Click image to be transported to the Wattpad version of the book.
I've got about four chapters done- the fourth one is just about completed. I'm entering both books in the series in the Wattys2016. Don't know what that is? Just check this link. 'Tis m'dream to b'come an author someday and get this series published. I really do feel like this is something different from the rest of the fantasy genre, but m'opinion really doesn't matter. >v<
Anywho, 'nuff chatting.
Prologue
Voices, I hear them all around me in this black void. My past, it comes to haunt me each time I close my eyes.
"Milah, how could ye do this? Ye mean to tell me ye've been b'hind this the whole time?"
"Please, you must hear me out. I had no choice."
"Name's Hotaru, and what the heck are you?"
"I, I'm a dryphon. And m'name is Enoki."
"You cannot win. If they don't conquer Yugure by force, they will just buy it out, as they have done with me. You will lose."
"The Mist are a no-good, evil, naariv, veistul, kaarn malur do draaf."
The League of Mist. The end result of combining jealousy and ego with pure hatred. Once only a group of self-absorbed dragons from the brave and honorable Kurai clan, this group now consists of practically every vile soul that lives in Yugure. They're murderers; they killed my mother and countless other innocent creatures just to get what they want. These monstrous creatures are bent on conquering this realm and the next, until their reign is extended all over Yugure. I won't let them take it without a fight.
This band of evil looms in my dreams, always appearing to me as a hideous dragon clad in a wine red armor. It calls to me, hissing its single word that chills me to the core every time I hear it.
"Nexxxxtttss."
~
Thump!
I awake to find myself partially on the floor. My feline body hangs over the left side of my bed, only holding on by my half scaled, lion-like tail that grasps the other end of the bed for dear life. My dragonesque wings lie about the room in odd positions. The feathery limbs that fade into the iconic scales of a dragon wing pull close to my body and retract my clumsy appendages.
My head doesn't reach the floor, my wooden antlers being the mediator between the two. I release my tail's grip on the bed to helplessly slump to the oak floor. I dare not look at the clock, knowing that I am only a few minutes till my morning schedule begins.
As my hypothesis proves itself correct with the bells inside the clock chiming away, I groan with reluctance to start the day. I wash my face clean of grogginess in the washroom using a basin of fresh rainwater to do the task.
Drawing myself a bath with the rest of the stored rainwater, I throw in my herbal blend into the liquid. I soak up the healing powers of the bath and reflect on the day ahead of me.
"T'day won't be easy, will it?" I ask the driftwood duck that scurries across the water's surface. I pick it up and stare at it blankly, feeling no strong emotions whatsoever. My chest deflates as I heave out a long sigh. Mother's death was only about two months ago, but it feels like it's been an eternity since I've heard her voice. We've delayed her funeral for so long just so I and my accompaniment could attend. The trip from the Spires was the least bit exhausting since we traveled by air ship but the mind and heart have had a bruising of a journey to get this far.
"I hope you're not taking your time in there. We need to get going," a deep voice rumbles from outside the door of the washroom. It is my long lost brother, Hotaru, who I happened upon by chance during my long expedition to find the resistance. Although I have lost my mother, Hotaru has filled part of that void that now resides inside my heart.
"I'll be out in a wee moment," I reply, placing my wooden duck aside and beginning to scrub my scaled back. My thoughts drift as I scrub hastily with my moss sponge. I know today will be an interesting day to say the least. After my mum's funeral we have a war to win.
One naughty word used, just a warning. Eno scolds 'em though. ;3
Day One ~ A Sorrowful Beginning
The light rain speckles swiftly onto the many green leaves of the forest, turning into larger droplets that fall to the floor of the realm where stands our solemn party. It's as if the day knows the sorrow we hold and is crying for the loss of my dear sweet mother.
Zana Gryphoclaw lies in her casket, adorned by many arrangements of flowers- courtesy of myself. It is a closed casket, for what is really left to see after being scorched by the heat of a thousand suns? Dragon fire is not a comforting way to go.
We, meaning me and all of my many friends: Professor Achilles Blacktalon, Shadequill, and Erickson the gryphons, Lady Hawk the sabertooth feline, Sendaar the pyroraptin, Vahraniik the dilophoraptin, Lady Asha the Hikarian dragon, Namazzi the kelpie, Hotaru my brother, Adlanniel and Rilien the sky elves, and Tinco the robot, are in our finest accessories for the procession. I say accessories since some of us have no need for actual clothes. Neighbors and friends of my mother gather around the casket one last time to say their farewells and begin to sing a few mourning songs that one may hear at a funeral.
I, being the forest green hybrid with wooden antlers growing atop my head, wait until the rest of the members of the procession leave to give my respects to my late mum. Her casket is of a dark cherrywood- her favorite wood stain. I spent the past few days carving special details of flying gryphons and harmonious dragons frolicking happily in a woodland background. It's what she died fighting for; the freedom of the many creatures of our universe from the dastardly group of villains known as the League of Mist.
You, dear readers, must be wondering why I carved dragons on her casket. I mean, after all, that is what killed her, yes? Well, not all dragons are evil. In fact, the dragons of the Mist are of the minority. My father, is in fact, a dark dragon from the Kurai clan. The Mist isn't just dragons, as I first thought. This League of Mist has recruited many a vile creature for their cause and has no standard when it comes to enlisting troops. This horrid group is why we are all here today, and I plan to stop them before more families are torn apart by their evil deeds.
I place my emerald scaled hand on the casket and stroke it affectionately. Hotaru, my lava dragon brother, comes up behind me and watches the casket with a caring eye. He stands underneath a lightweight umbrella that Adlanniel holds above him. Due to his fiery temperature that he has grown accustom to in Mt. Kazam, a volcano found in the Volcanic Isles, Hotaru has a hard time with the cold, damp weather of the First Realm.
"You coming?" Hotaru asks me gently, knowing this is a sensitive time for me. Although one would see Hotaru as uncaring, indifferent to his surroundings, stubborn, and hot-headed - mind the pun - he really is kind and generous at heart. He had rescued Sendaar and I from a horde of wolfwyres, causing him to lose the use of one foot for quite some time.
I can still see the shiny metal boot wrapped around his hind leg sprinkled with dew. He still wishes to wear it just to be sure his broken foot heals completely, even though the doctor said it is perfectly well now.
"Doctors don't know anything about my body. The only diagnosis I believe is my own," is what he always tells me when I ask when he's going to take the boot off.
My mind clicks back to the present as I think about what he just asked. "Of course," I say quietly- still wishing I could stay here just a bit longer, thinking that if I do she'll magically be revived and we'll go have some tea and biscuits.
I follow Hotaru to the sea of friends that wait for us at the foot of my home. My home in the tree is a wonderful piece of hand-crafted art, if I do say so myself. I had built it all myself, being the crafty one in the family. I scoured the realm day and night for just the perfect tree to make my own and I finally came up upon this large Dragon Oak tree. The name says it all, for these grand species of oak trees are one of the biggest trees in all of Yugure.
I am comforted by the company of my companions, all of which I met in the past few months during my rather grand adventure which took up an entire journal to write. Of course, not all of this jibber-jabber will be for pleasantry. We have a bit of business to discuss.
"Is this thing on?" A muffled voice calls out. The sound of staticky tapping comes from inside a strange metal box.
"Yessir! She's up and running," Rilien speaks to the box, adjusting its antenna. Even at his young age, Rilien is probably smarter than I. He has built many wondrous inventions, including many an airship and this talking box he calls a "long-distance radio." Yet he is still a child, not even a teenager.
"Ah good, so let's get down to the brass tacks," the box says with authority.
"Of course, Bellsulion." Lady Asha says with her regal voice. Being the leader and ambassador of the Hikari clan, Asha has many responsibilities to her land and to the light dragons that live there. "Our scouts have finally lured the wolfwyre, General Vannhyde, out of hiding. He is currently on the run with his last few remaining troops that are still loyal to the Mist. We have managed to retrieve a small portion of surrendering Mist that used to take orders in Vannhyde's regiment.
"From what we've gotten out of them, it seems that their outpost in Oashisu Desert is in fact inside the Barrier."
"The Barrier, eh?" Sendaar strokes his feathered head as he thinks.
"That's practically in the center of the great desert itself," Blacktalon adds on, "the Barrier is a very vast portion of the desert, so whatever their hiding in there is going to be big."
"We can handle big, right? I mean, I know I can kick ass easily, and Enoki took down that ice wyvern a few months ago," Hotaru replies casually, plopping onto his side and crossing his forearms.
"Krah was a prisoner, and therefore wasn't going to argue when I subdued his rider, and don't swear- 'tis not polite." I scold him, not appreciating the foul language that sometimes escapes his mouth.
He looks at me funnily, "All I said was a-"
"And I still consider it a swear." I say, swatting his rump with my feather-tipped tail. Adlanniel laughs, and accidentally tips the umbrella sideways, causing the rain to drip onto Hotaru.
"Ey!" He grumbles, twitching where the water fell.
"Serves ye right," I chuckle. I then notice that we're taking up precious time. "Oh, terribly sorry- continue."
Lady Asha smiles politely and nods. "We were thinking it would be best to send out a small group to check it out. Maybe five or six people?"
"That sounds like a decent number," Bellsulion says confidently. "Any volunteers?"
Hotaru raises his hand immediately, to all of our surprise. When we had first met up with him in his home under Mt. Kazan, he had practically no interest in our quest to stop the Mist, but it appears now he has a new mindset. Maybe it is the death of our mum that is driving him onward, just like it is me.
I raise my hand as well. Following my hand comes Sendaar's, Adlanniel's, and my professor with Shadequill not too far behind. Erickson stamps the ground, noticing he is a bit too late, for six hands are already raised.
"I wish I could go with you, but I'm afraid I'd only slow you down. My fur wasn't made for such a hot climate," Lady Hawk, a beautiful white feline, says in a sad tone. She is right, of course. Her pelt would be far too thick to venture out in the vast, sweltering land of hot sand and dust.
"It is quite alright, Lady Hawk. I'm sure you have important matters elsewhere anyhow," Adlanniel nods to the ambassador of the snow-covered Third Realm.
"Well, I presume we're coming along with you six, considering that you need someone to pilot the Thunder Transport." Rilien smiles and nods to the big, black airship that is parked off in the distance, away from the trees lest it should get caught on the sharp limbs and pop the balloon that keeps it afloat.
Tinco jumps in surprise of his inclusion in this mission. The robot has always amused me with its overly-expressive motions. His almost cartoony appearance - long mismatched arms and legs, big lenses for eyes, and the lone lightbulb that flickers slowly atop his head - makes him almost always, if not always, comical.
"Me too, sir?" He asks in shock. I'm rather shocked myself, but not for the fact that he is included in our mission; I'm shocked that he has lasted this long in the rain and has yet to rust! I must ask Rilien what he uses on Tinco's joints.
"Of course, Tinco! I need you to help with the engine. You're like my second body; you know your way around the airships just about as well as I do. You think you could lend me a hand in that department?" Rilien pats his robot companion on the back in an encouraging way. Tinco smiles, I think - it's rather hard to tell with the robot's facial features - and nods in agreement.
"Well then, I guess that matter is settled," Lady Asha announces. Her white, lavender, and teal feathered wings soaked in water lift from her frame as she tries to shake them dry. The rain has begun to downpour, and my feather mane is as droopy as Asha's wings.
"Perhaps we should go inside now," I say with an amused smile. "I would hate f'er us to catch a cold when we 'ave an adventure waiting f'er us."
Day Two ~ Sails, Generators, and... Pirates?
"Full sail! I want those balloons as big as they get!" Rilien commands us from the steering wheel of the airship. We scurry along the ship like rats working to get our crumbs. My body pulls at the ropes forever hoping that they will do as I wish.
I enjoy the view from where I hover on the ship. Clouds roll by us as we pass over the mountainous bowl that holds my homeland. We have passed over the giant rock formations that surround the forests of the First Realm and are flying in the abyss of what is known as the Nether Region. It's not as scary as it sounds. It's just empty as far as the eye can see and covered with fog half the time.
Our little crater we call home is the only plentiful region we know of in this realm. A few desolate plants and some scrawny birds and rodents can be sometimes found pecking about the Nether Grounds, but it is nothing compared to the life found in our homely forests.
"Enoki, mind getting that last rope?" Sendaar caws noticing my thoughts drifting.
"Oh, yes! Sorry." I reply in a hurry to untie the knot that holds down the balloon from reaching its full potential. As soon as the knot comes undone, the balloon widens and our pace quickens.
"Much better, thank you all!" Rilien exclaims with a hoot. "Can someone go check on Tinco? I need him to set us to full power on the generator."
I volunteer to check below for our robotic friend. The humming of machinery below deck are somehow comforting to me, making me feel rather at home in my surroundings. Gears tick away happily, giving me a pleasant feeling as I watch their symmetrical notches fit together and mingle perfectly.
The underbelly of our ship is a trifle confusing. Many long hallways present themselves to me as I pad along the wooden floor. I jolt my head around to shake my feather mane. My scarf tends to tighten around my neck making my feathers feel clumped underneath the fabric. I adjust this as I trot around the halls looking for the maintenance room where Tinco should be working away at the generator.
"Gyah! Stupid service bots!! That plug goes over there." A metallic voice echoes through the halls as I near the source. I find Tinco in the maintenance room shouting at bots strikingly similar to him, just a head tall. That's really all there is to them- a head with limbs.
Tinco, a rusted brass robot with mismatched limbs, snatches the plug away from one of the service bots and stomps over to plug it in to the wall on my left. The light bulb that sits on top of his head flickers in a dim glow while his steam pumps push the steam through his escape valve that's hidden behind his metallic mouth.
"'Aving difficulties with y'er minions?" I chuckle as I enter the room. Something about that robot just puts a smile on my face. His existence alone fascinates me. We don't have this sort of technology in the First Realm sadly.
Tinco jumps at the sound of my voice. "Oh, Enoki! I didn't hear you come in. Think you can give me a hand?"
"Of course." I follow him over to the generator with watchful eyes, scanning the powerful machine that runs the entire airship.
Tinco sighs, releasing another gust of steam. "I can't seem to get this thing to budge," he motions to the wrench clamped firmly on a bolt, "do you think you can move it for me? It needs to be turned to the left." He four fingered hand illustrates his explanation as I grasp the wrench with my forehands, which are also able to work like any humanoids and are useful for things other than walking.
I crank, and crank, and crank away at the bolt that barely moves with each heave. Arms drained of all strength after many tries, I collapse on top of the wrench. You can imagine my surprise when I fall to the ground as the wrench gives way to my weight. A slight shriek escapes my throat during my dramatic fall to the floor.
"You did it! Excellent job, sir! I would have never have thought to do that." Tinco clasps his hands together and twirls. The generator chugs away loudly and much faster than it did before. Steam release valves puff their billows of hot mist which lets me know our work here is done.
Ba-boom!
"What was that!?" I shout over the sound of the generator. The little service bots tumble around as we hit turbulence. Their little frames shake nervously as they help one another up.
"That sounded like cannon fire." Tinco blinks and look out the hallway to see if anyone was nearby.
"Cannon fire? Why on Yugure would we be shooting off cannons?"
Tinco gives me a worried glance, "Oh no, not us. Pirates."
I nearly laugh, "Pirates? In the First Realm? But we don't 'ave that sort of technology. And why would pirates be coming here anyhow?" My muzzle nudges one of the service bots upwards as another quake passes through the airship.
The automaton grabs a pistol that is hanging on a hook by the door. I flinch as he fumbles with it, nearly letting it drop to the floor. "They must have followed us here and have been waiting for us to return to the Volcanic Isles portal that's nearby. Must assume we're merchants." Tinco loads the revolver with plasma shots and turns the safety off.
Knowing his track record, I'm not sure that it's wise to let him handle a firearm, but I surely can't maneuver a pistol. Granted my hands can grasp items and write, but difficult things such as using a gun I better leave to the elves. He opens a secret compartment on his abdomen and hides the gun inside. This worries me even more; what if the gun misfires?
"Come on Enoki, sir. We've best go check on the captain." I nod in agreement and lunge out the door, prepared for anything... Even pirates.
We run at as fast as a pace that Tinco can muster. The door to the deck is just ahead. I gain the courage to pass Tinco and burst through the door. 'I'm almost there,' my mind cheers me on.
Bang!
Yet another rumbling shake echoes through the wooden halls. I stumble and trip over my own legs and go headfirst through the doorway. My head lands with a thump and my body follows suit. The deck seems fine. There aren't any pirates anywhere. Actually, there isn't anyone anywhere.
"Where is ev-"
Whack!
Something hits me hard on the head and I fall yet again, captured by the darkness that envelops my vision.
Day Three ~ Why Is the Rum Gone?
"Glad to see you could join us," Rilien says sarcastically, but almost cheerful.
"Wh-what?" I wiggle, trying to roll over. "Why is m'head stuck?" I ask in a daze. My eyesight, still blurry, slowly focuses on Rilien, Sendaar, Adlanniel, and Tinco. They are all swinging, as if they are levitating. Then I notice the ropes and nets.
"That's because your antlers are tied to mine, dimbo." My brother rumbles and jerks his head back after my multiple attempts of breaking free.
"Ow!" I mumble irritably. "Why don't ye just blow a hole in our net, dimbo?" I retort with thrashing my head around once.
"Well would you like me to melt your tail that's tied directly in front of my face?"
"Oh."
"Yeah, oh," he grumbles deeply. "Why don't you summon a plant to cut us loose?" Hotaru inquires of my plant-controlling abilities.
Being half dragon - technically I'm one-fourth dragon and one-fourth but who's really keeping track - I was granted the ability to control the flora of the realms. I can also grow any plant I wish. "How?" You may ask. Well, I won't go into all the boring scientific details, but my body grows microorganisms that I can communicate with via brainwaves- telepathically I guess you could call it. These microorganisms can form themselves into any plant that comes into mind by rearranging their cell structures to fit the description of the desired plant.
I guess I did still go a bit much into details, but the more you know can help you along the way of this story. Am I right?
"Do ye see a patch of dirt magically lying around? Plants don't just grow on wood, Hot."
"Would you two shut up already?" Adlanniel scolds. "If there was some quiet I could concentrate on getting one of my knives out from my back scabbard."
Hotaru and I quiet ourselves in the new idea of how to escape. "That works too, I guess." My brother says in a hushed tone, watching the she-elf twist her arms underneath her legs, both of which are tied to their counterpart.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you," a grusky voice entered the room, followed by an odd set of footsteps.
Pop, tink, pop, tink.
I try to turn around to see who is coming, but Hotaru's head is in the way of any maneuverability. I only manage to rock our hanging net, giving me a seasick feeling in my stomach. The footsteps move closer and sound almost as if they have passed us, yet no body has passed by.
'Are they invisible pirates?' The question lingers through my head.
"Down here you overgrown fuzzball," the voice says and a feel a finger poke through the holes in the netting into my back. I turn my brother's and my head down to see a man about half the size of Adlanniel but with a much larger build. The very iconic features of a dwarf.
The top of his head is shaven, yet the raven black hair around it is thick and at a medium length. His mustache and beard are long and braided in some places. Silver streaks run through his locks, almost the same color as the mysterious metallic tattoos that run their course through his body.
"Who are ye?" I ask. His demeanor is frightening and while he looks like he jumped off the pages of one of my good pirate novels he doesn't seem interested in letting us walk the plank.
"Scythe," he says, spitting on the floor. "Captain Silver Scythe. And these are me crew." He motions his hand towards the doorway where a group of filthy miscellaneous creatures lurk. They look like they haven't bathed in months and one is even drooling.
"What do you want with us?" Adlanniel asks. Her gaze is stern and forceful.
"Nothing really. We just want y'ar booty." Captain Scythe growls menacingly. Of course, this all is mostly drowned out by Tinco's muffled laughter. "Shut it ya wee immature frame of scraps!" The pirate captain smacks the net and they all go for a spin.
"But we don't have any loot. This isn't a ship of trade. It's a ship of travel." Sendaar chirps for the first time in a while. The pyroraptin looks at the dwarf with his head tilted.
"Isn't this the Class VI Thunder Transport? One of a kind airship, very high tech, very expensive. That is if we decide to sell it. I don't know boys, wouldn't it be great to fly our colors on a Class VI airship?" Scythe unsheathes his, well scythe, and raises it in the air for morale. Cheers of victory reign through the crowd of robbers as their leader makes his demands.
"So what are you going to do with us Captain Scythe?" Rilien frowns, grasping the net as tight as he can.
"You all," he says looking about the mass of prisoners, "will be delivered to the highest bidder. Well, almost all." Scythe looks down at the child, no more than twelve years old. "Our intel tells us that you could build us another one of these aerial beauties. We'll have a profitable alliance between the two of us. Heck, I may quit pirating and become a businessman. Where I come from and in these days, there's not much of a difference." His laughter reveals multiple silver teeth shined to perfection. The other teeth, however, are not that lucky.
His crew laughs heartily along with him. He then holds up a hand, signaling them to stop. They do so on command and grab our nets. A tall, pale blue, almost alien-looking creature with four sword-possessing arms slices the rope that suspends us in the air. Our nets, still tied at the top, fall to the floor with a thud. Two burly reptiloids, bipedal lizard creatures with thick green scales, pick up our webbed sacks and take us to the outside deck.
"What are you doing? I thought ye said ye were gon' sell us?!" I cry out, afraid that the next thing to happen to us will be being thrown overboard.
Captain Silver Scythe gives out another jolting laugh. "Do you think I'm going to trust you in y'ar own ship? Y'all are going to be guests in me own ship, the Black Battalion." His ship comes into view on our port side. It's not much bigger than ours, but it's heavily armed and well worn by the years of pillaging it's seen.
I choke on the wad of spit that is trying to force itself down. The silvery sails are frayed at the ends and have scorch marks all about. A dwarf skull with a scythe between its jaws is waving as the ship's pennant. The detail that decorates this ship is most disturbing: naked cherubim flutter across the banisters and the framework of the ship, sea serpents wrap their frames around the masts and their spines form bollards to tie down ropes, and let's not forget the the large, intimidating black chains scattered around and coiled up across the deck.
More mangy pirates creep out of the holes they hide in to come and get a good look at their new prisoners. Most need a good, long visit to the dentists and all need to bathe. I shrink back next to my group as they get closer with their long pirate swords. They step back though, when we are forced onward.
"Enjoy y'ar stay at our lovely bed an' breakfast inn, also called the brig." The pirate audience sniggers in the background as we are all shoved in the deck below into a large cell.
It's dark, damp, and musty. The only lighting being the terribly dim bulb in the hanging ceiling lamp and the light from the barred hatch that is closed above us. The floor is littered with garbage and food particles. A rat even scurries by. A rat.
'How cliche,' I think to myself.
"Don't even think about escaping," the pirate that locks us in says, giving the stink eye to Hotaru.
"I wouldn't dream of it," Hotaru snarls as he leaves us, shutting the only door in the room behind him.
The pirates all leave us to our silence, wondering what we could possibly do to escape. I sigh, drifting back to the thoughts of my last imprisonment. The idea gives me the shivers. Last time we were captured, the Mist was behind it. They had wanted my journal that I had been working on. It had just about every specimen known to the gryphon society.
Gryphons, being a species of great knowledge, have books upon books written by their greatest minds, making my journal a mere child's bedtime story. The League of Mist soon found out about their large exclusive library dedicated to the knowledge of the entire species and raped it of all its content. This raid killed hundreds, including my mother.
"So, how are we getting out of here?" Hotaru asks, looking at the five of us for answers. We are all silent, watching each other, hoping that someone has an idea.
"Wait until they have to reset the generator?" Tinco suggests with a hint of insecurity.
I squint, trying to think real hard about what he means. Rilien sees my confusion and aids in his robot companion's explanation.
"This is a Class III Warmonger airship. Class III ships have an old fashioned generator, unlike Class IV and up who's generators no longer work on pure steam power. Our ship works with a plasma core that can generate enough artificial steam to work with the old fashioned mechanics- which I do plan to upgrade in the future. Anyways, the-"
"Just get to the point, boy." Hotaru grumbles, irritated with the lengthy lecture.
"As I was saying," Rilien says annoyed at the interruption and the jab at his age, "the Class III airships have to constantly change out their heat supply that creates the steam. Most ships coordinate these routine switches with janitorial services. Those most normally happen past midnight, well, that is if they're following the standard procedures."
Sendaar looks at the digital clock that is implanted above the doorway in front of us. "It's only seven-thirty now. What do we do in the meantime?"
Adlanniel looks off into the barred skies above us. "We plan, we sort, and we wait."
Welp, that's all I've got f'er now. If ye really liked it and wish to continue reading and receive notifications of new chapters, click the book cover and find m'profile! Just hit the follow button and I'll be happy to send out notifications (which will in-turn be also sent to y'er email's inbox as a r'minder.) and progress reports on the book!
More chapters are in the comments section! I ran out of space in here, so I thought 'twould be best to just put the rest in the comments. I hope ye don't mind searching. 
Also, don't hesitate to leave a comment b'low, pick an option on the poll, and tell me what ye think! I love to hear feedback.
Many a thank ye,
~Eno
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