Council of Wyrms

Calandra had spent most of the night in the Grand Hall, waiting for Darren to come back. Now, sleepless and brother-less, she half-heartedly picked at her breakfast. He always came back, eventually…
A young guard – John, or Jack, or something – scurried in, gave her a crisp salute, and practically shouted his message; this one hadn't been properly broken in yet.

"Lady Theron, of the kinfolk of Man, fellow to the many Lords and Ladies Theron and all extended bloodlines, including…"

Calandra patiently sipped her cream, trying not to tap her foot too noticeably. She almost took pity on him. Almost.

"…the mistress of Glenshire and master of the hounds, who bore Helma, Yildre, Svern... and, erm… ah, Weldred, Lighne…"

He took a profound breath. She was going to strangle him; no, that would be too unbecoming… She was going to hire someone to strangle him.



"Lady Theron, there are visitors awaiting your presence in the parlor: nobles from afar seeking your gracious hospitality, of which you are known throughout the five lands; through the hills and valleys, the rivers and mountains, the…"

She let out a subdued groan; more pompous dukes and sires and whatnot wanting favors. Darren was so much better at dealing with them than she was. She'd have to ask him about his methods when he got back.
"Thank you — Thank you, sir! I shall attend to them immediately. You are dismissed."
Another crisp salute and all was silent once more. Calandra leaned back, finished off her cream, and started on a scone.
Let them wait; maybe that would soften them up a bit. Or better yet, maybe they'd get bored and leave. That's probably how Darren did it.
 
Jin-Tir was growing impatient at the head of the castle. Thousands of years old he may be, but his temper was a quick as Cyclone and twice as wrathful. He Had one of the guards send a message to her that Jin-Tir, the Druid of the Barangard Wood, was with the nobles, and was seeking to learn about the civilized world beyond his forest so he may become a better healer by understanding new sicknesses. He hoped she would recognize him, as tales of his medicinal power had spread through the lands like wildfire.
 
A few minutes later, Orbak found himself looking up at the castle. "It's not that big." He comments in an idle manner. "What I mean is, I don't think it would take so long to walk from one place to another?" He looks to the others, "They must not have been expecting guests. I suppose..." He pauses, "The people here do things a little differently than we do." The Caretaker smiles, almost slipping and saying 'humans' and 'dragons' again. He raises a hand to scratch at the back of his head. Hair! Weird.

Finally, he snaps his fingers and brightens up. Turning from the lot, the young dragon in the shape of a man dressed as a court wizard casts a spell. A very simple spell, perhaps, but a spell nonetheless. Manifesting as four flames of different colors, he began to move them about in a showy manner, entertaining himself... of course, even such a simple spell is likely a new thing in this human land, so far from monsters and magic.
 
Razeth watches everything around the group, his keen sense's and other attributes did not allow him to rest one bit when he was around the humans. His father was slain by humans they trapped him and his father. He had escaped by his fathers help but they killed him off as Razeth had escaped, He learned to forgive and forget but it would always be in the back of his mind. As they were accepted he adjusted his armor and his sword so that it would fit accordingly to his body. " What an interesting castle " He put his hand to the stone feeling on it and trying to figure how the architectural concept was made. He smiled and then looked around at Orbak playing with the fire saying " Be careful...we don't want you to burn something "
 
Orbak chuckles a bit, reaching out and taking one of the flames in his hands. He turns, nodding to Razeth. "Don't worry. It's just a variant light spell." He smiles, combining the flames together to make various other colors, pulling them apart once more into their original components. He's murmuring as he does so, naming the colors as they appear. Finally, he allows the flames to combine and separate on their own, still murmuring their names. It becomes obvious that it's a mental exercise: much like a human wizard keeping their mind fresh and pliant. Not out of any adherence to the character he's supposed to be, but out of a love of magic and knowledge.

The Caretaker continues in this sort of way. The youngest of the dragons, he wasn't used to having his opinions matter - or being around the older dragons around him. Ever alone in his ruin with none but books to entertain him forced him to become rather studious... and, in a way, starved for attention. There were few things that Orbak wanted more than the praise of the Council, or even just the other dragons, and the spellcraft was his way of showing that he was keeping up with extra stuff as well as his original obligations. He lacked the strength, skill and experience of an elder dragon: but he seemed to be making up for it with his magic. Were he actually human, he could be assumed a teacher of magical arts, just short of being an Archmage. A little frightening, considering the age he appeared to be... of course, that only reinforced his role as a Court Wizard.

He looks up at the castle, dispelling the magic: the flames flicker out of existence. He smiles, "It is very interesting, though. It's hard to imagine that there's a lot of activity going on in there... there must be, though, right? It looks so peaceful from the outside."
 
Calandra had barely finished her scone when Jack/John/James came rushing back in.
"Lady Theron, of the kinfolk of Man—"
"What!"
The guard jumped in fright. It seemed the Theron temper was hereditary. "Jin-Tir, the Druid of the Barangard Wood, is among the nobles."
Calandra raised an eyebrow. She'd heard of this druid; legends of an ancient shaman roaming the land who healed all ills with a wave of his hand. She didn't think he actually existed – and she still doubted it. People would say anything, these days.
"Any particular reason for his visit?"
"He wishes to update his knowledge of our present ailments, so he may better serve his kingdom – your province in particular, Lady Theron. He is quite eager to begin."
That didn't sound quite like the Jin-Tir she'd heard about – but word of mouth wasn't always reliable.
"Thank you, sir… I'm sorry, I've not caught your name, yet."
The guard's face lit up. "Joseph, Lady Theron. Joseph Langston."
Calandra nodded and smiled politely. She'd have to talk to the guard captain about this one.
"Thank you, Joseph. You are dismissed."

~*~
Joseph exited the castle and entered the courtyard. He spotted the nobles and quickly rushed over.
"Lords and Ladies, may I escort you out of the cold and into to the parlor? Lord Theron is currently engaged, but Lady Theron will be happy to see to your every comfort in the meantime."
He waved a hand towards the large doors of the castle, grinning.


((By the way, if anyone wants to claim these side characters for some nefarious purpose, feel free – I just like entwining them into the story.))
 
"Ah, excellent!" The first words from Orbak's excited mouth as he was finally allowed into the castle. He's the first to actually step across, taking a look around with an impressed whistle. Having lived in a ruin, he had no idea how human buildings were supposed to look. He turns to Joseph, "Would you guide us to Lady Theron, then? I'm afraid your castle is built... very different than ours."

Joseph blinks, nodding and hustling over to guide the dragons and elf over towards Calandra's room once more. The hapless guard wasn't entirely sure, but was almost certain she didn't want to be disturbed again. Not like he had enough pull to actually say anything about it to the nobles. He knocks on the door, "Lady Theron, of the kinfolk of Man—" He cuts himself off, getting the hint. He smiles bashfully, turning and introducing the 'nobles' with a hand gestures.

Orbak stepped forward, the young 'man' offering a bow of his head. "An absolute pleasure!" He sounded like he meant it, too. Definitely different than most nobles. "Your castle is absolutely beautiful! I've never seen the architecture before, and it's quite stunning. Your people in town were very friendly, and other than the somewhat frosty reception initially, I'm quite pleased to be here." He grins, "My name is..." He pauses, unsure if he should use his dragon name or not. Finally, he states the name of a character from a fairly old book he read, "Odran!" Naming himself after the court mage in an old storybook about knights and a kidnapped princess. Unbeknownst to him, it also meant 'green'.

"As your guard no doubt mentioned, we'll be intruding on your hospitality for just a short while. I do hope none of us become burdens in our stay." Again, it sounded like he meant it. "If you'd be so kind as to tell me about your kingdom, or any hardships you've been having, I'm happy to lend an ear and a hand. I am Caretaker..." He stumbles in his words, "...and court wizard for the Kingdom I belong to, which is... south of the caldera. The... newly-founded kingdom of Tiamos. I'm a bit young for my rank, but we've been just fine so far." The gabby youth grins, finally giving the noblewoman time to reply.
 
Jin-Tir rolled his eyes at the youth. He spoke to him telepathically. Good cover, but you need to work on not letting hints out. By the way, your name means 'green'. He looked back to Lady Theron, awaiting her reply to the young mage.
 
Calandra sat in a luxurious chair by the fireplace with a small pad of paper in hand – she looked much more regal than she felt. Maybe if she acted like she had some idea what she was doing, everything would go smoothly.
"Greetings, noble…men? I thought there were others with you."
Well, this might not be so bad, after all – just the two of them. She scribbled something in her writing book, a serenity adorning her face.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Sir Odran and… Jin-Tir, I presume. I must say, I've never been in the presence of such powerful magick users."
She tried not to smile. "Might I have a… demonstration of your abilities?" Her eyes practically glowed in excitement. "If you don't mind?"
 
'Odran' glances at Jin-Tir a bit. Having no method of responding (and quite effectively losing a bit of respect for the elf: telepathy always seemed like intruding on someone's thoughts to him), he turned back to Calandra without mentioning the mental note. He cooed at the given title of 'sir', nodding towards the young lady. "Of course! I would be happy to show you some of my special abilities... Soon as I think of what to show you."

It doesn't take long for him to snap his fingers, "I've got it!" He reaches into his robes, retrieving a wineskin. "I learned this one from a white... wizard." He grins: he hadn't come with the wineskin, having conjured it from no where: but that wasn't the trick. He uncorks the skin, tilting it and pouring it into his right hand... none of it spilled further down to the floor. Instead, his dextrous fingers swirled the wine about... as it crackled, freezing. In a few moments, the wineskin was empty and the young 'wizard' held a frozen form in his hand: that of a red rose, complete with stem and thorns. It glittered a bit, and with a final spell... made it permanent.

'Odran' bowed, offering the young lady the rose. "Here we are. It'll never melt, but it's still ice: it's fragile. Consider it a gift."
 
Calandra's face lit up. "Oh!" She gently took the rose, stroking its frozen petals. For a moment, last night's travails were forgotten. She beamed up at him, entranced. "Thank you!"

A servant girl entered the room with a tray of fragrant tea and cookies. "Oh, thank you, dear. Would you please make up quarters for our guests? They are certainly welcome here."
The servant girl's eyes opened wide at the sight of the rose; she reached out to touch it, then drew back in awe – such a thing was too beautiful to lay hand on.

The girl set down the refreshments and withdrew, leaving them alone once more. Calandra shivered slightly from the frostiness of the flower and drew closer to the fire.
"You're a learned man, correct?" She looked from Odran up at the mysterious, generations-old skull resting above the fireplace. "Would you happen to know from whence that came? I've always wondered."
 
Jin-Tir heard the loss of respect in the dragon's mind. I only hear the thoughts you want to communicate, I would not invade your privacy like that. Heavens no, I would much rather stay out of your thoughts. Good show, by the way.

He turns to Lady Theron. "Seeing as how my friend has shown a test of his power, I suppose I should show my own." He waves his hand in a circle in the air and then moves his hands as though he were flipping through the pages of an invisible book, floating in the air. "No... No... No... Most certainly not... Haha, I remember that one, but no... No... No... Aha!" he claps his hands together as if to close the book. "I found a little Herbomancy spell. Arcana Natura, Nature Magic."

He began to recite a chant, holding his staff with both hands in front of him, head bowed, eyes closed. The crescent moon shaped river stone on the top of his staff began to glow faintly, and he opened his eyes, also glowing a soft blue light. The color of the glow changed from blue to green, and vines began to crawl in through the windows. He removed his hands from his staff, Which remained standing, as he began to absent-mindedly move his hands around in the air, guiding the vines intertwining them, forming shapes. He moved them over to the adjacent wall, and began forming what looked like a tapestry. When he was finished, the excess vines retreated out the window, and left on the wall was a tapestry of a beautiful forest scene, made of vine, bark, and flowers.

He backed away from the creation, grabbing his staff, bowing, allowing the Lady to appriciate his work. "Just a small taste." He looked back up at her. "As I had your guard inform you, I would like an update on the current ills of your people, so I may better myself as a healer." He looked in the direction the guard went. "Seems a little over-zealous about being a guardsman, doesn't he?"
 
'Odran' positively beams at seeing his magical skills appreciated. His tail would have twitched back and forth had he been in his true form. Instead, he rocked back and forth on his heels, hands behind his back in a very bashful manner. He lived for praise. He reached forward for the refreshments, taking a bite of one of the cookies. He lights up, "That's delicious!" He looks at them, thinking them to be some fort of edible rock. "I simply must get more of these for when we make the trip back. Why, I'd be tempted to make the trip back for these alone... of course, sharing them with company makes them all the sweeter."

He nods when she asks if he's a learned man, meeting Calandra's gaze and following up to the skull above the fireplace. He gasps, eyes widening. "Oh, my stars!" His mouth was open in awe for a good few moments, "I could be wrong, but... no, it can't be!" He moves forward, looking up at it. He tilts his head, trying to get a better view of it... "Yes! That scar on it, pierced right through!" He turns back, "That's Ashardalon! The great red wyrm!" He turns back around, gaping at it.

"One of the mightiest beasts in existence. So great that the gods themselves moved to strike him down, piercing him through the heart. Rather than die, he bound a devil to his empty chest to act as his heart... See how his horns twist, there? He forced the devil's powers from it, quickly becoming more and more evil, altering his form. That's why he was called Ashardalon the Drake-Devil. He was killed far before I was even born..." He turns to Calandra, "Where did you get this? It's darn near legendary!"
 
Calandra looked between the tapestry, the skull, and Odran. She was getting a little overwhelmed!
A deep, resounding voice spoke unexpectedly from the back of the room.
"Do you know what Theron means?"
Calandra peeked around the back of her chair. There was Darren, muddy and bloody, tracking dirt on the rug. He leaned against the doorframe as though he would collapse at any moment.
"In the old tongue, from our ancestors' season, the name meant 'hunter'."
Darren trudged forward, limping slightly. Calandra rushed to him and helped him into a chair.
"Darren! What's happened?" She glanced back at Jin-Tir. "Can you heal him? He's my brother. Please?" Her eyes started to water up.
"Callie… Who are these men, and why has Madame Flora invaded our sitting room?"
"They're magick, Darren, and they're going to make you better. Right?" She looked at them with pleading eyes, as though it were she who lay wounded.
 
Jin-Tir was startled by the arrival of the wounded man. "Alright, Lord Theron, lie down on your back. Floor, couch, table, I care not, just lie still." He was already preparing an analysis spell, which would tell him the extent of the injury. He didn't want to make it too weak, as it may not work, but not too strong, as it may allow the young Lord to see through the magic guise of the dragon in the Mage outfit.
 
Chyta, the old servant, had been waiting outside the great doors. It would have been unseemly for a human of her rank to join the nobles. It had not been a problem. In fact, she felt safer working her unseen magic fro, the outside. She had been thinking to try talking to some of the servants when the one the humans called Darren arrived. She didn't need the name drop of Theron to know that he was dangerous. It was these instincts that had let her reach old age, despite her many battles.

When the man had arrived, she had tried to reach out to him, tried to draw out his trusting nature, but it had no effect. Finally, in desperation, and not wanting to give herself up, she tried to send a message to Jin-Tir. It's HIM. It's the seventh son of man! All she could do was hope that he got the message, lest she give away to much my interrupting.
 
The elf got Chyta's message as he was laying Darren down to begin healing him. Him? He is the Seventh Son? Hm... Interesting. Thank you, Chyta. I apologize for not giving you the clothing of a noble, but it seemed... unfit to match your scarred, beaten appearance. As stupid and vain it may seem, looks mean a lot to humans.
 
Darren kept his pain in check as he lay back; barely a grimace. Calandra held his hand, trying not to blubber. "Darren, what happened? Please, tell me!"
He just closed his eyes and frowned. "Don't worry about it, Callie. Just a little misunderstanding."
"Darren, please!"
He grunted and took his hand back. "I said, don't worry about it. I'm fine."
Calandra played with the rose; she hadn't even noticed she still held it. She put on a weak smile and held it up for Darren to see. "Look at what Odran made! Isn't it pretty?"
He smiled back feebly. "Yeah." Darren looked up at the young wizard and gave him a thankful nod – he appreciated anyone who took time for her.

~*~
The young servant girl hurried out into the brisk morning air. She noticed a new servant, elderly and battered, standing alone in the great courtyard.

"Hello, there! Are you with the nobles who arrived today? There's a room for you near the masters' quarters so you can tend to them easily. It's not much, but it's better than sleeping in the kitchens; the cook snores louder than a pack of werewolves on a full moon in December! Although we do get leftovers, sometimes. Have you ever had freshly roasted quail? It's heavenly!"
The girl sighed, a dreamy look in her eyes. Suddenly, she snapped back. "Oh, but anyways, you just go up the stairs and… Actually, I can lead you there. This way!" She energetically opened the doors to the Grand Hall and eagerly waved the woman in.
 
Razeth was outside too, he decided going into the castle was not the best idea to do. looking at the people passing and staring at him and his armor shinning in the sunlight. He smirks and looks at them back which then steers there eyesight away from him. He frowns every time they look away from him he looked over at Chyta and smiled saying " Its beautiful out here isn't it? " He hoped maybe he could get a conversation going between them to stir past the time.
 
'Odran' places his hand upon Darren's shoulder. "Don't worry. Jin-Tir's really gruff and easily annoyed, but I trust his spellcraft. You're going to be fine." His head turns as he watches the elven man heal the 'seventh son', ignorant to the man's role. He glances at the wound, curious. "Is that a sword wound...?" It's very clear that the magic-user wasn't that skilled of a healer, and couldn't easily identify where the wound came from.

He blinks, distracted for a moment. He turns his head back around to the skull of the red dragon from earlier. He looks confused for a good few seconds, looking around. He glances towards the others in turn... who didn't seem to notice anything out of the ordinary, so he assumed he was just hearing things.
 
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