Schutbi 0 riskons (the list will end only when it reaches 60 riskons, going in multiples of 10)

Moi: You

Darju': Dare

Croschi: Cross

Sanvenep: Territory,place

-na: Our

-ik: Your

Wo: What

Shufup: Big, important

Eakkol: Eat, drink

Khamnam: Speak/ make verbal noises

Nunnu: Small, unimportant, few

Ain: I

Ait: It

Ahhsi: scary/alarming/beast

Meowchi: Cute, endearing, beautiful, a friendly creature

Yucktt: Foul, revolting, gross, dirt

Schutbi Phrases 0 riskons:

. Ledrik padik jamb ay boat: Leave your paddle by the canoe, which means to replace something to where it originally was so you do not need to worry about misplacing it later. Said between hunters, rovers, and fishermen.

. Sanvenipik ekks waraturtt: Your place never betrays you, which means that you should not turn your back on your roots or something cemented within you or your identity. Said between tribesmen

The Nevanese sky that created a muted and dusky atmosphere was as vast as Ridge's appetite. His sustenance for then was the bag of cashews, especially after having to return to the grassy creature on fire and absorb it in the Riskometer. He could only nibble on it like a lost mole eating a sprocket thinking it was an invertebrate. Granted, he could only hope for Ivan to pick up the propeller and appear out of thick air.

   "Ridge," Quennel's quite cursory voice plunged in. He was vapidly fingering the contents of his messenger bag as he sat across from Ridge. "Your plan might not see a smooth sailing."

   Ridge snuffed out the last remnants of water from a teapot shaped leaf- the water Mavis had been procuring from the river and was still on the grind- and looked up at the older man squarely. Luckily, the Riskometer was able to filter out any uncharted microorganisms and contaminants, so anything absorbed in it then shortly summoned was granted entrance to an empty stomach. That almost gratifying fact did beg a question; does the Riskometer replenish any risk factors of initially risky objects when sent out? Either way, Ridge would never put this theory to the test. He did not need to waste his own time trying to discern whether his agenda was for nought or not. It was like obstinately defending your own nation by turning a blind eye on all the downsides. Even if Ridge hadn't had the headstrong mentality, it would be messier to replace objects, be they risky be they safe for existence. Besides, the Riskometer could not 'edify' anything ever.

   Ridge clicked his tongue and responded, "You know nothing about sailing, Quennel. I steer the ship and you remain on the lookout, doing whatever you do. Besides, having Ivan be the harbinger is the best course of action."

   Ridge, Ridge, always using people as rungs for his ladder to grandiosity. It was quite comical how, on the face of it, Ivan Pelet strongly believed that Ridge would help him look for his dad in the Outdoors. This only drove the naïve puppeteer to blindly follow Ridge's note- in which it was handwritten by Guantum after Ridge had ordered him to tuck it in the 'accidentally misplaced' jacket. In order to further reduce the possibility of making any mishaps when encountering the interspersed inhabitants of the Outdoors, there ought to be a social expert who could easily win their hearts before stabbing them with the spear of desperation. Someone who could aid the disoriented trio in dodging sticky situations when crossing dirty paths with a growling Nevanese- or a group of growling Nevanese. Someone who was the instigator of bad blood, yet had the ability to also be the fun mediator. Ivan's kindness was made to kill. He was very kind, but underneath his shiny veneer of kindness lied a cavity of a soul full of wrath and ambition. He badly wanted- no, needed to find his father, whether it was the real case or not. Ivan had a childlike agenda. Nevertheless, the puppeteer ought to become the puppet. It would be a matter of time before his armor would show its cracks, and Ridge was painfully aware of that. People like Ivan were the most passionate and volatile ones.

   Ivan's position as being the successor of a famous amusement park's owner gave Ridge all the more reason to invite him to the confidential outings. With Ivan's absence in Haven- specifically the Primaries, Ridge would be able to channel rampant ill-mongering about how the Whisworld- or was it Whisland, he was unsure- amusment park was nearing its demise. An infuriated epiphany would blossom within the citizens, and everyone would start snapping their necks towards Ivan who was supposed to be in charge of entertaining visitors and signing autographs for children. Coinciding with the search for Ivan would be Mavis's absense and almost immediate departure from cartography. Mavis shared how her job consisted of drawing certain wings in Haven and keeping them transiently up to date (It was quite facile enquiring Mavis about her personal life). With Mavis's absense in Haven, the map of Primaries would cease to be refined, which was the only logical source for citizens and governors alike to assimilate the circumstances of places there, including the amusement park. Similar to what happened with Professor Yulek's disappearance, Ivan's identity would be erased from all blimps and headlines. His death would be feigned like a balladeer faking a soprano with a flute. History would repeat itself, much to Ridge's pleasure.

   Lest any governor had an inkling about Ivan's presence in Nevah instead, Ridge asked none other than the allegiant Polo to expose Ivan on the spot. People like Polo were feverishly more loyal than most trustworthy dogs. He did not have to install a convoluted transmitter that were to perch on his shoulder. What were the odds of even a twinge of treason on his end?

   A resounding pitter patter of footsteps padded against the ground. Ridge and Quennel turned to its source only to see Mavis breathlessly heaving a flaxen basket interwoven with twigs and hay. She wheezed dramatically as she dropped the basket and rested her hands on her knees. She looked up at them with triumphant eyes and exclaimed, "You two! You won't believe what I found."

   Quennel attempted in exchanging an inquisitive glance with Ridge, only for him to find Ridge already propelling himself forward and dropping to his knees in front of the basket. With animalistic desperation, he fiercely dug through the array of amber fruits froughting the basket. Once he reached the core, he was bemused to find nothing. He churned his neck towards Mavis and snapped, "Mangoes?!"

   Mavis snorted, "No, Ridge. I found a hole that smells like horse dung. It's peculiar because horses do not reside in coastal areas. Only in stables- or at least in Haven. They cannot sojourn by marine bodies- unless you believe in unicorns and whatnot."

   Quennel jolted upward and whistled, his bushy brows creasing, "That explains the indiscriminately placed hay stack next to the lone pier."

   "No, it was never indiscriminately placed." Ridge proclaimed as he rose to his feet. "It was intentionally ruffled by horse owners. The Riskometer even detected the traces of human vandalism and had the pocketwatch amount to 24 riskons. There was no sign of any toxins or consumptive substances, I can guarantee that. It was ruffled."

   Mavis asked, "What if the horses did that and we're overthinking it? Horses are pretty risky."

   "No. The hay straws were microscopically blended and disheveled. No horse hoof can do that. Not even the pointiest ore shoe."

   Mavis shuddered evidently and said, "Which is impossible since extracting and blacksmithing ores can only be executed in minefields or quarries. That ruffles my leaves!"

   "Feathers." Quennel coolly corrected her, silence save the bristling blows of the breeze following his honk.

   Ridge dusted off his clothed and, wagging his finger at the two, strutted towards the river with purposeful steps, "That does not matter now. What matters is that we get rid of yet another hole."

   "So many holes..." Mavis grumbled as she followed suit. On the other hand, Quennel took longer to pack up and head towards the magnetically mysterious hole; he notched the ends of the papers inside, pulled out his manuscript alongside his pen, rose slowly and doddered towards the riverbank. His distant pupilless eyes beared rings of discretion as he pressed the pen against the manuscript and let it flow through. He thought as he stood by Ridge, eyeing him insidiously, "Before you know what hit you, Riskmaster, your Riskometer will turn against you. Eventually, the riskons that quantify how dangerous and sinister something is will become your foible. The world's foible is the Riskometer, not you. You are nobody without it. What you trust the most is what will thrust you off the coast. No one is a master in something, Riskmaster. As the adage goes, absolute power can corrupt absolutely. Perhaps it should be lent to someone else..."

   The aura of enmity and secrecy exuded from Quennel was a needle in the haystack; no one could hear the cogs turning in his brain amidst the booming silence. Ridge stood in front of the hole with the Riskometer at the ready, and Mavis was blanching every second as if a queue of ghosts had emerged out of it.

   "Oooh, this shakes me to my-"

   "No. Let him." Quennel, in a severe voice, stopped Mavis from blurring out (like how she usually would). He nodded towards the hole, which Ridge caught a glimpse of. Instantly, he knelt down and whirled the Riskometer around clockwise. He held the pocketwatch in his other frigid hand.

   The pocketwatch struck 47 riskons. (XLVII r-kons).

   Round and round the Riskometer went, its pirouetting in the air as hypnotic and ominous as ever. The sky that befell a few dust particles was met with a calm, tantalizing wind. The shapes began to form then yoke themselves in his vision, turning into tesseracts as they hovered above the hole. Their vertices pointed sharply towards the hole, as if being vacuumed to it themselves.

   All of a sudden, a shriek pierced the air, shattering the shapes and spraying their shards onto the ground along the way. Peering over in the hole with a familiar hollowness were a few wispy strands of platinum hair, sharp brows bowed over wide cat eyes forehead down. The wind twisted the strands in visceral fashion.

   Everyone skittered back except for Ridge, whose shock was ostensibly shown through his soured features and widened eyes. The sharp brows of the ghoulish creature shot upwards. The croaky voice breathlessly said, "Ridge, you commited a felony too!?"

   Ridge gaped down at the happier Lema twin Ab, robbed of words at the moment; how could anyone in their right mind formulate a response in the face of an irredeemably serenpidtous reunion, a human being cresting from a hole in Nevah, and an uncalled for accusation? He and his sadder twin Und- who was acting as a stool for Ab as his grunts echoed every once in a while-, he gathered, were kicked out of Haven. Since Ab had accused him of comitting felony- well, it was more so of an interrogative question stemming from incredulity, the result of committing anything remotely nefarious was expulsion. It was quite the way to be banished.

   "This brings their disappearance into light. Fighting is punishable in Haven anyway. As a Havenian retribution, it is very harsh. The governors, I suppose, care more about the whole penalty than a slap on the wrist. And here I thought they fought until they tore each other apart into pitiable fragments. Good riddance to dark fantasies." Ridge blinked rapidly and he stammered, his voice rasped with stupefecation, "No, I- I was just doing my job."

   A smile crept onto Ab's lips, which Ridge quickly tried to repel by adding warily, "Laugh as you might, but the Sensing Snowglobe tied my own kismet to be the "Innovative Havenian Hero" I would only and tremendously talk about. But now, I am just known as the Riskmaster. And these two are my assistants." (This earned a glare from Mavis).

   A flicker of suspicion crossed Ab's eyes, but it was very faint and brief that only Quennel caught it. He cackled and motioned for the three to enter the hole, his Glasgow smile crinkling. He chirped as his figure plummeted down the hole until only darkness unraveled, "Come on inside. The hole is still craving more humans..."

   Disregarding the last ominously said sentence, the three adventurers clambered down the hole using their hands and feet to stabilize themselves against the spherical soot-covered walls. Ridge hesitated before shadowing the three, clutching onto the ball clicker bag that held the sacred Riskometer underneath his arm.

   Once Ridge felt his feet settle gently on what struck as a carpet made out of finely integrated hay and straw, he alighted himself from the walls and dusted off any remnants of soot on his clothes. His eyes missed no beat in scanning the premise; there was absolutely no furniture save for a haymade bunk bed that was uprooted with logs. Haystacks were scaffolded around the place in varying heights and sizes. The floor seemed desiccated as it was initially muddy. The only source of light came from glow worms trapped in cocoons that were mounted on what looked like crenellations of wood around the walls. Even Ridge's shoulder plates were reflecting a very tenuous spark of light. It was too dim, very dim that when Und stepped out of the darkness it rattled Mavis and tightened the grip on her rolled map parchment around the mahogany scroll.

   Und said somberly with his usual long face glinting in the imperceptible glow of the encased worms, "We meet again, Ridge." He nodded towards Mavis. "Mavis." He then looked at Quennel and sniffled, his droopy brows furrowing even more. "And..?"

   "Quen plus nel." Quennel replied flatly.

   Und scratched his scalp but did not question it. Instead, he fell backwards on a nearby haystack, blowed out some pieces covering his mouth, and mused aloud, "Miserable, fate is. We were merely fighting. Like two saddened spirits. Ab was bound to be a veterinarian, his Sensing Snowglobe whispered. But that whisper reached my ears. My brother, whose spirit was once adorned with an animated passion for horror like mine, now being reduced to a wraith? A veterinarian? A shadow of who he was, truly. If only our dark souls were locked onto one Sensing Snowglobe, none of the melancholy we got into happened. None of the fighting would have happened. Fighting and fighting...and that is when those governors in their mighty black fits captured us in their spiky snares. A turning point that was waiting to be revealed had then been revealed. As they say, it takes two to peel mangos, so our destinies were met under similar circumstances but different stances; they kicked both of us out of Haven, sending Ab to the outskirts of a volcano and me to an island. I could not stand the seclusion, nor did he. So we both found our ways here. This gloomily beautiful hole. A perfect abode for two forlorn twins."

   Although the Lema twins did get kicked out of the Indoors seperately and were sought after makeshift refuge (everything in Nevah was makeshift since it met a point where what it held would rot and decay, never to stay) in the safest place in Nevah, they did not change. And they were still together! That would be par for the course; they were too insperable not even a separate expulsion could wedge between their brotherly bond.

   Mavis shuffled her feet and asked, "And how did you cross all those waters to even get to land?"

   Und dipped his head and jerked his thumb towards a jet black corner. When listening closely, there were huffs and neighs nicking the air. "Horses. They could swim alright."

   Ridge raised his brows and checked his pocketwatch.

   The pocketwatch struck 38 riskons. (XXVII r-kons).

   He wagged his finger at Und and admonished, "These horses could be very dangerous, though! Good riddance to safety."

   Ab sniggered and tilted his head to the side, "Und somehow knows how to discipline animals more than his alleged veterinarian brother."

   Und was about to retort when the horses bellowed. He send a reproachful glance to the source of clamor, magically silencing them. He shook his head and turned back to Ab, "Presumtous of you to assume that I can't when I have to, brother. Key difference between having to and wanting to."

   Ab grinned and spoke acidly, fume almost coming out of his ears, "What of it, brother? Can't appreciate talent for treating animals better than how you deserve to be treated?"

   Und gasped and frowned, making a dramatically morose sound from his throat. He sat criss crossed and murmured, "Don't condone spunk in front of our fellow visitors here."

   "Oh, so you admit-"

   "Enough with this pettiness!" Ridge and Quennel shouted 'enough' in unison, with Quennel coldly adding onto it. Mavis giggled in the sidelines, prompting Ab to join her. Und adjusted his fishnet gloves sheepishly while Ridge scoffed condescendingly. Never did Ridge think that the Lema twins were entertaining. Perhaps they should have jabbed his ticklish soul with their strangely comical banters instead of cleaning his apparatuses back in Haven when everything was as clear as day (before that catastrophic Sensing Snowglobe Decree Day).

   Quennel pinched the bridge of his nose and dampened the lighthearted mood simmering in the hole. He made a high-pitched and shrilly din by zipping and unzipping his messenger bag and said, "Now now, we need to understand more about each other. We are likely the only Havenians in Nevah at the moment, and for different reasons. But now we know the reasons, so we shouldn't dwell on that any longer. Rather, we should discuss about our current lifestyles; how will we stay alive in such risky lands? How will the twins cope with their new home?" He pointed at Ridge, "How will the Riskmaster eliminate all risks roaming Nevah without attracting risks himself?"

   Und shot an inquisitive glance in Ridge's direction. The brunette immediately dismissed it with a crooked smile and said, "Something that has to do with why I'm here too. Like Quen plus nel said, let us avoid this topic that's getting moldy already."

   Ridge sighed and picked up a stay mango lying on a wooden crate. He started peeling it as he spoke, "The point of being a Riskmaster is to find any risks that I cross path with and suck it into my Riskometer, using my Aptem pocketwatch to measure the riskiness of the target object. It is not a hide and seek game where I have to sniff them out like hound dogs. It is a mission to restore unity in Thear. I am not trying my hand at amateur janitor cleaning. I am getting rid of perils, once and for all."

   Ridge's words of determination managed to assuage Und's confusion and Ab's suspicion. Mavis let out a holler, and Quennel scribbled down on his notepad while gazing at Ridge. It was quite the ceremonial soliloquy that lit up the hole more than all the glow worms combined. Quennel thought,

   Ab asked finally while drawing his hands together, "Is it possible if you start with getting rid of all the perils residing in the river?"

   Ridge munched on the golden mango in his hand and hummed in assent. He swallowed and answered firmly, "I wil ask my substitute inventor in Haven Guantum to build an Argo float using my instructions lest he doesn't know how and have it propell to us so I could place it in the middle of the river. Based on my observations, the river on the west is rich in sediment, whereas the one on the center is rich in red algae. The risky particles that flow into the river contain more wavelengths than those that flow out of the river, so the main factor that we need to scratch the surface for is what is inside the river. Perhaps we can make our own rafts made out of gabions taken from the wilderness- just like how you two did with the hay- and brave those waters together. All of us." He shot sidelong glances at Mavis and Quennel and continued conspiratorially while wagging his finger, "All of us plus a certain cheeky puppeteer." His eyes glistened as he threw the pit of the mango onto the ground.

   All the while, just like the pit of the mango Ridge dropped, a rock was being kicked sloppily by a foot that seemed like it was clothed in white pants from the waist down to the heels. It was Ivan, who was trundling like a donkey heaving weight by the riverbank past the odd cave he did not bother to check. He rubbed his grey eye while his brown eye swept off the hints of yellow in the waters. He thought as he wheezed, "The message did not explicitly mention anything about the rendezvous, but it has to be beside the river to the west. Ridgester kept it cryptic, didn't he? Yeah, "between you and me" has to mean between land and water, which is a river. And the "tail of the message" is the west since tails of animal logos are usually pointing to the left. Meaning that I am getting closer to it. Oh boyster. We should have played Marco Polo instead."

   Ivan looked down at the message in his hands. He hadn't burned it with the incinerator like Ridge had written on another piece of paper inside the box; he was too much of a scaredy cat. He exhaled, looking around impatiently, "Where is everybody?"

   The firmament seemed to have answered Ivan's prayers; a young man with a double snipped cape, a brown beanie capping off his messy blonde locks, was in a frog squat with his elbows propping on either knee. From afar, Ivan could sense an aura of tension from the man's end. By the looks of it, he was chewing on a licorice pensively, smothering his own gloved hand with the crawling mosses attached to the riverbank.

   Ivan's chest hevaed in relief and he skipped to a sprint, heading towards the man grinningly. He hooted, "Finally! Somebody who is probably an accomplice of Ridgester!"

   He reached the man's side and flapped the paper in his hand. Taking the man to be an indulgent companion of Ridge in his outings, he purred as he patted his back, "Hey, hey. No need to be so down."

   The blonde man flinched and snapped his neck towards the dual color eyed stranger, his haunting crimson eyes wide ajar as if he had just woken up from his seventh slumber. In the fall of a rain droplet, he replaced the moss and sheathed out a dagger from what looked like nowhere, pinning down the excess fabric of Ivan's pants with its hilt and standing up abruptly to press it down with the back of his boot made out of reeds and tree bark. Mortified, Ivan gasped and tried to but to no avail; this blonde man who he deduced was not an indulgent companion of Ridge weighed a blimp. He even looked forbidding up close.

   The blonde man snarled and waved a piece of paper sandwiched between his index and middle finger. He said, his venomous voice cutting the air like scissors, "I should when a relative of mine was set on fire before rudely being taken by someone who thinks they are licensed to do so."

   Ivan gasped, but it was not a gasp of apprehension, it was a gasp of epiphany. He beamed and leaned forward, ignoring how the hilt of the dagger was essentially subduing him, "That must have been Ridge! He didn't tell me in this message that he had a duty to fulfill here, though he did mention that he was going to help me find his father. And what better way to do so than to delete anything dangerous along the way?" Ivan brandished the note and pointed at the piece of paper in the man's hand. "See? Although they come from different handwritings, they're written on the same type of paper. This can't be a coincidence."

   The man tilted his head to the side as he eyed the message Ivan was whirling around exuberantly in the air. A few seconds slid by until he scowled and looked at Ivan in the eye, forcing an inexplicably heavy eye contact with the other. He spoke sullenly as he bit the licorice in his freehand, "I need to meet this Ridge. My patience is starting to get at the seams, and I need to get it over. I have to confront him, for doggone's sake. Man to man." He stared off the distance and let his eyes soften. "Animals are getting obliterated in more ways than one. We don't need anymore troublemakers hurting them."

   "No offense, but you are wearing leather, so..."

   The blonde man clenched his jaw and locked eyes with Ivan again. He rebutted, "Those were deserved to be flayed; they also posed risks to my kinsmen. They were friends, not foes!"

   Ivan let out a sound of understanding. His pumpkin-carved mouth upturned and he muttered, slowly yanking the piece of paper in the man's hand and chucking both papers into the dextral river, "And you are a friend or foe?"

 The blonde man smirked and threw his head back. He let silence ring before he spoke while nimbly pulling the dagger out with his foot, catching it before it could land on the rough ground nose first. He replied with an air of arrogance, giving his licorice the final, slowest, and savoriest bite, "A friend of an animal is a friend of Lido."