Chapter 1: Iwana's Plot


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"Exceeuse me?" The voice was tiny, childlike... and indeed, if the huge, four-headed beast had looked down to see where the source of it came from, they would have seen a little saucer-eyed girl-daemon, black as cast iron, shaped as blocky as any strange, twisted Vasquez-style animation. "Exceeuuuse me?" The querelous voice trembled, and one of the huge heads cast a glance down. Huge hearts in her eyes, the daemonic child squeeled, "Can I have yeoor auteegwaph?"

The giant AAM beast raised a paw and lowered it. The daemon was squeeshed.

And so our story may very well have ended... except that daemons are very resilient creatures, and this one was no exception. So time passed, (not as much as you might think, but this particular clan were fast growers, and so a veritable montage of real-life events could be shown to make it seem longer) and the daemon child grew. But her heart had shrivelled, her strange and rather unfounded adoration of the giant offworld beast was turned into something much more twisted. If Cheran's bond was a stalker, then it was somewhat ironic that he, himself would be stalked! Never the less, little Iwana (the daemon) learned all the tricks in the book (her clan kept a very old, very special 'book of 5000 ninja-moves and attacks' within its deepest ninja-y lair, and only the most skilled of children were allowed to study from it), and now she felt ready.

Ready to infiltrate the Hydra-bound lair.

Step one, operation payback.

(Fade to linebreak)

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The grounds were dark, the wall high and imposing. A little black shape darted up the side, however, unimpeded by the walls, unseen by any watchers. Dipping over the side, the ends of the wrap around her beak flapping quietly behind her, Iwana disappeared behind one bush. Seconds passed. She darted from one bush to another. More seconds passed. Soon the daemon had made her way from the outskirts of Hedoro's rather impressive estate to just the window she wanted. Ears perked exhaggeratedly, Iwana peeked her head over the window-sill ledge, then ducked down again as she caught sight of her quarry.

Her heart raced, her eyes slitted in more then mild anger. A flashback briefly occluded her vision of the present... but soon, all was well. To sneaky background music, the daemon slowly raised her head again (accompanied by the perfect bweeeEEEP! sound effect, of course!) and listened through fragile panes of glass.

A flight.

Bipedra.

Eyes squinting with each phrase, a little cheshire grin creeped up and over her nares, and she rubbed two black, cloth-wrapped and taloned hands together. Oh, this'd be good. She had a plan already.

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[You are foolish,] the elder daemon said, the words appearing under his frail frame, the subtitles as easy to read as his gibberish was unintelligable! Iwana, sitting across the hearth from him and eating Ramen-like substances with amazing haste, simply rolled her eyes, but the elder continued, [Your wrath will return to you ten fold. Our art is to be used only for self defense, child.]

"This is self defense, O elder," Iwana replied, wiping her beak on one spindly arm. She belched, then continued, "This is the defense of my past, I am righting only the wrongs that have been done to meeEE!" (Taloned fingers curled in the air as her voice rose, her passion spilling into capital letters.)

[But this scheming, Iwana! It sours the purest heart, intentions, like wine, turning to bitter vinegar with time.]

"Lies!" Iwana rose to her feet and cast her bowl to one side. An overly loud CRASH accompanied its assumed landing offscreen, and the daemoness paused a moment, as if relishing the discordent soundbite. "You see," she continued, huge head cocked just so on her puny frame, affording her a demonic, plotty appearance. The camera angle dipped to give her a larger appearance. "I have a plan, a plan so foolproof as to allow any idiot to accomplish it! I, Iwana, will follow Cheran'khan to this "Bipedra" flight," she curled two little talons together in quote brackets, "and infiltrate the sands his mate takes to! Then," she added, turning away from the elder, the fire backlighting her in a truly evil manner, "THEN I shall bond one of his offspring, return to Avengaea and USE HIS OWN CHILD TO DEFEAT HIM!!!!" Exclaimation marks abounded! Iwana flailed her spindly arms in purely devilish glee, her worm-like, jagged tongue fully visible as she cackled doom-fully.

The elder rolled his eyes as Iwana rubbed her hands together. Oh yes. It was a perfect plan indeed.

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Perhaps Iwana's daemon clan was skilled in the arts of ninja-likeness, but a trip to Cy Dragonstake proved her skills could use some work.

Iwana slammed open the door to the lower-cavern-type feeding room, digitigrade paws set askance over the floor, her little hands on her hips. Black eyes blazed over the equally black wrap that covered her beak, and they sidled first left, then right, (on extreme close-up, of course) surveying the room.

Tables and tables of ninjas!! Iwana squinted her disapproval. She stalked over to the table in the dark, shadowy corner, figuring that this was where all of the action would occur. "You!" she screeched, finger pointing with wavering-madness at the Knight who sat there.

He looked up. No one. Then down. A tiny daemon, no higher then his knee, was aiming a dagger-sharp fingertip at his nose. One of his eyebrows went up. "What do you want?" said he, a hand going to one of his many, many swords and other sharp-and-pointy objects. Another wacko offworlder, he'd bet Birana on it.

"TELL me, mere HUMAN," the daemon demanded, "Where can I find these "Black Sands"?" Again with the quoting fingers.

Yep. Another wacko offworlder. The knight sighed. Why was it always him? Even when he made a point of staying out of the way, they seemed magnetized to him! He could probably skewer this one, shishkabob style, but then that would mean one less bonder for those damn bipedras, which meant one more of them running around Cy, and not going back offworld! This chain of logic was saddening, but probably true. Still fingering his sword, the knight replied, "All right. Just so long as you promise to take whatever damn bipedra you get out of here."

"Oh," Iwana said, hands now rubbing together again, "I'll take them out of here, all right. I will take the far, FAR away from here!" A thoughtbubble appeared over her head, disconcertingly enough viewable to any who wished to look. It showed Cheran being chomped at again and again by a generic bipedra, a tiny daemon cackling insanely at its feet. The Knight's eyebrow raised again, but he shook his head, and finally told her. When he was finished, Iwana again jabbed a finger at him. "You!" she cried, voice a shriek, "shall be spared my wrath, HUMAN! For your assistance, I THANK you. Good-day!"

She poofed in a ball of smoke, leaving the knight coughing and cursing. But then, when was he not doing the latter, anyhow?

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The black sands were, indeed black. There were still gobbets of resin coating the upper reaches, and this was where Iwana had taken root for the next few days, or weeks, or months. However long it took, the daemon was willing to wait. Hidden in one chunky fold of black goo, she peered out over the ledge as several brooding mothers snarked and snapped at one another. To one side was Kertakth, her temporary 'quarry'. The bronze dragoness wasn't as rotten looking as some of the females here, but then, that only boded well for Iwana! "Yes," monologued she, "A kind mother means obedient offspring, which means REVENGE!!!" The word echoed from the high reaches of the cavern, and several mothers screched at the disturbance.

Iwana ducked and slapped her hands over her mouth. This was going to be a hard few weeks indeed...

Chapter 2 (not yet available)


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Avengaea is copyright (c) Kat Brechtel.