyes and listening, "The vocals are lovely..." and Aranwen paused, her cheek tightening a bit as she thought she heard what Saeriel was trying to point out, "But..."

"But not all there," Saeriel pointed out, "No one here has grasped the song yet; they are practising for when they do grasp it, training their breathing and the depth of their breath. Training their body to learn to connect them with the movement of each form."

"It feels a bit silly to sing when it isn't the genuine thing," Aranwen replied, leaning back in Saeriel's arms.

Saeriel shrugged, "Maybe alone," She agreed, before pausing as a thought occurred to her, "Come on, let's try one more time."

Picking herself up to her feet, Saeriel left the wooden practise blade where she was sitting.

"Wait, Sae, aren't you going to need that?" Aranwen asked as she stood to join Saeriel.

Saeriel gave a mischievous smile, her violet eyes sparkling in the sunlight, "Lend me yours."

"W-what?" Aranwen held her right hand up to offer her practise blade, and Saeriel clasped both the handle and hand in her left, "Sae...?"

"It's a good thing you're right handed, and I left," Saeriel gave a warm smile, a faint blush on her pale cheeks, "Together, okay? Let's just start with a simple scale."

Aranwen nodded, her heart fluttering but also feeling more confident. In that moment, there was no one else around them but each other.

What begun as a simple exercise, a simple experiment to overcome their nervousness together, turned into a duet as they took turns leading each other, moving together with one shared blade, and one shared song.

For myself, maybe I'll finally get one of my four stories drafted out in whole and published somewhere...

Eventually...

That aside, I do see that Tochi is experiencing very wild side effects... thankfully they are not the physically harmful kind

Let's add Castien to the hypothetical list of Sylvari whom Aranwen would like to... exchange words with... yes...

Hearing about your barbarian... I'm quite tempted to make a certain post that I was not sure how to write until now...

Now I'm also picturing Aranwen and Ch'dau giving your barbarian various tips and advice, whether it comes to positioning and stances in battle to relishing in the thrill of combat

It took longer than Aranwen may have cared to admit, taking care not to touch the blade against the ground while cutting her ankles free, but soon enough she was ready to pursue... if only she knew which way Morgana's puppet had went. Cursing inwardly, she decided her best course of action was to just head to the meeting place to begin with. Putting the black cloak back into her bag, she took the opportunity to once more don her armour properly, seeing as she had a feeling she might need it, and started retracing her steps towards the garden.

As Aranwen walked hastily through the streets, her mind likewise raced. If she didn't see them at the garden, what was her next course of action? Walking randomly through the streets towards the apothecary she was not certain that she would be able to find Kithran and the others, especially if they took an unusual route.

Or perhaps she'd skip the garden and go directly to the apothecary. She could not shake the feeling that Kithran, Ch'dau and Mosic were in danger. She needed to do what she could for them. And she needed to find them.

A glimpse of sandy hair gave Aranwen pause for a brief moment, and she turned and looked. Seeing a sleeping Saina being carried in the arms of a woman, presumably her mother, helped to calm her nerves for a moment.

Aranwen shook her head and took a breath. Perhaps she was being too hasty. Her first course of action was to go to their meeting spot. If they were not there, or did not appear within a few minutes, she would then head to the apothecary.

Though she was first to arrive at the garden, she could not bring herself to sit at any of the benches, instead staying on her feet and pacing back and forth in silent anxiety.

Seeing Kithran, and then Ch'dau and Mosic, washed her face with relief.

"Thank goodness." Aranwen asked, "My diversion seemed to work, perhaps too effectively given that I was mistaken for you and ambushed; but how did you fare?"

Aranwen regarded the words of the priest before her, her head bowed low in continued pretense of a broken Sylvari. This was the price that he proposed? It almost seemed too good to be true. Perhaps he saw them either dying in the attempt to do whatever task he set for them, or perhaps there was something more to this man. There was no time, and Aranwen knew too little to make that guess. And this promise... for a Bladesigner to swear an oath, you could not ask of more from a Bladesigner.

In another circumstance, another place, another time, perhaps Aranwen would have attempted to lie by omission, declare that this promise was already in her oath to give aid in return to aid provided. The omission there being that it was only aid given freely that she had sworn to repay. But here, now, with Ch'dau at death's door, and with Kithran whom she could not bear to imagine what might be happening, Aranwen was truly desperate. She would not take that gamble. Not here. Not now. She was gambling too much already.

And yet, Aranwen could not shake the fear that by accepting this deal there would still be something looming on the path ahead, if not for her to deal with, then for an unfortunate soul in the future. She only hoped that any ill that happened by this, she would be able to atone for it somehow in her lifetime.

Taking a deep breath, Aranwen spoke through the bars before her, "I would say that you have my blade, but you know where it lies," She began, lifting a hand to her chest, feeling her heart ache, "Instead, I can only provide words. The word that I will see this task of yours through, in exchange for his life, and our freedom, even if it should cost me my life. Such is the oath that I give to you, here and now."

Be still my blade, we are not done yet.

When I originally had the idea for Morgana, she was a solitary, but powerful witch who offered her services for a price, with an obscure but simple motivation. As she developed in my mind, however, I realized a couple of things - her powers don't translate well into conventionally known spells, and as I wrote on Cal'ele'muir on the side, I noticed she had something of a fae feel to her. 

This idea evolved into the result you see here - a witch who has made a pact with one of the A'nia, intertwining fae magic with her own.

As it deals with fae, this has turned a bit more experimental on my part. I hope that is okay

I shouldn't read the update while at work. May be unable to concentrate after  

In a place outside of the attention of roaming eyes mortal or magical alike, the one known as Morgana sat alone, perched upon her chair in the middle of an ornate octagonal room. Irritation gripped at her cheek, lifting her lips into a half snarl. She waved a hand, sending the two crystal mirrors she was looking through to be taken away upon their threads, to join the others passively hanging along the walls. A beautiful diorama of crystal panes, held aloft on blood red threads.

"Ugh, well, that went about as badly as it could have gone," Morgana gripped her forehead in frustration for a moment, before she relaxed, leaning back in the chair, "At least my beautiful doll is undamaged. I took a great risk using the lovely Lavender like that. Would that I could let her face be seen without the risk of revealing my hand..."

"Trouble?" The voice of another woman asked from the stairwell, "I've not heard you sigh so in decades."

"This latest commission is turning rather sour," Morgana leaned on one hand, idly fidgeting with the threads upon the armrest of her chair with the other, "Could have lost a mask, and had to reveal more of my hand to keep it out of theirs, at the risk of one of my beautiful dolls."

"My, that does sound vexing," The other woman offered with a soothing voice, "And your dolls are truly lovely. Speaking of which, have you decided on your next one? You remember your promise, don't you?"

The tips of Morgana's lips curled into a smile, "I have, and of course I do."

With a weave of her hands, Morgana brought one of the other crystal panels to her, before waving it off for the woman to see.

"I do think you'll approve my choice," Morgana's voice nearly purred.

"Isn't that-"

"Yes," Morgana's smile grew wider, "Do you approve, my dear A'nia?"

"Completely."

Time passed, and without anything to provide indication of such, Aranwen lost track of it. But just because she lost track of it didn't make her complacent. She kept the cell she was in about as tidy as she could manage, kept herself in as good of a condition as she could manage. Her eyes always distant as she followed the training that had been drilled into her for decades, seeing a forest in her mind's eye that she wasn't sure she would see again. Even without a steel blade, she went through the motions in practise, and she exercised as much as she dared. With merely a trickle of whatever sustenance was provided them, she knew she had to be especially wary of overexerting herself. But as she kept sharp her mind, she likewise she knew not to allow her body to fail.

No harm.

But that didn't mean they had to keep them alive. They didn't need to put the effort in for torture if they let the darkness corrode at them.

So, that's the game they're playing, Aranwen had thought to herself, Have to keep my heart's blade sharp... have to keep going.

But the darkness did hold within it things Aranwen did not want to see. Over and over and over again, a replay of her choices that had led them here. Why hadn't she drawn her blade on Garn when he broke formation and walked past her to the rear? Why was she so sure of the path that failed them? Why had she been so naive?

Aranwen was so focused on the rhythm, the pattern that she had set for herself, that she was starting to lose herself in the past. The sudden flashes of burning orange light staggered her, causing her to blink rapidly.

"Burn, fiends! By Therassor, you'll leave or burn!" Gib was shouting, "Begone! Fetch your masters!"

Moving from the spot she had been exercising to the door, Aranwen saw what Gib had seen. The ghouls lurking, hungering for death... and whose cell they were standing by.

"No. Ch'dau? Ch'dau!" Aranwen called, to no answer.

Clenching one hand white, she held the other to her eyes, shielding them from the light Gib was wielding. If she had been more aware of the present... well, what could she have done? The unspoken question burned in her heart, and her mind raced.

"If they come and are amenable, they may ask a price in exchange for his life," Aranwen observed to the others.

Will this be an opportunity to take advantage of? Aranwen thought, Or a situation for them to take advantage of us?

She dearly hoped the former.

I believe I'll have a post ready when I get home 

Might not change much but it'll be there anyway  

.. At Kithran's logic - Morgana knew Aranwen's name, therefore Aranwen knows about Morgana. 

If that predicate was true, Kithran would know about Morgana because she also knew Kithran's name  

Of course, Kithran's truly annoyed because she didn't get to buy overpriced perfume

Maybe next time...

After the fact, with the knowledge that she was a doll, the pushyness becomes so much more sinister, doesn't it?

Also glad to hear you are feeling better,  Eol

I haven't looked at this particular ingredient list so I don't know how well this may work, but whenever I make my own chili, I usually just freeze a bunch of it for later Split up the batch into smaller containers so I can just thaw out a portion at a time.

Sunday Gamma was relieved of their shift by Monday Alpha just prior to the time of the transmission  

Dunno about 2e but I was just thinking along the lines of

Initial effect: drowsiness

Secondary effect: sleep

Failing to resist initially just means it got in your system, get drowsiness. Have to fail again after a minute to actually fall asleep. At least if going by that. I left it vague so it was more up to you two how to handle the effects on your characters  

The shopkeeper doll is not a combat one. She won't pursue. 

In a way what she did was to get Kithran, Ch'dau and Mosic out of the store so she could lock it up and start repairing the combat puppet. If they happened to be susceptible and fall quickly to the powder's effects, that was more a bonus than the intent.

She steps outside of the apothecary briefly, about a minute after letting the group leave uncontested, to flip the sign to closed and going back inside the apothecary, presumably locking the door afterwards  

It read as though he was, in my mind. That definitely flavoured the reaction post. I'll need to let my head clear and then make a new one

That's not good

Do the cages have bars across the top of them, or is it just that each cell has floor to ceiling bars? 

Ch'dau isn't naked, just fuzzy

Hmm... Just had the thought that if Aranwen got more strips of cloth, she could stuff them into her right bracer and throw the bracer at Ch'dau to supply a few makeshift bandages.

Just a thought anyhow

... About 180 years is probably long enough for a person to have a sense of practicality being much more important over modesty, especially in this kind of situation

Aranwen will wear her armour again after checking that the makeshift bandages seem to be working. It'll chafe, but will still offer some level of protection at least. 

"Everyone, find the cleanest parts of your clothing. Rend it. Create bandages and clean out your wounds. Use your own spit for there will be nothing cleaner in these cells. We must do the best that we can to fortify ourselves from infection and gangrene if we are to patiently wait for our opening."

"Good call, I'd grown too accustomed to the care given by you and Cedric to think about it," Aranwen replied. 

Out of her armour she made something of a makeshift table to place her things. Unabashedly, whether due to the dark or desperation, she tore the whole of her undershirt into makeshift bandages. Treating her own injuries as prescribed brought with it a sense of nostalgia to the Sylvari. 

"If only I were closer to see to yours as well, Ch'dau" she murmured to herself, "... History does like to repeat, it seems."

Once she had done what she could for herself, Aranwen looked back over to Gib, feeling more reassured about her decision.

"Thank you, Gib, but I don't say such things lightly - I would not doubt them to make us suffer. In such suffering, it is natural to lash out. But in this place, lashing out at me is perhaps the best option - if they believe our unity lost, that's something else we may be able to hold in our favour," Aranwen explained. 

...

Kithran: *being sneaky sneak and risk taker*

Saina: Hiiiii, are you being robber?

Kithran: Ack! Where did you come from?!

Saina: I want to play too, who is being cop?

Kithran: Uhh, that annoying guy I can't shake

Saina: Leave it to me *waits and trips him and blows raspberry before running away to be a distraction*

* * *

Present Kithran: ... Wait... That girl seemed familiar. Nah, couldn't be.

Good thing I am some level of proficient with Shadowrun 

Just have to deep dive, apply marks to access the device, and then retrieve the file before the fire can cause critical structural damage...  

(No but really if you don't post it I will bug you until you do because I want to seeeeee )

I'll have Saina show up out of nowhere and bother Kithran in the past if I need to