Sign-Ups Thread OOC & Info In Character Website Suthdur, 18 Khurnas Year 2 - Age of the Ancients 0517 - Sunrise The silence of morning is always said to be so deep that one could drown in it. Like the silence before a storm. In this instance, the silence was deafening. Not even the footsteps of companions and comrades could seemingly be heard through the thick grasses or hardened, cracked soil of the mountains. As the first of the two suns, Phiadyn, reached out across the Eastern horizon, his rosy fingers coming to rest upon the mountains that stretched as far North and South as the eye could see, night suddenly became day, and all was to be revealed. In the distance, the mountain city of Gareth could be seen, stained by the rosy fingers of the smaller sun as if to show its bloodied history. The cool temperatures of the night rose quickly to meet the summer heat. Spring was gone, and with it left the seeming innocence of the world. All of the flowers had since budded and fallen away, and the innocence of birth and new eyes upon the world had come to pass into the season of growing. To the West, stretching beyond sight were the great Thruskior Mountains, who would pass into the smaller range of Mykartha. Like Gareth to the South, these great stone behemoths had come to be plastered with the bloody coloring of Phiadyn’s rising rays. Even as he was pulled forth by the heat of Ova, his gaze turning from red to gold, his much larger and slower brother, Vyneir, soon came to case his own rosy fingers upon the world. The end of Khurnas was the end of the Growing season and the beginning of the Dry season. During this month, Vyneir was not as close as his much smaller and cooler brother, still brooding in the background, reserving himself for the heat he was to bring during the season of wildfires and howling, unforgiving winds. The only time of year that was quieter than Khurnas was the depths of Indunas, the harshest winter times, when the North Winds would climb down and stop almost all growth. But it was not snowing now, for Phiadyn and Vyneir were rising to witness history become quite real, and as they rose in the distance, all breaths seemed to halt in anticipation for what would come next. The Thruskior Mountains were tall, treacherous, and completely impassible. If the steep cliffs and heavy winds did not kill any who dared attempt crossing over, the vicious predators would. By contrast, the Mykartha Mountains were not tall and steep, but thick and close together, filled with even more dangerous wildlife. Their most deadly feature, however, were the Myzra Elves, whose population filled the intricate network of tunnels, dwelling with all manner of cave creatures, including the legendary Shadow Wyverns, whose powers were said to bring an eclipse using the two larger moon sisters against their older brothers. There was only one safe path across the mountains, and it started mere miles from the outer wall of Gareth, around the base of Mount Tarja, the tallest mountain on the Mainland. It was this very spot, at the base of this mountain path, that the hearts of the young Varonians and their odd companions had been called to. From above, the gods looked down upon their charges with great urgency in hopes that danger would not come their way. But other than hints resting upon their shoulders and within their hearts, no interference was allowed. Not for the young ones destined to join with dragons. Their story was far too delicate. The silence of this morning was what filled the ears of these young creatures, pulled from every expanse of the Plains of Varon. The only thing they could hear was their own heartbeats. Caught in a trance for the last eighteen months that drove them to survive like wild beasts as far away from any road – any civilization – as possible, they have kept themselves, their charges, and even each other safe. Unlike most other Varonians, who think dragons are evil, vile creatures, meant to be killed on sight, these youngsters had a different spark in their hearts. And that spark was all that was needed to start their journeys. It was what gave them a chance to know something other than themselves. But their journey, though long it has been, has only just begun. Finally at rest at this tiny opening into the Thruskior Mountains, they lay eyes upon each other for the first time. Some have already found comrades, traveling in pairs. But none knew just how many others there were. And as they laid eyes upon each other, various emotions filled them. Anger. Fear. Relief. Some were wary, others overjoyed that they weren’t alone. Some were simply protective of the now surprisingly large hatchlings they guarded. Perhaps some would speak. Perhaps they would simply stare. For the dragons, reactions were quite the same. They knew there were others out there. They knew their destiny and that of their Chosen. Yet, they did not know each other personally. Might the dragonlings speak to each other? Or would they be too busy eyeing other Varonians in suspicion? The world seemed to breathe a sigh as all young Chosen came together at this spot. The first part of the journey was over for them. Birds began to sing to the morning air as the plains began to wake. The winds lifted into a gentle breeze, playing with the golden grasses like fingers through hair. Vyneir’s rosy fingers slowly shifted into the color of fire as Phiadyn gave light to the last depths of night. But this relief was short-lived. This close to Gareth, the great Varonian Capital of Kabola, massive patrols were quite often not too far behind the rising suns. The Tarjan Army was known to be immense, powerful, and merciless – especially in regards to dragons. Their patrols sometimes numbered in the hundreds, for that slight chance of encountering a dragon. Those who marched out from the South-West, however, only numbered forty. Forty soldiers armed with the finest weapons and armor of steel and even magicks, however, was still quite the challenge of eight young Varonians and their dragonettes – some of whom did not even have skill in the art of fighting. Before anyone had the chance to see the soldiers moving around to flank them, having already been given away by the sparkling sheen of dragon scales, the group found itself to be surrounded. With no way of simply escaping, the young ones knew that the only thing they could do was fight their way out and hopefully towards the mouth of the mountains in the West. This would be the first test of these young riders. And it certainly would not be the last.