The Dragon Wardens

[Owl]

Olsten kept his distance as hostile and agitated remarks were shared between the Sur Prince and the eldest Warden. To interfere was to risk the entire alliance. The shadow threat united them, but only just and it lead Olsten to wonder what would happen between the Orcs and Sur after the Shadow had passed.

If they could withstand it. The prospect of battle had appealed to him at first as a good chance to prove his worth and valor. But now that the moment was looming closer, he wasn't so sure anymore. While he was confident in his skill with a blade, he worried that a real battle would be much more chaotic than anything he'd ever trained for. The siege on Haven had been, and he'd only survived that through sheer luck.

Worst of all, no amount of training by either Rasrik or Valnir had given him any clue on how to deal with fickle magic. Lately fire-casting had come easy to him, but who was to say it wouldn't abandon him in his most desperate hour? As much as he hated to admit it, there was only one person that might know how to repair whatever curse still lingered on him.

Sighing, Olsten shot a glance at the shriveled hermit with that solitary, roving eye. Not now, he thought to himself. Not yet….

While Waethrin and Asal bickered, Olsten strolled over to Grybil. He tightened his cloak around him against the biting wind and clenched his jaws to prevent his teeth from chattering in his skull. He imagined the likes of Feria and Ifer would thrive in the bitter cold. At the same time, he could appreciate the white coating on the tall pine trees, bathing in the light of the Everfire. The Sur seemed less pleased by the smoldering glow that Waethrin had contributed to their rooftops. For a while he simply looked on, until Grybil pressed his snout into his side and exhaled a bit of hot air from his nostrils.

"I know," Olsten muttered.

It was time to go.

~~~~~

Miracles hadn't left the world yet. The Valnahar Woodlands were even colder than Usolath had been. The endless stretches of white were almost painful to look at, and by the time Grybil landed on the outskirt of the Orcish outpost, Olsten was chilled to the bone, ears glowing bright red. Redder than his unruly hair, whatever parts of it that hadn't been buried by snowflakes. No matter how tempted he was to use his magic to ward off the cold, he knew he needed to conserve his strength for the battle to come.

His mind was still on what he'd seen from the air. The large blastmark could be explained in numerous ways, but it was the eerie purple sheen that puzzled him greatly. He knew of no magic that left such traces. But if it was shadow magic, then their attempt to halt it seemed utterly futile. Nothing could survive such force. And from the looks of it, nothing had.

Brows knitted into a razor-sharp frown, Olsten approached the impromptu meeting from a distance while Grybil skittered off to melt and drink some snow. Lost in his thoughts, he failed to notice Idhrenan and Aurea, his gaze fixating on the Sur prince instead.

It appeared no amount of cold could douse the bitter flame that resided within Waethrin's core. Once again the old man resorted to snide remarks and insults, and Olsten sighed audibly at the display.

"Please Waethrin," he said, his voice sounding far more tired than pleading. "Simmer down for once. Nrem is our ally." Undoubtedly he'd draw the inferno's ire. In fact, he planned on it. It would be much better for negotiations if could get Waethrin to be upset with him rather than the Sur.

Having nothing to add to the conversation, Olsten let his eyes wander for a moment. He didn't know who the girl was and had no memory of ever having seen her before. Altough…? Not wanting to be caught staring, he quickly moved his gaze along. The sight of Idhrenan made him swallow, the Emasari probably thought him a fool and a coward for having abandoned the previous group of Wardens he'd been with. Speaking of which…? Where were the rest of them? Concern marred his face as he shot a glance over his shoulder. There didn't seem to be any Wardens left lingering in the snow. As he scanned the treeline, his heart skipped a beat.

There was no sign of Rasrik.

Horrified, yet unwilling to disturb the conversation further, he looked to Cinder and silently mouthed: "Where's Rasrik?"

@Effervescent @Elle Joyner @SpaceCowboyEin @Toogee @Cloudily @fyrelily @Doctor Jax @Red Thunder

 

[Effervescent]

The Orcish Camp​

The snow had not fallen as thickly where the orcs had pitched their camp. They had been there for a few days by order of their equivalent to a general that led the orcish advance to Thallas. Something had halted the scar they created through the woods to the point where their lumberers had returned and miles back their siege weapons were commanded to halt. Drau reported to her lead command, Gadab'zul, in the main tent among the white canvas waves pitched in icy turf. Prince Asal accompanied the orc woman to proceed with negotiations. Their meeting commenced even into the arrival of the Dragon Wardens after their scouting excursion.

Eosphelon tromped through the few inches of snow just outside the encampment. The scar provided a marred clearing devoid of the thick woodland as it was cut from the land. There were thousands of orcs just in this one battalion, and the Arcane Dragon was not interested in them in the slightest. He wasn't much interested in their halt in travels at all. A groan escaped him, slipped with a guttural croak in protest as he whined in uncertainty. He didn't know where to go or how to look for Idhrenan aside from hoping she would show back up with her friends. He still felt nothing.

Thannel was grateful to find himself grounded once again. His legs felt like pudding and on the verge of collapse, but he found his footing and accompanied Raleia to her report. Nrem carried a small frown upon his thin lips as he nodded to her account. His gaze briefly cast over towards the lone dragon whose claws now dug through the toiled earth. Eosphelon stuck his snout into the hole he dug and gave a curious sniff. Nrem couldn't care less about the dragon after that point. What was more of his concern was the implications of Raleia's findings.

"No survivors…" Nrem's voice trailed off.

"I saw his Warden." Waethrin approached their small gathering, and the Sur turned to regard the source of his thought's interruption. He didn't seem to mind the deterrence, and nodded to the old man in quiet greeting as he continued. "She's with Cinder right now, looking into a report of another Dragon Warden. We found her as we were attacked by the Shadow in Edlenfeld."

Waethrin spat into the slush of snow and soil at their feet. "Perhaps," Waethrin continued, " you'll do more with this information than bitch at the messenger for bringing it to you."

"Please Waethrin," the young Dragon Warden, Olsten, exasperatedly chimed in.. "Simmer down for once. Nrem is our ally."

Nrem's eyes narrowed as his regard for the old man dwindled. His jaw set as he nodded in agreement to Olsten's words. "We are well aware of the conflicts in the South," Nrem explained calmly. "Folhath presides within the Shadow's fog as well. Our gathering here is in efforts to eventually combat that threat. Prince Asal is with the commanding officer here to discuss terms. It is likely we will march on Rosenfall before we are to head into the fog for our people." Nrem's lips pursed at that, clearly perturbed by the concept that their people had to be regarded only after the orcs that marred their land in the North.

A sudden excited croak burst from Eosphelon as he turned his head to the sky. He could feel her! She was coming! His feet pat the earth rhythmically as if he were to dance and he beat his wings to lift off into the chilly air. The orcs nearby were on alert, watching the dragon fly above and away with skepticism. They were not so accustomed to dragons for they tended not to nest near orcish skies clouded with smoke. Nrem jolted from Eosphelon's sudden outburst, and sighed in exasperation as he took flight out of sight. Excitement welled within him as he felt Idhrenan's own elation to feel the bond once again. And once the dragons came into view he chirped and flew faster, his body zooming around Plainswalker's massive form in a spiral before bolting back to escort the group to the orcish camp.

Idhrenan embraced the geode encrusted snout of her scaley friend as soon as they landed. Eosphelon trilled and fluttered his wings before settling them back to his sides for warmth. They were reunited at last, and it felt amazing to know they had both survived the ordeal. Cooing to the dragon lovingly and stroking his snout, she looked over to find Olsten standing among a group of both Dragon Wardens and elves. Her gut wrenched at the sight of him. The last she saw of the boy was after all that had happened at the Silver Lance. He parted ways with barely a word, and she feared the worst. Her elation continued into relief, and she found herself bringing Olsten into a loving embrace.

"I'm so glad you're alive!" she said as she pulled back to look at him. How could he have matured so quickly in such a short amount of time? He looked older than she had remembered, or perhaps whatever he went through in the time he was missing aged him. She gave him a warm smile, though took note of the concern that etched his features that tugged the corners of her lips downward. Before her hurried embrace he had mouthed something to Cinder. She recounted the moments prior in her mind to try and urge his soundless words back to her memory.

"Rasrik," she uttered quietly, and then looked over to Cinder with concern. She was aware of the man as the woman's lover, though she had no idea Rasrik was even part of the survivors. Was he with them in Edlenfeld? Her stomach churned as she recalled another dragon in the skies through the chaos and fog. They had left someone behind, and judging by the look on Cinder's scarred face, it was likely him. Idhrenan shook her head solemnly as she looked back at Olsten.

"He will find us," she encouraged.

"We won't be a hard miss," Nrem stated, and then nodded to Waethrin. "This man says you came from Edlenfeld. If your companion got lost, we should head back through Edlenfeld to get to Folhath after we've kept our end of the bargain with the orcs. Prince Asal is in the main tent discussing strategy. Your presence and aid would not be an unwelcome one. The prince wanted me to inform you that if you wish to sit in or contribute, you may. The Orc leader has approved it. But if you'd rather not, feel free to meander as you wish. We have no qualms with your presence as long as you don't make yourself an issue."

@Elle Joyner @Nivi @Cloudily @Red Thunder @Mactomaton @Toogee @SpaceCowboyEin @fyrelily

Currently

At this time you are free to write your character either going into the meeting, or you can select players to collab with! Any of my NPCs are up for grabs as well if you'd like, though bear in mind Prince Asal and Gadab'zul are likely too busy to carry on extensive private conversations. You may also end your collabs with them either joining the meeting or remaining outdoors, but do not go past them entering the large tent. Outside the tent in the camp grounds are hundreds of tents and just as many orcs. The amount of Sur elves are few consisting only of the party that left Usolath to escort the prince. They will likely be off on their own. Feel free to create NPC interactions to suit your needs!

 

[rissa]

They should have waited until the sun had finished kissing the sky goodnight and the stars had graced the world with their presence.

Hunger made them reckless; their aching bellies whispering that it was worth the risk to investigate the wisp of smoke rising from the lone cabin high in the mountain valley. Theft hadn't been their first option, but needs were dire. Goats and mountain hare were becoming scarce as the snow and ice settled into the region. Neither had eaten in days.

Hesitantly, Coley slid into a defensive stance, her mace resting easy in her left hand. She didn't want to hurt anyone… but after what happened at Haven she couldn't be too sure on who meant her harm. Her free hand tugged the hood of her cloak down lower. Red hair flowed halfway down her back, graciously hidden with dirt and leaves and the windswept cloak she wore over her riding leathers. The hinges creaked as the door was pushed open. Coley clenched her fist around the handle of her mace and behind her, in a small clearing where herbs might be grown in the spring, Briseis perched, talons slicing through the frozen ground.

In the threshold of the small cabin stood a giant of a man, wrapped in a thick fur-lined coat, his beard and nose rivaling each other in size. Coley glanced above his head to where a star had been painted above the door. Unease filtered through her. Life was not worth half a goat, no matter how delicious it may have smelled. In her left peripheral she could see the small fire pit. Only moments before she had been eyeing the hunk of meat roasting over open flame until the door creaked open.

She turned half her body, poising herself to run. A gust of wind caught her cloak as she did. There was an audible gasp from the cabin and biting back a curse, Coley ran to Briseis.

"Wait!"

She kept running.

"Please, wait! I can help you!"

She slowed but didn't stop entirely.

"I'm a Guide!" The man said from across the small, snowy field. "The star above my door, it means we show Wardens the way through this dark time! There are things you must know!"

Coley stopped three feet from Briseis. She reached out to him and he bent his serpentine neck down to shoulder height. His horns were made of ice and framed his face with sharp as steel icicles. Coley turned around slowly, her heart beating fast and her paranoia mingled with Briseis'.

"What happened at the Haven?" She asked hoarsely.

The man nodded solemnly and stepped out into the cold. Coley's fist tightened around the handle but he only closed the door and rotated the spitted goat roasting on the fire. Dragon and Warden stared at it hungrily. The Guide, wrapped in his winter coat, cut off a humble slice of meat, sat on a log near the fire and began to eat.

"You and your dragon are more than welcome to the rest of that."

Briseis pawed the ground beneath them, his hunger apparent. It took less than a heartbeat for Coley to reach the pit, rip off hunk of meat for herself and toss the rest to Briseis. He caught it mid air and tore at the meat with reverence. She took her time, gnawing and chewing and savoring each bite. Coleite crouched near the fire, eyes toward the Guide. He spoke when he was finished eating, after wiping his greasy hands against his leathers.

It didn't take long to tell the horrors and truths behind the attack on the Haven, but for Coley it seemed like an eternity. She crouched there in the melted snow near the fire, watching the flames dance in front of her like the ones that danced across her home. Silence rang in her ears. Briseis moaned low in his throat, his own sad lament, worse than the one he screeched as they flew away from the Haven.

"There's been talk," The grizzled man said, his voice low though not a soul except the three of them were around. "Of Dragon Wardens such as yourself congregating at an Orc Camp within the Valnahar Woods." He scratched at his beard in thought. "I don't get many visitors, but I had one from another Guide not a fortnight ago. Reliable, that woman is, and if you don't have anywhere else to be I'd head there. You'd be surrounded by kin and there's always strength in numbers youngin'."

He stole a glance at Briseis and then at her. "Seems as though you two have taken care of yourselves well enough… still, they might need another Dragon Warden for whatever they're planning down there with the elves and the orcs."

Coley nodded, absorbing all the information that had just been dumped in her lap. From what she had gathered not many Wardens had survived the attack. So few remained… Coley looked back at her beloved friend, thankful that they were still alive, still together…

"I have supplies and food. Dried meats and goat cheese for you and that dragon of yours can help itself to the other half of that goat." The bearded Guide nodded to a small ice chest she hadn't noticed before. "Get it out and let him eat before you fly."

And Coley did. Heavy as a boulder was the frozen goat and it took her almost the entire time the Guide was inside his cabin gathering supplies to get it for Briseis. He walked out with a bulging satchel and a black scarf that rippled in the wind. He handed them both over.

"Good luck." He said softly, his eyes sad and uncertain. "The scarf will hide your hair better than your cloak."

"Thank you." Coley said as she stuffed the satchel in Briseis' saddle pouch. Only then did it dawned on her that the man had probably sacrificed half his winter ration. "Thank you so much. You don't know how much it means to us… and not just the food. To be able to see another Dragon Warden is all we've been hoping for."

Coley jumped back into her saddle, rubbing Briseis' feathered neck for comfort. He let out a soft, gravelly moan, somewhere between a growl and a squawk.

"We both give our deepest of thanks."

The Guide bowed and waved as Briseis flapped his wings and reared. Dragon and Warden glanced up into the night sky where stars blossomed before their very eyes. The man hollered out a goodbye as they took flight. The cabin disappeared as they rose higher into the sky, masked by the cover of darkness.

They flew south, towards the Valnahar Woods. A pang of guilt ate at her heart as she remembered, not for the first time, of the Wardens who had been travelling that way in the autumn season. What had happened to them? Would they reunite with their Emasari? They flew ever south, not stopping once. It was risky once the sun rose but onward they flew, hope bouncing between them. Time had slowed and when they caught sight of the orc camp, neither were aware of how long they'd been flying. There were even other dragons in the air as they approached. Briseis cawed in caution but Coleite's heart jolted in happiness. Her dragon gave them a wide berth as they approached, banking far to the left before tucking his wings to land in a small clearing.

Not too far away, huddled in a group that encompassed an elf, were other red-haired Wardens, some she might have even recognized. Coley leapt from her saddle, a wide grin plastered upon her face as she tore the gifted scarf from around her head.

"Damn," she said excitedly, "it's nice to see some other redheads."

@errybody

 

[CloudyBlueDay]

AN ARM FOR AN EYE
a collaboration between @Red Thunder and @CloudyBlueDay
​

"Please Waethrin. Simmer down for once. Nrem is our ally."

Waethrin's eye flashed dangerously as it turned to regard Olsten. The child and his hotheaded dragon had been gods knew where, doing gods knew what, and yet here he was, chastising his elder for speaking the truth! Hell, chastising at all! If the brat had accepted the old man's tutelage ... oh so long ago, it felt, he might perhaps have taken it better. But he hadn't, so he didn't, choosing instead to focus the anger he'd had toward the prince on the young Olsten.

Rather, he would have. But seeing Idhrenan's relief at seeing her dragon soothed his anger to some degree; enough at least to forgo its release. Turning on his heel, he shuffled off, directionless, just missing the arrival of yet another new addition to the list of Dragon Warden survivors.

Aimless. He felt so. His actions it seemed would be dictated by others who had command of greater authority than he, for he could achieve little to nothing on his own. For on his own he'd be; his grating personality and attitude distanced any potential allies, and none cared to be around him. His feet, left to their own devices, took him away from the other Wardens, out to the edge of camp. The few orcs he passed gave little notice; it was the Dragon Wardens' senile old geezer, wandering about in some demented haze. He was no danger, save for a sharp word. So none greeted him, knowing full well they'd likely receive that sharp word.

The crunch of the snow as he shuffled through felt muted on his ears. There was a watch fire near him, sputtering in its last moments as it angrily sought to remind those around it of its potency. But there was none to see it but him, and Waethrin stared into the dull orange flame. With a huff, he sat upon a makeshift stool made from a hollowed log stump, and taking a longish stick, began prodding the embers unhappily.

Ifer was sour and Feria was quiet, and when the two got like that, thing became eerily, deathly silent. Ifer acted like a child who had just been caught in the act of stealing sweets from a jar, and Feria the angered parent. He walked close too, but still behind his warden, because Feria refused to look him in the eye.

The Ruins of Sol'Davur were a bloody mess. A red and purple mess. Feria's expression hardly changed, though Ifer let out a soft whine. Truthfully, she had not expected a better sight. But she saw no bodies of slain dragons, which meant there could still very well be hope.

"That's Eosphelon," Came Thannel's voice, always etched with some sort of worry or panic. Her eyebrows raised as the arcane dragon landed near them, trilling as he clung close to Ifer, who let out a low humming noise of appreciation. Feria smiled, just for a moment. What had become of Idhrenan?

The Orcish Camp made Feria feel tense; every place they went they were hated in some way, even the ones where they were welcomed, something always felt wrong. This was what she was destined for. Always feeling wrong. At least it was cold.

Eosphelon's outburst meant good things, Feria knew. There seemed to be so many wardens, more and more coming, but Feria had given up on hoping for Zachary's arrival long ago. As the wardens landed and Idhrenan embraced her dragon, Feria clutched the blue crystal that hung from her neck and twirled it around in her palm.

The older warden seemed to be more hissy than Olsten, a feat she did not think could be accomplished. Olsten looked quite worn out, but Feria assumed Idrhenan's tight embrace would do something for the child. Perhaps they would speak later. Instead, Feria decided to follow the elder warden, leaving Ifer with the rest. She had no patience for these sappy reunions.

"I did not believe someone of your age could act like such a child." Feria said with a hint of a smirk, watching him jab at the embers of the sputtering fire.

He paused in his fire jabbing, though he did not look up. The voice was...unfamiliar. It was neither elf nor orc, however, which meant it was likely a Warden. A Fire Warden at that; no other Warden he'd ever known had such...passion in their tone. Eyebrow raised, his assessment finished, Waethrin glanced at his visitor before turning back to the dying flames. Still they sparked on angrily, determined to prove to whomever might see that they were worth something. That they were relevant. He frowned.

"Only a child would call a stranger a child." His head turned, the firelight illuminating his face fully. A wicked scar, jagged and wide, marred one side of his face, and the eye was ruined. His good eye starred at her with a mixture of impatience and weariness. "Save your tongue for our foes, young Fireball; you will have need of it, since you seem inconvenienced otherwise."

Feria's eyes flickered over the warden's face when he first turned to face her. Nothing about his marred appearance seemed to startle her; she hardly flinched, only stared. At his first comment she only shrugged, shifting her stance and waiting for his next slur of words. She'd heard Waethrin speak previously, this couldn't be the half of it.

"Save your tongue for our foes, young Fireball; you will have need of it, since you seem inconvenienced otherwise." First a sigh, then the gritting of teeth. "I could say the same for you," She hissed. "Where do I start, with your face, your eye, or your age?" Now she scoffed, kicking the snow with the tip of her boot, it swirling in an unnatural pattern before floating back to the ground. "Save my tongue for the foes. Maybe you should take your own advice sometime, huh?" Feria moved closer towards him, her arm and the stub both moving in what looked like her trying to cross her arms. The smallest look of confusion appeared on her face before her arms fell to her side again. "I'm not even attuned to fire." She huffed.

"No?" His eyebrows raised in surprise. Snorting, he turned away again. "You could have been."

What then: Earth, Ice, or Arcane? She seemed distinctly unfazed by the bitter cold of the snow, so not Earth. An Arcane Warden might have hidden her disability even from her allies, though that perhaps wasn't necessarily true for all Mystics.

A small pile of logs lay beside him; nothing large, but enough to encourage the smoldering embers into a proper warming burn. Weathrin tossed them onto the fire, setting a spark in each one to get it going as he continued to consider his visitor. There was that bit in the snow. It had reacted to her kick in a most peculiar way, swirling and circling as if it were drawn to her. So then.

"Do you have issues with your Ice, conflicting as I'm certain it does with your passion?"

Feria's brows furrowed, watching him toss log after log into the trickling fire as she contemplated his words and her answer.

"My passion?" She muttered, confused by the statement. Her passion for what? "What ever would that have to do with my Ice? The only real problem is that I'm missing a limb to cast it." She was bitter, that was for sure, but quickly her expression calmed once more as she shuffled around, casting her gaze downwards.

"So what ever prompted you to be such a grump?" She said briskly. "No, really. I've never met an elder who felt it so fit to speak without filter." Her gaze came back up, searching his scarred face for an answer, any at all.

"You've not met many elders than." He paused, considering. Waethrin found himself being considerably less curmudgeonly with the young Frostbite than he was habitually. Perhaps it was the considerably lower place he found himself; he was...vulnerable.

The realization almost made him start. In his entirely life, he'd felt vulnerable, weak, once, and it had far reaching, terrible consequences. Now? Perhaps it could be different. But not with a stranger.

"Child, you don't know me. We have yet to speak more than two words to each other, in fact. Why are you suddenly so interested in the reason to the bitterness of this senile old man?"

Feria paused a moment before her answer, partially surprised at how Waethrin's expression had changed. Not that of one who wanted to brush the question away, but was simply intrigued by why it was being asked.

"What else is there to ask you?" She said with a scoff, as if it were obvious. "I don't need to ask why you're here, because I know, and I don't need to ask any pleasantries. All I need to know is why you would rather sulk around a dying fire than rejoice in the companionship of our fellow redheads."

He smiled. It felt...odd; it'd been so long since he'd found legitimate reason to. But the earnest honesty with which the girl spoke was heartwarming. And though she didn't actually answer his question, she did reiterate that she cared.

"It is a shame, child, that Haven is no more. Had you lived out your life there, you might have made a good diplomat; you avoid answering an awkward question while at the same moment encouraging involvement from them you conserve with." Waethrin grunted a grating chuckle. "You fail to realize, however, the dangers of asking an old man to give account of himself. More often than not, it leads to divulging of his past. And that may last for hours."

The fire was fading, so he pulled back his cloak. The black leather underneath remained dull, even in the firelight. Without care, Waethrin reached into to dying flames and placed his hand on a log. It immediately roared to life with fire. Satisfied, he withdrew his hand.

"What is your name, child?"

The old coot smiled. What was there to smile about, Feria knew not, but she assumed it was a rare thing for the elder warden to do, so she took it in.

Feria snorted. Her? A diplomat? Please. The elders of Haven would laugh if she ever even tried. Not that she wanted too. "I'd rather listen to you ramble on about your past than be back over there." She muttered, gesturing to the way she'd come.

She flinched when the fire suddenly roared to life with a vigor she had not predicted. The old man had some power left in him, now did he? The flames danced in the pit and her eyes stayed glued to them, watching intently.

"Feria." She said pointedly, ripping her gaze from the flames to narrow them at Waethrin.

"Well, Feria, perhaps you and I share something, then, for I have no wish to remain in casual company of them what ignore the warnings of those with firsthand knowledge. As to our fellows..." Waethrin's face tightened in smoldering anger, "some share the elf princeling's mindset. Others have little desire to listen to the ramblings of a senile old man, springing as he has from nowhere and sure to return to the same."

The tension in his face relaxed with a weary sigh. When Waethrin looked at Feria, his eye was full of regret.

"I pray to whatever damn gods still listen that, should you survive the goings on, the same does not happen to you." His though strayed the events some decades back before he was able to refocus it. "In more than one way..."

He certainly wasn't in his right mind, at least, not every part of it. But Feria quite enjoyed his sharp tongue and his rambling, for some odd reason. Every word he spoke seemed like the old coot was trying to hold on to some related memory that seemed to be escaping him. First he was angry, then he was calm, on and off again, much like her.

She considered ending it there, because she couldn't quite understand what he meant any longer, but she decided to give him a chance.

"What exactly do you mean?" Feria piqued. "When you speak of the prince. I'm interested in your rambling."

I'm interested in your ramblings.

In your ramblings.

Ramblings.

It seemed to all make sense, when the child said that. He wasn't some figure of wisdom to her. Hell, he wasn't even a pitiable man in her eyes; Waethrin was a oddity, a sideshow attraction. A curiosity. The child sought to sate the questions in her mind, only wanted to know about the ancient creature that seemed to lurk in the corners, continuing with the group despite no actual expressed desire from anyone to stay.

At least she asks something of you. At least she finds you interested.

The though struck him hard, and glared at the fire angrily. It was true; she expressed genuine curiosity, actual interest. And even if she thought him mad, at least she listened to the madness with more than bored condescension.

Waethrin grunted, shrugging, as he began poking the fire once more.

"It's not something I wish to discuss at the moment. Later; I want to be alone right now."

Harsher words were on his tongue, but the old Warden bit them back. He'd missed having a companion with whom he could actually converse. Driving her away was the last thing he wanted to do.

Feria stared at Waethrin once more, and then gave a quick shrug. "Alright." She said, turning to leave. "Thanks," She called over her shoulder, though without any reason as to why. Feria disappeared the way she came, leaving Waethrin alone with his thoughts and his smoldering fire.​

 

[Effervescent]

Olsten and Thannel
a collaboration between @Mactomaton and @Effervescent​

[BCOLOR=transparent][BCOLOR=inherit]He didn't quite know how to deal with the sudden burst of affection, but he was much relieved that Idhrenan hadn't given him a stern talking-to instead. If memory served him right, he hadn't always been on good footing with the [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit]Emasari[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit], especially during his time at the Haven. For one, he had tended to appear in places where he ought not to be, and the inverse.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=inherit]Perhaps circumstance had matured him, or perhaps the cold had frozen the childish part of his brain. Either way, the [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit]Emasari[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit] seemed to have forgiven his past digressions, unless she was simply waiting for the right moment to lecture him on his behavior.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=inherit]"It's nice of you to say that," he replied, "but I get what it really means." He looked up to [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit]Idhrenan[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit] with a knowing look. It meant [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit]Rasrik[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit] was gone, and unlikely to ever return. A deep sigh was all the time he wasted for grieving his old teacher, not out of indifference, but because he could ill-afford to lament any more deaths. Raleia served as a good example of what happened when you did. She never stopped fidgeting with that necklace.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=inherit]Lingering on the loss of [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit]Rasrik[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit] would only sap his confidence, and in turn, his ability to control his magic, which was already fickle at best. Fortunately, the meeting was soon over, and Olsten elected not to attend the next one. He knew nothing of battle tactics, and left the adults to sort it out, it seemed better that way.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=inherit]As he wandered out of the tent and into the frigid cold, he came across [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit]Thannel[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit] and halted next to the [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit]Vuaturi[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit]. He shot a feeble smile at the elf, but didn't break the silence between them immediately. Ever since the events at the silver lance, the elf had stuck with the Dragon Wardens. Olsten wondered if perhaps the elf secretly desired to be one himself, though he couldn't imagine anyone would yearn for it now.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=inherit]After almost a full minute had passed, he finally broke the silence. "[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit]Thannel[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit]?" he asked tentatively, "Can I ask you something?"[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=inherit]If the elf would answer in the affirmative, Olsten would continue: "How would you go about storing a vast amount of information in a short amount of time?" In case the elf didn't quite understand his question, he clarified further and said, "Because I've been thinking…whatever happens, there's nothing left of [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit]Haven[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit] but us survivors. If we vanish, so does our legacy." His gaze grew serious as he lowered his voice. "I'll be honest with you. I don't think we can win this, we have too many enemies. Even if we win against the shadow, there will be too few of us to restore the Haven. Yet…I'd like to leave something behind."[/BCOLOR] [/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent] [/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent][BCOLOR=inherit]Thannel[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit] looked up from the bowl of stew he was offered by a rather quiet orc cook. It felt to him like a peace offering, but the [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit]brutish[/BCOLOR] [BCOLOR=inherit]batallion[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit] of warriors draped in thick furs and ever present scowls still kept to themselves with an air of skepticism towards the [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit]elvin[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit] presence. The Sur returned the hesitancy in kind and elected to stay among their kind by a fire of their own making. [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit]Thannel[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit] brought the bowl to his lips with his good hand as he watched Olsten approach and stop at his side. The stew was actually pretty decent, though the meat was a bit stringy.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=inherit]The young human did not speak at first. [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit]Thannel[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit] regarded him with a nod and continued to eat in the most primitive fashion he had ever had to. So many new experiences, and it had only been a Season's time since he had left his people. Even more so since his freedom was regained at the Silver Lance by the very same group of Dragon Wardens Olsten was part of, and he played the larger role in the endeavor.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=inherit]When Olsten finally spoke, [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit]Thannel[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit] lowered the bowl away from his face and nodded in response as he eyed him thoughtfully with a striking gray gaze. The tattoos across his face looped in elegant design from his forehead down to his cheeks a few shades lighter than his naturally tan skin. There was evidence of the same thematic tattoos on his neck that flowed below the line of his own pelt of fur draped across his shoulders. He quietly contemplated the posed question carefully before responding.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=inherit]"Crystal archiving has been an experiment for some time," [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit]Thannel[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit] stated. "We can't seem to find a way for the information to be permanently stored. We've been able to do it with the terrain, but that is due in part to the Earth Magic contained within. Even then, we constantly update our maps as we travel our circuit."[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=inherit]He wished he could offer him more encouraging prospects, but the truth was that their technology was still not advanced enough to handle the strange complexities. Thannel's head lowered solemnly as he could not find words of hope for Olsten's concerns. After seeing what happened in the North he was just as skeptical of their survival. He was the only one that had the luxury of knowing his people would live on in the end.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=inherit]"Your best bet would be only of traditional means," he continued. "A journal, if you can find the parchment. You would likely need to travel back to [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit]Usolath[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit] for the materials and purchase it from a vendor. It would be the nearest city willing to trade with Dragon Wardens."[/BCOLOR] [/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent] [/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent][BCOLOR=inherit]"It's too late for that now," he sighed. "Besides, Grybs is far too tired to fly back now, and so am I." For a while he was silent again, his gaze fixed on the expanse of snow, dotted with tents of Orcish making and the machinery of war. Soon enough, his eyes flitted back to [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit]Thannel[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit], or rather, the steaming bowl the tall elf held in his hands. "Grybs must be hungry by now," he murmured. "Wanna go see him?" he motioned his head to a small incline on the outskirts of the [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit]encampement[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit], shielded by pine trees. "You're not too chewy are you? He hates that..."[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=inherit]Olsten only managed to keep his face straight for a few seconds before he burst into laughter and slammed the elf on the back. "Just kidding of course," he said with a watery smile as he started to move towards where [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit]Grybil[/BCOLOR] [BCOLOR=inherit]rested[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit]. "But I can tell you a bit about Dragons, if you'd like to know? Elves have long lives don't they? As long as you have good memory too, [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit]perphaps[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit] I won't be needing a journal after all..."[/BCOLOR] [/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent] [/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent][BCOLOR=inherit]He let out his own chuckle at Olsten's jest. It was relieving to see an air of [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit]lightheartedness[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit] throughout the camp, especially with a Dragon Warden, given how grim everything had been so far. [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit]Thannel[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit] finished off his soup and set the empty bowl atop an overturned log before following Olsten over to [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit]Grybil[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit]. The dragon was a magnificent creature, but looked just as inviting as [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit]Ifer or[/BCOLOR] [BCOLOR=inherit]Wynnock[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit]. His smile faded somewhat with a thought, and he nodded to the boy.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=inherit]"We do live fairly long," [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit]Thannel[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit] stated, "and I am still young in my people's eyes. Just at the cusp of adulthood. My mind is still very sharp. I have plans to write down this history the first chance I could, actually. It would be an honor to know what you know."[/BCOLOR] [/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent] [/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent][BCOLOR=inherit]Grybil stirred and lazily lifted his head from its previous position on the ground to have a better look at his visitors. His golden eye lingered on [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit]Thannel[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit] and a small puff of shot from the dragon's nostrils.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=inherit]"First thing to know about Dragons," Olsten cooed as he rested his hand on Grybil's flank, "they're wary of strangers. Fire ones doubly so. They tend to be quite proud, Grybs here is no except-"[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=inherit]The earth trembled as [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit]Grybil[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit] rose from the ground and lumbered one step forward before lowering his fierce head to sniff at the elf. A light snarl seemed to cross the Dragon's face before he shot a questioning look at Olsten.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=inherit]"Don't worry, he won't hurt you. He knows you're a fr-" Olsten stopped, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips before he glanced back up at [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit]Thannel[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit], "...ally."[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=inherit]Snapping out of his quiet contemplation, Olsten [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit]motioned[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit] for [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit]Thannel[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit] to come closer. "We need to get the saddle off. Can you undo the straps here, and here," he pointed out the [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit]spots[/BCOLOR] [BCOLOR=inherit]Thannel[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit] would have to untie before he walked over to [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit]Grybil's[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit] other side and started undoing the leather straps with small, cold fingers.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=inherit]"Have you ever wondered why Dragons don't eat their Wardens?" For all the Vuaturi's cleverness, Olsten doubted the elf had the faintest idea about the bond between Dragon and Rider. Yet he had to ask. If not a secret, it was uncommon knowledge at the very least, and he wasn't quite sure if he was allowed to share it.[/BCOLOR] [/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent] [/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent][BCOLOR=inherit]Thannel[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit] was well versed in dragons' reluctance towards strangers. In the span of a Season he had come across more than a dozen, all of which approached him with the same hesitancy as [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit]Grybil[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit]. He inclined his head to the Fire Dragon as he could think of no other way to indicate his respect for the massive beast. Olsten assured him that he was welcome, though he still tread lightly about the dragon's form.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=inherit]"I've always assumed there was some sort of respect," [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit]Thannel[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit] said as he began to uncinch the leather straps. He occasionally lifted his right hand from the task to emphasize and coax his words from his thoughts. "I've witnessed between you wardens how you'll just look or say something to your dragons and there's some sort of... Understanding? They react, even if only in action. Do they understand our language?"[/BCOLOR] [/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent] [/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent][BCOLOR=inherit]"Close," Olsten nodded, "but it's more than that. We share a mind. We don't need to talk or gesture because I know what he is thinking and the other way around. If I want to, I can shield my thoughts a bit, but that takes practice. It's necessary though, or I'd go mad. There is scarcely enough room up here," he tapped on his own forehead [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit]worth[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit] his index finger, " for one us."[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=inherit]Grybil[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit] rumbled in relief as the saddle finally was hoisted off his back and eventually stalked off towards a small collection of trees where he could rest, shielded from the winds. Before the nimble Dragon took up his new spot, he caused a considerable cloud of steam to blow into the air as he melted some of the snow in a torrent of fire. Olsten didn't seem remotely deterred or surprised and simply carried on telling [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit]Thannel[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit] of life at the Haven as he collected the saddle and saddlebags. All the way back to the [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit]encampement[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit], Olsten talked and talked with newfound vigor until they [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit]finalky[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit] halted outside a small tent that had been [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit]alotted[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit] to him.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=inherit]"I'm glad you're here [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit]Thannel[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit]," he said with a faint smile, "you're a good listener, and I hope to read your books one day." He stepped into his tent and waited for [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit]Thannel[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit] to follow him inside before he dropped the saddle in a corner and plopped down on his bedroll, buried underneath layers of fur. In silence he proceeded to undo his boots and socks before he started to peel back the various layers of fabric that had shielded him against the cold. Stripped of any body armor, Olsten looked much thinner, almost malnourished. His ribs could easily be seen through his skin and the blue of his veins seemed darker, closer to the purple that they'd seen from the sky, at [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit]tge[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit] spot of the blast. Within a few seconds however, Olsten had already tucked himself in and covered himself up with many layers of blankets. "Can you stay with me for a while?" If [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit]Thannel[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit] agreed, Olsten asked a final question: "what chance do you think we stand against the Shadow?"[/BCOLOR] [/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent] [/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent][BCOLOR=inherit]The notion that they shared a mind was something [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit]Thannel[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit] had never considered, and it was quite shocking to even fathom. The heat from Grybil's flames was felt even where the [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit]Vuaturi[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit] stood, and despite its briefness, he felt he could break a sweat. He followed Olsten back to the encampment. Soaking in all the new information was somewhat overwhelming, for most of it was comprised of concepts far beyond what elves and humans could perceive.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=inherit]"I hope I can write it all down correctly," [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit]Thannel[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=inherit] admitted as he stepped into the tent. It was only slightly warmer within the canvas likely due to the thick fabric shielding the wind. He sat down on his own bed roll as he looked to the Dragon Warden with quiet concern. His near-white eyes looked away thoughtfully as he contemplated the answer to such a loaded question.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=inherit]"The orcs claim their weapons could defeat them," he said. "They gave them to the Thalls for that purpose. Their power is obviously great, for they managed to wipe out nearly all of your kind. It is known Dragon Wardens are the most powerful casters of magic this land has ever known. But what we saw near the ruins looked like a massacre on both sides. No survivors. Aside from Eosphelon, it seems. This is also telling. It seems we stand a fighting chance, but it may not be that everyone survives."[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=inherit]He looked back at Olsten after giving him his grim but objective answer, his face a solemn apology for the practicality of his mind. "You need to eat," he said, and brought himself back to his feet. "I'll fetch you some stew. It's actually quite good considering limited supplies."[/BCOLOR][/BCOLOR]​

 

[Elle Joyner]

[bg=#F5E538]

[/bg][bg=#F5E538][bg=#339588]

For all his volatility, Raleia could finally, for the first time since they had come together understand the extreme level to which Waethrin seemed attuned. Their journey had been fraught with exhausting turn of event after event, and so little seemed to spur from their actions so far that even she was beginning to feel the weight of creeping anxiety. Soon enough, they'd be headed to Rosenfall to take on the queen and it was not a comforting notion, given their calling to keep peace in the land.

But it seemed so little of their purpose remained in any of them. They were ships lost at sea, with no guide and no berth.

The conversation concluded and an unfamiliar voice clambered from the back of the crowd - a young woman Raleia didn't recognize, a brightness in her gaze that suggested what Raleia had once felt, herself, the realization that she was not alone. Smiling faintly, Raleia moved past the girl and reaching out, laid a hand on her shoulder with a nod.

"A great solace indeed… to see our numbers grow, even a little. Welcome." Releasing the girl, Raleia turned from the group and with an odd feeling of numbness, she made her way through the grounds of the camp towards the pen where she had left Winnock.

---

After he had finished talking to Thannel and Idhrenan, Olsten went out in search for Raleia. She couldn't have strayed far, and soon enough he found her on the outskirts of the encampement, looking after Winnock. A tinge of guilt tugged at his heartstrings, for not looking after Grybil. After all, who was to say how much time together they had left?

"Hey," he started in defeated voice, his gaze downcast. Snow crunched under his boots as he edged closer. Every feature on his face spoke volumes about the inner war he was waging. He'd stuffed his hands deep into his pockets while his shoulders pressed inward, as though he was about to admit having stolen a cookie from the cookie jar. In reality, he had comitted a far worse crime and allowed emotion to rule over reason.

"Can we talk?" He asked tentatively, "before, you know, it's too late..." he added with a shrug.

Whatever enthusiasm he'd previously displayed at the prospect of glorious battle had long since faded as grim reality took hold of him. "There's..." he bit down on his lips, "there's something I want to tell you..." his eyes flicked over Winnock before finding hers. "Just you... It's about you, about us." The last word left an odd taste in his mouth.

She'd been all too tired, in truth, for more negotiations, more war-talks. Waethrin's less than diplomatic rage and the notion that Rasrik had gone missing had been more than taxing. The field of death that they had flown over had been all too real a reminder of where that manner of talk led, and for the time, at least, Raleia was ready for some peace and quiet. Some rest. But first, she had a stunningly patient fire dragon to tend to. Winnine had gone above expectations that day, and if anyone was deserving of her attention, it was him.

She'd been in the process of brushing dust and dirt from his flank when the sound of footsteps alerted her to the approaching company. Olsten. No doubt someone else in need of a little attention.

He paused beside the pen and lowering the wiry brush, Raleia smiled faintly, kindly. As he spoke, something in the sincerity behind his voice gave her pause. In a way, he had grown so much since they'd met in that dank, dark prison, but sometimes it was painfully apparent how young he really was. Too young for such formality. Such severity.

"I've been meaning to talk to you as well, dear one. I need to apologize for my behavior back in the village. For how I spoke to you about Valnir. There are no excuses, only that I wasn't fully prepared, and I am sorry if I was inconsiderate."

Even before Raleia answered, he shot a hasty glance over his shoulder to make sure nobody was eavesdropping on them. It had been hard enough to muster the courage required to ask Raleia the question that had lingered in his mind for so long. Ever since she'd cared for him in that maddening dungeon, he'd known that this moment would come...that he would have to ask her.

A shiver passed through him as she apologized to him. "That's alright," he said, "I think I owe you a fair amount of apologies too. For being so difficult, for disrespecting your memory of him."

He sighed. An old memory of Raleia's lover stirred. "Valnir once said-" he started. But his voice trailed off halfway through and he shot another cautious glance at Winnock. The Dragon seemed calm, and he knew it was ridicolous to want to speak with Raleia privately. All things were shared between Warden and Dragon, there was no need for secrecy.

Yielding, he dropped his shoulders and stepped into the pen, his fingers gently traced Winnock's side. In his earliest days he'd been terrified of other people's dragons, and truth be told, Ancalagon still terrified him. Winnock however seemed quite gentle and approachable, more so than the usual fire Drake.

His eyes remained on Winnock as he started over. "I've been thinking. The Haven will never be restored, even if we win this battle, and all others to come. There are too few of us to keep the peace. You know it too...deep down somewhere, you know there is no coming back from it." He paused for a moment to fill his lungs with winter air. "So I thought about what would happen to us after all of this is over. Aside from being safe and healthy, I'd like to have a place to call home. But more than anything," he looked up, "I'd like to have a mother."

His voice wavered and was almost lost on a gust of wind as he asked her the only thing that mattered.

"Will you be my mother?"

It wasn't what she'd expected. Not for a moment. In truth, for a good while she had been a little afraid his affections for her weren't entirely the healthiest... that she might need to speak to him about their appropriateness, but hearing his request was almost harder, in a way, than the words she had been anticipating.

It hurt, every time Valnir was mentioned... like a blade in her side, twisting deeper and deeper, but this time was different. She hadn't dared to think much about it when they'd been together, because in heart she had known that Wardens were not meant to have families of their own. But she would have been lying if there wasn't a part of her that desired it... A part of her that wondered what it might be like, having children. What sort of father Val would be. What sort of mother she might be...

Tears stung her eyes and turning her gaze away from the boy, she looked instead to Winnock, watching as he huffed a cloud of dust from under his nose, his tail thumping lazily against the ground. Reaching out, she brushed her palm along his long, spindly neck, "...Ollie... I... I don't know what to say. I can't know what this world, in its state, with all this fighting and the Shadow growing... I can't know what will happen. We're floating right now on a prayer, on a hope... and it's small, growing smaller by the day. If we survive, it will be in a broken world."

Turning to face him, she managed a small, weary smile, "I don't know how to be a mother. I wouldn't know the first thing about it, to be honest. But if that's what you need... then Ollie, I will be here for you, to the best of my abilities." Dropping her hand to his shoulder, she bent at the waist and placed a delicate kiss to the top of his red crown and as she straightened, she brushed briskly at her cheeks.

"You amaze me, more and more each day, Olsten." Chuckling gently, she gave his shoulder a squeeze, then released him, "I should see how the meeting is going, and you should get some rest, Dear One. We've got a long trail ahead of us..."

He listened with baited breath until she answered him. And whereas she couldn't quite hold back her tears, he couldn't stop himself from smiling the widest, whitest smile to ever grace his lips.

In his heart he wanted to comfort her, the mere mention of Valnir still upset her, but he didn't know what words might heal such a grave wound, or if they even could. Instead he beamed at her, his heart having been lifted at her acceptance. Color returned to his cheeks at her compliment and he straightened up with renewed vigor.

"Yes mom," he answered sheepishly, before trailing after her. And unlike anything he'd ever imagined, he was quite happy to not be involved in some secret meeting, but to be sent off to bed instead. What more could a child ask for?

---

As trials came and went, it had been a rather miserable day full of them but for Raleia things had taken an unexpected turn that left her more than reeling. Following their discovery at the ruins, she'd felt drained, worn down and scrubbed thin emotionally, but Olsten's proposition, for all that it had warmed her heart, had been the tipping point and she could feel herself toppling, falling over the edge of reason, into a sense of weary, heady turmoil that seemed bottomless and bleak.

She'd left Olsten at the tents, but knowing sleep would be a delusion best avoided for the moment, she found herself wandering towards the warmth of a small bonfire, towards the warmth of a familiar face... one that had for the better part of her day been something of a refreshing air. One that, for the first time in weeks she was glad was not belonging to a Warden. Moving forward, she found a spot near the Vuaturi and sinking down, held her palms towards the comforting stalks of crimson flames.

"...I've never been one to indulge... but I'm certain there's never been a more appropriate moment to need a drink."

Thannel had not gone far from the group after Nrem extended the invitation. He felt his presence in the main tent would not be of any help. As a Vuaturi, he had no sense of battle, and any information he could provide the orcs would be better given and received from the Dragon Wardens. Instead, he chose to remain close to the small group of Sur that collected around a fire of their own magically created by one of the elves. They joked about the prospect of the one being able to use his fire magic for once, their laughter quiet among the camp of more serious people. The surrounding orcs paid them little mind as they went about their own business.

Raleia's presence was welcomed. He had taken a liking to company, especially that of the Dragon Wardens. They seemed to be more accepting of a Vuaturi outside of his constructs and business. Raleia seemed to trust him to actually want to help. An airy laugh escaped him as he rose from the log he sat upon, offering her a blanket. "I think the Sur were gifted some of orcish make by the neighbors if you're interested in trying."

Naturally warmer, given her attunement, Raleia took the blanket regardless. A chill had settled in both the air and around her heart that seemed bone deep and unshakable, and the gesture was appreciated, whether it would help or not, "That..." she afforded his suggestion, nodding, "Sounds like the fortification I need right now. Please."

He nodded, his small smile still evident as he walked over to the group of Sur. Words were exchanged, and Thannel was given a playful warning by the group before they handed over one of the bottles. The Vuaturi returned to Raleia and held it out to her.

"They said it's called U'gul," he said as he motioned to the log for her to sit. "It's distilled from potatoes and is apparently quite potent."

Settling, the blanket tight around her shoulders, Raleia smiled wearily, taking the bottle with a nod, "Thanks..." Pulling from the lip of the bottle, then, she hissed softly at the burn, which did more to warm than both fire and blanket together. Potent was the word for it, that initial pull leaving her comfortably lifted. Handing the draught back to elf she leaned back on her hands, watching the flames with an absence, "Have you ever wanted a family, Thannel?"

Thannel brought the bottle to his nose and sniffed it, his head immediately jolting back from the strong biting scent. He hesitantly brought the lip to his own and took a quick sip before coughing from the taste. His eyes were brimmed with tears as he looked over at Raleia, and he sheepishly laughed at his own embarrassment.

"A family?" he repeated as he wiped away his tears. "Yes, I have. There aren't many prospects available among my people. I built my own construct for that very purpose. Do Dragon Wardens get to have a family?"

"It's quite awful..." Raleia murmured, gesturing to the bottle with a small laugh, "Isn't it?" But it was warm and to some degree, at least, it was a moments distraction from the chaos swirling madly through er mind.

"We can marry... but children. That's another story, I suppose." Biting her lip, she reached for the bottle and took another slow sip, grimacing at the taste before handing it back, "I never thought much about it, because it seemed so out of reach. It just wasn't something we were meant to want... But Val. He... he would talk about what it might be like, if we ever had a child. I think a part of him wanted one. He was quite fond of Olsten. Thought of him as something of a son, in fact. Ollie, he... he asked me tonight if I would consider it. Being a mother to him. And it occurred to me when he asked... I... I don't know the first thing about it. I don't know how to be a mother."

Frowning, she shifted, glancing upwards into the cool, cloud-covered blackness overhead, "Whatever happens... whether we win this fight or not, we'll never be able to go back to the way things were, the Wardens... and it leaves me wondering what becomes of us, when this all over. If we survive. What do I do? Where do I go...? And I have no answers... It frightens me. Not to know who I am, anymore. Who I'm meant to be."

He braved another sip as he felt the tingle start to set in. Thannel was a bit of a lightweight, though he rarely imbibed such strong beverages. The second hit was just as strong, his body tense in anticipation as he lifted the bottle. The elf couldn't help but grimace at the odd flavor and the jolt in the aftertaste. His smile had faded at this point. Raleia's concerns brought a solemn tone.

"You have to learn to live your new life," Thannel said. "You have to define what that life will be for yourself. If you want to be Olsten's mother, don't overthink it. Every new mother doesn't know what she is doing. Go find a plot of land away from here and build your home and make your family with the company you decide to keep. None of us wake up knowing how to define ourselves. Who you are is what you choose to be. So choose."

"...Choose." A smile twitched at the corner of her lips and Raleia glanced over to Thannel, shaking her head, "It must seem perfectly absurd that I've never actually thought I'd get the chance to make those decisions. I never actually thought I wanted to, but I find it's... it's almost as exciting as it is terrifying. Though I... I had never imagined a life without Val." Smile fading, she wrapped the blanket around her, leaning closer to the fire, "I suppose we've all got to learn to adjust to a new life. But at least we have the opportunity. So many don't.... and I don't suppose any one of us is guaranteed to make it through this alive. Though I mean to. It can't all have been for nothing. It seems so bleak, but there has to be hope... there has to be a way through."

"I didn't think I had a choice either until I made it," he said in return. The mention of survival caused his gaze to downturn in contemplation and sadness. So much was lost already. It was difficult to maintain his own hope despite the odds. Raleia maintained her optimism, and something as small as that was enough to keep Thannel hopeful.

"We will rid this land of the Shadow threat. And then we can continue on in peace."

"I can see why you and Val got along..." Straightening, Raleia reached out and covered his hand with her own, the smile returning a little brighter, "...You could teach the others a thing or two about their outlook on our chances, Thannel. Thank you... for having the courage to be here with us, and for having the hope so many lack. It's desperately needed."

Chuckling, she released him and tapped a finger against the bottle, "...This abhorrent stuff, however... should be left to rot."

Her bare hand felt warm on top of his, likely due to her magical attunement. Raleia's talents as a Dragon Warden were apparent in the ways she knew how to encourage and work through adversity, and even in the small gesture he felt his spirits lift. A chuckle escaped him.

"It is rather disgusting," he said in agreement. "The taste of it lingers."

"I wonder if it's what makes them so irritable... The Orcs." Smiling faintly, she rose and unfolding it from her shoulders, she handed him the blanket, "Probably best I get some rest. Thank you, Thannel, for the company... You are a refreshing soul. Goodnight."

He raised the bottle of U'gul and sloshed its contents about in a parting gesture. "Good night, Raleia," Thannel said. "I shall see you in the morning. But take the blanket with you. I'm an Ice Caster. The cold doesn't bother me as much as it will you."

"See you tomorrow, then" And nodding, she took the blanket and with a warm smile, turned away.
​

[bg=#F5E538] Collab with @Effervescent, Collab with @Mactomaton, @Fyrelily[/bg][/bg][/bg]

 

[Effervescent]

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Chapter 3
30th Day of Winter​

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Thallas

Winter was still not cool enough for Thallas to be coated in snow. Their fields carried only morning frost that thawed by the afternoon. The Harvest was poor the pst Autumn Season as a quarter of their lands were afflicted by Shadow. The earth rumbled with the beating of thousands of footsteps, and the skies hummed like a thousand insects in tandem. The orcish army marched through the open plains, past farm houses and barking dogs and frightened deer that pranced back into tree lines. The farmers hid within their homes clutching their families in fear, but the orcs pressed on, their sights focused on the castle that rose upon the horizon like a spire among the trees and soft hills.

Their march had been quite the trek. In the fortnight prior the Sur had agreed to aid the orcs in their endeavors against Thallas. Prince Asal was not keen on turning against his ally, and it took the aid of the Dragon Wardens to push them both to compromise and their own alliance. In that night he almost felt as if he were working alone, for no Dragon Warden showed to the meeting for hours. Idhrenan, after Nrem had spoken to them, had wandered off towards Eosphelon, her heart heavy with all she had endured. She felt relieved to see her companion once again, but it did not soften the ache upon her heart. And in her seclusion next to the Arcane Dragon, she buried her face into the crook of his wing and sobbed. Eosphelon covered her gently in the leather of his wing to give her privacy as he shared in her turmoil.

But it was not long before she dried her tears and mustered all she had learned from her time at the Haven. The few of her people present within the camp took their own time away from the burdens of strife that had been set upon them. It seemed it was needed, and it allowed the Dragon Warden to take part in the planning renewed.

Drau had stood with Gadab'zul around a table upon which rested a worn map, crinkled and stained from overuse. Above it hung a gas lamp flickering with an orange glow upon the thick fabric wick. They planned out their points of attack with their newfound alliance with the Sur. They were not happy with the detour, for it would add on more travel time. But with the Dragon Wardens present, they came to a compromise both parties were willing to accept.

And so, within the skies hummed the engines of strange floating vehicles attached to giant balloons. The orcs had used them once before in gifting their weapons to Queen Malan, but these machines were still in the early stages of development. Due to the gas contained within the balloons, these airships were prone to bursting into flame with the slightest tear or puncture. They were not built for war, but they could carry the siege weapons over the Woodlands and place them within the plains on the other side before coming into range of Rosenfall's defenses.

Word did not travel fast enough to Queen Malan. She sat with her council, lips pursed thinly as Paul Paulson relayed the report. An army of orcs, thousands it seemed, were marching to little Rosenfall with their infamous siege weapons in tow. But that was not what bittered the queen's palate. Paulson solemnly reported that their Sur allies marched with the orcs along with Dragon Wardens. Her heart hurt with the burden of her people. They had nowhere to run, and the fret of her council only made her own anxiety worse.

"Evacuate the women and children," she said softly, her head buried within her hand. The chatter at the table quieted to listen to her commands. "I leave the escorts for you to divvy, Paulson. Have them taken to the Cliffs from the back roads, and make haste. All able bodied men are to remain here and should be given a weapon to defend this city should the need arise?"

"Should the need arise?" an elderly nobleman repeated. He stared at his queen in shock. "We should send our armies out there before they get in range of Rosenfall!"

"We suffered enough from the last attack," Queen Malan pointed out as she rose from her seat. The others followed suit in confusion. "See to it my people are taken to safety, Paulson. Have my horse prepared. You will accompany me to ride out and meet this army. Perhaps we can negotiate."

The council dispersed upon her exit, though they felt they moved as if in a dream, bewildered that they would come to see a war upon the footsteps of their home. Queen Malan did not dwell upon it, nor did she immediately head to her chambers to be suited. The heels of her encrusted shoes clattered against the smooth stonework that led through vast halls and open spaces. It was a long walk to the west end and down the staircase into the dungeons. Her groomed appearance was striking against the dull pallor of the dingy cells. She walked past cell after cell with her handkerchief over her nose to snuff out the foul stench of degradation brought about by her stern hand. These criminals were left to rot in poor conditions due to an array of transgressions she could not even recall. But these men and women were not her target.

Far off in isolation rested a small, dark cell with nothing but a small port window within an iron door to let in light. Queen Malan ordered the door open and walked confidently within. Her gown of golds and reds swished as the layers of fabric brushed against the enclosure. She took up most of the available space, especially as she knelt down to come face to face with Addiver Cald.

He looked haggard in the weeks of his isolation as his rugged stubble threatened a rather scraggly beard. It was clear he was weak from malnourishment; a slow death offered due to his treasonous crime. She still hated him for it even as he lifted his head pathetically to look upon her with such an even expression. A traitor right under her nose, and one of her most regarded soldiers. He still did not look remorseful even in his sorry state.

"The orcs," she began, and then paused. She hated being wrong, and even moreso, she hated admitting it. "You were right. They're here."

Addiver didn't even laugh at the news. His head rolled back to rest on the damp wall behind him, his half-lidded gaze staring back at her with enough of an indication to show his disdain. "And you want something of me now?" he asked.

"You will clean yourself up and ride out with me," she commanded as she rose to stand before him. "You will do this, and I will pardon not only you but those you colluded with."

Addiver's head shot up to look at her with wide eyes in shock. "All of us?" he asked. He was hesitant to believe he heard her correctly.

Queen Malan rolled her eyes. Yet another man to question her words. "Either rot in this cell and die like the rest of your cohorts," she said tersely upon her exit, "or come with me and give a damn."

Why would the queen pardon those who blatantly acted against her? Addiver would not deny treason, for he knew as soon as he sided with the Dragon Wardens what it would mean if he were to be caught. All Guides knew this and they chose their fate willingly. It was a risk for a better world. By all accounts, the most powerful woman in the Allied Kingdoms should never desire to pardon them.

It took effort to rise to his feet, head swimming from a lack of energy. Addiver gained his bearings and walked out after Queen Malan as she waved away a guard. He didn't notice the stench, but he noticed how out of place she looked among the squalor. She turned her head slightly to see if he had followed which prompted him to speak.

"Why do you need me for this?" he asked. "My views are in line with theirs. I'm a traitor."

"That is exactly why," Queen Malan said. "I have had many sobering experiences this past season, and today I've had a moment of clarity. I need you to ride with me to show them I wish for peace." She led them back up the stairs, a queen escorting a ragged traitor through the marbled halls and up into the northern wing. Guards stared in confusion at their passing but dared not to challenge it as Queen Malan spoke to Addiver casually.

"Your efforts may be in vain," he said in return. "You've killed the Dragon Wardens and fed your citizens the meat of their dragons. You have to understand they aren't just beasts to them."

"I know," she said. "Lisella was one once. She explained the companionship to me."

Addiver found his steps slowing at the news. His thoughts were brought back to the chaos during the trial for Raleia and Olsten. Waethrin had called out to Lisella, questioning where her dragon was. He had always thought it was a mistake for why would a queen so against the Dragon Wardens have one as her closest advisor?

Queen Malan turned after she noticed her lack of company, her grand gown flowing widely out from her form in an array of layered fabrics. She looked over at Addiver with a hardened expression, her hands clasping together before her.

"I will explain it all to you on our way to meet the orcs," she said, and then continued on to her chambers. "Shave and suit up. The guards have been notified of your release." Addiver remained within the halls, dumbfounded and feeling almost lost in what had transpired. He drifted to the barracks as if in a dream, his feet moving without much thought into direction. The men formerly under his command stared, just as perplexed by his presence even after receiving the news that he was to be pardoned. It did not sit well in the stomach of loyalists as they prepared for war. Their families were in the process of being evacuated with the threat of violence at their doorstep. And here was a man who led the conspiracy against their queen and kingdom.

He felt foreign in his old uniform. Even just in the weeks of his confinement and starvation the set was a little big on his frame, too loose and too bulky. A meal was given to him that was hastily devoured and nearly regurgitated just as quickly. He knew better yet still couldn't help the need to satiate the pang of his hunger. But he needed the strength for the journey ahead.

Queen Malan was not there to meet up with Addiver Calf and Paul Paulson. The two soldiers sat upon their steeds in an awkward silence. Paulson felt perplexed and bitter toward the man next to him, and Cald still felt out of place. They both shared in confusion as Lisella mounted the other horse between them, her stern gaze hardly regarding the two soldiers. The burns upon her neck and jaw were reddened and visible under her high collar.

"Where's the queen?" Paul Paulson asked.

"We cannot risk her riding out to meet the blood thirsty orcish horde," she said flatly. "We need her alive. I will speak on her behalf as a mediator. She briefed me on what it is she desires."

Lisella nudged her horse's flanks to begin their trek. Paul looked over to Addiver to exchange a questioning expression. But what harm could really be wrought from three meager individuals against an entire army? They followed after in silence and uncertainty.

It was a few hour's ride out until they met with the orcish army. Gabad'zul was informed of the coming party, much to his disdain. He did not like these frail attempts at saving one's self from repercussions, and it was often an endeavor met with the keen edge of his blades across their throats personally. But Prince Asal insisted they ride out to meet them and hear what they had to say. The reports suggested an old woman accompanied by two soldiers, to which he only hoped it was Queen Malan herself. They were long allies, and he had known her family for three generations now. He hoped this could be their chance to set aside bitterness, mend bridges, and march forth to Folhath.

"I want the Dragon Wardens there," Gabad'zul stated as he stared out at the Rosenfall castle spire. "This is what they did, is it not?"

"For centuries, yes," Prince Asal answered. "But would the Dragon Wardens be more of a threatening presence? They are many in number and Queen Malan targeted their kind specifically." He looked over at the bulky Orc. He had shed a few layers of pelts despite the Winter chill, his charcoal gray skin lined with black ink in designs down each muscular arm. Compared to the elven prince he looked like a person built for combat. Gabad'zul did not seem to hold much thought into the matter, his tongue rolling over his front teeth as he scanned over his army.

"Maybe they need to shit their pants," he said, his accent less thick than the other orcs. "A little fear will do them good. My people hunger, and their flesh will taste sweet on their tongue."

Asal felt his stomach churn at the orc's words, and he couldn't help but stare at Gabad'zul with wide eyes. The orc finally looked over at the Sur prince, catching the look of horror on his face. A hearty laugh escaped him, his hand slapping Asal's back jolting him forward. But Gabad'zul never reneged his comment or even attempted to quell his concerns leaving him to wonder just how hungry and desperate these orcs may be.

Been held the honor of informing the dragons of their requested duty in the coming meeting with the Rosenfall party. The orcs began to line up in formations as the siege weapons were pushed to a holding position. Whatever the result of the coming meeting, they would be ready for whatever came.

Before heading out, Idhrenan approached the unfamiliar Dragon Warden, Coley, with a warm smile. "I'm Idhrenan, by the way," she said. "It is unfortunate you came to us at the brink of a possible war. Queen Malan was attempting to forge an alliance with the orcs and betrayed them. The orcs are suffering a famine to which Thallas was to supply. There was a lot of deceit involved, son negotiations may be difficult to achieve. We are here to act as mediators, which is difficult given the circumstance. Thallas betrayed the orcs to betray us. The others in our group… They're understandably no longer neutral. Should things escalate to war against Thallas, please consider to render Thallas useless in the battle rather than to stoop to their methods of genocide. Please. We have to separate ourselves from the darkness they have embraced."

Thannel emerged from the Sur tent in chainmail and enchanted leathers. There were only about a hundred Sur that could meet up and join the efforts against Thallas and as the lone Vuaturi he elected to fight alongside the elves. But Vuaturi had not known battle for centuries, and even as old as Thannel was he had never even used his magic offensively. Situating the heavy chainmail on his frame, he gathered Feria and Raleia together for a parting word.

"Do you have your necklaces?" he asked the pair. "Put it on, wear it, and keep it safe as it will you. The orcish army greatly outnumbers Thallas's army. I've seen their numbers before. This would be a slaughter, so if this results in a fight… I fear they may have more on their side than just their wits."

A horn burst through the chilly air to call for the meeting party to convene at the front. Thannel would hug the two, though Feria more hesitantly, and then joined the Sur to get in formation. The Rosenfall party approached coming over the hill, three leading with a small posse of guards behind. They carried white flags upon tall poles to signify that they approached in peace. Gabad'zul, Drau, and Prince Asal waited on horseback for the Dragon Wardens to join them.

@CloudyBlueDay @Elle Joyner @Red Thunder @rissa @Mactomaton @Toogee

 

[Elle Joyner]

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Over the course of their journey, Raleia clung to a sense of hope that, despite their objective, seemed indefatigable. A hope that was built around the idea that peace was not entirely beyond their grasp. A hope that maybe, just maybe there was still time, still a chance to twist things around, to convince the Orc to abandon their mission of vengeance. To leave Rosenfall, show mercy on the Queen that she refused to show the Wardens, and continue on towards the Shadow... the real threat.

Despite everything that she had been through, it was that hope, alone, that carried her through.

Time seemed to stretch on, ad nauseam, and between the bitter chill of Winter and the mood of the fellow travelers, Raleia found it difficult to maintain much of a sunny disposition. When at last Rosenfall was within striking distance, she was all too eager to pause for a respite, to help set up camp and take a much needed break from Winnock's back.

It was strange, being back in Thallas again, only a few short weeks after all that had happened. She and Olsten had not been meant to ever leave the city alive, and the gnawing weight of those painful days in the prison, the memory of the brief, intense trial and the chaos behind their rescue played heavy on her heart. Too many people had been hurt or worse, too many people had been lost... and there was no amount of hope within her... within the entirety of the world that could repair the damages done. She missed Val. It became a duller ache, day by day, but never did it full fade, and in part she was grateful for the notion. She never wanted to stop feeling... To grow so cold, so calloused that she became no better than the Shadow cast over the land.

But there were some days when all she wanted was to wake up to see his face, again. Still, she managed to get through, if for no other reason than because there were those that counted on her, those that she had come to know, to care for. Olsten and the other Wardens, Thannel. Even the orcs and the brackish Inferno had grown on her to some degree. They were a family, all of them. Knit together through circumstances beyond their control. So often, Val had spoken of the importance of loyalty, of valuing the people placed in his path and for the first time since his death, Raleia seemed to understand just what he meant…

And that somehow made the idea of what they were about to embark on all the more troubling. So many times along the way, she'd had to fight the urge to ask Olsten to stay behind, and even now, the idea of him traipsing into a veritable war made her stomach churn. There could be no favorable outcome, beyond peaceful dissolution and it was a thin hope, at best.

She had been waging an ongoing battle within herself all morning, not to demand Ollie stay at camp when Thannel found her. His words to both her and Feria were sobering, and definitely a little frightening, but after reassuring the elf that Val's necklace was safe on her person, she accepted his embrace with a measure of warm familiarity, thankful for the unfailing strength of the newfound friendship.

The cry of a horn soon shattered the quiet of camp and with her heart sunk to the depths of her stomach, Raleia joined the departing Vuaturi, Winnock hovering well overhead, though not so far that his pulsing anxiety could not be felt. It was only when the approaching party neared that Raleia caught sight of the white cloth, floating against a cold, pale sky and for a moment, her heart skipped in her chest. Then her eyes trailed down to the three foremost riders and she gasped, catching Thannel's arm.

"Addiver! Thank the Maker, he's still alive!" With the exclamation, Raleia released the elf's arm and started forward, towards the awaiting front line.

---

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[bg=#F5E538]@Effervescent, @CloudyBlueDay[/bg][/bg][/bg]

 

[Toogee]

Aurea looked upon the potential battlefield with a heavy heart. She knew it would have come to this, but so soon? Maybe it wasn't as soon as she had thought: it only seemed like yesterday that the young warden had met Idhrenan in the forest. Aurea could still close her eyes and remember the bird songs, the garden, and Alfwin. On the precipice of war, it was the only Haven she had left.

"Don't despair yet, Aurea", the girl thought to herself. Despite the armies at the ready, an envoy from Thallas rode with white flags towards the Orc-Sur alliance. Both sides had hope for peace. This was where the wardens would come in. They were born for this. Aurea had initially feared of participating in such high stakes discussion, but what better learning opportunity would there be? If successful, the conflict would be over. The wardens could finally go home and rebuild Haven. With the hope of a renewed Haven burning deep inside her, Aurea walked over to join Gabad'zul, Drau, and Prince Asal.

Aurea briefly glanced up to the sky. Plainswalker was circling over their allies, waiting to swoop in and rescue the warden in case things went south. Up ahead, Aurea saw that she wasn't the only warden in the negotiation party. She had seen the woman of red curls around camp, but she never got the chance to properly introduce herself. Perhaps it was just the thing to calm herself before jumping into the intense negotiations. The young warden quickened her pace to catch up to Raleia.

"Milady," Aurea formally addressed Raleia as she walked by her side. "My name is Aurea. If you don't mind, I would like to participate in the negotiations and end this conflict once and for all."

@Effervescent @Elle Joyner

 

[Red Thunder]

~Waethrin~​

Ancalagon had plodded on, following the ranks of soldiers, fully aware they were likely bound for hell but caring little. On the dragon's back, Waethrin had paid as little attention as his friend, concerned as ever with thoughts of his past. The path here had seemed...wandering, uncertain, directionless. Doomed. And he was responsible for much of the misery he'd brought upon himself. And upon others. There was no telling what his lack of action had wrought, and what she had done after he failed to give chase.

About him, the forces were ordering thenselves as they were directed, the vast amounts of orcs a worthy army to fight alongside. And unyielding in battle; it seemed to him that he had fought them in his youth, decades past, though it was likely that his mind was slipping. One's elders never mention the effect that their many years have upon their cognitive abilities, and Waethrin regularly had to remind himself of it. He was frail, every part of him, and he was only becoming more so: mind, heart, and body. Weariness he wore now like a cloak, and it's cousin regret blew continuously its cold breath upon his neck.

It looked as though the other Wardens were gathering near the front lines, accompanying the orcish and elvish leaders. At a small urging, the old Drake plodded toward them. They should be there, ready to act, but behind his younger companions. The years of the Inferno were over; it was time for younger hearts to prevail where his ragefilled heart would not. No, he would keep to himself, unless they came to blows, and refrain from involvement.

Then he spied Lisella.

She approached with her companions, traveling under the protection of the white flag of truce. From his position behind his companions, the old man could see little of her troupe or of her. In fact, scarred as she was, Waethrin almost failed to recognize her. But it was most certainly Lisella. Fury gathered in his heart: she was alive! Alive! He would crush her again, and again, and as often as necessary to rid the world of the bi-

Waethrin felt Ancalagon grow anxious beneath him, hesitant to engage in battle as yet but conflicted for all the emotions he felt from his Warden. The old Drake's logic won out, however, and slowly Waethrin drifted toward calm himself. She could be handled later, when the fate of untold lives did not hang in the balance. So he bit his tongue and bided his time, allowing her to go free for the second time in his life.

But he couldn't shake the nagging feeling that he was once again making the same mistake he had all those years ago.

@Effervescent

 

[rissa]

In the languid afternoon sky, Coleite and Briseis drifted above the two marching armies. They stayed a fair good amount from the orcish siege weapons which floated alongside them in the sky by way of giant balloons. Briseis didn't trust them, his unease flowed through their bond and Coley found herself shooting furtive glances at the machines. His distrust mingled with her own curiosity and they had wasted many a days away from orcs, elves, and fellow Warden's as their trek grew ever closer to Thallas' center.

She helped whenever they broke ranks to make camp and whenever help was needed, ate, and slept with Briseis a short way from camp when the sun broke to the moon. The routine repeated for weeks, never ceasing.

It was dull.

And, not for the first time did she find herself wondering if leaving the north was the right thing to do.

Idhrenan's words continued to poison her psyche; long hours stolen with her head full of droll contemplation. Yet, they lingered and despite not wanting to focus on the bubbling emotions within her, Coley couldn't help but do just that. Consider Thallas useless in battle rather than stoop to their methods of genocide… We have to separate ourselves from the darkness they've embraced… Those words kept repeating themselves in her mind and the more she focused on it, the angrier she got. Useless in battle? They destroyed Haven and the Warden way of life. They destroyed her home, everything she'd ever known…

Genocide. The loss of her people. Coley glanced down to the earth and caught a glimpse or two of fire-red hair. Her heart swam in the misery she'd felt so often as of late. What were they to do? Her, and the rest of the survivors? What of the dragons? What will happen when there's only so few left to protect them? Genocide… Coley absentmindedly stroked Briseis feathered neck, contemplating on what was making her so angry. The people of Thallas were not the source of her anger, but those in charge, well, that was a different story. She didn't want to commit genocide. She didn't want to hurt the people of Thallas. Only their leaders, their generals, those who marched and attacked the Haven.

Coley wanted the Queen's head.

Shaking herself out of her reverie, Coley glanced down below, where the army seemed to have halted. The Inferno rode his fire drake towards the front lines and a pair of Warden's were making the same trek towards -she leaned down for a closer look- an orc and an elf who stood before the twin armies. A league or two in front of them, a trio, mounted on horses, rode with a white flag rippling in the light wind.

She urged Briseis downwards and the pair landed not far from the Inferno and his drake. There she waited, adrenaline and unease filtering through the bond her and her dragon shared. Whatever happened next, she would be ready, they both would.

 

[Effervescent]

Thallas​

The camp buzzed with conversation as orcs formed their lines behind Gabad'zul and filed between the rows of tents. They honestly never expected the queen to send out a party given relations, and so it was quite the talk among them. The climate, while still chilly, was far warmer than what the thick-skinned race was used to. Much of their furs and layers were shed to reveal more of their natural bulk. Even without the thickness of hides they were massive and imposing, and their tusks only served to further the air as they jutted from their lower lips that seemed to naturally rest at a frown.

Raleia exclaimed in a rush of excitement, her hand grasping Thannel's arm in the well of emotions before she released to head towards their own greeting party. He wasn't familiar with the name, his mouth agape as he had intended to inquire about the one called Addiver, but the Dragon Warden was off and away before he could utter a syllable. A few of the Sur chuckled, their heads shaking somewhat at the girl.

"Damn that Addiver Cald," one of them said as he craned his neck to look over at the approaching party. The Thalls halted their horses, white banners flapping with a soft breeze as they elected to go no further. An orc called out a command harshly within their native tongue. The Sur shrugged at that. "I guess that's our cue to get in formation."

"You know who Addiver is?" Thannel asked.

"He's done a lot for Thallas," the Sur explained. "And he has a reputation for being a bit of a lady's man."

Thannel's brows raised, taken aback by the accusation. His silver eyes moved back to the front where Raleia placed herself among her gathering kind. Her excitement made a little more sense to him, yet still did not match what he thought of the Dragon Warden. It was not his place to ponder further, and so he walked into the forming line of elves.

Idhrenan slowly walked to the front of the forming lines, her boots lightly padding through the soft earth. The frost was taking its toll on the soil as it thawed and saturated the ground below. Above the clouds began to clear to a sunny day, but it was clear that until the sun could dry out the land, they would struggle to move the heft of the siege weapons into place. Eosphelon took to the skies, and likely for the better. Since the start of the morning he had been restless, almost annoyingly so as it woke her from her sleep. They had even gone out for a quick flight to relieve the growing anxiety.

Addiver cast his eyes upward to the cloudy skies and watched the dragons fly about, his gaze following as a white streak swooped to the earth and landed majestically and imposingly next to the other mounted Dragon Warden. Lisella pursed her thinned lips as her horse dug its hoof into the earth.

"This was a mistake," she muttered bitterly.

"Oh, you don't say," Addiver quipped.

"Shut your gab, Cald," Paulson commanded, and then looked over to the Queen's Advisor for her own counsel. "What do you suppose we do now?"

"We hope for the best," she said, though her eyes fixated on Waethrin coldly. "But expect the worst."

There was a considerable gap between the Thalls and the orcish army. Prince Asal took in a deep, calming breath for what was to come. The tension was thickly laden upon the gathered and it did not help to soothe his own nerves. Gabad'zul, however, was calm, and chuckled at the elf's visible concern.

"We are on the winning side," the orc said. "They know this. That is why they come to cry their tears of shame and regret."

Asal looked up at the two mounted Dragon Wardens, and then down at those who chose to walk. Even just by themselves he felt they were intimidating enough, and perhaps that is due to knowing the sheer devastation they could exact both with their dragons and without. It was always strange to him that the Dragon Wardens chose to make themselves keepers of the peace rather than rulers of the world, for the latter would be easily achieved.

"Let us proceed, then," he said, and nudged his horse's flanks to move it forward at a calm walk. Gabad'zul followed alongside the Sur prince, a soft hum of a tune rumbling deeply from his throats as the gap was closed between the two parties. Idhrenan spared a glance to Raleia and Aurea as she walked alongside Asal's horse. Her stomach churned with a festering unease. The Inferno was present, and the legend turned out to have a legendary disposition that only seemed to be exacerbated by the signs of age. She knew of his stories and once found him heroic in a certain light. But now she doubted whether or not he was fit for a task such as this. Decades in exile seemed to have worn away his purpose.

When they halted just before the Thalls, it was Lisella who spoke first. "What brings you to Thallas, Gabad'zul?" she asked.

"Your people were given our siege in exchange for food," the orc responded. "Our food never came. We come to claim what is rightfully ours."

"We are suffering a famine of our own," Lisella stated. "We have every intention of providing you with food, but we were thrown into a crisis brought about by the very Dragon Wardens to which you currently ally yourself with."

Addiver visibly frowned at the accusation, though he kept his mouth shut knowing full well his remarks would only hinder peaceful negotiations. As much as he sided with the Dragon Wardens, there were many in Thallas he cared for. There were too many innocents at risk to this orcish army, and he hoped despite the wrongful accusation, the Dragon Wardens could correct the error and take hold of the negotiations.

@CloudyBlueDay @Elle Joyner @Red Thunder @rissa @Mactomaton @Toogee

 

[Elle Joyner]

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[/bg][bg=#F5E538][bg=#339588]

As Raleia moved forward, one of the younger wardens, another straggler picked up along the way, approached her side. Her formal introduction was, or might have been (in less dire times), amusing and endearing, but Raleia could manage little more than a polite smile as she inclined her head towards the girl.

"Were we to have met in better circumstances, young one, but well met, all the same." She would have liked to offer more - a comfort, or words of encouragement, but her heart beat ever quicker as they grew closer to the front and that small smidgen of hope that she had clung so intently to wavered at the sight of those flanking Addiver. She recognized the woman as the one that Waethrin had called to, during her's and Olsten's trial. A woman he'd accused of being one of them… of having abandoned their cause to darkness. The very sight of her turned Raleia's stomach, but her words...those prompted an entirely unexpected reaction from the generally well dispositioned Warden.

Fury.

Hand balling into knots, Raleia paused short of the mounted greeting party, staring down the woman with an expression of unadulterated indignation.

"That's quite enough out of you." The words were like ice, a soft, frigid hiss, but in Raleia's eyes was fire, roiling… very nearly untempered. Too long they had suffered… all of them. And to now be blamed for the fate of Malan's people… to have their name, their good name, all that remained of their once proud people besmirched by the likes of a vile traitor. It was too much.

"You will keep your lying, forked tongue behind your teeth, you wicked creature. Anything more from you but utter silence and mark my words, we will abandon negotiations, immediately, and you will be left the mercy of your enemies. And let us be very clear… they are your enemies. We will take no responsibility for what occurred here in light of your queen's ridiculous, genocidal witchhunt against our people. You have wrought this upon yourselves and our only goal is to ensure no more innocent lives are lost to Malan's madness. Justice will find those responsible, in the end. Our concern is not you or your queen."

Frowning, she turned away from Lisella, looking to the other two on horseback, "We will speak to Addiver Cald, alone, on all matters. No one else. "

---

​

[bg=#F5E538]@Effervescent, @Toogee[/bg][/bg][/bg]

 

[Toogee]

Aurea nodded to Raleia's brief reply, but the approach of opposing party kept their conversation short. The younger warden didn't even get a chance to ask for a name, though she managed to get a glimpse of the blue necklace Raleia adorned. It looked awfully familiar, but Aurea could not recall from where. Nor did she have time to think about it as the groups calmly walked to meet potential foes. The orc leader hummed a haunting tune. It echoed in Aurea's head, giving her a sense of foreboding. Not the feeling one wanted over vital negotiations.

Aurea hoped she could at least chime in with her textbook knowledge of negotiation skills. She quickly found out that this was anything but a textbook example. The woman representing Thallas almost immediately accused the wardens of causing a famine. Raleia immediately fought back with anger. It was all Aurea could manage to avoid piling on after hearing such accusations, but that wouldn't lead into successful negotiations. Someone had to maintain some sense of neutrality. On the other hand, how could she expect any warden to be neutral with Thallas?

The only thing Aurea could think of was step 1 of any negotiation she practiced at the Haven.

"Perhaps we should begin with introductions. To begin, I'm Aurea."

It felt as awkward as it sounded, Aurea visibly cringing as she listened to herself. It was just too casual for such an intense negotiation and Aurea knew it. She hoped it would at least dispel the building tension.

 

[Red Thunder]

~Waethrin~
​

Sitting atop his dragon behind those far more articulate than he, Waethrin listened on as both sides made their claims against the other. And once again recalled why he always left this burden to other Wardens. His patience, though healed some since his short discussion with Feria, was struggling against his control; he would lose it soon, he was certain. All the more so that Lisella made such ludicrous claims as she-

The last person he expected to speak did so. It was the demure, insultingly self-composed female Fire Warden from the trial. She of all people was letting lose, berating the old woman for her shifting of blame onto the shoulders of the Wardens when it was the Thalls' own fault. Or at the least, that of their queen. He might have smiled, seeing such passion from an otherwise dispassionate woman as he saw her to be.

Yet he knew this was not the way. There was no need to spur either side to war; they were themselves more than eager. Raleia was correct; innocent lives must be saved here, and who was to say that many of those innocent lives now marched under the Rosenfall banner? As a different Warden, one he didn't recognize, spoke to attempt a softening of her ally's chastisement, Waethrin slipped from Ancalagon's shoulders. He was perhaps thirty feet behind the young woman, and even at his age, the distance was easily crossed. He peered out from under his hood at her, trying to avoid even looking Lisella's way as he placed a worn hand on her shoulder.

"Daughter," he coughed out gratingly, "your passion is justified. I long to put action to the very words you spoke. But now is the time for neither. Allow cooler heads to prevail, like our little friend." He inclinded his head, indicating Aurea as she and possibly others made their introductions. "Stoke that fire you feel within; we may yet have need of every cinder. Passionate hearts win wars; cool heads prevent them."

@Elle Joyner
Mentioned: @Toogee

 

[Toogee]

Just as Aurea was feeling down on herself, courage came from the most unlikeliest of places. Her conversation with Olsten led Aurea to believe that Waethrin was a bitter old man who made friendship difficult. Yet here he was, the Inferno himself, offering not rage but sage advice. Not a biting tongue but soothing words. Not a warrior, but a teacher.

"Allow cooler heads to prevail, like our little friend."

Aurea couldn't believe it. Waethrin the Inferno, the Inferno, just complimented her awkward attempt at making peace. A legend among wardens acknowledged her efforts and deemed them worthy of praise. She hoped to tell future generations of how she gained respect of one of the great wardens. But most of all...

"He called me his little friend."

A warm glow of pride burned inside her. Was this what fire mages felt like all the time? Olsten was totally wrong about Wraethrin! He hadn't spoken a word to her before, but he already had a nickname for her. Maybe Aurea was blowing things out of proportion, but a legendary figure walked out of the history books and called her his little friend. She was allowed to indulge.

Aurea allowed herself the tiniest of squeals, but she quickly faked a cough to cover it up. They were still on the brink of war after all. She went back to her stoic stance, lest she disappoint her...big friend?

"Stick with Inferno, Aurea..."

 

[Owl]

Olsten remained quiet during the remaining days of the army's march toward Thallas. Thannel was the only exception and he entrusted as much as he cared to remember about the Dragon Wardens to the Vuaturi in what little time they had. His heart ached and tightened with every step bringing them closer to Rosenfall. Memories of his brief time there, trapped in the dark, plagued his mind. Never again would he let dragonless, magicless Thalls overpower him. It was high time Queen Malan and her kin learned their place.

A good hundred feet removed from the frontlines, Olsten sauntered forward with Grybil at his side until they reached a shallow incline at the leftmost flank of the formations. He halted to gaze over the army that threatened to devour Rosenfall. Many Orcs were present, and their bulky machines were even more foreboding than the numbers in which they'd come. Unless Thallas possessed a secret weapon, the battle was as good as won.

Sucking in a deep breath, he brought up his right hand and tickled Grybil behind his ear, causing his armor to jingle like chimes.

Only once before had he donned full armor, and back then it had been in jest. The chainmail, strapped in with padded leather, weighed down on his shoulders, reminding him of his duty in the inevitable war to come.

Grybil stirred when three horses dawned on the horizon. A fire above Olsten's palm he'd mindlessly conjured fizzled out into nothingness as he peered at the distant riders. At first, he couldn't make out their faces, but as they came closer, he spotted Addiver among them. At once he jumped up to sprint down the shallow incline and meet the only Thall worthy of mercy.

But before he was even halfway down the incline -with Grybil lumbering after him- he lowered his pace. His stomach turned at the sight of the woman who had overseen his and Raleia's trial not a season ago. She, of all people, had been sent to try and avert the inevitable? Queen Malan was twice the fool he'd thought her to be if this witch of hers was supposed to save her petty city.

While the two parties met, Olsten hurried further down the snowy plains until he was close enough to listen in, but far enough to not be mistaken for taking part in the negotiations. It was best to leave those of a calmer disposition in charge at times like these. His eyes briefly flicked over to the new Warden that had arrived recently and he wondered if she would mingle in the conversation, or stay back like him.

His attention was drawn back to the treating parties at the sound of Raleia's strained voice. He'd never heard her so tense before, and he flashed a smile as she told Malan's pet to shut up. Once his eyes found the Queen's advisor, they didn't abate. He recalled how fiercely Waethrin had charged at her, how he'd screamed something about her dragon. At the time, he hadn't had the opportunity to ponder the meaning of those words. But now…

He edged closer to the conversation until he stood a few paces behind Raleia and was about to close the distance when Waethrin popped up. It was odd to see the roles reversed, with Raleia seething and Waethrin appearing the very hallmark of calm.

A cough to his right caused his focus to shatter as he turned his head in instinct. It was that know-it-all Aurea who, for one reason or another looked more than a little flustered. He shot a questioning gaze in her direction before returning his attention to the negotiation at hand.

"Let her speak," he chimed in softly from behind, still reluctant to join in full. "Let her lie and stall for time as much as she wants. It won't save her, and it won't save her city."

 

[Toogee]

Just as Aurea was hoping that both sides were calm, Olsten came from behind her and offered not-so-helpful comments. She looked behind her in disbelief. Whoever this woman was, it seemed that Olsten and the others had past dealings with her. If they were to survive this, however, they all needed to contain their anger. Aurea raised a hand to Olsten, signaling to him to calm down. She then turned back to the Thalls, hoping they didn't blow their chances of ending this war.

Aurea felt the wardens were presenting a splintered front: some interested in peace while others desiring revenge, particularly against the queen's representative. If it kept up, not only would they lose the patience of the Thalls, but also the faith of their allies. The young warden could almost feel the doubting stares, even if she dared not look to the orcs and elves. She had been taught by the greatest negotiators the wardens had to offer. Did that knowledge die with the Haven?

Strengthened by Waethrin's positive comments, Aurea addressed the Thall leadership before them.

"Though there is much anger among us, we do not wish for this war. The fact that you have come bearing a white flag means the bloodshed can end, here and now. We would listen to your terms."

Aurea took a quick glance over to Idhrenan and Waethrin to see if they approved.

 

[Red Thunder]

~Waethrin~​

The old Warden frowned at Olsten's input, put off by what seemed to him to be intentially escalation. The brat it seemed had not learned to hold his tongue since they'd seen each other before Waethrin's journey to Edlenfeld. His brow furrowed; perhaps the child needed correcting.

But Aurea was addressing the Thall diplomats once more, seeking the reason for their approach. It was...odd, now that Weathrin considered it, that the very kingdom that had orchestrated the destruction of the Haven should seek to parley with them they had wronged. It was usually the other way around. He glanced back, appreciating for the first time the full force of orcish might behind them. On the other hand, it wasn't just the Wardens the Thalls were treating with. Behind him, Ancalagon grunted. Ah yes; the girl was glancing his way...seeking approval? He'd not received a look of that nature for so long. It was odd, almost disconcerting, that this young Warden whom he had never met might place such value in his opinion.

Odd though it was, Waethrin knew what was required of him by her at that point. Folding his arms, he looked Aurea in the eye and nodded once, deeply, affirming her path. His Drake rumbled, the chuckle vibrating the air and causing Waethrin almost lose his composure. The last time Ancalagon had felt this from his Warden, they were still at the Haven, being forced to conduct classes with Acolytes and their Wrymlings. But the old Drake knew it was good for the man, that he should make himself focus on some other individual in a positive manner. And in truth so did Waethrin. He was simply loath to admit it to himself.

@Toogee
Mentioned: @Mactomaton

 

[Effervescent]

Thallas​

The Thalls watched as the Dragon Wardens interjected. Addiver nodded in agreement as Raleia effortlessly corrected Lisella's errors in pointed fashion. Paul Paulson shot him a disapproving glance that would go on purposefully ignored. It was also satisfying to see Lisella purse her lips further as she waited for the dissertation to cease. But before she could continue, one of the young ones introduced herself, and the Inferno meandered. In his meanderings, her eyes wandered as well to the boy from the trials.

"I have no desire for pleasantries," she said to Aurea before moving her gaze from Olsten to Gabad'zul. The orc leader carried a subtle grin of amusement across his gruff features. "And as the Queen's Advisor you must speak to me. Honestly, Gabad'zul, I expected a higher caliber to accompany you. They clearly do not know a thing about negotiations. I implore you to divert your troops away. Go East to the fog if you wish for bloodshed. We will give you what we owe."

Aurea piped up once again with vigor. "Though there is much anger among us," the young Dragon Warden began, "we do not wish for this war. The fact that you have come bearing a white flag means the bloodshed can end, here and now. We would listen to your terms."

She had then looked over to Waethrin and Idhrenan for validation, and it tugged Lisella's lips to a frown. She had been there once looking up to the Inferno with starry eyes and a need for his approval. What an utter waste, she felt. Idhrenan smiled at Aurea's efforts and offered the girl a small inclination of her head.

"It seems your pet hasn't been briefed, Inferno," Lisella spat. "Perhaps one of you can remind her and the one who accuses me of lying that they are, indeed, out for bloodshed."

"Perhaps you should explain your own accusation," Gabad'zul suggested. Prince Asal looked down at the Dragon Wardens calmly, but those close to him would be able to see the worry etched subtly upon his brow.

"Earlier this year, Edlenfeld suffered and attack that nearly wiped its entire populace," Lisella explained. "Survivors told of Dragon Wardens leading the attack alongside Shadow Casters."

"Perhaps they were in shock," Prince Asal suggested.

"Every survivor's account states having witnessed Dragon Wardens attacking the people of Edlenfeld," Paul Paulson stated.

"They are not affiliated with us," Idhrenan spoke up. "We encountered them ourselves. They killed one of our own. They are no longer Dragon Wardens as they turned to Shadow."

"Not affiliated," Lisella repeated with a huff. "You could be lying for all we know."

"Tell your queen," Gabad'zul interjected, "that if we do not receive the promised food supplies, you will have more to contend with than Shadow. I'll give you a day's time. Does this seem fair to the Dragon Wardens? Or shall we march on and use their bodies to pave the road to Rosenfall?"

@CloudyBlueDay @Elle Joyner @Red Thunder @rissa @Mactomaton @Toogee