The clearing is atop a rock outcropping that juts out into the sky like a pointing finger. The march up it is brief, but rigorous. The airship hoovers in the distance, it's sails billowing and colorful, flags hang from the rails, but the three young men can see the fire cannons that sat just behind wooden ports. The dwarves stopped at the edge of the outcropping, and unloaded colorful flags from their packs. Quickly they set up in a three man formation and began signaling the ship, rapidly the ship signaled back and slowly it turned and began to glide towards the rock outcropping.

Junipero smiled at three younger name givers, and spoke exuberantly. "It's magnificent isn't it? She only took six months to construct!" Her excitement was almost visible.

Garon just stood, tight-lipped, his eyes on the horizon, scanning for signs of danger. Something within him was wakening, not just caution, but an urge for that caution to be justified. He'd always been comfortable with conflict, and it had made him an unbearable child and a decent guard, but standing here, the wind in his face, nature spread out before him, challenges over every hill, he didn't just tolerate conflict, he burned for it. Perhaps being within the warded kaer had moderated the impact of his Discipline, or perhaps it was just the anxiousness of opportunity, but Garon stopped himself just short of wanting very badly for something terrible and dangerous to happen, something urgent and bloody and deadly for him to forge himself against.

He shook his head. Such thoughts were dangerous; he was here to protect, not to battle. Still, his blood sang with desire, and only years of training stifled the urge to let loose a bellow of violence.

With difficulty, he turned his attention to the airship, and tried not to think of how they might be expected to board it - Her, he corrected himself. Far above, birds wheeled and soared among the mast and riggings and flags of the airship, as if curious to see what strange construct invaded their skies.

Though he was no expert on the wilderness, he'd expected something more akin to a blasted wasteland than this reasonable approximation of paradise. The stories of the Scourge had led him to believe all would be as ash, but the land was recovering, even now, life spreading itself even in the face of constant peril. There was a lesson within the thought, but he could not bring himself to understand it.

As the ship closed in its shadow covered them all, and the dwarves on the ground called out to the ones aboard the ship. Suddenly ropes were flung over the side, and the dwarves on the ground quickly drew out mallets and stakes, and began hammering the stakes into the ground and tying the ropes to the stakes. Soon a massive cargo net was flung over the side and the dwarves quickly fixed it to the ground.

Junipero waited until they finished and pointed to it. "We climb aboard, and our journey begins!"

As the ship closed in its shadow covered them all, and the dwarves on the ground called out to the ones aboard the ship. Suddenly ropes were flung over the side, and the dwarves on the ground quickly drew out mallets and stakes, and began hammering the stakes into the ground and tying the ropes to the stakes. Soon a massive cargo net was flung over the side and the dwarves quickly fixed it to the ground.

Junipero waited until they finished and pointed to it. "We climb aboard, and our journey begins!"

Coaul manuevers up the cargo net and onto the ship, taking it slowly. He's never quite done this before.

This was the moment Garon had been fearing: the climb to the ship. As they lowered the net, another thought occurred to him, no less troubling, that of risk of attack. If he led the trio to the ship, he would be available to fend off attack from above, but not attacks from the ground; if he remained on the ground, he could not protect them if the dwarves chose this moment to betray them. Still, with dwarves even on the ground...

Coaul made the decision simple, by beginning his ascent before Garon could formulate a workable plan. He reached out a hand, as if to snatch the other man from the air, but let his arm drop to his side in resignation; if the dwarves wanted them dead, they would die, and there was little Garon could do about it. They were outnumbered profoundly, and the dwarves were better-equipped than they. It made him uncomfortable to consider, but the Throalic emissaries were probably also vastly better-trained and had been hardened by battles in the outside world.

Garon called up to Caoul, his voice tense. "Caution, shepherd," he said warningly, and hoped the other man would know he meant more than just care taken with the climb. Still, there was only so much he could do, only so many places he could be, only so many battles he could fight. Garon ground his teeth, the massive muscles alongside his square jaw working silently. Caoul could handle himself reasonably well in a straight-up fistfight - though the kaer was largely peaceful, children will be children, and Caoul had been no less restless, and perhaps moreso, than any of the rest of them when he was younger - but if a pitched battle ensued atop the net, he would quickly be overwhelmed. Garon would have preferred the wizard to climb first, for the other man was quite adept at sorcery, but in many ways, Isil was more valuable for the future than either of them.

Trust, Garon thought, and for the first time in his life, the word seemed alien. These were strangers, the only ones he'd ever met, and now he must entrust himself and his companions to their care. His right hand tight against the age-worn hilt of his ancestors' sword, Garon tried to watch both the ascending Caoul and the clearing itself; though no battle seemed imminent, Garon refused to assume this peace would continue.

As his eyes scanned the horizon, he said quietly to Isil, "I follow you, if you no mind." His eyes twitched to the dwarves standing near them, and he saw Isil, always perceptive, notice the movement. He would know Garon's caution, and it's cause; it only remained to see if he would share it.

"Yes, of course... Into the dragon's belly! Hah!" Isil grins and laughs at his own joke to cover his trepidation, takes a few deep breaths and grabs hold of the cargo net. He starts up the net, climbs perhaps twelve feet, then makes the mistake of looking down.

Turning green enough to blend in with the forest around them, he holds still in the net for a moment, closes his eyes and starts muttering quietly to himself and swaying slightly. He climbs the rest of the net with his eyes closed, flopping onto the deck of the airship at first opportunity. He spends a few seconds laying on his back, before rising to his feet.

He stays as far back from the railing as he can and looks to Caoul. "Do you want to call Garon up?"

Now was the telling moment. No attack had come thus far, so the only enemy Garon need fight was altitude. Built mostly of tunnels on one level, the kaer had possessed no height such as this; the only place that came close was the terraces of the gardens, which Garon had been sworn not to ascend since he came into his growth. With great trepidation, he slid his family sword into the scabbard on his back, and gripped the rope net tightly. It was made of something stronger and finer than the coarse plant twine of the kaer, which flexed but did not stretch under his weight.

Garon cast a wary eye on Junipero, who returned his look with one of understanding. Through her constant smile, she said, "I'm a girl of the earth, too, brother, but I promise the sky won't kill you. Just think of what you'll see!" She laughed and gestured upward.

"See my breakfast, I will," he muttered, but nevertheless he took the cords in both hands and pulled himself off the ground. The ship above listed, just as if it were a vessel in water, and he could hear laughing and jostling as the dwarves above re-arranged themselves on deck to compensate for his weight; it took quite a bit of shuffling, given that Garon weighed as much as any four of even the stockiest dwarves. Gamely, he climbed, hand over hand, foot over foot, trying not to look down or think of anything but the ropes before him. His breath quickened, air coming quick and shallow past his spade-like teeth. His hands were white on the net, and it took a force of will each time to loosen his grip to ascend.

Before he knew it, though, the rail lowered across his vision, bringing with it sight of the deck, and the waiting dwarves. "Not so bad, eh?" said one of the deckhands in passing, and Garon was forced to agree with him. Though a few waiting offered him their hands, he feared pulling them over the side, and so took it upon himself to get over the rail and finally onto the deck, where he finally stopped to look around.

As Garon stood Junipero, and the last of the dwarven emissaries, came over the rails. A loud whistle shrilled, and the three young men could see a deck hand next to a large wheel with a silver-gold whistle in his hands. As he blew out three short shrill bursts, and a single lengthy harmonic burst the dwarven deck hands burst into action. Ropes were hauled up, and the dwarves equipment was brought over the rails, flags were unfurled, and the main sail was adjusted as the ship lurched forward and upwards at the same time.

Each young man could feel his stomach protest as the ship swayed both from side to side, but also to and fro, and up and down! Garon's face briefly discolored, but few noticed how hard he clenched his jaws shut. Junipero and the other dwarven visitors quickly began sorting their equipment for stowage, when the men heard a loud rending noise. They quickly realized that the dwarves had never pulled up the stakes that held the cargo nets steady so that they could climb, instead they had simply allowed the ships movement to pull it out of the ground! A work detail quickly pulled the net, which still held the stakes, over the rail, rolling it up and stowing it, showing the stakes in a barrel that seemed exclusively just for that purpose.

Junipero turned to the three young men and held her arms open wide. "Welcome to the sky! While she can be a fickle mistress, she is wondrous in her beauty and unparalleled in her majesty!" She nimbly made her way to the Bow, as the deck hands unfurled the jib sail. "Come! Come see the world like you've never seen it before, but surely as Floranuus must have meant for name givers to see it!" She stopped at the very far edge fo the forecastle near the bowspirit, which was shaped like a winged serpent-ornately decorated, painted and carved.

Coaul calls Garon up as he smiles at Junipero. He thens take a look, pleasantly surprised, when the ship takes off.

As the Skyship sailed forward they could see the land beneath them, spread out like a child's playthings. Junipero sat on the edge of the rail, one leg kicked out for balance on the bowspirit.

"As a child I dreamt of this." She sighed, and relaxed slightly, her shoulders sagging. Her face still held a small smile, but it was much more intimate, reserved. Almost conspiratorial." My da' had a great book of stories, compiled through the years by our family, each generation adding their own stories to it. So many wondrous stories, but it was the ones from before the great Scourge that captivated me. Stories of great cities, and greater heroes, who soared through the skies on the airships!"

"I would take the empty crates that we stored tubers in, and pile them high with baskets and blankets attached to brooms for sails. My mother and Nana would laugh as I told them fabulous stories. Imagine my surprise when construction on the first of these started!" Junipero turned towards them, looking them each in the eye. "I hope this voyage is as wondrous for you as it has been so far from me!"

Still captivated by the world below, Coaul responds with a soft "Aye." to Junipero's desire.

"Wonderful, absolutely wonderful." Isil says it without much conviction and a sidelong glance at the edge of the ship, which he is staying well away from.

After a moment of searching for something to think about other than the distance between the ship and the ground, he collects himself a little.

"Does Throal have many of these ships?"

"Many more than some suspect, but not nearly enough." Junipero's eyes darken slightly, and lose their focus slightly. It's clear that she's remembering something unpleasant. For a brief second she falls silent, but then her smile returns, although slightly more forced than before. "King Varulus and Prince Neden have great plans for these ships, and unlike the Theran's it doesn't involve the conquest of all people's not already under our yoke!" Her words are spoken with conviction, her face flushed her hands clenched at her sides.

"It is our hope by sharing our technology with all, that we can lift everyone up-not just a select few!"

In the earliest stories of creation told by the trolls of Kaer PorBajin, the first children of creation - the Humans, Windlings, Elves, and T'Skrang - were disappointments for the First Mother. They were too flighty, too quick, too light. The Orcs, she felt, were an improvement, but they were too ruled by quick passions; the Dwarves were more pleasing still, and showed the way to her favored children: the Trolls and Obsidimen. They were creatures of the Earth, deep and slow and powerful, and the First Mother rejoiced.

Like most such stories, it has lost the way of truth through retelling; still, like most, it contains a kernel of truth. The Obsidimen and Trolls, to this day, address each other as "rock brother," showing their own visions of origin share at least this trait. A life spent in his element, deep within the ground, with sky and light and openness just figures in the Book of Tomorrow, had left Garon comfortable within the womb of his mother, and this birth into the cold and open world cut him deeply.

And still. And still. Standing on the deck of this ship, far above the Mother, moving at these dizzying speeds, awakened something within him. Though his memories of the man were brief and hazed, Garon's recollection of his grandfather consisted largely of the legends which had so captivated the old man's imagination, those of the Trollmoots of the northlands and their breaktaking airships. Garon's ancestors had come, originally, from the great Trollhome Mountains, who in some manner lost to time had come to be within this kaer so far from their homes.

Something in the blood sang to him, some memory of sky and air and speed, of taking hold of those things most against your nature, and overcoming them, defeating them, facing them, not only without fear, but with joy. The sky shook above him, deafening him with its stillness, and he could not resist, did not want to resist, the laugh that boomed within him. His mouth gaped, and he roared with laughter, with the joy of facing fear. Some of the dwarves looked askance - more than one shielded their ears from the intensity of sound - but others exchanged knowing smiles and winks.

Junipero looked most offended, and he realized immediately his laugh had come just at the end of her words. He quieted slowly, waving a hand to her as he tapered off. "No offense, no offense. I do not laugh at you. It is just..." Words failed him; he was overwhelmed. For lack of superior alternative, he gestured broadly at the horizon. "...just this!"