Return of the Dragon Tamers: The Plague of Ogual

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  • 5kqe4m.png


    Return of the Dragon Tamers
    The time has come for the dragons and the humans to join forces once again...

    14aydd3.jpg



  • Hunting the Blackshire Stags

    Narien, Illyria, Avren, Pomona

    Reverie, Xylia, Alder, Saira



  • Terria has been rescued and returned safely to the meadow. Her retrieval came at the cost of another talented tamer: Goliath, and his dragon Hezekiah. Terria slumbers in sickness of the body and the mind even as Merrik has spent more than a week at her side, healing her thrice daily, doing everything in his power to bring her back to the Order.

    The party that ventured to eastern Galidus to sort out the issues in Kibran returned with a new stranger who turned out to be the bondmate of the Valor dragoness, Andraste. Alder Grey has joined the ranks of the Order and now works to find his place.

    Shortly after the Order's reuniting in the meadow, a council was called the a vote was ordered for the army's next tactical move. With the votes in, the Order is now set on unlocking the memories of the strange man Bren and travelling to Galidus to meet with the new king, Kylvest Brohn of Trespa while simultaneously meeting with the People of Dragons elders.

    Before the Order sets off once more, they are taking time to return to their training at the meadow and heal their hearts and bodies. At current, Merrik has chosen to mix things up and brought the Order out to the north-eastern woods to hunt for Obsidian Nova's favorite game: Blackshire Stags. After a great deal of drama in Kibran regarding Merrik's decisions on leadership, he hopes that the Order will begin to sort itself out within the ranks and grow to trust each other more deeply in a time when trust among comrades is a necessity.




  • Character Hex Colors
    [spoili]
    Aerarya is #800080
    Saira is #33cccc
    Merrik is Red
    Nova is Black with Shadow and Italic.
    Avren is Green
    Viridian is Yellow Green with Italic.
    Terria is Dark Azure
    Taega is Medium Gray with Glow and Italic.
    Requiem is Maroon
    Aleria is Dark Green.
    Agni color is #999999
    Narien is #0092b3

    [/spoili]​
    Soulserenity20 ---- Merrik Tetra ----- Obsidian Nova, Nightmare Dragon
    Soulserenity20 -----Terria Tetra ----- Ataegana Kuu'iah, Lunar Dragon
    Soulserenity20 -----Avren Lebram ----- Viridian, Forest Dragon
    Rainjay -----Saira Rinien ----- Aerarya, Atmosphere Dragon
    Rainjay -----Illyria Rowena Renthir ----- Mirazh, Desert Dragon
    Firejay1 -----Narien Ki'ila ----- Angi, Arcane Dragon
    White -----Rèverie Gray ----- Celeste, Celestial Dragon
    Mowkie ----- Pomona Ayelet Muldell ----- Katla, Vanity Dragon
    Mowkie ----- Alder Balthazar Grey ----- Andraste, Valor Dragon
    Crimson77 ----- Xylia Kalei Iwalani ----- Deventh, Swamp Dragon

  • Tetra Estate - Coliseum, 8:17am

    The morning air was cool and crisp, the last signs of Winter nipping at Spring's hold on the lands. There was a deep fog rolling in over the eastern forest, blanketing the ancient trees with an eerie, chilling veil. A pair of deep green eyes scanned the surrounding landscape from a hundred feet in the air. Their owner felt no fear, no discomfort of the altitude, being as much at home in the skies as he was on the earth. While the height and the crisp morning air did not bother him, a deep concern was festering within the corners of his mind. It was not unusual for worry and concern to waft about in his thoughts, but the intensity of today's concern was unprecedented.

    There was a silence that surrounded him, cocooning him in its peaceful tendrils, broken only by the steady whoosh of powerful wings. With each heavy downbeat, the man in the sky would exhale, taking in the pristine air the ancient woods provided and letting it out in a meditative manner. His dark hair swayed gently, not by breeze, but by wing-beat. The man was concentrating on the legend that was about to begin a hundred feet below him. The man was sorting out his thoughts, organizing his concerns, perfecting his plan of action. Worrying. Concerning himself. Stressing.

    The mind is of no use when it is tangled and knotted with stress and worry.

    Merrik Tetra opened his eyes as a wave of reassurance swept into his mind, settling what had been stirred up, putting his last lingering thoughts in the right place, and shouldering the mental burden that so commonly threatened to crush him.

    "Your wisdom could not have been more welcome. But to execute concern would be unwise. Today the stories of the world will shift mid-sentence, a new chapter forcing its way into a tale of growing darkness. Today the legends of old will be reborn, history repeating itself at the hands of peril upon these lands." Though his lips did not move and no sound rang out into the air, his words found their way into the mind that commanded the wings beating powerfully at Merrik's sides.

    The man in the sky was not alone.

    A hundred feet above the Tetra Estate, a creature of myth lingered in the air, sustained by the grip of its thick wing membranes on the cool morning air. The creature was massive, larger than any common animal of the lands, and it wore a cloak of scales as black as a night sky devoid of any stars. Blood red eyes that made every onlooker feel like prey blinked slowly as they stared at the distant fog bank. It's vast wings, cloaked in the same obsidian scales that coated the beast's muscular body, wore rings, red as the most scalding lava.

    The creature was a dragon. A Nightmare Dragon, to be specific; a beast of legends and fairy tales from a time long ago, long before the memories of even the oldest human. For hundreds of years the sound of heavy wing-beats parting the air could not be heard in these lands, or any other for that matter. For hundreds of years, the great draconic race was thought to have been extinct, perished by the hands of elves or man or even time itself.

    Few would believe their eyes. But Merrik Tetra would not so much as blink at the site of such a creature, for the dragon of nightmares and terror that claimed the skies was his dragon, and Merrik was its human. They were soulmates, best friends, companions, one.

    More than 2 decades ago, when Merrik was just a little boy, he was brought down into a damp, dark cellar in the depths of his family's manor. There, he received an egg. From within that egg came a voice, though not one any other person would hear, unless it so chose to be heard. Within that egg was a hatchling nightmare dragon, the same drake upon which Merrik sat at that very moment. The dragon was given to him by a strange, mysterious old man who called himself The Oracle. This man changed Merrik's life, shifted his path of fate to one of severity and ultimatum. His life for the next two years was leading up to this moment, this cool spring morning.

    Today, Merrik was going to form an army, a re-birthed order of old, summoned up again to bring forth a the great protectors of Illos. Today, Merrik was going to change the lives of a group of individuals, the very same individuals that stood a hundred feet below him in the center of a coliseum. Behind the doors that lined the walls of the coliseum were more dragons. More disbelief shattered by flesh and blood. Two years ago, Merrik had once again been summoned into that musky cellar where The Oracle appeared once agian. This time, Merrik didn't receive one egg; he received an entire clutch, each one a different color, texture and size.

    From those eggs hatched dragons, one of each of the draconic species, apart from the Nightmares. Those hatchlings had spent the last two years of their lives growing and learning from Merrik and his dragon, Obsidian Nova. They were being trained and prepared for this very day, this moment. Each of the drakes behind those heavy wooden doors lacked a piece of its soul, a part of it that could never have been filled. Not until now.

    The group of people standing, uncertain in the middle of the coliseum, were chosen long ago, though they could not have known it. The Oracle had selected them at birth, when their souls entered into their bodies with their first breath. Each soul chosen, was the missing half of one of the dragons below. And today, those two souls would collide and fuse together, changing the fate of Illos forever.

    "They know so little of what is to come." Came Merrik's soundless voice from his own mind into the dragon's.
    The less they know, the less they can fear and fight what is to be. Though we know that each of the humans below is the soulmate of one of our yearlings, the yearlings do not know for certain. They believe that these are mere potential candidates for the bond. They will test them just as a wild dragon would have tested the first of the dragonlords so long ago. The humans will pass these tests, of this we have been assured by The Oracle. Everything is set into motion.

    Let their oblivion be their guide, for both dragon and human. Let the bond work in its natural ways, it will give them strength in the long run. The humans MUST prove themselves to their drake, not only for tradition's sake, but to unlock the power that hides within their blood. Tamers are not made, they are born at the very moment a dragon's soul awakens. In that moment, the two become connected, separated only by distance and time. The tamers have an ancient magic within their veins, though they do not know it yet.

    Today, the bond with unlock that magic and change their lives forever. We should not delay it any longer.

    Obsidian Nova had a way about him that commanded submission and trust. There was no one else in the world that could calm and reassure Merrik in such a way as the black dragon. Nova had an ancient wisdom to him that came with being a direct descendant of one of the first bonded dragons of the Order of Old. Though merely 21 by age, the dragon's wisdom went on for centuries. Merrik agreed without a word or thought.

    With perfect intent-directed synchrony, the dragon descended, lowing the pair and coming to rest on a great stone perch that sat at the head of the coliseum. As the dragon's talons touched down on the stone and his great wingspan retracted to a resting position, Merrik stood up from his place at the base of Nova's neck and slipped down off the dragon's back without a sliver of difficulty, landing on the thick, stone perch below.

    The attention of the visitors in the centre of the round mass of earth focused on him. Some eyes shone with excitement, others with a sly intent, and others with a plain annoyance. There was too much personality within that circle for Merrik to handle all at once. He silently thanked the gods of old that he didn't have to get up close and personal with the entire group just yet. For now, the focus of attention was on dragons, and Merrik was completely at home in the realm of dragons.

    "You have all be told of your purpose for standing her today. I can understand if some or many of your minds linger in disbelief, this is an event of dreams and myth. But make no mistake, you are here to become heroes, legends, and leaders. You are here to become one with beasts of old, powerful creatures not seen in these lands for hundreds of years." He walked to the end of the perch, balancing casually on the round, stone hold.

    "The doors that surround you are the temporary dens of the dragons of Illos. The doors will open in a few moments. You must all be strong, be fast, and be brave. Today, you become dragon tamers."
    Then, Merrik's deep green eyes became twice as vibrant as any human's and he swirled his right index finger in a curious manner, concentration clear on his expression. The doors slid open, lifting up to reveals cascading plumes of steam as the temperature difference made itself apparent. The cool morning air welcomed the sound of wingbeats, too many to count, as a mass of dragons shot out of the dark spaces and soared up into the air. Flames of every color decorated the skies, scaled beasts of every shape, size and color bolted about before peeling off from the group and honing in on select individuals.

    One of the dragons shot a jet of colored flame down at the ground, nearing searing one of the soon-to-be tamers. The tests had begun.

    Merrik and Nova watched silently as the young dragons they had raised from hatchlings attacked, questioned, chased, scared, and tested the group of visitors. Each was seeking a human worthy of their soul, of their life, of their bond. Each would find a human, though they did not know it, and until then, they would test their worthiness endlessly. Merrik pitied the men and women below, for they had not been informed of what the bond was, nor were they informed of the fact that the tests the dragons subjected them to would look more like an attack than anything, despite the fact that the drakes would not actually harm them. This pity went away mere moments after it arrived as Nova's presence in his soul shifted with the drake's emotion. Any amount of terror and confusion was worth the bond of dragon and tamer.

  • Combat Event Guide
    +Steps+
    1. GM Scenario Introduction.​
    2. Player Response. Combat Begins.​
    3. GM Response to Combat. Required die roll will be presented.​
    4. Player Response. Player Roll. Player may close combat.​
    5. GM Combat Close Response (if necessary)​

    +Basics Behind the Rolls+

    Three Types of Opponents: Basic, Challenging, and Boss.
    Basic: Just classic battling. It is generally expected that your character can handle this with general ease.
    Challenging: These will require higher rolls and a bit of strength in whatever technique the character uses to attack.
    Boss: These will require the best rolls, the most creativity, and the best weaponry/spells/approaches suited to the character.

    Three Types of Character Approaches: Strength, Weakness, Long Shot.
    Strength: The character attacks within their class/strength/ability.
    Weakness: The player attacks in a class/ability that they are not necessarily comfortable or entirely skilled at.
    Long Shot: The player is being an idiot and doing something that would never work unless the die gods are on their sides.

    +How Opponent Types and Character Approaches work together+
    BASIC OPPONENT
    Strength Base Roll: 12
    Weakness Base Roll: 14
    Long Shot Base Roll: 16


    CHALLENGING OPPONENT
    Strength Base Roll: 14
    Weakness Base Roll: 16
    Long Shot Base Roll: 20


    BOSS OPPONENT
    Strength Base Roll: 18
    Weakness Base Roll: 20
    Long Shot Base Roll: 25 (requires stat bonus)


    NOTE: In a boss battle, there will be much more discretion for creativity and teamwork between players. Successful rolls will mean successful hits, NOT kills. Furthermore, for boss rolls, because they are much more difficult, the player will get a 'second chance' roll if their first roll is not successful.
    In Step 3, where the GM presents the required roll, it will have the relevant stats already added in and will be presented in a manner to explain the reason the roll is what it is. Stats are applied by level of skill, as portrayed:
    5% = Beginner ----> No Mod
    10% = Applicable ----> No Mod
    20% = Novice ----> +1
    30% = Adept ----> +2
    45% = Advanced ----> +3
    50% = Expert ----> +4
    65% = Sage (Mortal Mastery) ----> + 5

    Example:
    Shirin Vs. Challenging Opponent, Strength (Longsword)
    Base Roll: 14
    35% in long sword, +2 Bonus
    14% in valor, +1 Bonus
    14% in strength, +1 Bonus.


    14 - 2 - 1 - 1 = 10 Required.

    The player will then post a blank post with "Rolling..." posted and then roll a 20 sided dice (D20) on that post. Then the player will post a SECOND post with their response in accordance with how their roll went. They can wrap it up themselves (Step 4), or the GM can add a post in at the end to wrap it up accordingly.

    WARNING: If you delete ANY POSTS in these events, I will assume you're trying to cheat and get a better roll. I don't want any explanations, I won't believe a word you say, and I'll roll FOR you with a penalty of 5 added onto the battle. This means, for example, Shirin would need a 15 instead of a 10. If you make a mistake, for example, roll a D6, or roll twice. LEAVE IT. I have eyes. I can see the mistakes.​
[spoili][/spoili]
 
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Avren was about to snap back at Narien that he was not, in fact, in need of any privacy with Saira for he had not actually come here with invitation or even permission, really. He lifted his finger, mouth open as he began to say "Good sir, I'm shaken by your assumptions" when the voice of a goddess descended from above him.

Avren paled. This was it. He'd done it now. Saira had caught him in her quarters without permission or invitation of any kind and according to his book on gentleman-ness, he had broken her trust, invaded her privacy, and devalued her worth as a contributing member of society. Or... something along those lines. The book kind of jumbled all together in his mind.

He turned slowly to face her, so as to not insult her further. "H-hello Miss Saira..." He struggled to make eye contacting, feeling rather exposed here in this building in which he did not live and in this stall in which he was not welcome. "We er, well, I ... erm... I. Well I suppose I do not belong here! What brings me here is my lack of manners. I apologize, I should be leaving now to think about what I've done. Pardon me!" He spun on his heels and strode forward to leave, but unfortunately a certain Arcane Tamer was positioned directly behind him and instead of leaving the room, he collided with the man. "Deuhhh!" He shouted once more. "How the bloody realms did you get there?" He was patting Narien's tunic, readjusting the attire that he had just messed up by crashing into him, frantically repairing the damage from his mistake. He suddenly realized he was still invading the man's space and he stopped awkwardly, pat Narien on the head once and then dropped his head as he side stepped to leave the embarrassing scene once and for all.
 
"Good sir, I'm shaken by your assumptions." Avren scoffed in a scolding fashion. Is that so, my dear sir? Narien thought to himself, still fighting the urge to laugh. And then Sairantha's voice sounded from behind Avren. "And what brings you two gentlemen here, today?" Why, we're just here for a spot of tea, my dulcet darlng. I do hope we are not imposing. We were discussing the weather and our dearest Avren's little crush on a lady of some prestige. Would you be so kind as to join us? It rather escaped him why they were exchanging "gentlemen"s and "sir"s, but it was delightful sport. Even more delightful: the color Avren's face turned at the sound of her voice. The look on his face was something that bordered on horror.

In her quarters, Agni lifted her head from her musings. Narien's current state of mind pleased her greatly. It was true he greatly enjoyed amusing himself with verbal vagaries, but it was rare that he found others' company as a source of pleasure. It was clear he did not respect Avren in any sense of the word, but at the very least he enjoyed his company. Especially with his relationship with Sairantha. As far as Agni saw it, Avren's crush gave Narien a.. safe medium in which to think of Sairantha. After the events of the day before, it had become suddenly clear to Narien (and not so suddenly clear to Agni) that he was becoming rather close to the archer. In his estimation, too close. In Agni's estimation, closer than he liked but not closer than he ought. Why shouldn't he have a friend? Of course, he'd have to finally drop his guard and be himself with her, but all of these things were at least a step in the right direction, as far as she saw. For the moment, however, she kept these thoughts to herself and Narien paid no attention to them.

Avren turned around with the grace and speed of a dying spider, stammering some form of apology before turning around and slamming into Narien. He gave another shocked shout, and practically screamed in Narien's face, "How the bloody realms did you get there?" He hardly knew how this man could be an experienced tracker and hunter when he could not even seem to remember where someone was standing five seconds ago. Then again, men in love.... The Arcane tamer's urge to laugh conflicted heavily with his urge to stab the other man in the stomach as he proceeded to be primped and tidied like a baby. Over Avren's shoulder, he cast Sairantha a half-confused, half-desperate "save me" look. He blinked as he was patted on the head, but as the Forest tamer attempted to sidle away, Narien snagged his sleeve.

"W-wait! Weren't you- I mean, I really didn't mean to intrude on anything." He bit the inside of his upper lip and gave Sairantha an anxious smile. He let go of Avren's sleeve and said to both of them with a quiet smile, "I don't want to be a bother. I was hoping Avren could teach me some healing mana, but it sounds like he wanted to talk to you instead." He gave a short nod in Sairantha's direction.
 

[fieldbox="Old Wounds, orange, solid, Georgia"] [dash="goldenrod"]

Aegnor was furious.

He supposed he should still be mantled with the honors of victory: he had, after a fashion, bested Hezekiah even if their contest of arms had been closer to a draw in reality. Though the pair fought with minimal use of their talons, teeth, and so forth, the sentient lump of metal with wings had still managed to knick Aegnor bloody. In the heat of battle, the pain had been fleeting, momentary, an annoyance, but now, left to his own devices, the aching and piercing throbs of fresh hurts panged through him.

And so, like any member of his species would in such a situation, he sulked and fumed to himself off in the woods.

For the moment Aegnor had settled himself down in a clearing, carved out a dugout, and warmed the soil and rock underneath with his fiery breath. He now used that breath on his wounds to seal them, the burning hardly registering in his mind. It was a mildly unpleasant situation, but he would never admit to needing human healers to tend to him.

The fire drake's head lifted when he heard a sudden snap of a tree branch up above.

Who's there?

Agni had observed the "friendly" spar with a sort of mild trepidation. She had no particularly strong feelings on it, but the two of them were hotheads, and she was sure one or other of them would end up angry at the end of it. She had cautioned against it at the beginning, but of course they had taken no notice of her. She had settled down to watch the spar with her other clutchmates, setting her growing body against the grass some distance away, worry quietly hidden away in the back of her mind. When at last the fight was done and Aegnor had flown off to the woods, she had waited for a moment, then let out a long, soft breath and risen.

Although only a year old, Agni Lu'ule was already growing into a somewhat bulky dragon. The markings of raw mana on her skin seemed to ripple as her whole body shifted slightly. She opened her wings calmly, then with a heavy flap pushed herself into the air. Her glowing white eyes scanned the forest for signs of her brethren with their usual impassive gaze. Agni loved her brethren equally, but at the end of a fight, she found Aegnor more worrisome than even the loser, Hezekiah. Aegnor was sulkier than Hezekiah. She smiled fondly to herself at the mildly joking thought. Perhaps it was more that Aegnor was more likely to go stomping off into the woods to lick his wounds proud and alone that worried her. Hezekiah was more... well, robust. She chuckled lightly remembering the loud, angry demand for a rematch the other dragon had been howling.

She flew some ways, doubling back a bit in her search, then noticed the clearing the Fire dragon had made for himself. She flew closer to the woods to confirm, snapping a couple tree branches as she got too close. She heard. It was him.

Flying down further, she landed with a hard thud on the ground in the clearing beside him, settling herself down comfortably a short ways away. She wasn't getting in his way, just sitting and observing in relative silence, not bothering to answer his question. She blew out a long, cool breath from her nostrils, a gesture of comfort she had not intended to develop. This is why I told you not to spar. She said in a quiet, neutral manner, putting her head on her paws. Are you much hurt? She asked with light amusement. She did not bother suggesting he go to the monks. It would certainly only make him angry. If he wasn't already.

Oh yes, I will just emulate the great thinkers and philosophers of my kind throughout the ages and, as the humans might say, "hang up my sword", Aegald huffed out a plume of acrid black smoke and snorted. Blackmaw the Thrice Cursed, Valkyia the Pillager, truly great thinkers of their time. I am an Inferno dragon, what good am I if I cannot fight?

A low chuckle rumbled from Agni's throat. This was why she liked speaking to Aegnor, his quick-burning emotions and sharp tongue amused her, though she herself probably seemed like a stuffed shirt to him. It is not the fighting itself that drew my suggestion. What good is any of us if we cannot fight? We are dragons. She readjusted her wings a bit comfortably and continued, Yet here you are, even in your victory, seeking solitude. She let out another long breath that was simply a sigh this time, before tilting her head on her paws a bit to look at him with one, disconcerting white eye. What does it mean when the victor hides?

Does it have to mean anything? Aegnor pondered aloud.

The dragon let the statement hang in the air for a moment, finally readjusting himself to see Agni. Though this was unnecessary - unlike vocal communication, their mental link did not lose its volume to echoing, bouncing, and so on, it was common courtesy.

Though quite honestly, I would not call it a victory in the strictest sense, he stated abruptly. I'm not sure Hezekiah can feel anything in the physical sense. I believe he was simply done with our little bout. I am curious as to why you followed me, though.

Agni did not answer his first question, taking it and storing it away to mull over further later. Did he not wish her to know? Or did he truly not think his actions here had meaning?

Another small chuckle rumbled forth at the suggestion that Hezekiah had simply been "done." You do not acknowledge your victory even when the loser howls for a chance at revenge. Very well, say he was simply done. At least you may claim a win of endurance than true submission. Perhaps I followed you because I was curious why you would leave. She smiled gently in her own way. And perhaps I stay because I am curious as to why you appear, to some extent, dissatisfied.

You misunderstand the issue, Aegnor snapped. It has nothing to do with dissatisfaction.

The inferno drake shifted his wings to expose several jagged cuts and scrapes across his torso, snorting as he did so. Several of them had been cauterized by the dragon's fiery breath, the others still shone through red with dried or drying blood.

Momentary anger and frustration, he continued. It lurks, still, but I no longer feel like drowning out the world in fire and blood.

Agni did not respond to his brief display of anger, still watching him impartial as ever, but she felt... it was difficult to describe. Perhaps calmed by his emotion so quickly come and gone. Drowning the world in fire and blood... She repeated the phrase softly, as if tasting a small candy of sorts. The Arcane dragon could not imagine ever feeling that way. She knew sadness, and even frustration, but anger.... She had little experience with it. The angrier, more frustrated, more frightened others became, the calmer she found herself. She had been in pain before, but rarely did that result in the anger he seemed to feel.

In a sense, she almost envied him. In some ways, brother, you make me think of the humans. Do you suppose bonding will teach me this anger of yours that wishes to drown the world in fire and blood? It is a funny thought. Her eye stayed trained on him, her lowered head unmoving.

You would do well to remember I am a dragon, not a human, Aegnor retorted, temper flaring again as he bared his fangs in a snarl. Or have you forgotten? Our similarities are few. Two separate beings, bound by fate and a common propensity for language, little more.

Agni Lu'ule had always been about as easy to frighten as she was to anger. She lifted her head and gave a short puff of breath to flow over his snout, the way one might blow out a flame. Don't be angry with me. I did not say you were a human. She said quietly. But for all you seem to hold them in disdain, it appears to me that you understand the strength of their feelings in a way I do not. She stood up and ruffled her wings. And that is enviable in my estimation, for it is our fate to someday become one with one of their kind. It is not so terrible a thing to be able to relate to them a little. He did not understand, she thought with a sort of mild disappointment. But it was too much to expect anyone know another's intentions, so she could not fault him for it.

Perhaps you are right, Aegnor grudgingly allowed, releasing the closest to a sigh he could mimic. It is difficult to remain angered at you long, Agni.

The two sank into an amicable silence and watched as the clouds gathered overhead...

The world itself waits, the inferno dragon remarked to himself. Fitting.

[/dash][/fieldbox]

[fieldbox="Back to the Present, orange, solid, Georgia"] [dash="goldenrod"]

Oh, is it that obvious, Hez? Aegnor asked in mock disbelief. I do try to mask it, truly. If you believe you can haul yourself over to the training grounds, I might be persuaded.

Aegnor stretched and opened his wings, craning his neck to peer into the stall he shared with Nimrieyle. Despite her protests - and, though he would never admit it, because of - to being called by her full name, the dragon had refrained from resorting to the nickname just as she refused to call him anything other than Aegnor. The stall was empty. Satisfied - momentarily flitting in to eavesdrop on what his bondmate was hearing - Aegnor rose to his feet gracefully and exhaled a plume of smoke.

See? He said to his tamer. Not quite so difficult. He knocked, granted, but you answered.

Bugger off, Nimrieyle replied.

You and I know you censored yourself out of formality. The gesture is appreciated, but unnecessary if I know what you would have said regardless.

What are you, my mother?

Aegnor chuckled low in his throat.

I certainly hope not. I am, after all, a toddler by your standards.

Go fight 'Hez, lizard. She had resorted to using 'lizard' as, he could only assume, an affectionate term, but it still agitated him every time she used it.

Oh, and kick his ass, yeah?

[/dash][/fieldbox]

Credit to @firejay1!
 
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Goliath and Hezekiah

Goliath met Xylia's offer of her hand and offered her the same warriors handshake by the forearm that he had done previously with Nim. After, the soldier smiled and rested both his hands on his hips, "Xylia Iwalani Kalei", he made a face as a thought crossed his mind.. a little worried he botched the pronunciation, but upon hearing her name, he had realized where she was from. The woman was from Nepa Village, which lied in the northeastern lands of Calidar, "Another tamer from Calidar!", he smiled at the woman and continued, "Welcome to The Order, Xylia", this time correcting his tongue to pronounce her name better.

When Xylia turned her head down the hall and asked if it was always eventful at the estate, Goliath listened as Narien and Avren talked loudly in Saira's quarters down the hall, "It generally is this eventful with so many tamers around, it was like this before the defense of Ylandre. Most of us are trying to get in some extra training and prepare our minds."

The soldier turned his head after he was done speaking and saw that Aislin had joined the group in the hall. Goliath shrugged at her question, "Not really sure, the last time I saw Commander Tetra was last night at dinner" , he placed his right hand on his chin and pondered, "And I didn't see him south of the estate where Hez and I trained, so maybe he's north somewhere?"

Goliath looked to Xylia and Nim, "I don't suppose the commander told either of you where he was going to be?"

---

<How about after the siege on Kuhl, a little warm-up before>, the iron dragon smiled as his sarcasm settled. He sat straight as he talked with Aegnor, the dragon of fire. Hezekiah had enjoyed Aegnor's company when they were yearlings and Aegnor was one of the dragons that matured much faster than the others, quickly making Aegnor worthy enough to be his rival.

<It's good to have you back Aegnor, it puts me at ease that you will be with us for this next battle>, Hezekiah stretched out his wings and then brought them back to his sides, <It felt weird without you or Deventh around.>
 
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Before they knew it, war was upon them.

The Queen of Encilis had fulfilled her promise and arrived at precisely when she said she was going to, army in tow, stretching across miles of the old wood. Thousands, she had brought with her, and yet they were but a portion of her strength. Immediately behind her were a group of rather horrid looking men, most bore wretched scars or blackened ink marks all across their bodies. They were all shapes and sizes, but had two things in common: they were muscular, and they were dressed in black. Merrik stared at them cautiously from atop his dragon’s back. “The Shadows of Ashaar.” He thought to himself. “There must be more than a hundred here.” Rumor had it there was less than 500 of the warriors: a small portion of Valaeria’s elite force. Overall, she had close to 30,000 elite warriors within her army of near 400,000, but the few hundred dressed in black were the most frightening portion.

One particular individual made Merrik nervous. He wore plain black clothes like the others, but his face was covered by a black hood and a mask in the colors of the Queen, with nothing more than a narrow slit where his dark eyes peered through. He rode a black Xixen and remained very close to Valaeria at all times. What unnerved Merrik the most of this… dark, portion of the queen’s army was that he firmly believed their loyalty lied with the queen, and the queen alone. Not with the nation, not with Illos, but with Valaeria herself. He reminded himself not to cross her and moved his attention on from the dark figures at the front of the line to the more… normal ones further back. It seemed she brought thousands of her elite. She had mentioned to him that they were discernable by the color of the kraken on their armour. A standard Encilian warrior bore the kraken in the iron of his armour, the cavalry bore it in bronze, and the elite of her troops bore it in Gold. She bore hers in emerald green and sapphire.

As Merrik soared over the skies above the length of the army as they marched, he felt mixed feelings of hope an omen within him. To the west, the remaining portion of Norvik’s army marched to meet their king at the mining tunnel where they would join up with his own elite and march on to battle. The Queen, accompanied by the tamers, would meet Norvik’s men at the western base of the Bodhra and from there, they would march over and under the mountain to where their siege camp was already being assembled. His tamers had been given their tasks and he felt as though most of them were well prepared. It was everything he could do not to consider how easy it would be for Ogual to rid the Order of their new additions, rather he relied on the dragons to defend their tamers if it came to it. At the very least, he trusted in the ability of the dragons.

All seemed to be falling into place. The armies of Encilis stormed across the landscape below. The shadows of dragons adorned the earth and the call of war horns echoed in the distance as Norvik’s sentinels spotted the dragons approaching the mountains. They reached the entrance to the cave and took a few hours to run over things one more time and by high noon, they were pushing through the tunnels.

The belly of the mountains was cold and Merrik felt the weight of the air pressing all around him. Obsidian Nova and Taega walked in the front while he, Valaeria, Norvik, and three of each of their men strolled just behind. Valaeria’s golden armor, adorned with gemstones of every color and plumage so fitting to her custom attire, gleamed faintly in the light of the torches and dragon flames. Norvik’s armor shone very little, for it was old and battleworn, a dark brown leather with a green cloak clasped with a tree-shaped piece of petrified wood. Merrik wore the armor he had received from his father. It had once belonged to Merrikhai, or so it was said. Merrik had a hard time believing armor could last so long, regardless of the preservation spells that veiled it. The armor was black with a thick pelt adorning one shoulder. His cuirass bore the sigil of the dragonlords, set into the metal with blood rubies. Its weight was only slightly foreign to him, for he trained most often in full attire, save the chest-piece. The rest of the tamers wore their own armor and if they had none, they were gifted high-quality armor from the Tetra armory. They were well-equipped and looked a fair bit fiercer in full armor than they did on any regular training day. They almost looked like an army.

It would take the entirety of the night and well into the day for the army to pass through the caves entirely. The siege campsite was another hour or two away and by noon of that next day, the Order and their allies flooded the camp, working together to establish themselves. Merrik had sent Saira and Aislin out on their first scouting mission to assess what the rest of the area surrounding Kuhl looked like.

Off in the near distance the great walls of the fallen capital lay nestled into the landscape, spanning a vast distance both across the horizon and up it. Merrik had been to Kuhl only a handful of times before it fell to Ogual. He remembered its splendor. But that was more than a decade ago and since then, Ogual’s forces were rotting the great city from the inside out. He wondered what was residing within the mighty walls of the central castle. What horrors did the fortress protect? Was it Ogual himself? One of his elite abominations? In due time, he hoped, they would find out.

The Order had settled into the camp and after helping set up for three days, they were at last approaching the last hours before the attack. The siege camp had gone up swiftly, thanks largely to the construction methods introduced to the group by the Sylvian armies who held old techniques used for building and demolishing camps quickly and efficiently in any environment. Each tent took only a few short steps to assemble in this manner and with the help of the experienced siege warriors of the south, the barricades and wooden spike walls went up with ease. The dragons burrowing through the earth with ease, creating deep trenches and with the mighty, scaled beasts securing and surveying the skies, the army felt confident. It was hard to feel helpless under the shadows of flying dragons.

It was the eve before battle. The tamers were preparing their armor, weapons, and minds. The leaders of the armies were meeting one last time before the initial attack. The dragons were hyper burning the darkening skies, a sort of self-cleaning mechanism that was dangerous on the ground or in close vicinities to others for the flames they produced blazed hotter than any other. The heat rippled in the sky and the armies stood silently in awe at the display of multicolored flames as they jet out across the open air. There was no reason to hide anymore. No reason to deceive Ogual or anyone else about the number of dragons that called Illos home. War was upon them.
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"It is as she had spoken. She arrived," Celeste commented as she and her little tamer stood side by side with the other tamer before the army that was the queen's. Some of the tamer stood in fine armory provided for it by themself, others, like Reverie herself, in armor provided to her by the Order. The armor laid uncomfortably on her, she was not used to any weight like this and she struggled to put it on a lot, the little she remembered from seeing from her father did little to aid her in this endavour and before she lost her mind on this struggle, one of the other tamer helped her.

A hand rested on the sword of a sword that she asked Merrik to have borrowed from him and the order as her eyes gazed upon the army of Ota... She shook her head. This is not the past repeated. This is not a lost battle. This is a different army under a different banner in different circumstances. "... and this time I can affect the outcome," she mumbled, steeling her resolve.

The first day of march proved to be irritating and exhausting to Reverie, the weight of the armor slowed her down and her own lack of strength made her curse thispiece of steel internally. On the first night's rest, she used the chance to stow it away and to move from there on forward without it until they arrived where they needed to be.

They meet up with the army of Sylvis and new ranks were quickly formed. In a city parade, the united armies would be an astonishing sight of glory, peace and unity... giving any who sought to see this a feeling of strength, courage and believe that nobody could stand against them.

And soon the time was there.

Reverie never looked at the soldiers themself. Never looked at the city. Never spoke to any of them and kept her distance from everybody else. She felt it in her bones, what is to come, how many would die, how all of it would burn in the flames of war.
And she was almost afraid. Almost. There was only a single path forward for her.
She did this, not because she had to, not because of some act of fate, she did this to bring an end, an end to this threat that destroys family, rips apart families and strikes fear into those that have seen it first hand.

She watched Celeste and the other dragons, as they together, created the first flames of war. The first flames of victory.
Instinctively, she drew that borrowed sword determined, pointed it up to the peak of flames and in a firm voice "For the future, to victory.""
 

Through correspondence in the form of letters from his own mother, Helena Atreus, the soldier had learned about the mixed feelings toward Queen Valeria taking her army north to help the northern provinces of Illos. Goliath read that the cities populace was generally split down the middle, one side supporting her efforts to go, the other questioning why she decided to meddle in the problems of those who the south had warred with for centuries. Encilis and Calidar had been living in peace for the majority of the Queen's reign and citizens across Calidar who had not been directly effected by the plague of Ogual were vocally against their provinces involvement in a war that "wasn't theirs to fight". Goliath's mother was concerned that the morale of the Calidarian army, due to its size and how word was spreading, would have many doubters and potential defectors, and she had urged her son to reveal himself to the fighting men; to inspire and "temper the steel within their hearts".

During the flight, Goliath discussed with Merrik his plan to boost morale and the commander was unopposed as long as the soldier returned to flight formation when he was finished, that the display would be quick and wouldn't account for any loss of time.

When the army of Encilis came into view, Goliath patted Hezekiah under a large sharp scale with his gloved hand, Time to show the army who they're fighting beside, send a message to the Queen and request that she halts the march so that we may salute her and the army, the soldier grinned under his helmet. When he had left Calidar for his own personal crusade across Illos to fight the plague, the people of Encilis gathered in the streets to wish him farewell, the city knew he was still alive but this would be his official declaration to the fighting men and women of Encilis that he had not forgotten where he was from.

<Right>, Hezekiah nodded and broke from formation with the other dragons to circle around the Encilian army from overhead, he then telepathically messaged the Queen in a noble tone he had practiced the night before, <Your highness, If it please you, Goliath and I wish to have the honor of saluting you and your men and saying some words>

Queen Valeria lifted her right golden gauntlet and the army halted in disciplined unison. Alright Hez, you ready? Just as we planned remember?, Goliath prepared himself and adjusted the shield on his back, the iron kraken of Calidar atop the iron crested wood.

<Yeah yeah>, the iron dragon replied casually, <Just make sure you don't botch the jump>, the dragon tilted his head down and descended upon the army from behind, his wingspan and torso shadowing the ground as he distanced himself 40 feet above their heads.

When the tamer and dragon passed over the Shadows of Ashaar and her royal highness Queen Valeria, Hezekiah positioned himself lower and Goliath leaped from the back of the saddle. The man landed on the rocky surface and rolled perfectly as he had practiced multiple times during the week and Hezekiah turned to land directly behind him, sand kicked up in all directions and the ground shook as the dragon touched down.

The two padded forward and at an appropriate distance Goliath removed his helm, the wind blew his golden hair behind his shoulders, his black bandanna kept the rest from running rampant across his brow. Goliath knelt and Hezekiah bowed to the Queen and shortly after they were permitted to stand with a small gesture and smile from Goliath's beloved cousin. The soldier was adorned in his studded heavy leather armor with the iron kraken of Calidar blazed across the breast and when he stood he placed his helmet under his left arm and slammed his right fist over his heart in a formal soldier salute. The man was about to speak but hesitated as he heard the Shadows of Ashaar and the entire army join him in the same salute. Hezekiah was impressed by the enormous sound that was produced by hundreds of soldiers joining his tamer in such a simple gesture.

In a projected and booming yell, Goliath stood firm in his saluted position as he addressed his comrades,"Sisters and Brothers of Calidar! Today I am honored to fight alongside with one of the greatest armies Illos has ever known! No longer will we ignore the corruption that has plagued these lands! We will stand and fight with our allies in the north to drive the forces of evil back into the darkness!! We will show the northerners that Calidar will not sit idly by while the innocent are slaughtered! Our blades will be soaked in the blood of our enemy and our hearts will be tempered steel!! For Honor! For Glory! For Calidar! For the Queen!! For Illos!!..", Goliath drew his shortsword swiftly from his scabbard and held it out, the blade pointed flat and extended diagonally, his arm adjacent with his chin. Queen Valeria drew her jeweled sword to join him and the army of Encilis in unison joined them.

Goliath took a deep breath and bellowed at the top of his lungs, "We Shall Prevail Unscathed!!!", his skin peaked with goosebumps as he said the phrase and Hezekiah felt a shiver crawl up his spine.

"WE SHALL PREVAIL UNSCATHED!!!!", Queen Valeria and the army of elite soldiers repeated to the tamer and dragon.

It was moment the two of them would would never forget.

---

Later, on the night before the siege, Goliath sat in front of a fire with a few other tamers and carefully sharpened his throwing spears with his whetstone. He made sure that each side was identical to the other by using the same number of strokes, the solider needed to make sure that each spear edge was exact because it would affect his accuracy if one side was unbalanced and could be pushed off course by the wind.

Goliath nodded and tilted his head to other soldiers that passed by him and made eye contact with each one. He hadn't been nervous before a battle for a long time, knowing all too well that there was always someone more nervous that needed to see someone confident to stir their own spirit back on target.

As he sharpened his equipment, the man hummed a tune that was stuck in his head. A travelling minstrel had played it in a tavern called 'The Laughing Widow' in the shady part of the small city of Sauvin on the night before Goliath would venture to cross the border into Galidus. The song was performed on a peculiar set-up where the man had a flute strapped on his chin and shoulder whilst the minstrel plucked his fingers on an extravagant looking harp, the song was titled 'The Sailor of Sirens Bay'.

The soldier hummed the simple tune and timed each of his strokes of the whetstone as the lyrics and music chimed in his head;

I kissed my wife and set my sail free,
Three traders from Freya had parcels for thee,
One had sweet wine from Solona,
For laughs a plenty and good company,
Another with fur from Ylandre,
To warm my bed and sell for a fee,
The last had crates of crab and other southern delicacy,
To salt and store and sell to the gree-dy.


(the minstrel would fill with the flute to start the next verse)

A sailor cutting through a bay of blue,
Under the stars between the day and the dew,
I heard the singer wail and moan,
She is the wind that distracts the crew,
The honey to the desperate bear,
A tune that seems too good to be true,
A feverish storm that I must battle my oars and breakthrough,
The return to my wife long overdue.


Who owns the voice that makes the boats sway
Is it a demon, or some kind of dark fey?
I do not know and cannot tell,
For many have tried and became the prey,
Another shipwreck under the veil,
Married to sand and drowned by the spray,
You all don't need to listen or heed what I've come to convey,
For I'm just a sailor... from Sirens Bay.
 
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Avren sat quietly on Viridian's back, nestled into the thick tufts of grass-like tendrils as he watched Goliath go about his evening, sharpening his spears, sharing song with the minstrel. He wondered about the man and his past, knowing very little about the noble. He was the cousin of the queen, and a long-standing warrior in Calidar, which certainly explained a fair bit of the man's demeanor. And yet, there was more. If Goliath were just a soldier and a noble, Avren would have a natural distaste for him, a man raised on wealth and violence. But Avren didn't dislike Goliath at all, in fact he quite respected him. Merrik Tetra was the same. Avren should have a natural inclination to avoid people like Merrik, for Merrik was a noble, raised to lead an army, just like Goliath. Of course there were differences, such as the form of training and the environment they grew up in, but both were wealthy and thrived in the face of battle. Avren should have disliked them both. But he didn't. He respect them, he observed them, and was fascinated by them.

Earlier, Goliath had delivered a speech to the Calidaran army and it had moved Avren. It had stirred up a longing for victory and, perhaps most frighteningly, it had brought him to long for his jagged swords to drip with the blood of his enemies. Such feelings bothered Avren, and he dared not speak of them, even pushing them from his mind so Viridian would not be inclined to ask about them. He had been struggling with these feelings of violence, as of late. Not the feelings an ill-tempered man felt when annoyed or short, but the feelings a warrior felt at the thought of victory and honor. The kind of violence Goliath spoke of in his inspiring call to the warriors.

There were differences between Goliath and Avren. Both were killers, but only one of the two was ever violent. Avren had taken lives, but only for the sake of the hunt. Goliath took lives for the sake of his nation. But wasn't it Avren's nation, too? After all, it was deep within the Wimbledon Wilds that he had made his true home. Wasn't he to fight for his nation as well? He couldn't have imagined such a notion five months ago. And yet, he sat here, feeling motivated by talk of war and death. He sat here, inspired by a man whose weapon bore the blood of man. What did that make him?

At times he thought perhaps he was losing the sense of the wilds, that he had been gone too long from his place in nature. But that thought was quickly extinguished as the pulse of the forest dragon's touch ebbed throughout his soul. He was one with nature now more than ever before, fully infused with a powerful magick, a direct link into the world he loved so dearly. Why then, he wondered, would his inclinations change? He had been of the wilds his entire life. He had lived harmoniously without so much as a glance towards men like Goliath and Merrik. Perhaps he had gotten it wrong? The thought was unsettling to him.

What if man was meant to fight for more than just his life? What if a man was meant to fight for the lives of others? For so long, Avren had lived in isolation, alone with the wilds and long had he drawn his inspiration from the beasts and fowl. Had he mistaken his own nature for theirs? It suddenly seemed obviously that the world lived in groups, close knit cities and towns, filled with interaction while he lived out his life in isolation, lost in a world all his own. Had he been mistaken all this time as to what a man should truly be?

Letting out a sigh, Avren looked over at Goliath again, listening to the song he had woven which now carried out into the air by the voice of the minstrel. He wondered if he had been brought to this place to learn, for the first time, what it was to be a man. And so, for one of the very first times in his life, Avren rose and walked towards another person without fear, without concern for societal expectations, and he sat next to a man he felt he could trust. He didn't say much, just a short hello. He sat down next to Goliath and set about sharpening his swords. With a bit of time, he would speak to Goliath, asking if he had tips for the battle, wondering what he thought of the two, crooked blades, and wondering if, when the war was over, he might train with Goliath. It was time for him to learn what his parents had never taught him: how to fit in.
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[BCOLOR=transparent]As the days of war finally grew near, Aiko found herself more than a little lost in all of the action. She was still quite new to the Order, and still new to much of the battle strategies, whether magic or weapon oriented. Because she was never able to speak to Ilyria, the woman having not been in her loft when the maiden arrived to ask about her strange power, she never learned exactly what it was. Merrik was ever so busy with the even newer tamers, and Aiko simply did not know the others well enough to say anything. She felt somewhat alone in the sea of magic and battle and dragons, and the only one to give her encouragement that she truly took to heart was Zolykar. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]On the day before the battle was to come, she flew with her great Amethyst beast near the back of the pack, letting her mind focus on what she knew she could achieve from the back of him. Over the past two weeks, she focused entirely on the magic she knew she could actively conjure. Her flames grew strong, no longer tiny, timid things with no heart. She could push small orbs from her open hands now, and while many of them fizzled halfway through the air, she was still showing a great deal of improvement despite having only been there less than two months. From dragonback, she would be useless with her sword, but that was where the teeth and claws of Zolykar would come in. His fierce determination to protect her made her feel safe, even when facing the immense danger that was Ogual and his forces.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]As the preparations were made, the pair helped where they could and followed all orders given to them. There was a no-nonsense feel to them, and yet they seemed so very young and naive surrounded by many who seemed to know a bit more about what was going on. When evening came, and everyone settled down around a couple of campfires, Aiko settled herself against her dragon within earshot of the others, listening with closed eyes to Goliath’s tune as he sharpened his sword.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Tomorrow would change her life in a way she couldn’t fathom. Today, she had seen a great army - the one on her side - the side of the Order. She could only imagine what the side of the enemy appeared to be. And the events of the next day were sure to unfold in a horrifying way.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]While the night was still young, though, she decided now was better than waiting until after the battle to ask about her strange ability. She stood as the chatter began to resume after Goliath’s song ended and stepped towards Merrik, giving him a small bow. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Lord Tetra,” she spoke softly, a nervous hint in her voice, “I have been meaning to ask you this, but it never seemed to be the right time. I was wondering if you could help me with a strange ability that manifested itself when we were at the old temple. Since it is still early, and I would like to know if there is a way I can use it tomorrow, do you have a moment to help me now, perhaps?
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EVENT NOTICE

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THIS YEAR'S HALLOWEEN EVENT WILL BEGIN AT 6:00PM MOUNTAIN TIME. HERE IS THE LINK TO THE TITANPAD. PLEASE USE YOUR CHARACTER'S NAME AS YOUR NAME.
(Note: rain and I will begin each post with the name of which player we are speaking for. ex: Merrik: "_____")


TitanPad: 2z4yf8b2xR
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[fieldbox="One Day More, seagreen, dashed, 10, Tahoma"]Xylia didn't realise what she had gotten herself into. Only months ago had she been in her cozy mud-built home, her mind filled with nothing but the thoughts of painlessly hunting poor-helpless creatures with her pack mates for dinner that evening. The problem remained as, today, she sat on Deventh's back, amongst her new pack -Tamers, and hundreds of thousands of warriors.

Xylia realised that her ignorance towards a problem that had circulated Illos like wildfire was an ignorance her village people would label with the metaphor, a frog underneath a coconut shell. She wondered silently whether Mama knew anything about this or whether any of this was related to how Mama had found her in the middle of the forest. With all this turmoil and confusion within her, she questioned her confidence to be in battle against another living being.Yes, she was the village hunter, but she had always tried to rid of her prey quickly so as they would not feel pain. Never had she gone against anything that'll be fighting back; fighting for its life.

Xylia was still in the midst of getting used to her steel weapons, ones that were so much heavier than her wooden ones. But she knew, she knew that steel weapons would protect her better. That steel would pierce and collide better with other steel. Yet, she didn't like it. She hated the thought of steel being stained with red and reeked of death. The body of armor that sat on her body felt incredibly out of place. Xylia questoned whether it would actually protect her, or was it just an oven, to cook her in before she was fed to "her enemies". Was this what Mama meant as the "Circle of Life"?

As she adjusted the metal plate on her chest, not really feeling comfortable with it in any position, Xylia questioned once more on her being in the middle of war and blood, and dragon and magic. When she finally gave up with the metal protector, the man whom she first met at the Meadow delivered his speech with Hezekiah standing strong and sturdy beside his Tamer. Goliath's speech was filled with such morale and such intensity that Xylia felt it. She felt the speech along side her heart pounding against her chest, as though her heart wanted to escape her cage of a chest and leave her body. Her stomach lurched and she felt her throat run dry, a feeling she knew all too well. In a few days, Xylia will not know of the title of her existence. This was happening, war was upon them and Xylia had yet to make sense of what she was truly risking her life for.

That evening, Xylia sat a little ways further away from her team, though still within ear shot. She wanted the soft wind to graze her skin, cold enough that it wasn't quite biting but rather, gentle. She had already sharpened all her blades, spear and sword. Xylia looked to the sky and watched the dragons lit the sky with multicoloured flames.

As Deventh finished his ritual with his brothers and sisters, he decided to lay beside his Tamer. Both seeking comfort from the other. That was the strength that Deventh offered her and she to him, comfort and trust. She knew that no matter what happened she had to do all it took. Even if she didn't know what she was fighting for, she knew who she was fighting for; Mama and the friends she had just made and to those she hadn't met yet. Xylia was aware that her skills were not nearly as brilliant as the other Tamers, and yet she knew she had to do all it took to survive, for all of them.[/fieldbox]
 
The armies were an amazing sight; Ogual's and the rulers of Illos both.

Never had Saira seen such a large amassing of people before. Perched on Aerarya's back and looking down at their ranks from the sky above, she felt as though she were viewing a moving forest, each person a tree moving towards Kuhl. A forest of people--for they were that, people, although she had to remind herself this often, particularly after looking at the ranks of the Queen's elite guards. They were soldiers, and there were many of them, but it did not take away from their humanness. Humans that were going to die in droves.

This thought plagued her mind as they approached Kuhl, her anxiety growing stronger and stronger as they grew closer to the city and eventually began to burrow their way inside its depths. How many people had died at Ylandre? How many more would be dying now? How many tamers, how many new tamers, would die during this war? The tamers, she knew, were better off than the foot soldiers on the earth far below, marching away to little more than their deaths for the sake of Illos. She wondered how those men and women thought of the Order. If they were jealous, angry. Why didn't they, too, have draconic companions to defend them? Why must they get involved in this horrible fight?

The way of the world sickened Saira more with each day. But her fate was out of her control. It was all she could do to help lessen the losses.

Setting her slightly at ease was Aislin's presence alongside her and Aerarya during their scouting trip. She remembered how eerie Ogual's approaching army had appeared on their solo trip at Ylandre; how it even gave her a few shaken dreams in the weeks after. Kuhl, having fallen to Ogual years before, was probably swarming with nasties. Her assumption was proven correct, and early into their trip. Ogual wasn't hiding here. His corrupted, plagued soldiers were clearly visible pacing the streets, almost resembling the armies back at their campsites in a sick and twisted manner. Instead of swarming together they were spread out, comfortable and at ease in the city that was once belonging to the good people of Illos. It was hard to discern just how heavily populated the city was, for from the castle in the center emanated a dark haze, thicker than smoke and inkier too, but what she could see sent shivers up her spine and had her trembling atop Aerarya's back.


But there were worse things to be seen than the blue-eyed monsters that roamed Kuhl's streets through the dirty fog.

Saira, Aerarya whispered in Saira's mind. Look, by the wall. They are human.

The dragonness was correct. These men and women lacked the startling blue eyes and wisened bodies the other members of Ogual's army showed. They acted and moved differently, too--human. The realization froze Saira and trapped air in her throat. Humans. They would be fighting humans. Their own flesh and blood.

The plagued were one thing. Those people were no longer people. They wore no banners and controlled not themselves. These were people who joined Ogual of their own mind.

Their choice was not of their own mind, Aerarya said. If you had to choose between death and servitude, perhaps you would find yourself viewing things somewhat differently.

Saira scoffed. "Never." she said. "I would never." Her fingers tightened around the length of her bow and her ripped her eyes away. If there was any rightness in the world, she thought, she would not see any of these men or women in battle. While there was no way she could ever be convinced to Ogual's side, she could not be as certain about the outcome of such an encounter. Could she kill a man if it came to it? She had done it once; but she was not sure if she could do it again.

Yumiru,, Aerarya said to her silver sister. Let us return. I think we have seen enough.
 
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The journey to the camp had passed mostly in quiet, Aislin spending the time telling Yumiru stories she’d learned or heard. Mostly those about victory, a cover for her nervousness as the order drew closer to Kuhl. But by the time they finally arrived, she’d defaulted to telling whatever stories she knew, even if they weren’t about victory (she’d run out about halfway through the trip) But the familiarity of storytelling soothed the huntress’s nerves and kept Yumiru’s mind from the fear lurking at the back of her own. Neither had been in a war before.

A long day, night, and another half day later, found them touching down in the camp. Both nervous as they watched the bustle of activity that was the two armies milling about the space. It was something to behold, Misery Lake Town wasn’t necessarily small, but the differences between the towns bustling and this camp where stark. Like black and white or night and day. However, it wasn’t long before the amount of humans began to cause the dream drake pain and the two of them began to wander towards the edge before they were caught and given an excuse to flee the camp and the pulsing human emotions that battered against Yumirus mane.

Their first scouting mission. Aislin listened closely, as Merrik gave Saira and her their instructions, and Yumiru listened through her human from the outskirts of the camp. They were going to go spy on Kuhl. Aislin was still worried about how visible Yumiru would be, but the dragon in question reassured her tamer that all would be well on their spy trip. They’d be fast, and quiet. Saira and Aerarya would be with them as well.

So they once again took to the air, flying a little below and behind the more experienced tamers, and keeping their eyes peeled. Aislin held her bow in her lap, thumb stroking over the flowers carved into the wood, a nervous habit. The further away from the war camp they got, the less Yumiru was trapped by the human emotions that lingered there.

But the small moment of comfort wasn’t to last as they took in their first view of the city they were to be waging war against. Nausea crept up the back of Aislin’s throat, the city itself seemed to spill vile darkness. A shudder ran down the human’s spine. Logically, she knew what they would be fighting, but it was her first time seeing something so…. so wrong. Yumiru sent a chord of comfort to her tamer, even as the same bile turned the dragon’s stomach. This is what her clutch mates had been fighting while she waited away safely with the oracle. Guilt hit the dragon of dreams, hard and fast. She should have been helping, tamer or no, how could she have been sitting away tucked into safety while those she grew with and loved fought a darkness such as this? This time it was Aislin who comforted the normally calm of the pair, a hand stroking through the mane that wrapped around her.

What are those big things in the sky? Aislin asked, drawing Yumiru from the guilt that was threatening to drown the tender-hearted being. Yumiru let her eyes follow where her tamer pointed. For a moment, the shapes where unrecognizable, and then the reality snapped into place.

They’re Blood Eagles. Yumiru responded, another shudder wracking the dragon, the winged beasts at least as large as her if not larger in some cases.

They’re…..they’re really big. Aislin commented, continuing to pet Yumirus mane.

Yes, yes they are. Yumru, with Aislin’s help, pulled herself from her thoughts as the two studied the city. Aislin committing the structure to memory, like she had with the pages of books before. She took in the walls, the possible breaches, and she didn’t stop staring at it as they circled until she was confidant she could sketch out a rough etching of the scene. Yumiru took in the creatures, focusing on gathering information and banishing the emotions that wanted to consume her to the back of her mind.

It was the silver dragon that snapped both of their mins from where they had buried themselves in their task, trying to do something constructive and not be weighed down by what threatened to consume them. Yumiru looked over at her sister, as Aislin traced the last bit of details she could into her mind.

Yes, of course. The creature of sparkling pearl turned away from the blight on the scenery and began to follow the dragon of the air back to the camp and the safety of the rest of the order. On the trip back, the two of them compared what they had both taken into account, and Yumiru helped Aislin finish the picture in her mind’s eye of the city. As they flew back, the dream tamer, tucked her bow away, relying on Saira to warn them of any oncoming danger. Instead she pulled out pen and paper, hunkered over them and began to make a rough sketch of what they’d seen while she tried to protect the attempt from the air rushing around them.
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As they had flown to the front line of the war, Narien had been... thinking - because he certainly was not prone to do that, ever - but it wasn't in his normal, turbulent fashion. He had taken to sitting obnoxiously cross-legged on Agni's back when it seemed they were mostly obscured, but his thoughts had been calmer lately, even absent-minded, really. He was not shutting Agni out, yet their combined bond felt to her like a silent sea shrouded in thick fog. It was wrong to say he'd been thinking. It was more like he was marinating in a feeling over the next few days of prep. All the training that could be done had been done, and even in the face of the remaining preparations, a strange peace had settled over him.

Unfortunately, the Arcane dragon recognized the feeling. Anticipation. Narien, she decided, had been bored. Training desperately, cooped up with the same 12 people for more than a month, relearning how to read, and even the bond were all so much more stagnant than his life had been for years. He was used to feeling on edge, fearing for his life, making connections with no one, and living off his hate. He was not necessarily ready for the war, they both knew he was inexperienced in coordinated combat, but there was an odd sense of anticipation for him at the thought of the impending fight. At the thought of wondering once again if that one wrong turn would be his last, and at being able to land that finishing blow, rather than having to worry about keeping his opponent alive. Perhaps it could be said that he missed having a reason to be paranoid.

Not very charitable of you. Agni observed quietly as the two of them settled down in the encampment the day before the attack. He knew she disapproved of that specific mindset of his.

No one ever claimed that I was charitable. He retorted. The straightforward answer troubled Agni a little. He did so love his riddles.

The dragoness seemed to disagree. Agni offered quietly, but that just made Narien laugh, as he thought of the strange events at Kona Petl.

Journey of Kona Petl

Agni Lu'ule had been silent during his morning beating. Narien didn't notice chatter when he was concentrating, even if sometimes that caused his relationships with others to suffer. They were the same in that respect and it made it easy to understand and respond to. She was present, however, and deep in thought herself. Even as she watched him half torture himself, she worried about the journey ahead. That she was not going to be there to help him, that the monk had made it abundantly clear that parts of this journey would be life-threatening. He had practiced hard, but perhaps in a sense every time he attempted to use their bonded mana he was trying too hard. They just didn't have enough time to take it easy, so the whole experience, though still beautiful, was also a desperate effort. He was a survivalist. If his memories had shown her anything it was that he'd do anything to keep his stranglehold on life, but he'd never taken on anything like this, where the physical body was just one more hindrance. And if something happened, she would not be able to save him.

Narien, on the other hand, was not thinking of any of this as he started on his path. He heard Agni's silent worries, and was grateful for both her assured presence and her concern, but this whole ordeal was actually a relief for him. Yes, he had the one week deadline, and he wanted to finish it as quickly as possible, if he could, but for the first time in a week nothing else was on his mind. Not Kuhl, not relics, not reading, not teaching, not archery, not rope knots, not practicing bonded mana on Terria or improving his mana endurance by keeping up a constant flame, and most of all not keeping all these damn people thinking he was quiet and meek in a time when he just wanted to be himself because concentrating on his training already took a lot out of him. All he had to worry about was one thing: learning how to use his mana to keep himself alive, and that had always been how he had learned things best. For the first time in what felt like ages, no one was going to notice his body language, his facial expressions, or how he formed his words except for the monk watching him, and he had a great feeling that whoever it was was not going to breathe a word to anyone else. And well, if he did, what did it matter? Keep up a lie long enough and people eventually believe it.

He took to the path feeling physically like he'd just been someone's punching bag, and mentally like he'd just won some kind of an award. Each step was frustrating and excruciating, but he forced himself to keep going. Part of him wondered how this was going to help him master his mana, but he supposed that would become clear in time. It did not take long for the woods around him to become thick and a little dark, though the sun had begun to grace the sky. Everything was a lush green, and the whole atmosphere felt sweet. It also set his nerves on edge for its unfamiliarity and hiding places. Good. He needed his nerves to be on edge a bit. Pressing on a little faster, his edgy nerves picked up on a soft rustling to the right in the greenery. He snapped his head to look, biting the inside of his upper lip. Here it came...

What emerged from the greenery was not what Narien could have expected. A large owl, nearly 5 feet in height, hopped out from foliage. Its feathers were crystal white with dark brown accents. Its eyes were a deep green, much like the forest itself. Apart from its size, the only peculiarity was a third eye, positioned directly above and between the other two. The massive creature snapped its beak and fluttered its wings. It hopped closed and settled a bit before entering into the man's mind with a voice that would much remind him of dragons.

"What is a broken human doing so far out into the wilds of these lands. You'll soon die if you keep wandering about in such a way." It looked at him with inquisitive eyes that seemed to hold the wisdom of a millennia within them. It was as if it knew everything about him, but longed to know more.

Narien had been expecting a creature of some sort, but the owl was a surprise, if for no other reason than that it was not an assailant. Not yet anyways. Still feeling exhausted and tense, he faced the owl with a great deal of wariness, praying that it would remain friendly. It was huge, and if he'd been a little more physically fresh, he may have even attacked or run. It made him grateful for his tired body, and also nervous about it.

The owl looked... ancient. Not like it was necessarily old, but as though it held the secrets of the ages, the way Agni sometimes seemed to. It's voice reverberating in his head completed the effect. It's words were not threatening, but nor were they comforting, almost as though it was simply asking to ask, an ulterior motive only it understood in mind. And perhaps it was this stark resemblance to how he had first met Agni, or perhaps it was simply because he was simply too tired to lie after a lifetime of lying and a workout like that, but he took a gasp of breath and answered with his natural high born accent in absolute truth, "I have been sent here to seek strength, strength for a cause I did not expect to fight for. My birthright of magic after a lifetime of one cruel reality preceding the next. I have wandered from a fate I have never wanted to a fate I do not deserve." He gave a harsh laugh at himself and added, "How my once-unknown ancestors must mock my ignorance and weakness in their halls of the glorious dead." His words were bitter, angry at everything and nothing at once. "Now what is it you want from me, owl? Like all others before."

The man opened up much more than the owl had expected, but each word was taken as a gift. After all, the ancient being was a keeper of secrets, an explorer of minds. The owl flicked its gaze, turning its head from side to side as it hopped closer. "You appear little as much of what you truly are." Came its deep, ancient voice. "You speak with the voice of one thrice your age. Thrice the years of pain and disappointment. You do not sound as if you wish to be here. Yet you are. You seem to fear failure, yet show no desire to impress. What kind of strength do you seek?" The bird hopped a little ways away, as if leading him on a path. It stopped and beckoned with a wing. "Come along now, I will guide you, but only if you indulge in me your thoughts. I am long grown tired in these hills. There are few knowledges in the trees."

Narien began following the owl with a heavy step. It could certainly be a trap, but it was not as though he had some other idea of what direction to go. Trap or not, at least he was going somewhere. The owl seemed pleased with his initial response, though he saw no reason for it to be so, but he saw no harm in indulging its curiosity, wondering, as he was, why it did not simply leave it was dissatisfied with its current place. "Thrice the years of pain and disappointment..." hmm? That did not sound so very inaccurate.

"The strength I seek..." The obvious answer was the reason they'd been sent there in the first place. To learn how better to use their mana. But the quiet of this place seemed to be asking the deeper version of this question. He hesitated, then continued in a rambling manner, allowing his thoughts to finally escape into the air. He could sense Agni watching, a sort of cool pleasure in her mind. She was enjoying this, hearing him speak aloud. How long had it been since he had last spoke to someone thus? Some part of him was also pleased and relieved. The words flowed from his lips like breath itself. Instead of answering the question in a straightforward fashion, however, he decided to start from the heart of the matter. The owl wanted to hear his thoughts? Well, why not entertain it a bit.

"I was told, not a year past, that from the line of my mother's father the blood of the first of the Arcane dragon tamers flows in my veins." He was still huffing and puffing a little, and his muscles felt sore and a little cramped, but little by little he seemed to be getting his breath back. "I had no prior knowledge of this, but the nature of greatness passed down is not so unfamiliar a thing. Though perhaps not so prestigious a bloodline, my father's family has long held position as ambassadors of Freya. Such obligations interest me little, but reveal to me Fate's heart. Whatever blessings have been bestowed upon me have never had any greater purpose than to teach me the meaning of loss. Only he who knows the taste of sweetness also may comprehend the full extent of pain." He gave a quiet scoff. "And yet, I live. But for what purpose?"

He continued following the owl, even as he spoke. He knew he was talking too much for such a simple question, but words really were intoxicating when used right. "You are right. I do not wish to be here, yet I am. I do fear failure, but not to impress. There is one reason alone I come here. It is not to save Illos, nor to honor my bloodlines. I seek strength to protect one and her place here. I must grow stronger so that my misfortune may never be hers, though perhaps it is too late, as her fate is already tied to mine. I was told the strength of our mana would grow through this training, and it was my expectation that it would be a trial of death and danger. Our mana as the only tool we may use to stay alive." He gave a soft laugh. He was following a bird of prey as big as he was. He was tempting Fate again, wasn't he? And she never had liked him much, had she? "And what of you, owl? For what do you stay here?"

The owl fluttered its wings at Narien's words of his bloodline. "What a rare creature you are, oh broken one." As the man continued to speak, the owl would hum and haw reverently, dipping into a bow as if to replace a knowing nod. "What purpose indeed."

The owl cooed in a low, deep tone. "Do not think yourself to be past danger. These lands are ancient and unhindered by your kind. Each step is a step towards and away from danger. Perhaps your luck was not so foul. After all, it was I that found you before another, more vile beast."

The owl continued to hop along, its heavy plumage rustling and moving about with each heavy whoomp as it collected the earth in its talons once more after each hop. "I belong here, oh wandering one. And I have a duty to my own existence to fulfill my role in this world. My role lay in secrets, knowledge, and all the workings of the mind." It spoke in a calm, nostalgic tone.

"You could stay, human. You and your scaled other half. There is much work to be done in my realm. One of memory and thought. You could draw yourself out from the misery you writhe and wriggle in. After all, your ancestors played their role in my realm. Your own mother, if I recall correctly. And believe you me, I do."

A "rare creature" was he? Narien chuckled at the comment. Takes one rare creature to recognize another, huh? He listened warily as it continued to speak. Certainly he did not consider himself past danger. By now he had decided the owl wasn't about to kill him... just yet. There were still no guarantees it wouldn't get bored of him and do so later, though. It was curious, though, what role it seemed to believe it had in the world. Again, its similarity to Agni Lu'ule hit him. The sense of being born with a purpose, with a pre-determined fate. It was... fascinating. Agni seemed to agree in the back of his mind that the owl was curious, though not particularly that it resembled her. He felt that she might enjoy a conversation with it, but was now really the time?

Even more curious? Its offer for him to stay. He was tempted for a half-second, even as it continued to speak, but he was about ready to decline, when it said something that froze the blood in his veins. His breath hitched. "My mother?!" His pale blue eyes widened in an expression so shocked it bordered on horror. "How do you-" He started in a rush, but stopped himself abruptly. He swallowed quietly, the sound masked in the rustle of his feet in the brush, as he continued to trudge along after the owl. He had mentioned that he was a descendant through his mother's line. He was not certain what the owl meant, whether his mother had been there specifically in body, or if her soul had somehow found its way here, or if she had contributed simply by keeping the legacy alive. It would do nothing to be hasty and emotional.

Start from the beginning. Its offer. "Tempting though it may be, I cannot accept your offer to stay. A peace here should surely be temporary if Ogual advances. Nor, do I imagine, would it sit well with my beloved soulmate were we to abandon her clutchmates in their time of need." He gave a soft grin. "Without my misery, only half of me would remain, besides. It has been long since I have spoken with one who knew my mother. I would hear what you know of her, if you would grace me with your knowledge. Though I also grow curious as to your intended destination, as I have followed you thus far without question."

The owl hooted quietly at the suddenly recoiling of the man. "You've no wish to know of your ancestry? The very blood that runs in your veins and how it was once spilled, here, in these very hills? A curious oddity you are indeed."

It then shuttered, as if shrugging in response to the man's words. "Fate will keep or take peace if it so chooses. Your role makes no difference. I see now that you are still blind to this reality. You are less like your mother than I thought. Perhaps you were right in your claims of weakness."

They continued forward before the owl stopped and turned to the man, its massive, dark eyes peering into his own. "I may still lead you to where you wish to be, if you should desire it. The choice is yours, lonely one."

Narien laughed, a bitter, hollow sound openly meant to ridicule himself, not the owl. "Has my mistress Fate ever allowed me to forget that I am powerless against her? And now she sends a messenger to speak it in words, when at last she threatens to be kind." He brushed the fingers of his left hand over the brand on the inside of his right wrist. "Truly shall I ever be more her slave than that of any other." His voice quieted as he added, "Though it is the greatest of all falsehoods to suggest that any are free of her. It is only that I am one to whom she has made it most clear... and perhaps to my mother as well." For the first time in a long time, Narien thought back to the last few months of his mother's life. How she had taught him as much as she could about the mana, the dragons, the Order, but calmly and joyfully. It was clear to him now that she had known she was going to die, and had accepted it as her time. If only his father had been the same. If only he was not so very similar to his father in that respect.

His pale eyes grew cold, turning inward darkly. "You are right. About all of it, yes, but most of all that I am not like my mother. I care not for the past, not the blood spilt, nor the blood to be spilt. I do not seek wisdom, nor understand the meaning of peace. I do not have hope, and yet cannot accept whatever horrors may come to pass." He took a breath, and his voice lightened again. "Still. I will stand with the brethren of she who completes me. If for no other reason than to please her. And perhaps also because I never did wish to stay long in one place." As he said those words, he felt an odd calm settle in him. A calm that he had thought only Agni could bring him to. It was a curious feeling in the face of the memories he had been afraid of for so long, and the horrible realities of who he was that tormented him day after day. He gave the owl a slight smile, and finally asked, "In your wisdom and benevolence, would you lead me to the elixir I have been sent to collect?" He did not ask to be led there safely, as the thought itself somehow felt laughable. All he could really do now was trust the owl and let it lead him where it would. It might not even take him to the elixir, but some other trial that would strengthen him. It did not matter.

The ancient owl cooed with obvious displeasure, but eventually settled itself in a flutter of feathers. "So be it, broken one. I will guide you to where you belong." And so it began to lead, slowly, hopping along as Narien's broken, exhausted body made its way across the landscape.

They reached a fork in the worn path and the owl led them down the eastern route and into a gully. Deeper and deeper into the grasslands they went, the shrubbery growing thicker and taller as the moisture became more readily available in the shadowy dips between the hills.

Eventually, they had gone far enough that Narien would feel the bond between himself and his dragoness growing so weak it was merely a whisper in the winds, a lingering touch on his soul. The discomfort would have been obvious at that point, the void he felt would be clear and real. Still, however, the owl led him on a ways down the path.

Eventually, Narien would begin to notice changes in the landscape, strange collections of rubble and dirt piled about and very little sound from the wildlife that had once filled the air. This area was cooler than it had been atop the rolling hills and a light chill seemed to surround the tamer.

"We are here, wandered. Your final destination." The owl turned and looked at Narien with large, empty eyes, rustling its feathers about.

Narien followed the owl for what felt like a rather long time, and for the first time he could feel his bond with Agni thinning, as if stretched somehow. It was a horrifying feeling, beyond what he had expected. There were times when the bond had been nothing but a backdrop of sorts, but this was different. He hadn't thought it would feel like this. He thought it would just be like going back to when he was by himself. Instead, it felt vaguely like there was a literal hole somewhere inside of him, an emptiness sucking him dry. Secretly, some part of him wondered if this was just how he'd always felt, and only now was he realizing it because Agni Lu'ule had been occupying that space. He kept silent, tamping the unease down.

Further they walked, silence filling the air and a chill settling over him. His sweat-soaked body amplified the chill and let it set into his bones. The once-thick trees seemed to be giving way a bit to little dirt piles here and there, and finally they stopped. Narien looked over at the owl, meeting its empty eyes. "What is this place?" He asked quietly.

The owl hooted quietly, rustling its feathers as it hopped closer to Narien. "This is where your journey ends. The elixir to your pain." The creature seemed to be agitated, stirred up even, as it hopped closer, cocking its head around to take in its surroundings in a way that made Narien feel uncomfortable. It was as if the owl were watching its own back now, paranoid of what may come.

"There is only one solution to the life you lead... one answer. Your purpose is not to suffer, but to end suffering, just as your mother once did. You are ready for your role, yes I can tell so easily. They'll be here any moment now. Your suffering will end. The elixir will be yours and in the wake of your misery, life and bounty will arise. Yes... and moment now."

It was then that a rustling could be heard from the surrounding hills. Perhaps from a few hundred meters away in the wooded bush of the hills that rose up all around them. Narien was exhausted, he wasn't sure if he could fight or not,or whether he would need to fight, but something was happening and he had only a few moments to decide how he would face what was to come.

The owl seemed nervous. Very nervous. It was making Narien's hair stand on end. He was a naturally paranoid creature, and was not used to having that feeling validated, especially by an ancient, gigantic bird of prey of doubtless enduring wisdom. And it was waiting for something to come... a they. The soreness of his muscles was setting in with the chill, and none of what the bird was saying made any sense. "Your purpose is not to suffer, but to end suffering" ...? And his mother, what had his mother done? How could he be ready? He had joked that he would be nothing without his misery, but really who would he be if the years past no longer made him who he was? Who would he be if he didn't go to sleep fearing a knife in the back? Who would he be without the hatred that followed him everywhere? Who would he be if he dared believe that his fate was not to just go on suffering and suffering as he always had done? Perhaps the owl meant something different by the end of his pain, but it was hard to tell. And what was this elixir, anyways? It was now very clear to him that it wasn't going to be an actual elixir at all, but something... something more abstract.

As the quiet rustling reached his ears, the tired man turned to face it. He couldn't fight in this condition, and the owl was right. All would be as Fate decided, whether he struggled or not. He could feel something inside of himself settling. Even though Agni was still far away and the bond felt horribly thin, he could feel himself accepting, for the first time consciously, the possibility that he might die. He didn't really believe that whatever it was could really take away all or any of his pain, but then again, was simply taking away his pain the answer to it? He did not think so. Though he still did not understand quite what the owl meant, there was something alright about that. He took a quiet breath. In slowly through the nose, and then out with his lips slightly parted, the way he had learned to through his archery lessons with Sairantha. Although it hurt his muscles a little to do so, he stood up straight and composed, chin lifted slightly, hands relaxed and feet hip-width apart. A small smirk graced his lips, but his eyes held nothing but a kind of peaceful curiosity. He stood there every inch the son of Mason Ki'ila and Saefi Laevr, and faced the mysterious, incoming "they" without fear.

Suddenly, when the sounds grew near their climax, a hundred owls the size of dogs burst out of the bushes and swarmed down at Narien, pecking, scratching, biting, ripping his flesh from his body. The sound of beating wings and snapping beaks nearly drowned out the sound of the owl's voice within Narien's mind but the words would linger there for some time.

"Now feed, my children. May your starvation end at last. Fresh prey for you to slaughter and slay. Feed! Your suffering ends now!" The words would continue, hauntingly, in Narien's mind as he struggled to overcome the sheer volume of birds attacking and bloodying him. It was not until nearly a minute later that Agni would send a raging flame down to scorch the feathered foes and protectively grasp Narien in her claws, carrying him to safety, leaving only charred feathers and a large, dark owl behind.

~~~
The next day, the journey would be harder. Narien ventured out, exhausted and broken as the day before but in much more pain from the injuries that he had sustained. He would keep far away from the path that had led him to the deceptive owl and keep on in a different direction. Eventually, he reached a region where two hills lay out before him. One was coated in a lush blanket of vibrant green grass, the other was less lavishly veiled, but with more low lying bushes dappling its landscape. He could see over neither and heard very little from this far away, yet a decision lay before him.
Narien barely made it through the course the next day. It took a very short time for his body to feel like it was breaking. The owls had done most of the work for him, but as he set out, a grin kept breaking out on his face. It worried Agni. When she had come to rescue him, she'd been so angry, but she could feel something very different from him. Something she would not be able to describe to anyone at all. He'd laughed the whole way home in her claws, through the pain. He'd kept laughing and laughing, even after he'd been set back in the cocoon to sleep. It would have been scary if she hadn't been able to see in his heart and was merely looking at the outside, but it was even scarier seeing where the laughter was coming from. It wasn't insanity. It was just.... No. She wouldn't try to clarify it for herself. But the feeling was filling him as he walked straight back into the forest without the smallest bit of hesitation, grinning like a madman.

Narien was practically giddy with some kind of perverse joy. Yes, yes this was his life. THIS was his life. As it was before, so it would always stay. He would suffer, but not die, suffer but not die. For all eternity. He would never make the choice to die, because this was what was meant to be. If he died, it would be on Fate's whim. The land of the dead did not want him, or perhaps life loved his pain too much, feeding on it like a leech, like those owls. He would not be confused any longer. He was not afraid or sad or angry. He was just ready. Suffering loved him, so he would allow it its unrequited love. Forever, the air around him seemed to whisper. Forever.

He did not go where he had bumped into the owl before. No, today would be something new perhaps. Keeping far away from it, still grinning despite his exhaustion and pain, he walked and walked until he saw two hills. Both prevented him from seeing past them, but he did not hesitate in his decision in the slightest. He headed straight towards the hill with the small bushes. In the end, the result would be as it would be, just as everything else had been. His choices did not matter. He staggered towards it, spirit apparently unbroken. In his mind, he roared a single thought that shuddered through Agni's mind in a terrifying manner. WELL COME ON, THEN. PROVE ME RIGHT. I am waiting. Although his mouth was merely smiling, Agni could feel the laughter in there, too. Curling unhappily into a ball, she waited. They both did.

Rising up over the hill, a strange structure came into view. Breathing heavily at the peak, having exerted himself during the climb, Narien would stare for a moment at what lie before him, taking in the scene. A large temple lay nestled into the side of the hill. Its stones were large, smooth, and white, its rounded roof was made of a pale sandstone tile, and all around it grew giant, vibrant bushes of brilliant shades of green and teal. The temple had no adornments, as one would expect, depicting the deity to which it was devoted. There was no sign of life from where he stood a few hundred meters up the hill from it, but its interior was completely concealed to him and so offered no tell as to whether or not there were any occupants.

If he ventured down the hill, he could make a clear path around the temple without detection from anyone peering out from its stone door or windows, if he chose. But if he decided to venture towards it, he would climb a set of steps to a large, sandstone door and find it unlatched and easily opened.

Narien looked down at the weird little temple from the top of the mountain, his muscles wobbling, lungs screaming, wounds stinging. With an annoyed huff of breath, he let out a great sigh before heading down the hill and straight towards the temple. Why not. He was feeling reckless today. Climbing up to the door - yes! More climbing! Making his day - he pulled it open, surprised to find it so... easy. That smelled of a trap. Regardless, he opened the door and cheerfully waltzed staggered right in.

Opening the doors would reveal a long, dark hallway. The stone inside matched the tone of the exterior and a worn, dusty, tattered old carpet coated the length of the hall. Perhaps once it was a tone of gold and teal, but now, it was hard to tell for certain. All along the hall there were giant statues of cloaked figures bowing to whoever walked along the path of the massive corridor.

As Narien made his way down the carpet, the smell of dust and mildew settling into his senses, he would come to a place where light would enter from above. Looking up, he would see a large, stained glass window, some of it had cracked, panels were missing, but it depicted a great mass in worship towards some great draconic god. Looking back to what was in front of him, he would see a great, black stone altar with a few objects still set on top of it. There was a large chalice of dull silver, a small box filled with what may once have been herbs or flowers but now sat as a simple pile of dust, and a dagger, sharp as could be and with a glimmering, ruby hilt.

Looking around him, he would see more statues, robed figures like the others, but these were smaller, life-sized, and sat in a ring around the altar, 6 in total.

As Narien walked down the hall, an odd feeling seemed to swirl around him. Grandeur lost, perhaps. A familiar feeling, but odd nonetheless. It was eerie, the great cold and quiet of what must have once been a great hall indeed. When at last he reached the room with light streaming in from above, he felt kind of odd. The giddiness from earlier had subsided a little, subdued by the air of this place... something that felt so much like sadness to him. In front of him lay the altar, the three objects atop, and the six figures around. It was as though they were waiting for something, perhaps to spring to life should he approach. He felt that perhaps he should be frightened or wary of them, and the hairs on the back of his neck did seem to stand up a bit, but that odd sadness was still floating about his head.

He approached the altar, stepping past the figures extremely warily, not daring to even pray that they not attack him. His hand was poised near his knife, but as injured as he was, he knew he would barely provide any sport if they did. He did not reach out to touch the objects, merely standing in front of them at first, to see if anything was to happen.

He waited, but nothing happened. No movement from the statues or sudden voice ringing from the glass above his head. He understood. He had a choice. He could simply leave, but after the trek he had made, it would be a waste. Then perhaps to touch one of the objects.... A chalice, a box of some matter so long abandoned all that was left of it was dust, and a dagger still gleaming and sharp, despite what must have been years of disuse. The logical choice would have been to grasp the dagger, he felt. It was as though the altar had been made specifically for him, that dagger calling to him, but he did not reach for it. It was precisely because it seemed perfect for him that he did not pick it up. He was resigned to his fate. That did not mean he would seek it out. It was like that opulent, sharp object represented the death that seemed to surround him. Not what he wanted, but life had never asked him what he wanted. Never. Not once. He had never been given any choices that really mattered.

So instead, he reached for the object that felt the opposite: the box with the possible herbs or flowers. He dipped his fingers in the dust, wondering what, if anything, would happen in response to his choice.

As he collected the humble object he would find it incredibly light and delicate. Staring at it, he peered in at the fine dust. As he did, he noticed it had begun to stir ever so slightly, perhaps by his breath, perhaps by a breeze, it was impossible to tell. But in a moment, the light movements of the dust turned into an unnatural tendril that began to form and very quickly, the tendril reached out and touched Narien's hand. At once, his skin began to grey where the dust had kissed him. Slowly, the grey mark began to spread.

Behind him, the large, echoing boom of the doors of the temple slamming shut startled him and as he turned, he saw only darkness where the light of the door once was. The only light available now was the pale, broken beams pushing through the stained glass. All around him, a chill settled in, but perhaps it was just the stagnant air moving about after the sudden movement from the doors.

Looking around, he could see there were more pathways leading out from behind the altar and into some unknown darkness. The main hall was dark and closed off now that the outside was blocked by the heavy doors.

Darkness. And then, a whisper.

"Of the stars once past, now again at last."

The dust was not so much dust as it was ash. It had that kind of incredibly fine, light consistency the way natural decay rarely achieved. As he watched, though, it swirled around and formed a shape. He pulled back his hand sharply, but the soft substance brushed against him nonetheless, a grey mark marring his skin. Another one to add my supply of scars and brands. He thought ruefully, quickly overcoming his alarm to simply be amused and curious. The bang of the temple doors behind him confirmed the eerie feeling he had initially had, and the air seemed colder. It was like when the owl had begun leading him away all over again. No choice but to forge forward.

He looked down at his skin again, wondering if the mark would stay. If it perhaps was indicative of some kind of decay ready to sink deep into him, or if it meant something kinder. He scoffed at the thought. That was very unlikely.

The whisper slithering from the darkness neither comforted nor scared him. It was creepy, unexpected, and weirdly made him feel a little sad. Just like the rest of this damned temple. Who cared? Now what again at last? Taking in a deep breath of the stagnant air, he took a step forward towards a path a little behind the altar and to the right. He created a small flame in his hands - an easy task even with the state of his body, as he had been keeping one such flame up and about during all of his regular training. It was beginning to feel as natural as breathing. The glassy flame lit the darkness in front of him a little as he stepped forward.

Venturing down the hallway, he would find that the whisper seemed to follow him, speaking every so often as he made decisions regarding the navigation of the temple.

"Forward now, but backward in time." As he wandered down the hall.

"Never lost, but somehow still found..." Pressing forward around a bend, passing several large, wooden doors leading into blackness.

"A stranger, come back to a place of the past."

"A secret unknown."

Louder and louder the whisper hissed into his ears, but from no clear source. He felt not the wind of breath, nor the electric closeness of another, but the voice persisted.

As he broke past an arched doorway into a large room, the voice hissed violently one last time before disappearing.

"Now home... at last."

Turning to look behind him as a rush of air whisked by, he would see no arch, no hall. Nothing but a large, blank, stone wall. There was no past, no previous path behind him. There was only what lay before him: a large, empty room with three altars set below dim, glowing beams of light that seemed to emit from somewhere in the darkness above.

Three altars, atop each of which lay a small box.

The creepy whisper from earlier didn't let him go in peace. Continuing in its gleeful - well, what he perceived as gleeful anyways - riddles, it kept commenting on... something. It felt like it was talking about his past. Like it knew his past. Like the owl knew my mother. He joked to himself as he walked down the dark halls, glassy flame still floating in front of him. He had decided by now that the owl had not really known his mother, with its creepy suggestion that she had been ripped apart by owls. Stupid owl. He had watched her die, little by little, piece by piece for two years. He would almost be grateful if it did turn out she'd been ripped apart by owls instead. It would mean a much quicker death. It would mean she wouldn't have had to watch them for two years cognizant of the fact that she was going to bring them grief. At least she would not have had that pain.

As the last, probably-malevolent whisper rushed past him, Narien whipped around sharply to "watch" it go, only to see that the hallway behind him was gone. Lovely. Just lovely. He opened his mouth and laughed freely. Dear gods, it felt good to laugh as himself, well and truly. The empty room in front of him, dark and gloomy as it was, was rather curious. Altars, again. Why did he feel like a sacrifice being led to the slaughter? Well, he always felt like that. It was part of being a trained paranoid. Home? Heh. Home was a dilapidated house with a bed that was not fit to be slept in, with ropes hanging from the rafters ready to ensnare, choke, destroy. Home was broken cobblestones covered in wooden figures of dying men and stolen knives hidden in the mess. Home was a place where no one loved you and death was always just one lost coin, one unlucky strike away. Home, was he? Oh good.

Approaching the middle altar, he reached forward and made as if to open it, if he could. He still did not hesitate, though he could feel Agni anxiously watching through their bond.

When he opened the box and peered in, he would find a small, white egg that shone and shined like mother of pearl. It lay nestled into a bed of dark, soft moss. Curious, Narien gently picked it up and examined it. When he did, it began to grow warm, and a small, cracking sound emitted from it. Setting it back into the moss, he watched as the shell began to crack and split. Eventually, a small, white face poked its head out. What came next would awe him for out of the tiny hole emerged a small, white dragon, no larger than a mouse.

Narien didn't know what he was expecting when he opened the box, but an egg was definitely not it. It was absolutely beautiful, and made him wonder vaguely if Agni had come from an egg like this. He let out a breath, then gingerly picked it up. To his horror, it warmed up in his hands and began to hatch. Not good. Not good at all. Setting it gently, but hastily back into the moss, he watched it hatch with bated breath. It couldn't be.... There was no way it would be.... Nono, that kind of a coincidental joke was too much even for Fate. He didn't know what he was expecting when the creature came out, but a dragon was definitely not it. And yet that was what he got.

His pale blue eyes were wide open, staring intently, and when the dragon at last emerged, he blinked, stunned. The one thing he'd been convinced it ABSOLUTELY COULD NOT BE... it was. Gently, he reached forward to cup the little creature in his hands, pulling it close to him and inspecting it. He held it like it was a priceless treasure, almost feeling guilty for touching it with his impure hands. His hands that had been branded, had killed, that spreading grey mark only further reminding him of his own inadequacy. What in the world...?

When he touched the small creature, a flash of light emitted from the point of contact. It startled the both of them, but Narien did not falter in his hold on the tiny dragon. When he looked, he would see that the grey mark on his hand was receding. At first this would have come as a relief, but moments later he saw it was spreading onto the tiny dragon, which stared up at him calmly, golden eyes unblinking.

After some time, the grey had completely covered the small dragon, hiding its once white scales. It then shook its body, as if shaking of its sleep, and rose onto wobbly legs. It looked around and then proceeded to gnaw gently on Narien's thumb, as if trying to eat him, but its tiny teeth could do no harm and this left the small dragon frustrated and annoyed. It seemed... hungry.

For the first time in a very very long time, Narien felt physically sick with horror. The mark the ash had left was tainting the dragon, rather as he imagined Ogual's plague tainted people. A very long string of swear words lost its way in his brain and became incomprehensible mush. The war and the order and the fate of Illos were all relatively high on his list of priorities right now, but without exception those concerns were for Agni's sake only. He did not care what happened to this world that did not want him and the people that did not know him, but right now the one good thing in his life was a dragon, and he was pretty damn sure he'd made the mistake of sullying one of her kin.

On the other hand, the dragon seemed very unconcerned about this change, choosing to try to munch on him, instead. Was this a bad sign? Maybe it was doing that because there was something wrong with it, now? Was it evil, now? Wait, maybe it had always been evil. Nononono, all babies came out hungry, this was natural. Right? RIGHT? He should feed it. He should. Probably. Or maybe not. What if it grew into something awful? Or what if it couldn't eat human food and that killed it? WHAT IF-

NARIEN. Agni roared in his head. Back at the settlement, the large, normally graceful dragon was letting out loud snuffles of laughter. Just feed it. She would have suggested he bring it out, but he was currently trapped in the temple. Among other things. Lovely. Holding the creature very very carefully on his right hand, he fumbled with his left to check his various pockets of clothing. It would be stupid not to bring any food or water on a journey that might last the whole day, so he had some with him, just the basics: a little hard biscuit, some dry meat, a little grain. Meat was good. Dry meat. Dry was not good. Soften, soften. Somehow managing to pull some of the meat from his pocket, he put it between his teeth and chewed, softening it into an unpleasant mush before offering it to the small grey dragon. What was he doing? It wasn't like this was a human baby, all he had were Agni's memories to go on.

The dragon gulped up the meat without question and immediately began to glow and spark bright flashes of light. One was so bright, and so hot, that Narien flinched back, dropping the small creature.

But when he glanced down at where it had fallen, he saw a dragon no longer the size of a mouse, but of a cat. The dragon flicked its tail and stepped forward, nuzzling Narien on the leg before leaping up and twirling around. It then snapped its maw and growled a bit, looking at Narien once more before bounding off into the darkness.

The dragon's sudden growth startled Narien, though so far it didn't seem inclined to hurt him. Feeding it had probably been a bad idea, hadn't it? He didn't recall Agni growing that quickly. It gave him a look after its gleeful little dance, as if to tell him to follow. As it ran off, he did the one thing that made sense. Body screaming, glassy flame burning brighter to light his way, he raced after it into the darkness.

Narien ran for some time. The great hall he was in must have been massive, and great indeed. As he thought about it, he would realize the dimensions of the exterior of the temple made little sense with how vast the interior was. On and on he ran, seeing only the flicking tail of the grey creature, cloaked by the darkness of the room.

Eventually, the sound of the small feet would stop. Narien would slow, and as he moved forward, the light would illuminate something he could not have expected.

The tiny tail of the grey dragon was now thick, and long. It led up to a hulking body, topped by a gaping maw of white teeth guarding shimmering, golden eyes.

"You were not expected here. Yet your arrival was willed by fate itself."

The dragon, was a dragoness.

"You bore the mark of death. And of three choices you chose the only that could rid you of this death. Fate is truly in your favor." The dragoness stood at thrice the height of Narien, as large as Obsidian Nova.

"I will grant you one boon, for my life serves only one purpose: to serve the bringer of my birth and existence. You hold a purpose far greater than my own. Choose wisely how you wish for my magicks to aid you. Do not waste my life in foolishness or greed."

As Narien looked up at the great creature, he was breathing hard. The run had been hard on his already broken body, and he was pretty sure a number of his wounds were well and truly bleeding now, if they hadn't been after the morning's labors, but it was awe that was drawing the breath from his lungs. His mouth was slightly open, eyes open wide as if to just drink it all in. He couldn't even make a quip about the "Fate is in your favor" statement, mind for once not spinning and twisting. It- She would grant him one... boon? One favor? And then she would die? "Who are you?" He breathed the question reverently. "And what madness is this that one such as yourself would give your life for my foolish whims? Who would dare think such a gift should be wasted on me?" While he had many things he wanted, right now he could not think of one that would be worth the life of an enormous dragon that grew several times as quickly as a regular dragon.

The massive dragoness exhaled a wave of warm air, pushing her down to where the small human stood so as to get a better look at him.

"We all have our purposes. There is nothing more to it than that. Not all purposes are perceived as great, not all are perceived as noble. Yet each is equal in its simplicity as a purpose. I do not have to like my purpose, only fulfill it with dignity. As such, it is no waste to offer you a boon of your choosing, rather a great honor, for only in giving may I truly live up to my fate."

The dragon pulled her head back then, settling back down into her original position, laying nestled onto the stone floor with elegant posture.

"Now speak, outsider. For you are bound to fate as well. You do not have to like your fate, only attain it with as much honor and dignity as you can."

Narien understood now that this creature WANTED him to make a choice. He still did not have to, but it would dishonor her to fight further, in his estimation. Though he could not claim honor and dignity, he would not contest it here. Slowly, he sat down, cross-legged in front of her, lips tightening a very little from the pain. He opened his mouth to speak, but he did not even know what he could ask of her, much less what he could ask that would be worth it to ask. To see his mother again? Ghosts of the past were best left in the past. Even if it was possible, he wanted no part in it. Then, to erase the memories of the past? After the incident with the owl he was more certain than ever that the past had made him who he was. He would be nothing without his misery, not really. Then what? What? What could he ask for? Strength in battle? The inability to lie or be lied to, the ability to retrieve lost objects, nobility, love, the chance to turn back time, WHAT?

He had nothing he wanted.

It was an odd thought, even to himself. Everyone wanted things, but not him. Vengeance or peace, death or life, power or simply the acceptance of weakness.... He didn't have things he wanted. He just lived because. Because nothing. Just because. Then ask for something you do not want. Ask for something someone else wants. Agni told him, very sensibly, calm as ever. The simple thought stopped him in his tracks. What did anyone else want? Only one thing of any real significance came to mind.

"Right now, in this moment, before any more blood can be shed or people be plagued.... Yes, I would wish for Ogual to be defeated. Now. And his plague be gone from Illos's land and people." Nothing much more imaginative was hitting him.

The dragoness dipped her head low, taking a deep breath. When she lifted her head once more, she exhaled a shimmering cloud of fine dust which wafted down through the air, coating the room in a silver glitter, Narien along with it. "You have found your elixir, young one, your elixir is selflessness, for beyond all that you have suffered, with how little you owe the world, you offer your own happiness for the sake of Illos. Carry this elixir with you throughout your battle." Suddenly, a light breeze picked up and began to swirl around the room, lifting the glittering dust and whirling it around.

"You will find strength through pursuing your selfless nature, a nature that flows through your very blood. Through this, your bond with the dragoness of mana will grow." The wind strengthened and before his eyes, the dragoness, now sitting back on her haunches, began to flake away into the wind, like a statue weathered in the water. "Through your elixir your wish will come true. Bring to fruition your soul's greatest strength and grow into the hero you are meant to be."

Piece by piece she faded until at last, she was gone. Narien blinked, and the temple was gone. The dull evening light beat down on him and the sound of wingbeats thrummed in the distance. Soon, Agni would come to him, finding him full of strength, with a renewed, fortified mana pool. He was not broken anymore, his physical strength returned fully. He felt powerful and whole, and with Agni by his side, he felt hopeful.

Well, she was wrong. I asked what I did out of laziness and a lack of a better request. Selflessness is as much a luxury as wanting things, and the once poor man who spends his wealth too quickly is destined to be poor again. He told her with a smirk, as if just to mock her worries about his riddles.

That is the wrong kind of luxury, though. Agni said back calmly. She was growing used to his nonsense, and much to his delight had begun countering at times.

No? Perhaps you are right. But while I would not say it was the right kind, at least it is not the left kind, for a left luxury has no definition unless it has been abandoned. He joked back.

The dragon simply gave him a little laugh, but a little more seriously said, You have a good heart, Narien. Even when you had everything, you wanted nothing, but you were raised with a desire for good - one you never fully were able to deny, even in the darkest of your years.

A good heart... He chuckled. You mistake me for the other fools here. His mind traveled back to Goliath's speech earlier, and a good speech it had been. His hand had unconsciously lifted to caress his mother's earring as the soldiers' mighty shouts had rumbled through his chest, for a moment moving him a little. Of all the many different kinds of murderers, soldiers are unique. They truly believe in some noble, higher cause. Most murderers think they have their reasons, but in heart they all know it is for themselves alone. Only soldiers can truly delude themselves into thinking otherwise. I am no soldier.

Are you pouting, Narien? Agni asked with a great deal of amused mock surprise. He floundered mentally, which amused her even further, but she clarified, Because he publicly stole your idea?

Narien snorted. Jumping from the back of a dragon is not a novel idea, surely. Goliath simply chose to put time into a more practical version and use it to boost morale.

With a secret, dragon smile, Agni kept her reply condescending but brief. If you say so.

~~

The idea she was speaking of had been less of an idea and more of a narrow escape from death. It had been about a week earlier, Narien had been doing flight training with Agni, practicing standing on her back. He prided himself on being fairly steady on his feet, but he had been readjusting himself just as a large gust of wind caused Agni to shudder, and just like that his feet were going up and his back going down. All the air went flying from his lungs as his back hit the saddle hard. Before he had a chance to regain his breath, he was slipping backwards and to one side. By the time he had presence of mind to try grabbing for anything, his body was turning slightly so his feet were facing Agni's wing, and he was sliding towards it at increasing speed. Swearing, his fingers scrabbled against her side, right-hand fingers closing around a piece of leather from the saddle. Agni was not staying static as this happened either. As she felt him begin to fall, she tried tilting to the other side desperately, moving unintentionally sharply. That motion combined with the strap he had grabbed altered his course of direction, and back he was again, sliding to her right wing instead. His grip on the strap tightened as he forced himself not to flip over his head. The strain hurt, but at least this time he was more prepared. His free left hand reached out intentionally and snagged another part of the saddle securely. He was now pretty secure against her back, but back to back was not a good way to fly when you couldn't turn yourself back over again, secure or not.

A stupid idea hit him. Agni. Slow down, twist upside down, and get as close to the ground as possible. He roared at her mentally. He didn't need to yell, but she was too busy to scold him for it. She dove to the ground, getting dangerously close to it for such a large dragon, before closing her wings to twist upside down and snapping them open again. Too faaaast. She couldn't stay upside down for long while also slowing herself down, but in a glorious effort, she pulled herself up short, slowing enough for Narien to let go of both straps and fall to the ground with a controlled roll before she had to yank herself up and upright again.

You alright? She called worriedly, as she soared through the sky to make a long, looping turn. But as he rolled to his feet, he was laughing.

Should we have the time, my dearest Agni Lu'ule, we need to perfect that. He replied. As she flew back down to the ground to meet him, she let out a long sigh of breath from her nostrils. Of course that would be his response...

~~

He leaned back against Agni and his lips lifted in a little smile. He took pleasure in few things, but there was a certain kind of rush that never failed to gratify. The war promised not to disappoint.
 
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And with time, it came to be that the armies would march forward, closing in on the outermost wall of the first great city of man. The masses moved the very earth beneath them, the rumbling, unison of their steps as they pressed onward to where their siege would begin. In the front marched Queen Valaeria, atop her massive, alpha Xixen who had been adorned in vibrant golden armor. The bird looked fierce despite its brilliant colors and cascading plumage. Valaeria herself looked like death come in the glory of the mighty heavens to take the worthy onward, like a royal Valkyrie preparing to usher the souls of the noble army forward to victory, in life or in death. At her side, Norvik sat mounted on a deep, brown woodland stallion, the preferred mount of the Sylvian army. The beast was mighty, bred thick and strong, as opposed to the hearty, fleet-footed herds of Galidus. Its legs were like tree trunks, its wide body firm and powerful. Its mane lay in tight, decorative braiding and fine, hardened leather armor, joined to steel over the vitals, protected the mighty beast.
Above, Merrik and Obsidian Nova soared quietly through the air, like the shadow of death, looming over the land before the marching army. Nova let out deep, terrifying roars that rung out and danced with the sounds of the war horns from below. Behind him, in a diamond formation, the rest of the weyr flew. The mighty beating of wings in rhythm with the marching below. It was these great beasts that would begin the battle, for they were to topple the walls and bore entry into the city's interior.

The masses neared and when Merrik gave the signal, the entire army stopped in waves as the first row, then the second, and each after ward, came to a precise halt. Merrik stared at the mighty walls, forcing their way into the skies. The silence, for some time, was sickening. The foes had not yet made an appearance. There was no sign of defense, no efforts to push them back.

With a gesture, he summoned Goliath from his side and beckoned the army to hold. The pair, atop their great drakes, soared higher and higher until at last the wall peaked and they peered into the depths of the stronghold. What they saw, was unnerving, and yet Merrik remained calm, turning to speak to his second in command. "Goliath, I deem it wise of you to begin your blocking capabilities. We need to penetrate the outer wall, but I fear we have a bit of an obstacle before us."

On the other side of the wall, there stood silently a horde of white skinned creatures, mages; their eyes burning like an ocean of pale blue poison. When the first hit was commanded, a blast wave of mana would surge from behind the wall, creating a shockwave as it collided with and pooled over the protective barrier held up by Goliath, Hezekiah, Merrik, and Dalaith. Before the wall had even been broken, the battle had begun.

[Clarification: Merrik ordered the human armies to stand by while the dragons abolish the protective wall, creating a gateway into the city. On the other side, powerful magical attacks are bombarding the Order. Merrik has assigned the larger dragons to batter the walls and with the help of Obsidian Nova, Aegnor, Viridian, and Deventh.]

With time, as the wall began to crumble thanks to the mana-dampening efforts of Merrik, Goliath, Hezekiah and Dalaith, Merrik gave the signal and Norvik sent in a portion of his elite archers. With impressive ease and skill, they began scaling the old wall and soon enough, they were positioned on top of the wall and showered the mages with arrows while the dragons began spitting balls of fire down onto the mages. Goliath and Hezekiah were not meant to have used their bonded ability so early, for Merrik wanted them both well fueled if a powerful mana-based foe attacked. However, Ogual seemed to have a different plan and the assault by the mages from the get-go demanded the mana-snuffing ability. With Merrik and Dalaith's helping ward off the attacks, Merrik could only hope Goliath and Hezekiah wouldn't over-exert themselves too much. Once the wall was down, Goliath was instructed to charge forward with Valaeria's shadows and take out the masses.

Up on the wall, the dragons and the new tamers worked to take out the horde as the other broke away steadily at the wall. Aislin and Saira were sent to help with the fire and arrows while Avren remained with Viridian at the base. The other dragons were told to hang back to prevent mass deaths in the case of some unexpected turn of events. Merrik couldn't afford to risk all his tamers at once.

Eventually, the wall gave in and as the mass came crumbling down, Merrik and the others used their earth mana to protect themselves and the nearby army from the rubble. When the dust cleared, Goliath and Hezekiah were charged with leading the way, the shadows and the Order close behind. The other armies were instructed to wait until Merrik could assure them the mages were subdued enough that they wouldn't desiccate the armies swiftly. Into the fray, the battle ensued.

[Clarification: For those of you who weren't mentioned, assume you were a part of the group told to hang back and wait until the armies got into the city walls. It's the nature of this portion of the RP that not everyone will be as active as others. For example, Goliath is the major player right now, but as soon as we get into the city, your characters should start on their tasks of strip burning the city, fighting the hordes, and general warfare. Once Toad posts, consider the armies into the city and you can feel free to post your roles.]
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War was nothing like the songs.

As Nim sat upon Aegnor's back, bobbing up and down as the inferno drake flapped his great wings to keep himself aloft, she had attempted to put a number to the opposing armies. Ogual's horde stretched endlessly into the city, the dark mass of blue-eyed things dotting every inch of every wall. At first glance, the winged forms encircling the great city had appeared to be carrion birds, but as Nim had examined them closer, she had been horrified to see half-dead abominations with the same unnaturally hued, lifeless gaze of those upon the ground. When she contrasted them with the other dragons in the distance, she noted with some morbid curiosity that they seemed as large as the drakes themselves. Nim cast the birds aside and uneasily wrapped his gloved fingers around the hilt of her sword which lay tucked away in the sheath attached to her saddle.

Ready?

"No," Nim called over the rush of wind and the drums below.

You cannot shirk you-

"Fuck duty," she grunted. "Let's get this over with."

Aegnor let out an ear-splitting roar and began to dive upon the city walls, tucking his wings in tight to his body to speed his descent. Nim clung tightly to the saddle, hunching low and keeping her head flat against the warm leather to keep the wind from stinging her eyes. Through her half-shut eyes she could see the battle beginning in earnest as bolts of raw magic hurtled through the skies and the echoing boom of crumbling stone broke against the air. Aegnor's wings abruptly snapped open, bringing the drake from suicidal to manageable speeds. Once her mount had stabilized, Nim drew her sword and flourished it in her left hand, keeping her right wrapped firmly around the handles of the saddle. Aegnor halted momentarily, great head swaying left and then right, scanning the walls.

A bright flash suddenly erupted from beneath Aegnor and within a fraction of a second the inferno drake spun into a downward dive, narrowly avoiding a bolt of mana. His swings spread and he regained control, allowing Nim a brief second to readjust herself and regain her bearings. Once she had recovered, the dragon rocketed along the length of the wall, engulfing the enemy's side in flame as he passed to clear the way for the archers. The sound was nothing like Nim had pictured it to be: the woosh and roar of the flames rang past the dragon's fanged man, but there was no roar. No high-pitched undertone of a stream of flame.

As the dragon made for another pass, a piercing shriek sounded from above. Nim glanced up and froze as she glimpsed black, decaying wings blot out the sun above momentarily.

"Aegnor look out!" Nim cried over the din of the dawning battle.

The dragon's eyes shot up, but it was too late. The Blood Eagle above began its descent, stretching out its lower feet, talons clutching at Nim as it sped towards them.

Nimrieyle, duck.

Without second thought, she did so right as Aegnor began his own dive towards the surface, momentarily pausing to fan his wings and side-step the diving bird. It continued its fall for a split second before stabilizing and giving chase to its quarry. Aegnor twirled about to face the beast, summoning a gout of flame from his fanged man to momentarily drive the bird back. As the creature retreated, the dragon ceased breathing fire and exhaled a plume of smoke, twisting his neck forwards and backwards to conceal himself in a rudimentary smoke screen. The Blood Eagle gave a hideous attempt at a caw, mangled throat producing a mangled shriek like the one it had before. Aegnor dove beneath the cloud of smoke just as the eagle broke through it and took a moment to turn around gently as to avoid damaging his rider. Already the smoke was dissipating, the eagle flapping angrily towards the fire drake.

Enough toying around, the dragon snarled, exhaling a puff of acrid smoke.

Aegnor bellowed out another roar and sped towards the eagle, loosing a brief bout of fiery breath before the two collided in the air. The flames caught the beast across the left wing which quickly went up on flames, but it paid no heed to its rapidly burning carcass as its beak pecked at Aegnor, attempting to pierce the dragon's lower neck as its talons flailed wildly in an attempt to break free of the grip the dragon had trapped them in. Nim could feel the pain as the bird's beak cut through scale and muscle, the warm gushing blood that steamed as it hit the ear, the bubbling anger of fresh hurts. Aegnor rammed his crested head into the side of the monstrous bird and sent it retreating. Exploiting the sudden move to fall back, Aegnor lunged outward and wrapped his fangs around the bird's neck, producing another shrill cry. The bird struggled in the dragon's grasp as he continued to carry the decaying beast in his fangs before it shuddered and went limp. Aegnor's grip relinquished momentarily and the bird shuddered, gave one final raucous caw and set back off, hurtling away from the dragon.

"You're hurt," Nim called out. "Take a moment and-"

I will kill all of them. Aegnor emphasized his statement with a triumphant roar. Every. Last. One. Their blood will run through the streets stronger than any river. They. Will. Burn!

"Then get back to the - umphf."

The dragon's sudden dive sent Nim's head swimming, and before she could regain her bearings, Aegnor was upon the mages, landing with a mighty thud in their midst, spewing flames and lashing about with his tail. His great forelimbs slashed out and attempted to savage the mages with his razor-sharp talons. His jaw snapped between bursts of flame. The dragon fought with the fury of an army, himself a whirlwind of violence and overwhelming heat. Nim could already feel copious amounts of sweat beading down her face as she attempted to swing her own blade at targets of opportunity, always coming just out of arm's reach. Sheathing her blade in frustration, Nim reached into her own inner mana and produced small darts of fire, sending them cascading down upon whatever she could see through the rubble, ash, and smoke.

And how long can we keep this up....?

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Goliath and Hezekiah

From up high, the tamer and dragon looked to the wall and into the chaos that waked in Aegnor's fury, Hezekiah was filled with excited rage as his rival went into the heart of the fray without him by his side. <Aegnor you bloodthirsty buffoon! Save some of the action for me!>, Hezekiah was about to make a wild dash to Aegnor's position but Goliath entered the dragon's mind with his own and halted the beast briefly; in order to relay with the others what the he had planned.

Goliath took off his helmet and reached into the front pouch on his belt to reveal two cotton balls, he looked at the leader of the Shadows of Ashaar, a man distinguished with the name of 'One' who Goliath had only met twice before, "You will know the signal to charge when you hear it!", he shouted over the flapping of dragon wings, "Have your men protect their ears!!"

'One' nodded behind his teal mask and moved quickly through his ranks to relay the message, they all needed to move fast now that the enemy had been engaged. Goliath pushed the thick pieces of cotton into both of his ears as Hezekiah inched forward with anticipation, once Goliath put on his helmet the iron dragon released more of their bonded mana to then be molded by Goliath into a powerful shield. With a tremendous gust of power, they lurched at speeds that strained Goliath's eyes as he tried to keep up with the world that streamed through the slits of his helm. To the wall where Aegnor and Nim had broke through the the magi.

Luckily for Aegnor, he and Nim had attacked the right flank of the southwest gate, the black moss that draped the walls cindering to ash. Hezekiah chose to turn and focus the majority of the assault on the left flank of the same gate, before he reached the front line of plagued white skinned magi he shouted at Aegnor telepathically, <Hold fast brother! Steer clear of this attack! Get Nim to cover her ears good!>

Goliath spun a spear in his right gauntlet and hurled it at a magi from a distance as they closed in, the steel twisted in the surge of wind built under Hezekiah's wings and flung into the neck of a magi, decapitating the blue eyed creature as it's black blood littered the stone of the outer wall. After the throw, Goliath hunched low into the saddle and began to focus all his effort in forming the anti mana barrier with their bonded mana, focusing on making it tight like bound leather.

Hezekiah took in a big breath of air, the biggest he had ever drawn. <This one is going to be a loud one>, he smirked and crushed the stone under his weight atop the wall as he landed. When you see the flicker of their joined attack, we'll let them have it, Goliath whispered back.

A plagued magi, wearing a human skull as a mask, made a loud incomprehensible yell at his comrades and as they shot a fatal and fiery display of black flame, but before it could reach the tamer and dragon, Hezekiah and Goliath let out their shockwave.

Hezekiah lifted his wings tall to protect Goliath from the attack and shrieked with supersonic ear-drum splitting penetration. At the same time, Goliath extended his hands out from either side and released the shield along with the shriek, creating an attack that expanded around them rather than in the front of their line of sight. The shockwave could be heard from the back lines of either side of the siege and the magi near the epicenter of the blast were shot back or beaten to the ground by the ringing in their bleeding ears.

Goliath, even with all the precautions he took, blanked with shell shock, he wouldn't be permanently deaf, but the blast and sudden release of energy left him in a daze that took a couple minutes to shake off. In the meantime Hezekiah focused his attention on the magi with the mask, flew quickly to the magi's position and tore out the creatures torso with his jagged iron teeth, tossing the body out over the battlements.

The Shadows of Ashaar charged.
 
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Obsidian Nova released a vicious snarl accompanied by a thin, hot jet of black flames into the sky as Aegnor passed over the wall alone with his vulnerable, fledgling tamer on his back, diving over the wall and out of sight. "Foolish hatchling! Such rash behavior will leave you and your young tamer as mere corpses in the fallen city's walls! You were to await the order of your commader, when Goliath and Hezekiah had broken the defensive barriers of the magi! You could have been killed on contact!" The elder drake was violently angered by the younger's behavior and would have scorched him black had it been another day. Merrik, falling victim to the anger that pulsed throughout his soulmate's mind, struggled to maintain his attention.

"Nova!" He hissed under his breath, "we will deal with discipline later." But the dragon had already reined in his frustrations and had bolted forward, leaping up into the air. Goliath and Hezekiah had pushed through the massive hole in the wall and the Shadows of Ashaar were pouring into the city like a plague of their own.

The smell of the burning moss threatened Merrik's stomach, but as the air rushed past him in ascent, he felt clarity returning. He began chanting a spell under his breath, focusing on the cast as their peaked in the air and arched over the wall, curving into a steep drop. As they neared the ground, they caught the end of a tussle between a plagued blood eagle and Aegnor, the bird trumping him in size. Merrik nearly lost his spell as his mind was distracted by the fight, knowing it could easily have ended in the death of yet another of his beloved dragons. As the young drake sent the bird spiraling down to the earth, it crashed heavily before getting up and soaring off towards the heart of the city, cawing and snarling as it did.

Having seen the blood eagle - a foe Merrik did not expect to have to face - the severity of the war truly began to set in. Returning to his spell, Merrik summoned a dark wave of mana and dropped a massive orb of darkness, encased in black fire, onto the mages. As it collided with the ground, he noticed his timing had, unfortunately, been off and part of the bomb had been absorbed and weakened substantially by Goliath's lingering shield. The experience, however, told Merrik that Goliath had grown considerably in strength, for the residual effects of his defensive spell had been enough to snuff out Merrik's own, powerful attack. This alone was a small victory and Merrik felt a sense of pride and comfort in having Goliath in a position of authority in this battle.

As Nova leveled out and looped around, he unleashed a sharp, precise line of fire along the inside of the wall, igniting a large portion of troops, both human and otherwise. As he did, the screaming of men being burned alive unsettled Merrik, though he tried his best not to glance down at them, lest his resolve shatter. He would have been lying to say he was comfortable with killing other humans and he would have been lying to say he was prepared, emotionally, for this battle. Nevertheless, he did his best to focus and with reassurance from Obsidian Nova, he was able to press on, summoning up a row of stony spikes from the earth below and goring numerous warriors. His attack was reasonably precise and only caught a single member of their own battle. Merrik cursed under his breath as his lack of precision brought harm to an ally, but accepted it as a moment to improve.

As the Shadows poured in, moving carefully and speedily past Goliath and the others, Merrik caught sight of Dalaith who sat atop A'untyr's back, chanting under her breath as she held a defensive spell over their allies to weaken mana-based assaults. The spell was an efficient one she had developed herself which allowed for a wide span of coverage and an effect counter against numerous, basic mana-based attacks, but without consuming drastic amounts of mana. He gestured to her and received one in kind, before moving on. Nova soared down the ground, landing on a particularly hideous mage and crushing its skull under his claws. As the beast died, however, a sharp explosion erupted from its carcass, covering Nova's massive foot in a pale, grey ooze that began to eat away at his scales. The dragon snarled as Merrik slipped off his back. A jet of black fire blanketed the ooze, burning it off in a plume of rancid-smelling smoke. The result was a large patch of scales that appeared to have suffered a chemical burn. The scales were covered in small blistered that seemed to be causing the drake a fair bit of pain.

Immediately, Nova pushed his voice into the minds of his fellow dragons. "Be wary of killing the mages directly. It would appear they've cursed themselves to seep acid after their deaths." Merrik quickly knelt to tend to the wound but the dragon pulled back his foot. "Now is not the time. I can manage. You'll know if the pain worsen--[/shadow]" Just then, Nova roared out a dark flame and set fire to a grey-skinned beast as it came crashing down on Merrik's back. The dragon leaned forward and bit the creature off Merrik's back and snapped his jaws, slicing the foul being in two. "Merrik, rise, we've company.'" A deep snarl emitted from the dragon's dark maw as Merrik got to his feet, swiftly unsheathing his sword. As the elder Tetra turned, he was faced with a horde of massive, black-fleshed beasts with dark blue eyes. He stared at them with a hatred in his heart, as if they had been the ones to take Terria away from him.

Nova's growl deepened further as one lunged forward and brought down a heavy mace, striking out at Merrik. With a shout, he heaved his blade, deflecting the attack but feeling the power of the blow in his arms and shoulders. As he deflected the attack, he continued his swing and brought the blade down onto the side of the beast, dancing swiftly to the side before swinging again at its back and pushing his body weight into the dark creature, shoving him forward into the open mouth of Obsidian Nova. A crunch sounded and Merrik spun to face his next opponent, shooting a ball of fire out at the beast's face before driving his blade directly into the creature's chest heaving down to open up a wound that did not seem to bleed. As the creature curled forward, completely unaffected by the pain of the attack, it lost its footing and fell onto Merrik. The beast toppled onto Merrik and his sword was ripped from his grasp in the process. Summoning a thick tendril of dark mana, he wrapped it around the beast's throat and heaved back with all his might, his will pulling and working to free him and he crawled out from the thing's body.

Standing, he was nearly knocked out by the fist of another of the things as it barreled forward in its assault. "Nova! My sword!" He called out, urging the dragon to his aid. Nova pressed his claws into the eyes of a black-bodied foe, crushing its skull, before decapitating the creature that still had Merrik's sword lodged into its chest. He then picked up the carcass and dropped it on a mage that was fueling an attack on Merrik, pushing the hilt of the sword deeper into the carcass so that it pushed through into the mage beneath. Merrik ran over and summoned a belt of stone from the ground and decapitated the mage by pulling it back into the earth before pulling his blade from the bodies.

As he continued on, facing foe after foe, he slowly began to realize that he was becoming overwhelmed. Nova took to the skies to begin burning them off but was quickly absorbed into a fight with a powerful mage that had effectively dragonfire-proofed himself. Merrik was about to summon help with a commotion drew the attention of the entire horde of brutes. Uncertain of how to prepare for whatever was causing the commotion, Merrik readied his blade, coated in dark mana. The commotion continued and as it neared, Merrik could see there was something pushing through the masses, slaughtering everything in its path. Calling out for Nova, Merrik wondered by the dragon wasn't responding, but when the force at last broke through the wall of fallen brutes, Merrik let out a sigh of relief. A black-clad group of about 10 Shadows of Ashaar had been systematically clearing a path through the horde by decapitating the foes and using their bodies to create brutal barriers on either side to make it more difficult for the beasts to flank them. When they met Merrik, they cleared a path for a blood-covered queen to enter the heart of the horde. She was still mounted on her angry-looking Xixen and it appeared as if the creature had been feeding off the flesh of their foes. Valaeria's golden armor was covered in blood and her dazzling sword shone with the same red hue. With a smile, the group aided Merrik in controlling the mass of brutes that seemed to be pouring into the region of the wall breach from elsewhere in the city. It seemed as if the mages were getting fewer and father between, as if replaced with their black-fleshed and grey-fleshed counterparts. Merrik didn't know it at the time, but this was an omen of what was to come.


~~~~~~~​

Meanwhile, Dalaith, from her place on A'untyr's back, was beginning to feel faint. With each new spell she cast, a wave of fatigue seemed to sweep over her. A'untyr's concern was, though voiced clearly and constantly, ignored. But the drake would eventually begin a retreat to pull Dalaith out of the viable range of attack. He landed outside the walls and lay on the ground quietly, forcing her to either run several hundred yards back to the entrance and push her way through the massive armies flooding the city, or to rest. Dismounting, the pale-haired woman staggered, realizing only then that perhaps her fatigue was more serious than she had anticipated. Looking to her soulmate, she saw concern in his eyes, but not a concern for the fatigue she suffered, rather a different kind of concern. "What is it, A'untyr?" She would ask.

The dragon did not offer her a response so soon, but after a short while, he looked to her with golden eyes. "Have you the feather from the blood-eagle?" Dalaith stared at him, suspicious of the question before slowly nodding her head.

"Of course. What sort of fool would I be to leave behind such a valuable resource in a time of war? What of it?"

The dragon simply stared for a moment before looking away. "You must rest before we return to battle. You are weak, and it would seem your mana use is weakening you further. You're no use if you're dead."

Dalaith huffed, knowing he was right but suffering the pitting guilt and frustration of not being able to aid her comrades in war. "Then you must at least go and help. I may be of no use but you can still fight for the both of us."

"I'll do no such thing. My place is here, by your side. Merrik and Nova would agree. I won't be swayed."


[Clarification: If the mages are killed by brute force, they basically explode and a dark, grey ooze (acid) sprays out. It cannot be defended against with magic but it seems to be flammable and will burn off with dragon fire. So far, the majority of the fighting has been the dragon tamers and the shadows. Goliath and Merrik are on the ground fighting. Valaeria is with Merrik, having broken him out of a wall of brutes with the help of the Shadows. Nova is fighting against a particularly difficult mage. Slowly, the armies of Norvik and Valaeria are pushing their way into the city but the biggest threat now seems to be the mass of hordes moving in and the strange disappearance of the mages and the human warriors. So right now, there are mainly brutes, led by their grey-skinned leaders and there are mages throughout. There ARE human foes still but there seems to be a lot less of them now that the brutes have moved in. The eagles are nowhere to be seen, unless you're in the skies and you can see them all perched in the distance at the heart of the city with white mages on their backs.]
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Avren stared out at the chaos before him and for a time, he forgot was it was to feel. Numbness settled over him and stole into his heart. What was he doing here? This was not his fight. This was not who he was. The sound of steel clashing against steel as Goliath felled a foe alongside an army of assassins, blood spraying across his armor, seemed to echo throughout Avren's mind. The sound of war was almost deafening, like the horrid, painful cries of a dying race. This was not who he was. How could he be a part of this? To kill other humans? To take part in a war that demonized and plagued those of his own kind and turned them against their brothers? How could he be a part of a war that pitted man against man and turned man to beast to be pitted against his own in the end? Fire filled the air and the grounds as Obsidian Nova coated the earth with black flame. Landing, he crushed a creature's skull, tore open a body and suffered injury. To see such a magnificent creature in such a horrid state would have been unsettling to Avren, had he felt anything.

"Your fear is justified, Avren. Your disgust, your disappointment, your aversion. They are justified. But you are a part of this whether you will it or not. If not here, the plague will meet you in the south as it spreads."


Avren didn't move. He stared out at the battle before him, from behind golden armor adorned with decorative, hardened brass boughs and emerald leaves and ruby berries. He felt foreign in his own body, wearing the armor of a man long since passed. Perhaps this was an omen of his own fate. Was he destined to die in the very same armor? Or perhaps it was more than that. Perhaps the one thing that made him human was what would truly die. For how human was he who slaughtered others? Was it not the collective that created humanity? Could a man be human if he fought against that which made him so?

"This is a war against the one who seeks to destroy your humanity. You fight the opposition, not yourself. Follow your own logic: if humankind falls to this plague, what then would be left of your humanity? Will you defend it at the cost of some or deny it your protective at the cost of all? This is your duty."

"This is not who I am." He said quietly, with a dry throat. "This is not who I am, Viridian. Look into my soul, you can see it, too. This is not who I am." His voice was quiet and solemn.

"If it is not your duty to yourself, make it your duty to others. What of Saira? She would enter the fray for the good of all, for the good of you. Would you be so cowardly to refuse her the same privilege? Would you not fight for the woman you care so much for?"

"I would take her far from here, Viridian. I would take her far from this sickness, back to Wimbledon where she could enjoy the peace and beauty of life she so deserves."

"You are blind, my Other. You do not hold the wisdom to see that what lies before you is an image of the future, for all of Illos. The Wilds will burn, Avren. There will be no beauty left. There will be no peace. If you will not fight for yourself and you will not fight for Saira, fight for the wilds. Fight for the spirit of life that exists in these lands."

Avren stared, unwavering, into the distance. Merrik had been felled by the body of a beast and now struggled to pull the dark creature off of him with a thick rope made of darkness itself. The masses were closing in on him. From his position in the air, atop Viridian's back, Avren could see Merrik slow becoming surrounded.

He was unconvinced. Even for the sake of the lands. How could he betray himself? How could he give into the abomination of war? War gave no mercy, it offered no kindness to the lands. With each hungering day, it fed off the life of the lands and consumed resources and space. It burned and ravaged and consumed. How could he take part in this for the name of the lands?

"If not for the lands, do it for freedom, Avren. Without victory, none will be free. The lands will fall captive to the burdens of war, mankind will suffer the chains of violence until at long last they fade from this land. Saira, Merrik, Goliath, they will all fall at the hands of this battle. You say you are not of this nature. But you speak only by freedom of choice. You speak as if you have the right to choose not to take part. If nothing else, fight for your freedom to choose. Fight for the freedom of the wilds to grow, the freedom of your companions to emerge victorious and flourish in their lives beyond this darkness. Fight for the people of Illos to choose if they will live or die. Fight for your right to choose peace, to choose beauty. Do not let this darkness consume the one thing that truly makes you human: free will."

Time passed slowly and the world felt quieter. Avren stared out at the battle before him and imagined a world without choice. He imagined a world without freedom. It was not a world he ever wished to live in. What would he be without his free will? To choose kindness over violence? Where would he be without his right to choose beauty over horror and life over death?

"That is not who I am." He said once more. This time a little louder. "I will not take part in the dooming of Illos to an existence without freedom."

His spirits lifted, slowly, but surely. The sounds that once surrounded him like a thick fog were not becoming more clear. His heart fluttered and he began to feel the overwhelming might of his allies. All around him they fought for freedom, for their right to exist and to be, free of constraint or suffering. Merrik, though living a life with little choice, fought for a future where he could choose. Goliath, having been raised in a world of restrictions, fought for a future where boundaries fled from his horizons. Each of them fought for freedom of some sort, if only just freedom from their duty to the war.

Freedom was worth fighting for.

"For freedom, Viridian."

"For freedom, Avren."

And the pair dove into the battle below, summoning the strength of the wilds to entangle their foes and partake in the fight for what truly mattered. Vines pushed up from deep within the earth where the ancient trees had forced their way into the belly of the city and brilliant green fire entombed a horde of black-fleshed beasts. Freedom was worth fighting for.
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