Chasca

All humans hunger for power, and none can avoid conflict. Some fight to protect their tribe and resist the Abyss, while others do so to prove themselves superior, greater, or more worthy of Mora, wine, power, and glory than their comrades. But even those who love battle the most know to fear one name — Chasca. So long as she is on the battlefield, even the fiercest fight will cease into silence in short order. This is not entirely due to her eloquence or skill as a mediator, nor is it wholly a consequence of her ability to come up with satisfactory solutions based on her deep grasp of human nature. Instead, it's more that... This "Peacemaker" is just ludicrously strong, and she fights in a manner that makes a mockery of common sense. To engage her head-on is comparable to an unarmed newborn babe challenging the fiercest Qucusaurus. Those infatuated with conflict often also fear strength, and thus they commonly find sitting down to talk the best choice when confronted by power far beyond their own. Still, they wonder, how is Chasca always able to appear at the center of conflict at just the right moment? With such uncanny accuracy, such fortuity, it is as if she is drawn in by conflict itself, or rather... like a "beast" who catches the scent of her "prey."

Chasca has lived alongside Qucusaurs for as long as she can remember. Initially, she believed herself to be a Saurian, though she lacked the hooked beak and sharp talons her mother and elder sister possessed, and she could not fly, nor could she leap into the crowns of trees in a single bound. Her mother loved her just as she did her own flesh and blood, and when returning from a hunt, would always ensure her daughters ate their fill first, before contenting herself with the remainder. However, Chasca was not content to remain a fledgling waiting to be fed. Once she was finally grown enough to race across slopes and bound over rivers, she would often leave the nest to watch her mother and sister hunt. She would remember how they fought, and adapt those techniques for her own use. She had no wings she could spread to fly, so she would leap amongst the treetops. She was not born with beak and claw, so she would arm herself with stones in their place. All too eager to attempt a hunt of her own, she wandered the woods until at last, her first mighty foe came forth — a foraging Forest Boar. Imitating the Qucusaurs' movements, she leaped at the boar, only to be sent spinning to the ground by its fierce charge. Rolling to her feet, she snatched up a nearby rock and hurled it, only for the boar to dodge. Ultimately, she was forced to return empty-handed, her whole body ragged, covered head to toe in injuries and abrasions. Her mother brought herbs to treat her, and her sister vigorously opposed any future forays. Chasca agreed to stay and heal in the nest, but dove into the mountains the instant her wounds closed. She shuttled between forest and stream, collecting all manner of odds and ends to use: Sharp-edged stones, sturdy sticks, sticky sap, the skins of dead animals... Her family did not quite understand the purpose of all this "junk," but thought Chasca having a new hobby was a good thing nonetheless. They never imagined she would use them to fashion a new weapon — a slingshot made from sticks and skin, all the better for shooting stones both faster and further. ... The Forest Boar had a little squirrel cornered, yet what it had not realized was that it too had entered another's hunting grounds. Without warning, it found something stuck to its hooves, and it struggled in vain to get free. Then, several sharp objects, whistling through the air, struck its skull one after another. With a cry, the boar fell into a dead faint on the spot. Only then did Chasca emerge from the bush and excitedly drag her trophy back to the nest. Her mother and sister thought then that Chasca would surely become a skilled huntress — yet the way events were to unfold would far exceed their expectations once again. Chasca contemplated and discovered ever more combat techniques, as if there was always some voice in the dark guiding her on, showing her more ways to fight. But the longer she followed this voice, the less willing she became to skulk in the shadows. She became obsessed with seizing the initiative, with matching herself against bird and beast alike. Brown Deer, Flying Squirrels, Halberd-Crest Birds, each in their turn she would eagerly challenge. Rather than being a huntress skilled in the singular, fatal ambush, she was more akin to an unyielding warrior, one who sought battle and would find rest only in death. But the more addicted she became to the thrill of the fight, the less prey she would obtain — for animals tend to be the vigilant sort, and having recognized in her a formidable foe, they naturally choose to flee at the first chance. Young Chasca thus faced a quandary: the intoxication of battle, or a full stomach... And what an impossible choice that seemed to her then!

Unlike other human children, Chasca's first word was neither "mama" nor "papa." When her adoptive human father Cusco first laid eyes on her, he took one look at her, her eyes feral and fierce as her teeth tore into raw meat, then stared back at Elder Allpa, who was planning to give her to him, and his jaw dropped so far you could have stuffed a whole Saurian egg into his mouth. "Um, Elder... I know I agreed to take an orphan in... but, you didn't say it was an orphaned Qucusaurus!" Given the frequency with which Natlan faces Abyssal invasions, it was not uncommon for war orphans to be adopted, but one like Chasca, abandoned by humans and adopted by Saurians... That was the stuff of legends, and legends alone. As events would prove, Cusco had in fact underestimated the destructive might of this "Qucusaurus." Qucusaurs were already well-known for doing things their own ways, but Chasca's temper would prove harder to restrain than even the proudest among that race of Saurians. "That vulture! She's stolen meat from the warehouse — again!" "My house isn't your damn nesting ground, you little vulture!" "Damn.. the little vulture's started another fight!" Worse still, Qucusaurs usually had some specific intention behind their actions. To obtain food perhaps, or to defend their territory... but little Chasca seemed set on kicking up trouble for its own sake. She had food far more delicious than raw meat set before her at the table, and her bed was far softer than a roost of straw, but still she would constantly stir up conflict, day and night. This really had Cusco's brows all knitted up. He had realized that this might not be some simple wildness of temper, or an inability to adapt to her new circumstances... But what was the root of it? Humans would die for money, and monsters for food, but this? This pursuit of conflict without gain, without negotiation, without anything but a desire for destruction? Only one other example sprung to mind — the Abyss. ...Perhaps it was time to have a good "talk" with his daughter. And so, when Chasca next got herself in hot water, only barely restrained by two elite members of the flying squad, Cusco hurried over to apologize once more for not watching over her carefully enough, then rubbed his forehead in exasperation and asked: "...Now, what do you want? If you never speak up, no one will ever understand." "The hell are you even asking her for, Cusco? This vulture can't even say a single damn word! Seriously, what were you and the Elder thinking..." Little Chasca glared venomously at the flying squad members holding her down, a growl forming in her throat, before it warped into a single hoarse "word": "V... Vultures!" ...Well, that was a start, Cusco thought with a wry smile. As far as communication went, a counter-insult still counted.

The lamp shone upon Chasca's sleeping face, the light of the flames trembling across the faces of Cusco and the shaman standing to one side. "The Abyss has a foothold in her soul, and its claws have engraved conflict into her. This wound can only grow worse with the passing years... This is an ominous sign, and something that we have never before seen." The shaman sighed, thinking for a moment, before speaking again, words weighty and considered. "...Perhaps it might be best for all if we took this chance to return her to the forest now." Cusco could hear the implied meaning. Dealing with Chasca was hard enough now, and she was still little now. Who knew what she might be like in the future? The Abyss was ever Natlan's nemesis, and to keep her in the tribe was to house a potential calamity. But unless they were to find some way to restrain the Abyss within... a "return to the mountains" was but a euphemism for "abandoning her to her fate." Chasca's desire for battle was inborn, just as all humans are born with a desire for food. Others fought for a reason, and once their objectives were achieved, there was no further need to push themselves further. But Chasca's yearning was as a bottomless hunger. Even the sweet taste of constant victory could only sate her for so long. If that craving could not be contained... then perhaps her fate would be to destroy all around her until nothing remained, or be slain in some fierce battle. "You must make your decision... 'now.'" The shaman's words leapt about in the darkness like the candle's flame. Cusco looked at little Chasca. Her breathing even, her snoring light, she seemed so much more at peace asleep — indeed, no different from any ordinary human girl. Cusco softly ruffled her hair, mumbling: "No. It's too late now... It's too late." ... Chuychu, having woken up in the dead of night, was hiding behind the door, where the light could not reach. Young as she was, she did not comprehend all that was said between the two — yet the leaden air and her father's sorrow would remain in her heart all the same.

After that, Chuychu's parents would often take long trips from home. One day, it'd be to go see an elder living in seclusion; the next, to gather a legendary herb. Each time, one of them would have the other stay behind to keep an eye on things, but when emergencies cropped up, they would both rush off in a hurry, leaving young Chuychu behind with an "elder sister" who was mentally younger than her. Fortunately, Chasca appeared to have become much better behaved since learning the word "vulture." At least now, when she had some minor disagreement with someone, she could open up with some insults rather than going straight to delivering a beating. Perhaps, Chuychu could not help but wonder, Chasca had even realized that no one would apologize for her and clean up her messes while their parents were gone. ...Probably not. With her personality, there was no way she knew how much their parents worried for her... or how well they treated her. Chuychu had once imagined what life would be like if she had an elder sister — a playmate, a sharer of woes, someone to care for her when she fell ill... But since Chasca had arrived, her father had become so busy, and her mother's free time had evaporated. Even those her age who she used to play with now avoided her, intentionally or not. This was all Chasca's fault— Chuychu shook her head frantically as that thought flashed through it. No. She couldn't think like that. The elders said that the tribe must be united, and her parents had also said that Chasca actually really deserved their sympathy... ...But if she weren't around... "Hey! You home, Cusco? Chasca got into another fight!" The sudden commotion cut that train of thought short. She rushed to the scene in place of her father, only to find Chasca, her face the very picture of fury, alongside a group of wailing children, among whom were many of her former friends. "These... vul..." Chasca lifted her hand to point at the pile of crying children. "Another fight? Really!?" The thoughts that Chuychu had just dispelled came blazing back. "You're always like this. That's why... That's why they don't play with me anymore! That's why Mom and Dad don't spend time with me anymore!" "Vul... tures..." Chasca unconsciously lowered her pointing hand, and though her mouth still repeated those words in grunts, her voice grew quieter and quieter. "You're the worst vulture here!" At last, the words Chuychu had hidden in her heart tore forth. Chasca's eyes widened, her lips quivering as if to say something. Then, she finally cast her eyes to the ground, turned, and ran off in the direction of the wilderness outside the tribe. ...She'll be alright, Chuychu thought. This isn't the first time she's run off. They just needed to go look for her later. But for some reason, deep down, she felt a sense of unease. "What happened back there with Chasca? She seemed much better lately... What did you all say to set her off?" An adult who had arrived on the scene muttered. The children who had been beaten looked at one another, hesitant to speak. A moment later, someone raised their hand, and said with a trembling voice: "We... It was just an argument at first! But then, someone said..." "Someone said that Uncle Cusco and his whole family... were also idiots for... keeping this vulture in our tribe... We were just joking, I swear! A—And we heard that from the adults!" "And they also said not to play with Chuychu... just in case her sister's sickness is contagious..." Shocked, Chuychu whirled around, facing the direction Chasca had disappeared in. But there was nothing between the mountains save the mournful wind, giving howling voice to some cry for which there could be no words.

'Why? This is not my nest.' 'That "Elder" person forced me to live in the new nest.' 'Those humans made me eat things. Wear things. Spend a few not-so-cold nights among them.' 'I could go back any time. That's right. I'll go back to my nest.' 'Mom might chase me out again, but Sister will speak for me.' 'The "sickness" hurts. But it can hurt all it wants. I don't need humans to "cure" me.' Such were the chaotic thoughts that swirled through her mind. Well-practiced leaps carried her aloft from tree to tree as she drunk in the fresh, familiar mountain air and scent of the leaves. Still, she could not forget the flickering fires of the tribe's candles. 'I don't need fires to keep warm. I don't need fire to light up the night. Mom and Sister never did either.' 'Humans are weak. They fear the cold night, so they light fires. Proud, strong Saurians don't need that.' ...And yet, the fire was so warm. These cowardly thoughts stole into her mind, and suddenly, they echoed and rang, stopping her cold with a splitting headache. She plummeted out of the trees. —"It" was here again. Gritting her teeth, Chasca pulled herself up against the tree, her trembling fingers scratching bloody trails across the branches. 'Fight. Bite. Destroy. That way, you can forget all your unhappiness.' 'Forget the cowardliness this brief stay has forced upon you. Forget those chains that the human world has bound you with, all their rules. All things were born wild! Born beasts!' She had heard that voice for as long as she could remember. At first, it had merely guided her to hunt, to bite into her prey. But then, it came more frequently, its noise leaving her dizzy and faint, release only coming after she gave in and made a mess. 'Mom sent me to the humans... hoping that they could cure me, didn't she?' 'But it's no use. The human world is noisier than the nest. Humans disagree and fight all day. They are always in conflict. And "its" voice gets clearer when they fight. More tempting.' '—Sister, I don't want to disappoint Mom, but...' Chasca had tried to confide in her elder sister on several occasions, but alas, her human tongue could not make the vocalizations of a Qucusaurus. '—And you, I know you all don't want me to fight, but...' Chasca had also tried to communicate with Cusco and his wife, but a Qucusaur child could not form human words. '—They deserved that beating! They scolded me! They scolded you, too!' Chasca had tried to explain herself to Chuychu, but only that tattered word, "vulture," came stumbling out of her mouth. 'Never mind them! I can hear you, and you can hear me. That is all you need!' 'No need to explain. No need to understand! Just break everything that hurts you! Tear apart all that stands in your way!' Even now, that voice screamed in her head, rounding on her. '—Enough! You're the one I hate the most! You're the biggest, the worst, the most loathsome vulture of them all!' Chasca all but roared as she pounded, pounded, pounded her fists against the tree, as if she might rip that voice out and bash it into a pulp! Splinters of bark and leaf sprayed out every which way, swirling in the air, but "it" laughed all the more wildly. ... Moon-silver pierced through the trees, its mottled gleam lighting Chasca's pallid face. She collapsed, her fists a mess of split skin and muddied flesh, exposing the white bone beneath in some spots. Everything hurt. She could not move. Her eyelids were so, so heavy. Even the voice in her head was all but spent. 'Of course it would be. "It" is dying, because "it" is me.' 'This isn't far from the human tribe, and there's so much tree cover. Mom and Sister won't be able to find me, will they?' Cusco and his wife were out. There was no way they'd return in time to find someone who'd run away from home. No one would know that Chasca was about to die here. ...And that was fine. One less vulture in the world, Chasca forced herself to think — not to mention the even bigger vulture within. ...The moonlight was a little too cold after all, though. ... Dimly, she felt some warmth on her face, like the light cover of Mom's wings, like the light of human candles. Chasca opened her eyes slowly. Before her was a humble bonfire, and a young girl squatting and tending it carefully — Chuychu. "...Ah!" Realizing that Chasca was awake, Chuychu hastily hid her hands behind her back. In the firelight, Chasca could see that her hands had been slightly burned. "...Are your hands okay?" Chuychu deflected. Only then did Chasca notice the bandages wrapped snugly around her hands. It was clumsy work, but enough to stop the bleeding. "...I couldn't move you, so I had to make do here... But I've lit a fire, so the adults should find us soon enough." Chasca did not answer, but the question her eyes asked was clear. "...Well, Mom and Dad would be sad if something happened to you." "..." "Also... Thanks for standing up for me. I'm sorry for yelling at you before asking what happened." "..." "Anyway... Let's go home, okay?" "...Home..." Chasca broke her silence, mumbling the new word she had just learned. Then she nodded. "...Let's 'go home.'"

The first time the Flying Captain, Elder Allpa, came forward to teach Chasca, it was because her front door had been virtually blocked up by the deluge of complaints about Chasca and the beatings she'd handed out. But no matter how long Allpa spent laboring over explanations of the human world and its laws, little Chasca could never understand what was wrong with fighting. Saurians and beasts all decided things through strength. She'd won the fight, so why was she the one being questioned? Allpa would talk and gesticulate, while Chasca would study her, wondering if she might be spared the lengthy lectures if she could simply defeat the Elder. But the second time she came to give Chasca guidance, she immediately realized that there was something different about the girl's gaze. "...Teach me. Become strong." With those choppy words, Chasca asked to learn human ways. "Abyss... want to defeat." "...Alright. In that case, let me teach you to use humanity's greatest weapon." So saying, Allpa grabbed a woven scroll, an exquisite line of small words embroidered at its head: "Peacemaker — the Art of Communication." "Our greatest weapon is our language." But what did flapping one's lips have to do with strength? Chasca did not quite understand. She would rather learn how to use various weapons, from bows to guns, or perhaps how to use Phlogiston, or how to shoot while in the air. If one was strong enough, talk could be dispensed with... That was how she had thought in the past, at least. But still, she had not been able to tear that voice from her heart and beat it until it stopped talking ever again. So she endured, learning every last word that Allpa taught her, chewing on that woven scroll that she never thought she would read, bit by bit, line by line. As it turned out, when she learned to communicate, coordinate, and rely on others, the efficiency of her hunts seemed to increase — just as the scroll had said. When she wrote Chuychu a letter on her birthday and wished her well, she and their parents seemed pleasantly surprised — just as the scroll had said. And when she took part in the Pilgrimage of the Return of the Sacred Flame, bearing the expectations of all on her shoulders, it seemed as if the people of the Flower-Feather Clan looked upon her with a little more respect — just as the scroll had said. ... "Here you go. The highest possible caliber, and the greatest possible mobility... If this request had come from anyone else, from someone whose abilities I wasn't so sure of, I'd have used the materials they gave me to beat some sense into them." "Thanks, Xilonen. This should make me a more persuasive mediator." Upon receiving the almost comically huge "Soulsniper: Ritual Staff," Chasca tested its weight using the reins in her hand. "I'll say... Who'd disagree with you after being hit with this thing, anyway? This has to be the strongest weapon I've ever made for your tribe." "...No, 'a bullet has the most power when it has yet to leave the chamber.'" As she caressed the cylinder of the gun, this analogy that Chasca had encountered in a certain woven scroll came back to her, unbidden. "The strongest weapon, huh... Then, from this day forth, we shall be the 'Peacemakers.'"

By that point, she had long since grown from the feral girl who stirred up conflicts into a Peacemaker who ended them in droves. There was almost no dispute that could not be resolved by her intervention, whether it be between humans, tribes, humans and Saurians, or even between Saurians. But if there was some force beyond rational understanding, with whom even the greatest communicator could achieve no consensus, it would be the Abyss. Since she had learned to live with "that" which lived within her, "its" voice had grown ever weaker, and indeed, Chasca even thought "it" gone for a time. But in that Night Warden War, "it" was invigorated by the Abyss, and like a butterfly bursting from a chrysalis, it manifested as an illusion — one identical to her. "We meet at last. Long have we fought, with neither of us able to overcome the other... But come, let us end this. Approach me, embrace me... and the greatest strength shall be yours." As the battle wore on, the more monsters Chasca slew, the greater the hold the Abyssal power had over her, and once more, she felt her battle lust growing ever greater. Eager were her steps as she sought another target to slay, spent casings and corpses alike piled up at her feet. On that horrific battlefield, the illusion with its outstretched hand seemed almost like an envoy bringing peace. But instinct brought Chasca's gun up and level with it. This was her best chance. It was time to reduce this hateful voice to a bloody mess, once and for all. "So you'll kill me, then? But who will understand you, who will keep you company... if not me?" More phantasms emerged and rushed her, bringing the feelings she'd kept buried back into the open: Once, she had been dropped like a hot potato, alienated by all. She was no Saurian, but she was not "human" in any normal sense, either. She had a "home," yet she walked a solitary path. None could understand the anxiety that seared her heart, nor put out that roaring fire. That illusion was like a vision of water after a parched travail through the desert. Could she really put an end to this endless conflict, right here and now? As she walked forward, step by step, the power of the Abyss enshrouded her, and she shivered and grew faint. Yet this feeling was also familiar, like that of an infant returning to their mother's embrace. She had once been abandoned. Was this where she had always belonged? ... But just as she was about to touch that apparition, voices filled with warmth called out from behind her. "Hey, Sis. Leave a note next time you leave home, alright?" "You're free to choose your own path in life, but remember, you'll always have a home here with us." ("Why have you even come back here? You've chosen to live with humans, haven't you?") ("Coya's just prone to harsh words. We all miss you, really...") Shaking her head, Chasca stopped moving. Once, she had blindly followed the voice in her heart, hungering for battle and for greater strength. Even now, it was true that she still walked alone out of habit, but she now knew the meaning of the bonds she'd forged as a "human." Raising her gun once more, she took aim, and let fly with all the bullets she had in it. The phantom shattered like a mirror when struck, red ichor seeping between the shards. "Hah, you hypocrite... You say you wish to stop fights, and yet you raise your gun to me. How pathetic." The apparition vanished like smoke, leaving only a hollow voice that rang in her ears. "No. I know 'you' too well. That's why I'm sure that this is the only way to make peace between us." Chasca ejected the spent shell casings, and prepared to reload, only for a "bullet" to drop to the ground, tinkling as it did. Lowering her head, she saw that it was a Vision, shining with its own light. Picking it up, she flicked it into the air with her thumb before catching it. "Bring it on, then. No matter how many disputes await, I'll pacify them all... 'You' included."

Chasca, Flower-Feather Clan. Any disputes you need me to end for you? Depending on the situation, it could cost you a little dignity, a few drinks, or potentially... a round of ammo.

When you lose your way, gaining some altitude can bring some perspective.

I'd have lost myself long ago if I allowed myself to be led by the whispers of the Abyss. Surviving is tough, but taming the beast within is tougher.

I'm a little out of practice these days... *yawn*... Any conflicts around? I'm in the mood for some peacemaking.

Rain... My hair and feathers are gonna get soaked. Time for some preening when I get back.

Huh, we're really gonna go flying in this weather? You think you can outrun a lightning strike?

*sniff* There's prey upwind from us... Be ready to pounce.

The wind's perfect — full speed ahead!

"The early qucusaur gets the worm," so I made some breakfast. Any plans for the day can wait until we've got some food in us.

Afternoon. The sun shines strongest at this hour — good time to take a break.

Any plans for dinner? If not, let's eat in the tribe. They always bring out the best food and drink for champions.

Turning in for the night? Hmm... I've been flying all day, so I should also do some gun care.

Back when the Flower-Feather Clan was responsible for patrolling and defending all of Natlan, the flying squad was the best of the best — the fiercest warriors in the nation. To this day, the pride felt by many Qucusaur riders borders on arrogance... Hmm? Me? No, I'm not arrogant. Just supremely confident.

...When they first brought me back to the tribe, I didn't fit in at all. I felt so out of place — like an alien who suddenly got dropped into a human world... But Chuychu and her— I mean, our parents accepted me for who I was. I'm eternally grateful that I met them, and for that reason, I will defend their beloved tribe... for as long as I live.

With your skills, I doubt anyone in Natlan would dare start something with you. But there are exceptions to every rule, so if you ever find yourself in a situation you can't brute force your way out of, be sure to come to me. I'll straighten things out.

Thank you so much for helping with the Coya situation... I honestly don't know how things would've gone down without you there. She's nowhere near as hostile toward humans anymore, but it'll still take her some time to get used to them. Old habits die hard. Chime, on the other hand? Loves hanging out with the tribe. She gets along really well with Yatlan and the other kids... Heh, watching them play together, it sometimes reminds me of me and Coya when we were little. Anyway, now Mom's the one being difficult... I don't know what's gotten into her recently. She keeps nagging me to build a nest of my own like Coya. And she's all, "maybe it's time to expand your family even further"... Where is all this coming from? ...Hmm? What are you smiling about?

This Vision played a major part in my fight against the Abyss. If it hadn't shown up when it did, I don't know who I would be today.

People often find it embarrassing to open up about their childhood mistakes... Why is that? Whether you're a human or a Qucusaur, you can only grow by learning from your past mistakes. That's why I'm not shy about my history of mindlessly lashing out as a kid. Nowadays, I never draw my gun without thinking it through first, even if just for a couple of seconds... or maybe a half second.

Natlan has a lot of very tall trees. You get great visibility from up top, and they're good places to launch off. You wanna try? Don't worry, I'll catch you if you fall.

"Every Qucusaur falls from its nest before it learns to fly." Kachina didn't magically become a champion overnight. Her victory was a result of consistent, tireless effort over a very long time. She's an outstanding warrior who deserves all the honor and respect she can get.

Mualani says we got into a fight as kids over some toy we both wanted, but I don't remember any of that. Hmm... I wonder if it's because I got into so many fights that I just lost track of them all? I also wonder if it was actually her surfboard I was after, rather than a toy... I'll bet I just wanted the ability to go hunting on water. Heh, whatever it was, I doubt our feud lasted more than a day. It never does with Mualani.

She might come across as low-energy, but make no mistake — she's one of the most diligent people you'll ever meet. When I asked her to build my gun for me, I barely put any thought into it, just gave her a general idea of what I wanted, and left it with her. Then, once she started working on it in earnest, she spent an entire day questioning me — what would a typical day's flying look like, how often I was expecting to use it, and so on — and by the end of the day, there were abandoned designs schemes all over the floor... I was so exhausted that I fell asleep even before she did. Then she wrote a whole maintenance guide, which she forced me to learn by heart so I wouldn't come bugging her with issues every day... Well, that's what she said. But I suspect her real reason was that she wanted to make sure I'd look after myself and fly safe.

Some people compare me to the Pyro Archon because of my track record in the Pilgrimage. It's a meaningless comparison. If the Pilgrimage was a tree, and I was a vulture on the highest branch, then the Pyro Archon would be the sun in the sky... The stronger you get, the more you appreciate the sheer size of the gulf between you and her. I just won a few championships — she's the champion of an entire era. But at least being on top with a clear view of the sky means I can see exactly how high I want to fly from here.

When I first saw Ajaw, I thought "Oh, Kinich has a saurian he treats like family, too"... Blissfully unaware of how far off the mark I was. Their relationship is... truly one-of-a-kind. Although I will say, Ajaw's mastery of the human language makes me pretty envious. I wish mom could talk like that, too, so we could do away with the whole body-language-based guesswork-game.

My dad told me that when I was little, they gathered all of the most learned elders in Natlan and asked them to come up with a plan for managing my Abyss condition. They all disagreed on the best approach, and it turned into a drawn-out debate. At some point, Citlali quietly left the room, but they were all too busy arguing to notice. When she got back, she put some food and wine down in front of her, ignored everyone, and just started eating... the table suddenly went very quiet. Just by looking at her, you'd never know how much seniority and experience she has.

Chuychu and my dad have discussed medicine with him countless times. So after I got back from the airborne workshop, the first thing I did was take Coya to get checked out by him. But he seemed so dismissive — he took one glance, said "it's nothing serious, Cusco can handle it," and then immediately left to deal with another patient... *sigh* He was right, of course. I was just worrying too much.

I've always felt that training oneself and training others are two very different skillsets. Very few people have them both, but Iansan has them in spades. I, for one, am not very good at teaching other people. Whenever I'm trying to demonstrate something to the flying squad, I spend forever trying to explain some basic, boring detail that seems intuitive to me... only to have everyone ask, "What's intuitive about that!?" If only Iansan could tutor them, I bet we'd have twice as many candidates pass the flying trials each year... Shame that her training program doesn't include flying.

As a peacemaker, I know full well that violence isn't always the answer. But in many cases, having the capacity for violence makes people much more willing to listen to reason.

The warriors of the Flower-Feather Clan are a proud bunch, but the Qucusaurs are a prouder bunch still. Anyone who aspires to become a Rider has to train relentlessly and then win their approval — even me, and I was practically one of them growing up. It's only fair, though. Allowing a rookie to ride a Qucusaur into the skies would be highly irresponsible for both the Qucusaur and the Rider.

Sometimes, after failing the flying trials countless times and never winning the Qucusaurs' approval, people lose all their motivation and decide to call it quits. In the Flower-Feather Clan, we call those people the "Wingless"... But generally, only the most outstanding warriors even attempt the flying trials in the first place. Their fighting spirit may have faded out, but it will one day burn again. And until that day comes, we will quietly watch over them, just as the Qucusaurs watch over their unfledged young.

I was never able to enjoy a proper, happy childhood, but when I was on the brink of death, momma bird gave me a new life, and when I was lost and directionless, Chuychu gave me something to believe in. Behind me, I have my saurian family, my human family, and every other creature in the family we call Natlan. So I will not be defeated. Not by the Abyss, and not by life's hardships. Watch me, I will transcend it all!

Chuychu hoped I'd become a hero. So... I can't give up. I have to stay strong, for her sake... But when the relic exploded, and Coya dove in front of me, I... the same fear of losing my sister came flooding back again... Sorry, I just don't really know who I can talk to about this kind of stuff. I usually push it to the back of my mind... But I feel much better now. Since I can't forget that fear, I guess I'll try the opposite: remember it, own it. And eventually... transcend it.

Starting fights is more trouble than it's worth. Gets you into too much trouble. Now, ending fights, on the other hand, much more acceptable. This is why I love being a peacemaker, because the fights come to me... Heh, I'm just kidding, of course.

The Abyssal energy. Not because it affects me that much — it doesn't anymore. More because of how much it makes the people around me worry about my safety.

Growing up by the sea, I mostly ate raw fish, and after I came to the tribe, I grew to love Flash-Grilled Steak... Qucusaurs and humans have wildly different diets, but I enjoy them both.

Anything with too much alcohol, I guess. Not because I don't like drinking — I just need to watch my intake very carefully before a flight. But you get some food where the scent of the alcohol is masked by the other flavors... Looks tasty, smells delicious, so you take a bite, and then... uh-oh, it's a trap.

I'm telling you, this dish plus a nice wine would increase the chances of mediation success by thirty percent. Heh, there's nothing quite like some good food and wine to put people in a good mood.

This is pretty good. Thanks.

Uh... Was this meant for the qucusaurs? ...Sorry, but this isn't the kind of thing they go for.

Here, take this gun. It's loaded with six rounds, including an extra-special one. Find an open space and try it out — or better yet, fly up into the sky and do it there. Ooh, you got the special round on the first try, huh? Luck's on your side today... That was a whistling birthday firework. I made it myself! Hmm? ...What are the other five rounds? More fireworks, of course! But they're the trial runs that I made before the one you just fired off. The color's different, and they're not perfect. Next year, I'll do my best to make a full six top-quality rounds for you.

Huh, is that a new bullet in the chamber?

Need me to mediate anything? Tribal trouble? Or an all-out war, maybe?

There's an urge to fight that runs in my veins... But now, I know how to put it to good use.

"Kindness should always be repaid, and merit rewarded." This is one universal principle that holds true for both the Qucusaur and human worlds. From this day forth, no matter where you go, my wings and my guns will always be at your service.

Let's fly.

Hah!

Take me up.

Fire in the hole!

Hold on to your hats!

Knock 'em down.

Dividing the loot is often a cause of conflict, but luckily for you, I don't really need this stuff.

Mora makes a lot of problems go away. So you can never have too much Mora, huh?

Ooh, shiny... It's so pretty...

A worthy fight...!

Now I'm all warmed up.

You want crazy? I'll show you crazy!

...Hey, no dying!

Get behind me!

Momma... Bird...

Couldn't... transcend...

I'm... falling...

This is about to get messy...

...Again!

Alright, whose wings need clipping?

The breeze is restless today.

Chamber full and ready to roll.