Futuristic To Become Threaded

[Calibutcher]

Threading scales takes place in the futuristic city of Token, a place where magic and science have found a strange blend of coexistence. Dragons and firearms are often used together in a grand function. Flying cars and transports powered by magic or technology and sometimes both. At the heart of the city, Token lies grand machines that cast vast shadows across the landscape of the city and surrounding country. The constant thrum of the engines powers people's need for electricity. People work to thrive, steal, and die in this vast metropolis. Yet the pastime that has begun to unite people to a cause and gain more revenue for Token than anything else.

Dragon Threading. An extreme form of racing that uses dragons and cybernetics as well as weapons to pit racers against each other. The city of Token is littered with the beacons and obstacles used in Dragon Threading. Dragons flying across the sky and running through the streets are treated like celebrities with their riders. The ultimate goal for Dragon Threaders, is to be part of the biggest race of all. Tonyas 20. Tonya was the first dragon threader who brought dragons back from the brink and saved dragonkind as a species. Previously only hunted for their rare materials, magic, and strong materials. Tonya thought they could be used for more. She tamed the first dragon and proved the species not only to be sentient but highly intelligent. They were also largely thrill-seekers. Being able to tame dragons was only possible due to Tonya being able to entertain the species with races. Dragon threading is not only entertainment for Humans. It is also entertainment for some dragons.

One of the breakthroughs that allowed Dragon Threading in the first place is Dragonkind. Humanoid dragons that can translate the tongue of Draconis to common speak of humans. Tonya was accompanied by the very first dragon kind. Ingólfur Xatri-phikoln (many call him Engulf due to the trouble of pronouncing his name.) Ingólfur still lives to this day and advocates on behalf of the dragons and others of his own species.

 

[Calibutcher]

The afternoon sky whisked by him as his small craft carried him on towards the Bubbling Sea. An odd name for a inhospitable place, the Bubbling Sea almost made it seem warm or inviting. But in reality, it was harsh a hot landscape dotted with burnt trees and bones of creatures that could not weather the treacherous land. As he looked down over the edge of his craft it looked lonely to him. Much like he felt now. He had been traveling searching for hidden talent for how many days now? eighty? He had the last track. He had gone to the usual places to look for threaders. Starting in Token was a foolish idea, though anyone with talent there was snatched by any reasonable Django. So he expanded his search to neighboring cities. Then towns and now completely new landscapes far away from Token. The threat of failure and his doubts threatened to send him home as a failure. But first, he would need to check the Bubbling Sea. If people could be resilient enough to live here, they could perhaps make a great Threader.

Finding people here was the issue. He was told tribes or groups moved around here but did not settle in one place. He quit looking at the ground below and instead turned his attention to his scanner. He tapped at the screen looking for any signs of life, most of what he found was more burnt trees and the occasional steam vent. He huffed wondering if he had been sent on a wild goose chase. But he set his craft to autopilot and set the scanner to tone if it detected signs of life. He leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes. He had not meant to fall asleep but the gentle sway of his craft and the fading light of day mixed with his travel-wearied body let him drift away in comfort. He was startled awake at the tone of his craft and he was disoriented briefly by the now black sky. It had only just been day, he thought. But as he turned to the scanner he saw the time had shifted late into the night. More important than that was the notification of living organisms. He reached over to the passenger seat and grabbed a monolular in the low light; it was difficult to tell but between his monocular and his scanner he was fairly certain it was humans. He took control of his craft and maneuvered that way.

As he drew closer he saw simple structures and coverings. Tents of some kind. So people did live here after all, he thought. He approached with caution and landed a fair distance away not wanting to wake people or startle them. He walked over to the camp and as he neared the edge he was hailed by a man holding a rifle of some kind.

“Who are you?”

The man called in a steely tone. He had likely seen his craft land as the man did not sound surprised to see him approach. Pelan raised his hands to show he had no ill intent.

“ I am Pelanjdrics Xutren-Phikoln, an Initiate of Django. I come to look for riders.”

He said in a flat even tone.

“Is that all?” The man scoffed “You will find riders here.”

“I hope to find someone who may become a rider.” Pelan began to explain he stopped himself before delving into that. “However, it is late and I would simply like your permission to set up camp nearby. We can talk more in the morning perhaps?” Pelan lowered his hands slightly and the man lowered his rifle.

“Bring your craft closer and set up camp here.” The man gestured to a roughly flat spot of land in front of him. “We will keep watch of you and your camp…” The man paused as he considered something. “You are alone?”

“I am.” Replied Pelan

“Very well.” The man gestured Pelan away.

Pelan turned and walked back to his craft and returned and set up in the spot he was instructed. The man carried on in small talk with him for a time asking questions about where he came from and how long he had been about. How Pelan had found them. Pelan answered all things truthfully. A bit of paranoia was probably a factor of survival in a land as rugged as this. Eventually, when Pelan had settled camp, the man gave his name, Jace. He bid Pelan a fair rest and strode a few steps away to resume his watch. Pelan found rest again once his mind quited as well. The last thought to cross his brain was the man’s words. ‘You will find no riders here’ He desperately hoped the man could be wrong.
The following morning Pelan awoke to the clatter of people cooking nearby and voices speaking in hushed tones. He groaned wearily and forced himself to arise. He began packing away his belongings. Already setting his mind to leave as soon as he could. There would be no riders here. However, as he exited his small tent he saw Jace and a small gathering of people awaiting him.

He tilted his head, now curious. “Good morning?” He questioned wondering why they had all gathered. Jace strode forward.


“Forgive them, they are curious. We do not receive many visitors. When I told my family of our encounter last night they did not believe me at first until I showed them your camp.”

A women followed close behind Jace and tapped him on the shoulder. Based on the way two interacted they seemed to be a couple. “And you did not have the courtesy to see a Dragonkind sheltered by us?”


“Again, Lina it was dark and I was on watch.” He said for what sounded like his umptenth time explaining such.

She scoffed, “Anyway, come join us for breakfast.” The women waved Pelan over.

Pelan began to object. “I don’t want to impose”

“Good then don’t impose and come have breakfast with us.” Linn remarked matter of factly.


Pelan raised a brow to Jace who nodded. “You could leave, but then she will never forgive me for not letting you in.”


Pelan conceded and came over to a simple table with only enough chairs for the members of Jace’s family. “Please have my seat” Jace offered under the stern eye of his wife.


Pelan decided not to object and was treated to a simple but hearty meal all while berated by questions from Linn.


“Thank you for the meal and conversation Linn. I must know though, is there anyone here in you camp who would make a good rider?” Pelan had finally caught a break in Linn’s conversation to ask what he wanted to know. Her and Jace shared a look but ultimately shrugged.

“Were not certain,” Started Linn

“We are hardy folk. But anyone in the camp would have to speak for themselves.”


“Very well. I will ask around.” Pelan stood and excused himself. He was here after all, so why not ask around. After all, most of the camp seemed interested about his arrival. As he began walking away Linn called after him.

“If you need anything let us know how we can help!”


Pelan turned and gave a half bow. “Your hospitality has been more than enough so far.”

He walked to the next family and the next and began asking, “Are there any among you brave enough to be a rider?” A simple question that he had received many answers to so far. Yet none found him satisfied. One thing had changed for Pelan, these people made him not feel so lonely.

spacepirate

 

[spacepirate]

Despite the tribes of the Bubbling Sea having many, many creations myths about dragons, about men, and about dragons who became men, it was very rare to actually see a flesh-and-scale dragonkind. After all, their home was so very far away and remote from the rest of the world, they were lucky to get any form of stray radiowaves, let alone visitors. There had been a few particularly adventurous and soft-minded entrepreneurs who’d tried to pioneer some kind of tourism industry on the islands, but volcanic ash and molten rock made for terrible overnight guests.

As Pelan made his way through the encampment, he was no doubt met with wonderment and awe. Few had ever seen an outlander up close, let alone one with a tail!

Though the villagers likely would not have been malicious or outright rude, they eyed his craft with suspicion- a few bold youngesters ventured close to it, daring each other to touch it through hushed tones. “No way!“ cried one, hair pleated back in a braid. “If I do, the island will burn again!“ A common local superstition, none would touch metals carried from faraway- anything tainted by foreign fire doomed the people, brought only misfortune.

It was in one particular tent, one adorned with the spotted hide of black leopard seals and glowing tallow candles, where the children seemed chattier than usual when it came to finding a rider. “Oh you know who’d be the best rider in the world?” a young girl began, amber eyes glittering from the sunlight filtering through the tent. “He doesn’t visit as much as he used to, but he’s pretty much fearless and loves to talk about dragons! It’s a guy named Kee-shan!”

No sooner than the name was uttered did a nervous silence fall upon the camp, as if the child had said a terribly bad word. An elder with leathery skin and a veil around her face clamped her hand over the girl’s mouth, even as the young girl wriggled and giggled. The restraint kept the girl in check, but the damage was done- villagers had overheard and children rushed to the sound.

“Of course!” Cried a young boy, eye swollen shut by a geometric tattoo only in the first stages of healing, “they say that Kizan caused the eruption on dawn the Lunar Festival! He ventured alone to the top of Mount Yaspura, and threw in a dragon’s egg!”

“That’s a load of soot!” Cried another boy, slamming the bottom of his spear on the dirt beneath them, “No one could carry a dragon’s egg alone! Kizan tracked the lord of the lights and shadow for two whole weeks, using nothing but a skiff and a trained seagull! He paddled across five hundred islands, and the dragon bit off his arm!”

”Then why did he have his arm when he came to drop off the pearls last time? Arms don’t grow back, Tyraz!”

The adults did everything they could to make the kids stop talking about the rumored man, to no avail. The stories gradually became more and more extravagant. Some said that Kizan was a dragon in a boy’s skin, sent by Yaspura herself to test the faith and sincerity of their people. Others said that Kizan made a contract with a foreign shipwright, and if you disobeyed your elders, he’d snatch you in the middle of the night and sell you to the pirates. Kizan once saved a hunting party of divers from a giant sea-snake using nothing but his teeth and a length of fishing wire. That you could hear him whistling in the wind, and if he stopped suddenly, it meant death was near. That once, when he was only a boy, Kizan fell in love with a-

“Enough!” Cried a village elder, slamming together two pans and successfully silencing the clamoring children. “We do not speak that name or invite those memories within this camp! The next child who does will have to clean and oil all the tents- by hand! For a week!” The threat seemed to have even further success. The elder sighed, graying hair spotted with ash and thick black dust. “My apologies for the disturbance, we do not get many visitors and I suspect the children were excited. But worry not, they shan’t bother you with such nonsense any further.”

 

[Calibutcher]

Pelan greeted and talked to the different families and members of the tribe one after another. They were excited to meet him and their enthusiasm to speak and visit with him was a blissful break from his other interactions. They contrasted starkly with the people of Token, these people were cautious and calloused to hardships that were a part of living here. But they shared a unity that allowed them to all work together. The people of Token worked hard to stand out against the masses of other people present. Kindness was not as every day as it seemed to be here. A fair bit of his treatment seemed to be based on his being a Dragonkind. As he spoke to the different families the reverence they showed as they talked about dragons became evident.

His commonplace question of asking who would be willing to be a dragon rider was met by many able bodies responding they would not be willing. Not for fear of dragons it seemed but rather out of respect. Jace's comment of not finding a rider here seemed to hold a good bit of truth. Even the young and daring men would not show interest in dragon riding. So as he asked and spoke his attention was drawn to a group of children who seemed intent on talking about a prospective dragon rider. Intrigued Pelan slowly made his way to the noisy children trying to listen in as they spoke. A few things stood out to Pelan from the rabble and talked among the children. Rumor of a dragon egg, an erupting volcano, and somehow someone by the name of Kizan was responsible for all these things.

Pelan approached the village elder with an outstretched palm toward the children. "These are some tall tales the children weave." Pelan flashed a grin at the now silent children. He had been drawn to them as it was the only talk in the camp of someone who would be a feasible dragon rider. "But please, do not feel the need to silence them. Stories are important. Especially for children." Pean extended his hand to the elder. "Forgive me if I misspeak, but would you tell me of this Kizan? Why Is his name such a byword here? After all, if any of the rumors are even partially true" He gave a wink to the children. "Then he must be an accomplished person. by some right. I would endeavor to meet with them."

 

[spacepirate]

The offer of snacks and juice had done much to quell the kids, but they continued to buzz with excitement at the urban legend. While most of the adults had gone back to their busy day, the elder sighed, pulling out a wooden comb and gently untangling the messy hair of a happily chewing child. Forehead creasing with wrinkles, she relented and began to speak of the prospective rider. It seemed that Pelan’s insight to the importance of stories had not been missed upon her.

“Kizan is… remarkable, even among our own people. Though I doubt any of this talk of dragons has much truth to it. He was as respected as any able-bodied man of our people, but there was a terrible eruption about a year ago. Up until then, Kizan had been telling just about anyone who would listen that he saw the guardian of the Bubbling Sea, a great black dragon, at the top of our most sacred site. Mind, none are permitted to venture alone to Mount Yaspura, so many of us who heard the story were appalled… some were sure that Kizan’s affront to the gods would doom us all.“ She shook her head, as if saddened to even speak about the tarnished reputation of one of their own.

“Thus, when the eruption occurred, many blamed Kizan, and his own tribe drove him from their village. He travels about the islands, hunting and diving for relics. His presence is helpful, but largely unwelcome- he often brought treats for the kids, which could explain his popularity among them.” The elder nodded, grinning widely with a few chipped teeth. Slowly, the smile faded. ”It pains me to admit how our people are so quick to reject their own, but you must understand that what Kizan did was unforgivable. Even worse than his sacrilege was his insistence on relying on outsiders’ help. All know that nothing good comes from foreign waters, but still Kizan attempted to convince the tribes to accept their poultices, their slimy food in metal contraptions, their cold-fire torches.“

Scratching her chin where a few stray hairs grew from weathered skin, she grumbled a bit. “But I suppose he has no place among us any longer. If any would leave our way of life, it would likely be him. Though I wouldn’t advise searching him out. Last we heard from him, he was living with foreign sailors whose ship became lodged in the shallow tide pools of the southernmost islands. The water there is treacherous.”

 

[Calibutcher]

Like any good story the tales of Kazan were based around some truth, even if only a little. Even more interesting to Pelan was the mention of another dragon, what they called the guardian of the bubbling sea. It sounded like it would have to be a magma or volcanic dragon. He would have to see it to be certain of course. It would be magnificent to see. If he were not tasked with finding a rider he may have deviated his course to go look for the dragon. His focus would not be so easily swayed. The more he heard about Kizan the more interested he became.


“It is unfortunate to hear he was shooed away.” Pelan looked to the ground for a few breaths. Another roadblock in finding a rider. The only positive he could see was that it was unlikely and other Django would have found Kizan. Frankly, he was still surprised he had found this place at all or these people. Now at least he had more specific things to look for.

“I appreciate the advice and concern.” He looked back to his ship. “But I came to your lands to look for a rider, or someone daring enough to try.” Pelan extended a hand. He took a hardy handshake from the elder. “Regardless of his past actions, I must seek him out.” He began to back away already thinking about taking to the skies on his craft. He paused, there was one final thing he wanted to do. He called the children over and produced a small metal tin from a pocket. Inside was simple lemon drop candies. He passed them out to the children and thanked them for sharing their stories. The elder glared at him slightly but made no further fuss about it. “ The thread of your life be as strong as scales.” He said to the children in a fervent tone. Now satisfied, he stood and gave a curt bow to the elder. “Sew onward Elder.” With that Pelan turned and left to his craft.

These people may not have given him a rider but they had eased the loneliness of this journey so far, and now he felt renewed in his vigor to continue the search. He oriented his craft to face south and set his scanners. He waved to Jace and his family as he departed and took to the skies anew. A thin grin stayed with him long after he left their simple camp behind.


Having been well rested for this next part of his journey he passed the time with ease. Checking the scanner on occasion and taking time to listen to the teachings of his grandfather Ingólfur. Around noon his scanner picked up signs of life again and he closed in. He raised his monoculars and spotted the ship, just as he was told the ship sat stuck fast and pitched at an angle with its hull resting against the ground. He deliberated how to best approach the vessel for a time before deciding to simply bring his craft alongside and dismount directly onto the boat. His personal craft could hover there for some time while he looked for Kizan.


He approached slowly and dismounted heavily with his metallic foot scraping along the hull of the vessel. These sailors were not fool enough to leave their vessel unguarded and soon he was met by several rough-looking sailors who drew knives. Pelan raised his hands to show he was not here to fight. “Stand down, I am not here to steal from you. I come looking for one named Kizan. Do any of you know him?” While Pelan was not looking for a fight he could reach down to his plasma sword quickly if the conversation would not be a suitable means for these sailors.

 

[spacepirate]

The sailors of the H6VT-Manifest were hardly used to visitors at this point, so it was no wonder that they were so quick to pull their spears and shivs when Pelan approached. The Bubbling Sea was rich in black pearls and submerged relics, both of which sold for fortunes in the great mecha-cities, but the villagers were hardly known for their hospitality. Perhaps it was worth mentioning that there hadn’t been any direct conflict, and the natives seemed mostly peaceful, but none would so much as entertain the idea of trade and commerce- let alone assisting a group of outlanders in freeing their beached ship and heading back to civilization.

Well, except for the one native that the well-geared dragonkin seemed to know by name.

From the tattered hi-res vests and rubber boots some of the men wore, it was clear the sailors were hardly combat-ready. In fact, there across the hull right below the vessel’s name was what remained of the trading company’s logo. It was hardly legible now, seemingly scratched out by the forsaken employees. Though they eyed the dragonkin with caution, it was clear they were outmatched if the other decided to draw his blade, so they merely stood their ground.

There was a bit of murmuring and more than a little discussion before a woman stepped out from the wreckage, still clasping a clipboard to her hip as if it were a lifeline. The salty wind had trussed her hair, and her skin glowed with a reddish hue- clearly a stranger to the sun’s powerful rays. She locked her steely eyes onto the dragonkin, narrowing them in suspicion. “Adjutant Damree 5. I’d like to say it’s a pleasure, but we’ve been stranded here for months, so forgive my lack of etiquette. My men say that you drove up in your fancy vehicle, and instead of offering any of us a ride back to the mainland, you ask about our one hope out of this hellhole?” Her voice rang out above the crashing waves, dirt embedded in the wrinkles around her eyes.

It appeared she was hardly on a first-name basis with the islands.

“You’ve no business with Kizan. He’s the only one of this bunch who knows what he’s doing.”

Wow, Kizan thought as he swam across the length of the thermic vent for what seemed to be the hundredth time, I really have no idea what I’m doing! He once again came up for air, wiping the scalding saltwater from his eyes, blinking until they were clear and golden. The diver took long, measured breaths, making sure that the netting on his back was secure before once again making his way to the sea floor, spotting the glowing, cubic fragments of the ship’s battery in between the crevasses of an underwater canyon.

While it was true that the boiling waters harmed him as much as a seabird could drill a hole in the mountain, what these people needed was a mechanical beast, not a person. Kizan had seen them before- great machines that breached the surface of the water like the top of an enormous fish. Though he wasn’t there to see the actual shipwreck itself, from the way that the glowing battery parts were scattered across the vent, it appeared that the ship might have taken a direct hit from the vent’s gasses. There was no real way to tell with the naked eye when the vents were about to erupt, after all, and Kizan supposed he was lucky that he had yet to be blown to smithereens.

But his stomach ached and his hands and feet were becoming numb from the sea, so it was time to return. The sailors had promised to take him with them if he helped, but it was an insurmountable task- today, he was bringing in exactly enough fragments to fill his palm, each one a warm, pulsating shard of glass. No matter how hard he worked, the sailors’ leader hardly seemed appreciative of his efforts, but he supposed she might have people back home who missed her.

Still, he thought as he approached the shore with his raft, it appeared that the Adjutant wasn’t in her usual nest within the bow of the beached ship. Amber eyes were quick to fixate on a stranger, one with reptilian skin and a craft unlike which Kizan had ever seen.