• Graded • [Oakleigh] The Hills Are Alive

[Maltruism]

The noble's words needed quite a bit of translation, which was slow going, but after some lengthy cross-referencing and clarifying, they all finally came to understand that his notorious pet may have been an escapee, or ejection of some kind, from this anomalous zone. It seemed fairly obvious that he felt somewhat on the spot with being put in the position of having to confirm or deny his unique pet's origins.

He instinctively kept looking to Aeodan for agreement about his cat's remarkable behavior, only to have it repeatedly driven home that Aeodan was NOT currently Aeodan. The confused look on his initial traveling partner's face served as a reminder that Riabar was the current occupant of that human body. And like the noble, he needed everything Tristan said translated as well.

The real problem was not so much the slow going of Aeodan having to do all the translation between the two others as it was that his current feline mouth had trouble enunciating, even when he knew exactly what was being said. Not only that, every shred of information that was clarified only showed that there was no present solution to discovering if Mistral DID hail from the Misty Miasma originally. They were stuck here, and Mistral was stuck there.

Riabar was impressed when Tristan made a truly noble offer to brave the swarms for the needed midge. But that was now a lesser issue to the cat-man than finding out the truth about 'Mistral'. Besides, the noble, for all his good intent, was unlikely to succeed in grabbing the right bug in a swarm without complicating things further by being stung himself.

In addition, the germ of a better idea began to form in Riabars' currently human brain. "Getting our bodies switched back is not really so difficult. I have the bug we need. We just one more of the same color. And we can get it at the same location where we'll find what we need to confirm Mistral's identity. There is a combination of unique plants here that may allow you to actually speak with the..."cats"...in your world. But you made need to modify them when you get back to your world. I'm really not sure how long they'll last there."

He absently counted off one finger, "One is called the 'Diplomat Scroll Lily'. It has an upright tube that catches water and dew. There's some quality in the lining of this tube, that allows the donors of a few drops of blood into it, to shake it up, drink from it and then communicate freely with each other, regardless of languages."

He counted off a second finger, "The other is called "Brummafern". You break the thick fleshy curl at the top of the plant, and touch the exposed tissue to anything of the same consistency, and it will copy it...perfectly; even generating the same mystic properties. Since I can speak with cats, my blood should allow the ability to speak with this Mistral. And yours will allow this ability to extend to your kind. We can use Brummafern to copy our exposed, bleeding flesh, so we can make several elixirs without having to truly injure ourselves."

His currently human eyes widened with a new realization, "In fact, we should be able to copy the inside of the scroll lily tube as well. By doing this we should be able to exponentially create dozens...maybe hundreds of elixirs for this communication. Neither of these plants can be transplanted outside of the Miasma, but these potions really ought to work for a little while at least; longer, if you've got some sort of preservative for them."

He looked downhill towards a lowland area, "The bugs will always go back to the swamps. What we need is food to keep them busy, so we can grab the one we need. Did you bring any with you?"

[Tristan Venora]

It seemed as if Riabar didn’t think that Tristan braving the swarms would be a good idea. The noble stopped dead in his tracks and looked at the cat-man in Aeodan’s body for a moment, wondering if he should go ahead with his plan regardless (he was not very good at obeying, besides he was convinced that he stood a chance). A moment later he shrugged his shoulders though, walked over to him and decided to listen to what he had to say, just in case he really did have a better idea. Besides, he found the fact that he was a humanoid cat that was currently stuck in an actual human body kind of fascinating.

“Not difficult?” he blurted out because grabbing a bug while trying not to get bitten and body-switched seemed pretty difficult to him. “If you say so.” He wanted to say more, but it was just than that Riabar told him what he would need for what he had decided to name the cat-speak potion until he came up with a more impressive name. “You … you mean I could really talk to Mistral?” he asked, pretty much ignoring the fact that the elixir's foremost purpose was to confirm Mistral’s identity and not give his “owner” the ability to talk to him. His eyes were wide with fascination. “I wanted this for so long!” he proclaimed. He’d finally be able to ask him where he went every night, how he’d managed to subdue all the other cats – and how he’d managed to beat up a dog!

If there were an Immortal of Cats, Tristan thought, he’d totally ask them for their Blessing!

He was really excited - until he realized that Mistral was probably quite sad and homesick if he really came from the Misty Miasma and was stuck in Rynmere. All of a sudden he started to pity his friend.

“I’m sure I’ll manage”, he replied confidently as Riabar spoke about modifying the plants. “I’m almost as good an alchemist as Padraig now”, he proudly proclaimed, not realizing that Riabar probably didn’t have any idea who Padraig was. “Diplomat Scroll Lily and Brummafern”, he repeated and nodded, trying his best to memorize their descriptions so that he wouldn’t accidentally gather the wrong plants and cause a catstrophe (there had been a couple of near-accidents when he had first started to teach himself alchemy – he had thought that teachers were completely unnecessary and mostly there to get on their students’ nerves).

“Really?” As Riabar mentioned the possibility of creating dozens or even hundreds of cat-speak elixirs his eyes widened so much that they threatened to drop out of their sockets. If he had so many elixirs and sold them all, he’d get rich. No, he decided, he didn’t care about getting rich. He’d use the elixirs to talk to Mistral for as long as he (Mistral) lived!

“I have this here”, he said and held up the box with chocolates that he had brought. “Will this work? I’m not sure what exactly bugs eat”, he admitted. “If not, do you happen to have something more appropriate with you?” he asked before he set off towards the swamp, still covering as much of his body as possible so that the bugs couldn’t bite him while he tried to distract them with the food. He sincerely hoped that Aeodan and Riabar wouldn’t do something stupid while he was trying to catch a bug and turn them back.

He’d pretty much figured out how he was going to do it which surprised him. Apparently, he realized, he really did have a talent for alchemy. Once he was back home, he would try and see what other ideas he could come up with, but for now he ripped his food into small pieces, threw them around and waited for the bugs to come, resisting the urge to run (he was worried that one of them would ignore the food and try to bite him instead).

Once the bugs came, he grabbed the one that needed as quickly as he could. He left the rest of the food to the other bugs as he wasn’t sure what eating something that had come in contact with a bunch of body-switching bugs would do to him. Probably nothing pleasant.

“Riabar, Aeodan”, he said in order to get their attention, hoping that they hadn’t started fighting in the meantime because they wanted their old bodies back. “This is what you’ll have to do now. Riabar, I need your bug. Thank you. You need to let the bug on the left bite you, Aeodan, you need to let the other bug bite you, and then I’ll switch the bugs. Being bitten is what caused this in the first place, so we are doing it in reverse now. Don’t ask me how I came up with this. I don’t know. I sometimes get the strangest ideas – but this one will work, I promise!” he assured them.

“Hold out your hands – and be quick about it. I don’t want the bugs to suddenly decide that I’m more interesting!” he told them and proceeded to put his plan into action.

[Aeodan]

Perhaps it was Tristan's assertiveness that shocked Aeodan into action, or the idea that they might change their bodies back and find a way out of this place. Whatever it was, Aeodan's basest instincts were to follow what the Duke was telling him, and he sprung into action. As they began to walk, Aeodan too covered as much as he could. There were few places to cover, admittedly, but he wanted to be sure that the insect would only bite him where he wanted. A furred hand pulled on fabric, or tightened other fabric. Riabar's outfit made it easy to conceal his form, though, and it wasn't long before the Duke had stopped to start collecting insects.

Riabar's eyes offered a strange view, and the cats that circled their feet made strange and disconcerting noises. He was beginning to make sense of it, though, their strange inflections and syntax. They didn't think like humans, because they weren't, so their alien thought patterns were nearly impossible to quantify. Nearly. As they approached the swamp, the cats grew more restless and frantic, as if they could sense the approach of the bugs that bit Riabar and Aeodan. Of course, they could hear them. Cat hearing was superb.

"Y-your Gra-Grace. Pl-please hurry, b-b-b-b-bugs coming," Aeodan stammered, the feline lips still foreign to him. Tristan, though, seemed determined, and Aeodan watched as he stood as still as a statue, as if he'd sculpted himself into the spot, and waited for the right moment to collect the insects. Aeodan found he wasn't even breathing, such was his anticipation. Tristan, thin and lithe, was lightning fast as his hands snapped out and grabbed the insects by the carapace, sure to stay away from any orifice with pincers or mandibles. Aeodan would have smiled, but Riabar's lips only curled in a snarl, and his tail waggled lazily behind him, without his knowledge.

"Well d-done," Aeodan commended, the pride of cats around his feet dispersing as Tristan drew close with the insects. His commands were heeded immediately by the human-turned-felinoid, Aeodan for the first time seeing Tristan with his air of power. He liked Tristan, certainly, but had never much seen him as a Duke in anything more than title. Now, though, Aeodan understood why he was granted such a title, and felt very much that the man had earned his respect. A furred arm came out, the paw larger than Aeodan's hand on the end of it. He closed his eyes, unaware if the transformation back would hurt, and just awaited the moment.

"R-remind m-me not to ch-change forms w-with c-c-cats again. I'd b-be happy j-j-just to sp-speak to them," he mused, eyes clamped tightly shut. He trusted Tristan, and Tristan's knowledge of alchemy, to get them through this strange place.

[Maltruism]

[img]/gallery/image ... mage_id=75[/img]

There was only a brief sense of amnesiatic confusion for Aeodan and Riabar after the initial disorientation that accompanied the first bite. Fortunately, Tristan had truly taken the lead role now and had not waited for the usual courtly protocol of confirming permission to continue. Riabar may have been some sort of chieftain in this strange world, but he'd made it clear that delay was pointless at best, disastrous at worst. So, after the switch of bugs and the ensuing second bites, the predictable disorientation resolved to find both bodies and identities restored to normal.

It may have been briefly odd, but then quite understandable, to find a profound change in the tones of the cats' "voices". Even the humans' lack of understanding, or translation of the feline cries and meowing howls, did not diminish their realization of the obvious joy the cats were expressing. They spun and pranced about, verging on dancing into the arms of Riabar as he crouched to sweep the exuberantly writhing mass into his arms, weeping in relief.

[img]/gallery/image ... mage_id=74[/img]

The Cat Lord indulged only for a bit or so before getting back to the task at hand. Now this group of followers became a great asset as he sent them off to gather Brummafern and Diplomat Scroll Lily samples. Whether by agility, insight or simple quickness, the feline underlings had no real trouble avoiding the midges, and before long they had returned with enough to get started. It was really the amount of Brummafern that allowed the greatest increase in the volume of finished product, so Riabar had had them focus more on searching them out. And even as the got to work, the cats would return from time to time with more.

This experimentation was all best conducted back at Riabar's "palace". It was not much above the jungle huts one would read about in stories of explorers to exotic lands. But they were cleanly maintained, regardless of the rustic materials from which they were made. The population of this colony may have been misleading on first glance, revealing upright bipedal types like Riabar, and numerous small quadrupedal "pet" types.

The reason being that the adolescent members of this society were enduring the private and embarrassing process of learning to balance on two legs as their bodies matured in an arduous process of natural reshaping of joints, muscles and skeletal structure to accommodate the change into adulthood. It also required a great deal of new clothes. The main reason in coming here, however, was the abundance of ceramic vessels of various sizes to contain the alchemical blend of liquids.

The humans were, of course, viewed with the kind of curiosity only a cat can truly embody. Not hostile exactly, but nervous, and often invasive, as the human scents were a source of great intrigue to them, regardless of the precise location of origin. But the strongest scent was yet to come, and was one that both fascinated and shocked them. For the one truly unpleasant part of the process now was before them. The need to cut open and expose the bloody flesh of both Feline and Human.

The Brummafern would not copy actual blood in liquid form; but could copy the bloody flesh that could then have the blood squeezed from it into the tube of the Lily. The hisses of shock and surprise sounded in chorus from the cats. as Riabar cut open a paw pad, and held a broken crown of a Brummafern to the wound. It took only a few ticks for the look and smell of the plant to transform into the dripping gory look of bloody cat flesh.

Riabar held the knife out to be taken by either of the humans, his look had the assumption of immediate cooperation. He held it equidistant from both humans, obviously not figuring it would matter which one took it to do their part. Even as he held it out, he was reaching for another Brummafern to copy his bleeding wound.

[Tristan Venora]

Truth to be told, Tristan wasn’t completely sure if his crazy idea would work and which state his test subjects would be in afterwards, but he didn’t let it show, and he didn’t let his doubts get to him either. He just went ahead. If something went wrong, he could always blame himself afterwards, and if everything went according to plan, he wouldn’t have wasted his time worrying unnecessarily. Fortunately, nothing bad happened. Aeodan and Riabar didn’t scream, they didn’t double over with pain, they didn’t even seem to be particularly uncomfortable which surprised him, to be honest. He had always thought that swapping bodies – twice – would be a pretty traumatizing experience.

Apparently, it wasn’t. He stood there for a moment, smiling and waiting for Riabar and Aeodan to thank him and praise him because he had done well (he doubted that Padraig would have managed – Faith’s husband was a good alchemist, but he was completely uncreative), and then he turned his attention to the cats, furrowing his brow slightly. There was something different about their meows now. They sounded … they sounded happy! As they started to prance about and as Riabar swept them into his arms, the young duke started to smile all over his face because there was something incredibly heart-warming about the scene in front of him, and their joy was quite infectious!

And then he suddenly remembered poor Mistral who, if what Riabar had said was true, was stuck in a land full of strange people that he couldn’t understand and forced to play the part of a pet. His heart went out to his friend, and he was about to go and gather the plants he would need to make the cat-speak potion because he didn’t want to waste any more time, when he noticed that Riabar’s cats were already doing so. So he just stood there and waited for them to come back and thought about how he should go about making the potion. He wasn’t used to doing that. He rarely planned ahead. Tristan usually just took a couple of reagents that seemed interesting, mixed them and waited for something interesting to happen. He was an artist, not a boring academic!

When the cats had finally gathered enough plants, Tristan searched his pockets for something that he could make the potion in – only to realize that Riabar was moving towards a village of sorts. He followed him, taking in the sights around him. “Look, Aeodan!” he exclaimed to his companion. His eyes were wide with fascination, and he was brimming with excitement. “These cats live in actual houses! I wish I could go and explore! Have you ever seen anything like that? And look over there!” He pointed at a pair of bipedal cats that watched them with unmistakable curiosity. “They walk on two legs, just like us. I thought that Riabar was the only one! This is awesome!”

He only stopped grinning like a madman, pointing at the sights around them and waving to the cats when Riabar held out a knife to him. Making the potion would involve cutting himself. Hearing about it and actually doing it were two completely different things, and he was not looking forward to the latter. He looked from Riabar to Aeodan and back, wishing that there was another way, and then he gave himself a push, grabbed a Brummafern, broke the big, fleshy curl at the top of the plant and cut his palm.

[Maltruism]

There were a number of clay pots and mugs available for temporary storage and separation of human and feline blood. The quantities of both progressed geometrically as both blood and Scroll lily tissue were duplicated repeatedly, and used to blend the vital properties needed. Had there been finer gear, it might have been able to achieve a more concentrated form of the liquid.

The lack of a centrifuge and alembic distillation equipment forced the potion to remain in a cruder form that would require the consumption of an unpleasantly large amount to test its effectiveness. It was possible that an approach that leaned toward a powdered version might have been attempted by adding a thickening agent to facilitate an assation process, which would sear away the inert materials and leave the key elements purified to then be crystallized with a calcinating agent.

But with only a crude wood fire, the exacting control of temperature required would be impossible; and the inconsistent heat conduction of the different decorative glazes on the ceramic heating trays only added to the problem. These were cooking implements after all, not precision laboratory equipment. Perhaps when the nobleman got back to his world he could find a means of purifying his potions to a more condensed form.

But for now, having blended the two bloods, which was all that the use of a Diplomat Scroll Lily required, the time for a test was at hand. Riabar had explained to his clan what he and the human were doing, and they were all poised in rapt attention as The chieftain poured one of the drinking mugs a quarter full and handed it to Tristan. The scent of blood was unavoidable in such a vessel, perched as it was directly in front of the human's face. If he looked around, he would find the feline faces showing signs of roused appetites at the scent; though of course, they were not so vulgar as to indulge them.

Riabar nodded a subtle encouragement to his guest. His eagerness, at least, was more of scientific curiosity variety, and he wanted to see if their efforts (and pains) had been productive. As well, the cat chieftain wanted to see if this human would be able to learn of this mysterious "Mistral's" origins. There was no guarantee that he would ever learn if Mistral was a lost member of his tribe, taken from the nurturing effects of his world before he could develop into the fully adult biped he would be capable of becoming. But he had come to trust that this human, with Mistral's help of course, would make an effort to send word back if at all possible.

It all hinged on this Tristan Venora now, who still sat looking a bit distressed at the quarter mug of blood he held in his hand. It was fairly obvious that the human was not a pure carnivore, or gulping down a rich, raw salty flow of blood would be no obstacle. But if the chance that this potion would grant him the ability, even temporary, to speak with cats was truly important to him, he would do it.

The gathered masses of cats began a keening murmur of meowing curiosity, as if asking each other what the furless chieftain was waiting for. Even the powerful aroma appeared to be making the human a bit woozy. But was it possible that something wafted up from the brew to affect his sobriety? Tristan may have been given to ask himself this, for it almost seemed as if the keening of these felines began to more easily deciphered.

It was not words that formed in his ears; more of as insight as to the gist of their tones. Of course, it was surely obvious that it the delay was something they were curious about. Still there were one or two of the cats that has expressions of impatience or even disrespect, and from their meowing Tristan got a definitely different "feel", it was more of a scoffing at him for being afraid. In fact, the very envelope of tones emanating from these two took on the sound of the word "fear" itself.

"Feeeeeeeeaaaaaaarrrr?" one seemed to ask. "Feeeeeaaaaarrr." one responded in a tone of answer and agreement. It was surprising enough that tristan quickly found that he'd lowered the mug in astonishment. Almost immediately the oddly decipherable keening became ordinary meows again. He lifted again to his lips,pausing as the word "Feeeeeaaaaaar", or perhaps "neeeeeeeaaaar" took form.

Fear of drinking it? Near to his mouth? Was he actually interpreting what the cats were communicating to each other? A few of the others looked at them, and their expressions began to change as well. "Feeeeeeeeaaaaaar." they meowed also in apparent agreement. The word began to overlap itself as a half dozen of these small cats expressed it repeatedly to each other.

[Tristan Venora]

Riabar had told him what would happen, but hearing about it and actually seeing the blood be duplicated repeatedly were two different things. It was pretty amazing, but complicated as well. Before, when they had just talked about it, Tristan had been pretty optimistic because he was almost as good as Padraig now, but the lack of proper alchemical equipment turned out to pose a bit of a problem. He didn’t have a centrifuge, he couldn’t distill anything, he didn’t even have access to a fancy kitchen, like in Oakleigh. Instead, he had to contend himself with a crude wood fire. Tristan had always prided himself on his creative use of alchemy, but this here was stretching the limits!

He went ahead anyway though because anything else was completely unacceptable in his opinion, making a face because the resulting potion smelled like its main ingredient – blood. In fact, he could barely keep himself from retching a little as Riabar handed him a mug with the stuff. The cats around him apparently didn’t share his disgust though. They looked almost … hungry. Tristan found himself reminded of Yndira, the cannibal, who he had wanted to make star. Maybe the potion would be easier to swallow if he pretended that he was a cannibal, too. Or maybe he’d just convince himself that it was his favourite wine. Yes, he decided, he would do that. It wasn’t blood at all.

It was wine!

He could hear the cats make all kinds of sounds, as if they were impatiently waiting for him to start drinking. He eyed the mug doubtfully again, raised it to his lips and stopped there because convincing himself that it was wine was harder than he had thought. It really didn’t smell like wine! For a moment, as he held the potion there, right in front of his mouth it seemed to him as if he could actually hear the cats speak. They repeated the word “fear” over and over. That surprised him so much that he momentarily lowered the mug again. Those quasi-words instantly turned into ordinary meows again. Furrowing his brow, he raised the mug again. The cats started to talk about ‘fear’ once more.

Were the cats warning him? Were they afraid of something? Or were they calling him a coward? He was definitely not a coward, and he wouldn’t allow anybody to call him a coward either. He raised his mug in a toast to Riabar, and then he drank the potion as quickly as he could.

What was the worst that could happen after all? That he’d grow a couple of whiskers and a tail? He’d been incredibly worried about swapping bodies with a cat before – or being turned into a bug - but he needed to do this – for Mistral, because his feline friend didn’t deserve to spend the rest of his life as a pet, unable to properly communicate with anybody.

[Maltruism]

In any language, from the mouth of any creature, the sound of shocked alarm is pretty much universal, The sharp hissing intake of breath, The moan of confusion over how this had happened, and the immediate babbling of several voices at once, negating the ability to decipher the overlapping words. Tristan would have perhaps been on the verge of getting angry, given the sudden change from the mild berating they'd given him over his initial hesitance, only to gasp now that he'd gone through with it, had not one major detail made itself obvious.

Needless to say, the realization that he was, in fact, hearing words transformed his anger into a shocked state of his own. And it was not just words he was hearing, but recognizable phrases and concepts. A joyous celebration was clearly in order, but an odd disorientation made it difficult for him to join in right off. It seemed as if the axis of his present consciousness was at a perpendicular bearing to his catfolk surroundings. Many feline faces had gathered to form a semi-circle before his face.

A vague memory was piqued by a unique similarity to some other event. An odd pressure on the back of his head completed his recall. Drunk, and on his back in the middle of a friend's home, and being looked down on by a half-dozen acquaintances. That explained the disorientation. The cat faces WERE before his face, but not in a vertical plane. No, he was, once again, on his back and they'd gathered around him to check on his condition. But this was far less important than what he was now able to translate.

Their concern was over the fact that he'd drank what they'd thought was supposed to have been enough for both himself and his companion human, Aedoan. A profound dizziness was a second factor in his inability to embody his celebratory spirit in an upright position. So he stayed on his back as a torrent of delighted laughter spilled up into the feline faces; who now broke into laughter as well.

Confirmations in sharp, melodious pitches spread the word among the catfolk that he was alright. Talk broke into numerous recountings of other incidents of over-indulgence, and stumblings about, that had many extraordinary and memorably embarrassing climaxes. Riabar's voice soared into song, and howling harmonies joined in. A burst of amusement sounded from the spot where a crowd of felinoids had finally managed to make clear, through gestures and displays, to Aeodan, that his noble companion had consumed his dosage as well.

It would have to be a sheer marvel to anyone who had hoped to accomplish the creation of a cat-speech translation potion, to hear so clearly the ensuing denial and debate that now took place between the cats and Aeodan, regarding the necessity that he too, partake of the blood mixture. It was truly only the pained sound of Aeodan's voice, and the assertion of his futile refusal to do so, that set it apart from the other voices ringing through the rustic hall in laughter, song, story telling and celebration.

It was likely that once the dizziness became subsumed in the high mood of the trial, Tristan would join in the party with joyous abandon, revelling in his understanding of the voices around him. And before long, his human companion joined in as well. Jokes were made suggesting he'd had to be held down and fed the brew with his nose plugged and his throat massaged to get it done. Even Aeodan himself laughed along with such absurdity now. After all, HE had not been reduced to stumbling collapse, as his noble partner had.

An element of sadness slowly grew as phrases and gestures took the form of goodbyes, and the promises that this trial would be forever remembered. These sentiments were accompanied by hopes that The Brew was as effective in the "outer world" as it was here in the colony, and that Mistral could have his origins and desires made clear now. A bittersweet mood overtook the celebration and many hugs and even tears were exchanged by those joined and bonded in such a profound discovery and resulting success.

Finally weary of breaks of celebration, and beginning to notice an ever growing difficulty to continue deciphering the speech of their hosts, Tristan and Aeodan were shown to cots in adjoining rooms to rest up from the experience. Last to leave the room was the chieftain, Riabar himself, who once again gave his goodbyes and well-wishes before explaining that it was necessary for both to drink, if both wished to leave together. He then bid a sadly final-sounding farewell and departed for the night.

It was an odd sensation for the two humans to go to sleep upon raised cushions within a rustic chieftain's hall, and then to awaken on the grassy fields where that first disorientation had hit them upon their entrance into the Miasma. Their gear was admittedly scattered about, but it was all accounted for. Once again, the landscape was as it had been remembered when He and Aeodan first set out into these foothills. It would be unknown to the two men exactly how much time had passed, until they reached town again. It had only seemed like a single trial, albeit packed with surprises, but there was no significant change in the weather.

The two men shrugged, figuring that unless they encountered search parties beating the brushes for signs of them, it had not been too long a time.

[Maltruism]

Come and get your Loot!

(There's plenty more where that came from)

TRISTAN VENORA:

XP Rewards: +20

These points can NOT used for magic.

Knowledges:

• Alchemy: Color Changing Techniques
• Alchemy: Misty Miasma Elements Only Work Well There
• Alchemy: Finished Misty Miasma Products Work Anywhere
• Alchemy: Obtaining Your Own Materials Takes Physical Work
• Alchemy: The Surprising Versatility of Slug Slime
• Alchemy: Slugs' Foods Affect the Properties of Slugs' Slime
• Animal Husbandry: Cats' Tails are Emotionally Demonstrative
• Basa: "L" Sound Starting First Word Usually Means a Question
• Basa: More Actual Words, Less Prefixes and Suffixes
• Basa: More Vowel Combinations than Omyeric
• Basa: No Word is More than Four Syllables
• Basa: Similar to Omyeric
• Basa: Vowel Emphasis in First Word Shows Respect Level
• Brummafern: Copies Certain Substances on Contact
• Construction: Requirements to Make a Sitting Room into a Laboratory
• Diplomat Scroll Lily: Allows Intuitive Understanding of Languages
• Diplomat Scroll Lily: Mix Blood of Different Language Speakers
• Discipline: Always Wash Your Hands after Alchemical Work
• Endurance: Cutting Your Own Hand to Get Blood for Alchemy
• Endurance: Gathering Materials for the Lab is Hard Work
• Field Craft: Many Necessities Can be Improvised
• Field Craft: Weapons, Bandages, Containers and Water (or Wine!)
• Field Craft: Weather Often Determines Where to Search for Something
• Language: Basa
• Language: Omyeric
• Linguistics: Languages Change Over Generations of Use
• Linguistics: Practice Makes Perfect
• Linguistics: The Fluidity of Languages Bring Similarities and Differences
• Linguistics: Tonal Patterns Denote Questions in Most Languages
• Linguistics: With Enough Use, Improper Words Can Replace Proper Ones
• Logistics: Trained Cats Make Good Collectors of Small items
• Mistral: May be From Riabar's Misty Miasma Clan
• Mistral: May be the Name of The Cat Clan's Language
• Misty Miasma: A New Look Often Overlays the Existing Landscape
• Misty Miasma: Sudden Mist and Dizziness are Signs of its Manifestation
• Misty Miasma: What Resides in the Landscape is Greatly Changed
• Misty Miasma: You Must Do a Task for a Resident Before You Can Leave
• Misty Miasma: You Leave After Completing Your Task And Going to Sleep
• Misty Miasma: You Wake Up Back in Idalos
• Miasty Miasma Fauna: Needle Midges
• Misty Miasma Flora: Brummafern
• Misty Miasma Flora: Diplomat Scroll Lily
• NPC: Riabar: Leader of a Felinoid Clan in the Misty Miasma
• Needle Midges: Can Swap People's Aspects With Their Sting
• Needle Midges: Insect Colors Denote What Aspects They Strip
• Omyeric: Fewer Vowel Combinations than Basa
• Omyeric: Similar to Basa
• Persuasion: Keeping a Modest Home Endears You to Commoners
• Sociology: A Friend Will Help Gather Slugs
• Sociology: Odd Alchemy Ingredients Draws Peoples' Interest
• Teaching: Even Casual Talk on a Subject Can Impart Knowledge

Loot, Loss, injuries:

Nasty self-inflicted cut on your hand.
100 doses of cat-speech potion.
Each will last 6 breaks, but could be diluted to have more doses of lesser duration.
Example: 200 doses of 3-break duration.
It is possible that you could reproduce this with regular Idalosian materials.
But it shouldn't be easy.

Fame/Renown: +5

We don't actually say it, but there is likely been some notice that you and Aeodan were missing. Edalene, if no one else.

Comments:

Well, we managed to actually finish this...lol
I think you both were near to retiring at different points.

I guess the second time's the charm for you, Aeodan.
If you come back, I will certainly give you your grade.
There will probably be many of the same knowledges.

A lot of non-skill knowledges, Misty Miasma and Language Stuff.
The Misty Miasma does not always give skill knowledges that would work in the real Idalos. So there may be some things done that I do not give knowledges for.
If you feel I've taken this viewpoint too far, let me know.

[Maltruism]

Come and get your Loot!

(There's plenty more where that came from)

AEODAN:

XP Rewards: +20

These points can NOT used for magic.

Knowledges:

Just use the same list on Tristant's grade.

Loot, Loss, injuries:

Probably some weird dreams of being a cat in the future

Fame/Renown: +5

We don't actually say it, but there is likely been some notice that you and Aeodan were missing. Edalene, if no one else.

Comments:

"If you come back, I will certainly give you your grade.
There will probably be many of the same knowledges."
In fact, now that it comes to it, that is exactly what I am doing.
You guys were together for virtually every step of everything.
If you think there is something I overlooked, in my haste to get this done , let me know