A tale of a land called Alera, a once-harmonious place thrown into chaos by sudden treachery. On one side of the war, the most promising individuals in the Coalition of Dragon Riders come together in an attempt to restore peace to their homeland.
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Fantasy ♛ ── on ⟨ broken ⟩ wings
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mintis
hero
𝓸𝓷 x 𝓫𝓻𝓸𝓴𝓮𝓷 x 𝔀𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼
𝘈 𝘋𝘙𝘈𝘎𝘖𝘕 𝘙𝘐𝘋𝘌𝘙 𝘙𝘖𝘓𝘌𝘗𝘓𝘈𝘠
𝘐 𝘕 𝘛 𝘙 𝘖 𝘋 𝘜 𝘊 𝘛 𝘐 𝘖 𝘕
Hundreds of years later, Elves, Humans, and Dragons live alongside one another. The realm suffers few hardships, rarely seeing war, disease, famine, or otherwise damaging effects that seem to typically befall other lands. Dragons and the other races formed special bonds with one another, and a special Coalition arose to accommodate the growing population of dragon riders. The Riders operated by a strict code and pledged themselves to work only to better the realm and protect the people and lands within the borders.
The Coalition of Riders was successful for generations, gaining fame and admiration from the common folk. Dragon Riders were seen as a symbol of peace and power. It seemed as if nothing could ever harm Alera... until a certain man rose to the occasion. Once a member of the Coalition of Riders and a former candidate for Commander, a man named Warrick Pearson collected a group of like-minded individuals and turned them on their brothers and sisters. The group formed the Tihcai, and began to enact their plan of taking the throne by force.
You are a Rider in the Coalition, your world turned upside down as the relatively peaceful realm of Alera breaks down into war-torn chaos. You must work together with the rest of the Coalition to fight against the Tihcai, reclaim Alera, and restore your homeland to peace once more.
𝘎 𝘜 𝘐 𝘋 𝘌 𝘓 𝘐 𝘕 𝘌 𝘚
⇀ Drama should be confined to in-character interactions only; issues should be brought to the attention of
mintis
asap.⇀ Godmodding isn't cool. Don't do that.
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mintis
of any potential absences; if you want to drop please say so as well! Nobody likes being ghosted.⇀ Players should post at least 1-2 times per week.
⇀ There is not a firm length requirement for posts, but try to write at least one paragraph; unfortunately consistently posting 1-2 liners isn't acceptable here!
⇀ Remember that the lore thread is simply a guideline and can be built upon or interpreted in various ways ; )
⇀ Additionally, feel free to add onto lore or create your own! Important, large, or particularly creative contributions will be archived in the lore thread.
𝘊 𝘈 𝘚 𝘛
1. The Commander - Haylan Atwood 2. The Second-in-Command - Celica Hawthorne
3. The Healer - Selena Vilheart
4. The Tactician - Zilas Culstoull
5. The Cook - Marigold Eltonbrand
6. The Spy - Lucien Adair
7. The Saboteur - Helena Woodsworth
8. The Assassin - Aiden Mendel
9. The Berserker - Aron Ironfist
10. The Knight - Addam Strongheart
11. The Historian - Anexmander
12. The Seer - Polina Yakovlevna Popova
𝘛𝘏𝘌 𝘛𝘏𝘙𝘌𝘈𝘋 𝘐𝘚 𝘖𝘗𝘌𝘕 𝘍𝘖𝘙 𝘗𝘖𝘚𝘛𝘐𝘕𝘎
𝘖𝘕 𝘉𝘙𝘖𝘒𝘌𝘕 𝘞𝘐𝘕𝘎𝘚 𝘐𝘚 𝘕𝘖𝘛 𝘊𝘜𝘙𝘙𝘌𝘕𝘛𝘓𝘠 𝘈𝘊𝘊𝘌𝘗𝘛𝘐𝘕𝘎 𝘕𝘌𝘞 𝘗𝘓𝘈𝘠𝘌𝘙𝘚
𝘖𝘕 𝘉𝘙𝘖𝘒𝘌𝘕 𝘞𝘐𝘕𝘎𝘚 𝘐𝘚 𝘕𝘖𝘛 𝘊𝘜𝘙𝘙𝘌𝘕𝘛𝘓𝘠 𝘈𝘊𝘊𝘌𝘗𝘛𝘐𝘕𝘎 𝘕𝘌𝘞 𝘗𝘓𝘈𝘠𝘌𝘙𝘚
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CHAPTER ONE - LEARNING TO FLY
mintis
hero
𝘊𝘏𝘈𝘗𝘛𝘌𝘙 𝘖𝘕𝘌
𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘭𝘺
Warrick Pearson, his nightmare of a poison-breathing dragon, and his growing legion of followers seem to gain more power with each sunrise. The sky and land around Ekhaya is darkened with dragons coming and going, hunting and patrolling, and Tihcai members have even grown so bold as to begin nearing Ilragorn on their scheduled outings and linger around the outskirts of the mountain fortress, seemingly taunting the Coalition stronghold. The Tihcai have begun ambushing Coalition supply caravans and even groups of Coalition riders themselves, although there have been no major battles in recent months; while some are happy to have a break from the constant battles, the quiet has bred paranoia in others.
Despite losing their footing, the Coalition stands firm. They will not budge from their stronghold atop the mountain and they keep a vigilant watch over the cities and lands still under their control, unwilling to allow the Tihcai another inch of territory. Nevertheless, it is clear that Coalition morale is dropping each time another Rider and Dragon fall, and it seems as if each new day brings new troubles. Winter quickly approaches as well, which will create further hardships on both sides of the war.
In an effort to turn the tides of war, the Coalition leadership has set it's sight on a few of it's best and brightest. A group of ten Riders and their dragons; a healer, a tactician, a historian, a knight, a cook, a spy, an assassin, a saboteur, a berserker, and a seer, each of them beneficial to the Coalition in their own ways. At their head stands the Commander and his second-in-command, prepared to do whatever is necessary to restore peace to Alera.
Yesterday, Celica Hawthorne, Selena Vilheart, Lucien Adair, Helena Woodsworth, Polina Yakovlevna Popova, Aiden Mendel, Aron Ironfist, Marigold Eltonbrand, Anexmander, Zilas Culstoull, and Addam Strongheart received a summons to the war room for a private meeting 'of utter importance' at noon the following day.
As dawn heralds in a new morning in Alera, the Coalition awakens and prepares for their day.
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mintis
hero
Haylan Atwood, Commander of the Coalition of Riders, sat up rather abruptly from where he had been lying on the back of his dragon, green eyes closing slightly as they surveyed both the sky and land that seemed to stretch endlessly around the pair. Fyrian’s wings never missed a beat but he angled his head slightly, the feathers along his head and neck whipping as the wind shifted direction across them. One large blue eye regarded the man with interest.
“Should we return?” The youthful, smooth voice of his dragon infiltrated the Commander’s mind, curious, although there was a discernible hint of disappointment. The pair had a habit of going on a morning flight together - Haylan excused it as a chance to check the area surrounding the fortress and a warm-up before their busy day began, but they both knew that they just enjoyed the alone time and watching the sunrise together. It was a routine they’d developed shortly after bonding. They'd gotten a late start that morning, however, due to Haylan's habit of late night fretting, and they hadn't been out for nearly as long as they typically were.
“No.” Haylan responded through their link, smoothing his hand over the large blue-and-black feathers that covered Fyrian’s back. Some were nearly the length of his entire arm, others as short as his palm. They were a feature of the dragon that Haylan had always found to be particularly stunning - feathered dragons were less common that their fully-scaled counterparts. “It's a nice day. We can stay out a little while longer.”
—
The pair decided to return once the sun was halfway above the horizon. Fyrian dropped down into the courtyard that Haylan’s quarters opened onto, dipping his shoulders to allow his rider to dismount. The storm dragon certainly wasn’t the biggest dragon in the Coalition but he easily stood more than half a dozen feet taller than his rider. As Haylan disappeared into his quarters, Fyrian settled down and set about preening himself, an action he partook in almost obsessively. The dragon took great care in keeping his feathers clean, shiny, and perfectly arranged; some might call him prideful or vain for his constant grooming, but it simply wouldn't be right if they weren't in top shape.
Haylan quickly dressed, brushed and fussed with his hair until it looked acceptable, tugged on his good boots, and picked up his sword, wrestling with the leather baldric for a moment before he had the weapon fastened securely at his hip. He peered at himself in the mirror that was set atop his dresser, frowning at what he saw for a moment before he closed his eyes, took a deep breath, slowly exhaled and then opened them again. Haylan’s jaw set tightly, a determined spark in his eyes, and he nodded at himself before grabbing his coat and an apple from a nearby bowl of fruit (Haylan always kept a private stash in his room), and exiting his quarters once more. Biting into the apple, the Commander shrugged on his coat before he and his companion set off once more.
Together he and Fyrian walked the short distance to the main courtyard, a massive square that could host nearly the entirety of the Coalition - their dragons included. Large events were often quite the spectacle at Ilragorn; every square inch, every wall, every roof and spire teemed with dragons of all shapes and sizes. At one end of the courtyard was a raised platform, the flags of Alera and the Coalition flowing and snapping in the gentle fall breeze. Haylan and Commanders before him would often give speeches or deliver important news from that platform. It was there that he stood when he was sworn in as the new Commander - Warrick Pearson and his dragon watching from the sidelines. It was that platform that he stood upon when the Coalition gathered three weeks later in mourning for the Riders and dragons killed by Warrick's treachery, and Haylan called them to action against the newfound threat of the Tihcai.
Haylan didn’t particularly enjoy standing up there anymore.
Fortunately, that was not his destination for the day. He and his companion traversed the courtyard, their goal a large building opposite the platform. None of the buildings in Ilragorn were capable of permitting dragons entry (unless they were young or simply very small), but this one was one of the larger buildings in the compound and by far the most important. The building, known collectively as the Library, housed the Coalition's collection of texts, records, and memorabilia - essentially the Coalition's entire history. The building was also home to the war room, nearly every surface of that particular room covered in maps, parchment, countless quills and pots of ink, and various other elements required when conducting a war. It was this room that he'd called a group of the Coalition's best and brightest to, and he was set to be meeting with them when the sun peaked in the sky.
The Coalition had been losing its footing, but he was hell-bent on turning that around, especially with the King having recently fallen ill. Perhaps it was foolish of him to believe that he could change the tide of war with twelve dragons and their Riders, but it was even more foolish not to try. Either way, there was much to be done, and little time to do it.
Fyrian's wings flared dramatically as the dragon leapt onto the roof of the Library, keeping his watchful gaze on the square as Haylan disappeared into the building. The Commander would busy himself with attempting to organize the chaos of the war room until he was inevitably drawn away by some other business or the group he'd called together gathered inside.
The Hero
MasterRed
NUSKI
lazee
Danidify
Seabourne
labyrinthine
Quados
Braddington
TYPE
undeadrat
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Quados
maybe something out of this world
Agur draged Aron through the Maingate of Ilragorn. "By the Gods, don't be so stubborn, that meeting is crucial!" Aron, who tried to free himself, poundered. "I'm no talker of big words and ya know that. We should be out there and hunt those bastards."
Agur sighed and dropped Aron. "Aron Ironfist, the only person I know, who is too stubborn to realize that he can't beat a dragon in close combat and appearently also has a death wish... You are a good fighter, you can take them out in a fair fight, but they won't fight fair, so try to restrain yourself a little and work with the other rider."
Aron looked down but smiled. "Okay, I won't go out there without a plan and I will beat you one day... Ya think that smoke bombs are a good plan?" Aron wouldnt wait for an answer and just went inside Ilragorn. Agur just shaked his head and said quietly. "Oh my soul, why couldn't you have chosen a rock, or a tree, they would try to listen." Aron just screamed behind himself. "It would be to boring for ya, without me."
Agur felt a little better, knowing that Aron is doing his part. Agur looked into the sky and remembers their last encounter with the Tihcai, just a few days ago, one of those riders attacked Agur and Aron when they set up their camp.
They were just ready to sleep when that rider and his water dragon landed, on Arons tent. Aron was quick with his battleaxe, but that rider was more then just agile, it was like he could phase through the axe and his comments on Arons fighting style and his looks didn't make his mood better and but his dragon seemed to be very young and inexperienced, it was an easy fight for Agur till he saw 3 other dragons, he just grabbed Aron, who just landed his first hit on that rider and pulled him in the air, the sudden pull on Aron forced him to loose his grip of his precious axe.
Agur has never heard Aron using that kind of language and Agur felt such a bloodlust in his friend. They got the message to the war council as Aron was buying a new weapon, he was still determined to kill this one rider.
As Aron went inside Ilragorn, he saw the library, his destination, normally he would try to abstain this meeting but he respected the wish of his friend. He sighs and says very loud. "Let's hope this won't be too boring."
Agur sighed and dropped Aron. "Aron Ironfist, the only person I know, who is too stubborn to realize that he can't beat a dragon in close combat and appearently also has a death wish... You are a good fighter, you can take them out in a fair fight, but they won't fight fair, so try to restrain yourself a little and work with the other rider."
Aron looked down but smiled. "Okay, I won't go out there without a plan and I will beat you one day... Ya think that smoke bombs are a good plan?" Aron wouldnt wait for an answer and just went inside Ilragorn. Agur just shaked his head and said quietly. "Oh my soul, why couldn't you have chosen a rock, or a tree, they would try to listen." Aron just screamed behind himself. "It would be to boring for ya, without me."
Agur felt a little better, knowing that Aron is doing his part. Agur looked into the sky and remembers their last encounter with the Tihcai, just a few days ago, one of those riders attacked Agur and Aron when they set up their camp.
They were just ready to sleep when that rider and his water dragon landed, on Arons tent. Aron was quick with his battleaxe, but that rider was more then just agile, it was like he could phase through the axe and his comments on Arons fighting style and his looks didn't make his mood better and but his dragon seemed to be very young and inexperienced, it was an easy fight for Agur till he saw 3 other dragons, he just grabbed Aron, who just landed his first hit on that rider and pulled him in the air, the sudden pull on Aron forced him to loose his grip of his precious axe.
Agur has never heard Aron using that kind of language and Agur felt such a bloodlust in his friend. They got the message to the war council as Aron was buying a new weapon, he was still determined to kill this one rider.
As Aron went inside Ilragorn, he saw the library, his destination, normally he would try to abstain this meeting but he respected the wish of his friend. He sighs and says very loud. "Let's hope this won't be too boring."
MasterRed
Junior Member
Selena stood up straight and firmly in the war room, ever one of the first to arrive, though her young appearance made her look unfit in there. One would think of her a child caught up in something well beyond her control, until they looked into her eyes, their burning intensity perhaps shocking for those who didn’t know her. And those who didn’t know her had grown slimmer and slimmer- one had to admit she was one of the best medics in the Coalition, despite her abrasiveness.
She could hear Astra, always the responsible one of the pair, telling her to try not to gain the ire of everyone in the room. Selena grinned and responded with “Well, I won’t piss off everyone,”, thanking her lucky stars that she and Astra could communicate without anyone else hearing for what must be the fifth time today.
She could hear Astra, always the responsible one of the pair, telling her to try not to gain the ire of everyone in the room. Selena grinned and responded with “Well, I won’t piss off everyone,”, thanking her lucky stars that she and Astra could communicate without anyone else hearing for what must be the fifth time today.
The Hero
Hapless Savior
As an orange tint polluted the royal blue night sky but before the sun's rays even graced the stone stronghold, Celica was busying herself.
Bella was off gallivanting as she always did when Celica had no need for her presence. Perhaps on occasion, Bella would ask questions or talk about some interesting thing she saw on her flights. Her voice filled with a childlike wonder which was appropriate for a being as young as her. She still held an innocence inappropriate for war. Celica hoped that her dragon would never lose that immaturity, but she knew that along the way it needed to happen. Despite this, Bella was a fast grower and achieved uncomfortable sizes within a few years of their bonding, and her rider's ambition pushed her to evolve and learn at an accelerated rate.
Closing her mind temporarily, the rider allowed her mind to flood with a stress that she didn't want her dragon to feel. This day was going to be a hectic day as she was sending her fellow Coalition members on hazardous missions. Although, she supposes most missions are hazardous as it was a war they were currently fighting. Even the supplies sent to the castle could be poisoned or tampered with which is why Celica made it a point to farm her own food and constantly check their gear for kinks. Of course, this process takes time, so every day she'd wake up at the crack of dawn to go through her housekeeping.
Enduring the bitter mountain winds that howled through the stronghold, she would first do a light sweeping of the hallways and courtyard. A light sweeping was all she could afford considering the vast space the castle held. Plus if she didn't at least do a light sweeping, Bella's allergies would start acting up after a while which the young Hawthorne could not have. Next, Celica would head over to the castle's balcony which typically had the most sunlight and least wind. In her first few days at the stronghold, she hastily made large wooden troughs that lined the balcony railings and filled it with as rich of soil as she could get. It was a quite simple and easy setup, the hardest part about gardening up on the mountains is finding a hardy vegetable to withstand the cold. This part took some experimenting, but she finally found a handful of vegetable that could grow on this farmer forsook climate. Yes, here she grew broccoli, brussels, cabbage, carrots, collards, kale, green onions and more. Sometimes she tried experimenting with the soil to get the unique purple pigment in vegetables which helped reduce winter rot, but it was too complicated for her to understand.
She had sowed the crops at the beginning of Autumn, so she hoped she would be able to reap them when Winter snow fell. It would save them if supplies from Eastcliff fell short but only for some months. Finally, she would head to the armory to polish and sharpen the weapons. The worst thing that could befall a warrior is if their blade failed and allowed the enemy enough time to strike back. So to prevent that, Celica condition the weapons as best as she could. It was grunt work, but it was also the fundamentals of an army to keep their inventory in check. After her elbow grease, one would have to squint when they walked into the armory, everything was so polished. Perhaps it may even blind the enemy in a fight.
So once the morning work was accomplished, Celica was allowed to put on her face, brush her hair, and call Bella back. Her stress had been worked away from her morning rituals, and she was ready to face her peers. They all had a war meeting today where she will be relaying their missions alongside her superior Haylan. It still made her cringe that she failed to become a commander candidate and lost to some high pedigree human.
Bella was off gallivanting as she always did when Celica had no need for her presence. Perhaps on occasion, Bella would ask questions or talk about some interesting thing she saw on her flights. Her voice filled with a childlike wonder which was appropriate for a being as young as her. She still held an innocence inappropriate for war. Celica hoped that her dragon would never lose that immaturity, but she knew that along the way it needed to happen. Despite this, Bella was a fast grower and achieved uncomfortable sizes within a few years of their bonding, and her rider's ambition pushed her to evolve and learn at an accelerated rate.
Closing her mind temporarily, the rider allowed her mind to flood with a stress that she didn't want her dragon to feel. This day was going to be a hectic day as she was sending her fellow Coalition members on hazardous missions. Although, she supposes most missions are hazardous as it was a war they were currently fighting. Even the supplies sent to the castle could be poisoned or tampered with which is why Celica made it a point to farm her own food and constantly check their gear for kinks. Of course, this process takes time, so every day she'd wake up at the crack of dawn to go through her housekeeping.
Enduring the bitter mountain winds that howled through the stronghold, she would first do a light sweeping of the hallways and courtyard. A light sweeping was all she could afford considering the vast space the castle held. Plus if she didn't at least do a light sweeping, Bella's allergies would start acting up after a while which the young Hawthorne could not have. Next, Celica would head over to the castle's balcony which typically had the most sunlight and least wind. In her first few days at the stronghold, she hastily made large wooden troughs that lined the balcony railings and filled it with as rich of soil as she could get. It was a quite simple and easy setup, the hardest part about gardening up on the mountains is finding a hardy vegetable to withstand the cold. This part took some experimenting, but she finally found a handful of vegetable that could grow on this farmer forsook climate. Yes, here she grew broccoli, brussels, cabbage, carrots, collards, kale, green onions and more. Sometimes she tried experimenting with the soil to get the unique purple pigment in vegetables which helped reduce winter rot, but it was too complicated for her to understand.
She had sowed the crops at the beginning of Autumn, so she hoped she would be able to reap them when Winter snow fell. It would save them if supplies from Eastcliff fell short but only for some months. Finally, she would head to the armory to polish and sharpen the weapons. The worst thing that could befall a warrior is if their blade failed and allowed the enemy enough time to strike back. So to prevent that, Celica condition the weapons as best as she could. It was grunt work, but it was also the fundamentals of an army to keep their inventory in check. After her elbow grease, one would have to squint when they walked into the armory, everything was so polished. Perhaps it may even blind the enemy in a fight.
So once the morning work was accomplished, Celica was allowed to put on her face, brush her hair, and call Bella back. Her stress had been worked away from her morning rituals, and she was ready to face her peers. They all had a war meeting today where she will be relaying their missions alongside her superior Haylan. It still made her cringe that she failed to become a commander candidate and lost to some high pedigree human.
NUSKI
new-skee
"The winds are changing, Nocturne. The world will change along with it."
The gray dragon made a grumbling noise in his throat and turned his head away from Zilas. His rider had been called for a summons that day so Zilas took it upon himself to make sure that they were up early much earlier than he was used to.
"What do you think they want my dear friend?" Zilas asked. It could have been nothing, but something about the letter that was given to him was rubbing him the wrong way. Nevertheless, he was still excited that finally something interesting was happening in his life. He had grown bored of his day-to-day responsibilities as an heir for a throne he didn't care for. Zilas made sure to go to bed several hours later so he and Nocturne could wake up before the sun rose. They had spent the morning flying around Culstoull land and ended with some light training. While Zilas fought wooden dummies, Nocturne would watch as to make sure Zilas would not imbed his mistakes.
"You should know better than to ask me a question like that" the beast started, lifting his head from his resting position. His deep voice seemed to make the wind stop blowing which made Zilas's hair stand up. No matter the amount of time he spent with Nocturne, the voice of his dragon would never cease to amaze him. Not just Nocturne, Zilas was amazed by these majestic creatures in general. Zilas turned around to face Nocturne as he continued to speak. "You should stop with your superstitions. If you are so worried about the winds you might need more sleep. Am I coming with you?" Nocturne asked hesitantly, knowing what would come out of Zilas's mouth.
"Where I go, you go my friend. I know you do not like being among my people but you need to get used to it" Zilas said calmly, walking even closer towards Nocturne. He stopped in front of Nocturne's face as the dragon lowered his head, closing his eyelids once again. His black-haired rider patted his head a couple times before a growl escaped from Nocturne's mouth. Despite his several warnings against it, Zilas would sometimes treat him as if he were a young drake. A laugh escaped from Zilas's mouth as he stood up and turned around, looking beyond the cliff he stood on.
The winds are changing.
~
After enjoying the view for another hour, Zilas returned to the fortress without Nocturne. Most of his family was still uncomfortable with the creature so he tried his best to keep him away from the main building as much as possible. He quietly made his way back to his room, avoiding eye contact with the several servants that were rushing up and down the halls, preparing for the morning breakfast which he intended to skip out on. He quickly changed out of his riding attire and put on a burgundy tunic which was accompanied by a fur pelt covered in jewels. Adding his headpiece to his apparel, Zilas attached his sheath to his belt, replacing the dull training swords with his real ones. As Zilas walked down the main steps of the estate, he noticed one of his uncle's patiently waiting for him at the bottom of the staircase. A look of disgust was carefully hidden on Zilas's face as his uncle handed him golden bracers to go over his sleeves.
"Your father wanted me to let you know that you are representing House Culstoull today" the man said, one hand resting above his belt and the other on his word's handle.
"He couldn't tell me that himself? Go. I do not wish to speak to you any longer," Zilas replied without looking at his uncle who was fuming. He took the bracers and nodded towards the guards who opened the door for him, his shoes echoing through the silent halls. By the time Zilas had left the main garden, Nocturne was patiently waiting for him. Zilas grinned at the sight of his only friend and climbed onto the dragon's back, tapping his flesh a few times before they were in the air. Zilas thought more about his destination as the wind made his hair fly in several different directions. The only thing he knew about the meeting was that a man from the Atwood family would be there. Other than that, there was not much to think about.
Before he knew it, Zilas was in the Coalition's Library while Nocturne had disappeared. It didn't bother him too much; he would just call him back via mind link when he was reading. Before entering the library, stopped to look at a blue scaled dragon who was looking over the outer square.
The world will change along with it.
It by Ri.a
Seabourne
Certified Idiot
Helena
Upon receiving summons to Ilragorn, Helena knew that things were going to change from the relatively steady life she lived. One does not get invited to a conference with the Commander of the Coalition simply to have a cup of tea, after all. The young lady was shocked that she had been chosen. She knew she was skilled and accountable, but never thought she would find herself in this type of situation. Though she knew it was important, as per the letter, she couldn't make a guess at what kind of important it would be. "We've got some excitement coming up, Miremel!" she addressed her companion, explaining the situation. "We'll head out in the morning, rest up."
As the sun rose, she and Miremel were already on their way, even if Ilragorn was not far the duo wanted to make certain they would be there by noon, if any bizarre circumstances were to meet them along the way. In times of war it pays to be careful and prepared.
Arriving at Ilragorn never grew old, the grand fortress appearing intimidating and beautiful all at once, perched atop the mountain. The white feathered dragon flew there, his tail lazily steering him through the air. Helena leaned over close to his back, so the sharp winds did not sting her face as much. Her dragon was always warm, and did not mind the cool temperatures.
Once they had arrived, they immediately made their way to where the meeting would be held. Miremel agreed to wait outside, and took off to fly around, keeping his mind linked with Helena's. She made her way in, and was surprised to see a very young-looking elf in the room already. "Oh, you're so little!" She blurts out, before even introducing herself. "My name is Helena, it's nice to meet you." she says, reaching her hand out with a smile.
Interacting:
MasterRed
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undeadrat
New Member
Polina Yakovlevna Popova of the Pythian Eye
Polina Yakovlevna Popova had not eaten since early last morning. That in and of itself was of no concern; a person could go days without food. Who would worry about one slightly empty stomach when the realm was at war? When entire fields of wheat were burning? But Polina Yakovlevna had not starved herself out of inconvenience nor had food been withheld from her. It was with purpose that she’d been absent at the dinner table, a doomed purpose that cast a shadow on her whenever it was needed.
“To understand the Divine—the incomprehensible—forget your mortal needs,” she whispered.
The letter which had summoned her to the war-council laid on the floor; it was surrounded by marked cards, painted brown symbols, and a sword. Her wrists were bound with stained linen; droplets of blood squeezed out periodically and dirtied the ground. If Polina Yakovlevna felt any pain, then her face did not betray it—her eyes were fixated on the mess before her. She nodded twice and frowned, affirming the hidden news, then reached out to shuffle the cards once more.
“Again, Polechka?” Though the drake was not present, she could feel Asmund’s voice deep within her chest. If this had been a year earlier, she would have expected the room to shake from his presence.
“Yes.”
“It will be the same.”
“I know.”
“The letter says ‘noon’.” He yawned. The rumble nearly ruptured her eardrums, making her shudder. “Why do you bother with this? It is trickery—not real divining.”
“Not all of it. Look… it’s the reverse—”
“I have seen it. It will be the same, as I said.”
“Yes, that’s what bothers me.” She began to undo her bandages. “The markings are too dry, I think. Perhaps that’s the problem?”
“No, I do not think so.” He snorted, sending a rush of steam through her mind. “But I have said as much throughout the night. Enough. I am not scared of what the future brings.”
Asmund’s words began to ring in her head—quickly at first, before they slowed into a hypnotizing echo. Soon they had distorted into nothing but sounds, low and gentle hums that drowned out any of her own thoughts in her mind. Then, she felt it. His alien conscious, the thing that felt closer to Divinity than any of her readings. Though she could not understand it, she knew one thing: his lack of fear. Her fingers twitched; the only part of her betraying her need to move, to do something; and yet, being paralyzed by the incomprehensible vastness of Asmund’s mind, unable to do so. When he relented his attack, she slumped to the floor.
“Asmund, stop.” She gasped out for air that she did not need—though she felt out of breath, she wasn’t. This was the enigmatic nature of dragons and Gods. “Stop!”
“I already have. You understand now, do you not? There is nothing to fear.”
“That’s…” Polina Yakovlevna took a moment to regain her composure. Her hair had become unruly. “You shouldn’t have done that. We’re bonded, yes, but there are things to be kept separate. You can’t do that to me whenever you feel like I’m wrong!”
“I can. Do you ask my permission when you perform these silly rituals? I can feel your cuts on my limbs. They will bite at me for many days and for what? You and I both knew what the cards would show long before this day. Be angry with me if you will, Polechka, but know that what I do is for our own good-will. Go now. They will start without you.”
There was a sudden splash of water; she felt the familiar pop in her ears as he dove into the depths. It took all her training to not hold her breath through the vision—this is Asmund’s mind, not mine, she thought. Though their minds were as one, she could sense that he had attempted to hide himself away from her. Now it was the polar opposite from when he’d tried to overwhelm her; his conscious was a distant memory.
“Our good-will.” She sniffed. While she knew that his intentions were good, it was never a pleasant thing to have his emotions replace hers. Now that her trance had been broken, her arms began to throb from the bloodletting. Gingerly, she removed the linen bandages and replaced them with new ones. They were not so deep to require stitches. Though they would bleed, her experience told her that they would clot up and heal with time. Some blood loss was good for clarity, in any case, and she was planning on revisiting the cards later tonight—regardless of Asmund’s disapproval. When she was satisfied with the wrappings, she gathered the cards away, placed the sword on the bed, and wet a cloth to clean the floor. When she was finally ready to step out of her room, the sun was blazing overhead.
The courtyard was where all the ceremonies were held, including the crowning of their new commander. As she passed the platform, she swore she could hear echoes of Haylan Atwood's speeches—one for his acceptance of his post and another for his lamentations of their fallen allies. But where others had heard inspiration and hope, she'd gathered the opposite. They'd been getting pushed in ever since Atwood had been in command. So many dead... not that she was mourning them personally, but rather what their lives meant. If only she had been a better Seer! If only she had thought to use her gift the night of the election. If she could have foreseen this future, how many Riders would she have been able to convince to kill Warrick Pearson right then and there? Or better yet... just fly away, far beyond Alera's clutches?
The first sign of the Riders was the drake perched atop the library. Atwood's drake. From this distance, he looked more a bird than anything else. Just as she hoped that she wasn't late for the meeting, a large gust of wind threatened to bowl her over. Instinct made her duck as a shadow swooped over the courtyard—a brown dragon and his equally tanned rider. Though she didn't know the man personally nor had she been on a mission with him, she'd seen his figure around the Coalition strongholds. He looked strong and despite the situation, somewhat carefree. The way he was fooling around with his dragon dragged up the fight she'd had with Asmund earlier. If she was a coarser woman, now was the time to spit on the ground. Instead, she hobbled up the steps to the library and nodded to the man.
"Here for the meeting?" She was slightly out of breath. "I hope we aren't late. I haven't brought my letter with me... have you?"
interacting:
Quados
Polina Yakovlevna Popova had not eaten since early last morning. That in and of itself was of no concern; a person could go days without food. Who would worry about one slightly empty stomach when the realm was at war? When entire fields of wheat were burning? But Polina Yakovlevna had not starved herself out of inconvenience nor had food been withheld from her. It was with purpose that she’d been absent at the dinner table, a doomed purpose that cast a shadow on her whenever it was needed.
“To understand the Divine—the incomprehensible—forget your mortal needs,” she whispered.
The letter which had summoned her to the war-council laid on the floor; it was surrounded by marked cards, painted brown symbols, and a sword. Her wrists were bound with stained linen; droplets of blood squeezed out periodically and dirtied the ground. If Polina Yakovlevna felt any pain, then her face did not betray it—her eyes were fixated on the mess before her. She nodded twice and frowned, affirming the hidden news, then reached out to shuffle the cards once more.
“Again, Polechka?” Though the drake was not present, she could feel Asmund’s voice deep within her chest. If this had been a year earlier, she would have expected the room to shake from his presence.
“Yes.”
“It will be the same.”
“I know.”
“The letter says ‘noon’.” He yawned. The rumble nearly ruptured her eardrums, making her shudder. “Why do you bother with this? It is trickery—not real divining.”
“Not all of it. Look… it’s the reverse—”
“I have seen it. It will be the same, as I said.”
“Yes, that’s what bothers me.” She began to undo her bandages. “The markings are too dry, I think. Perhaps that’s the problem?”
“No, I do not think so.” He snorted, sending a rush of steam through her mind. “But I have said as much throughout the night. Enough. I am not scared of what the future brings.”
Asmund’s words began to ring in her head—quickly at first, before they slowed into a hypnotizing echo. Soon they had distorted into nothing but sounds, low and gentle hums that drowned out any of her own thoughts in her mind. Then, she felt it. His alien conscious, the thing that felt closer to Divinity than any of her readings. Though she could not understand it, she knew one thing: his lack of fear. Her fingers twitched; the only part of her betraying her need to move, to do something; and yet, being paralyzed by the incomprehensible vastness of Asmund’s mind, unable to do so. When he relented his attack, she slumped to the floor.
“Asmund, stop.” She gasped out for air that she did not need—though she felt out of breath, she wasn’t. This was the enigmatic nature of dragons and Gods. “Stop!”
“I already have. You understand now, do you not? There is nothing to fear.”
“That’s…” Polina Yakovlevna took a moment to regain her composure. Her hair had become unruly. “You shouldn’t have done that. We’re bonded, yes, but there are things to be kept separate. You can’t do that to me whenever you feel like I’m wrong!”
“I can. Do you ask my permission when you perform these silly rituals? I can feel your cuts on my limbs. They will bite at me for many days and for what? You and I both knew what the cards would show long before this day. Be angry with me if you will, Polechka, but know that what I do is for our own good-will. Go now. They will start without you.”
There was a sudden splash of water; she felt the familiar pop in her ears as he dove into the depths. It took all her training to not hold her breath through the vision—this is Asmund’s mind, not mine, she thought. Though their minds were as one, she could sense that he had attempted to hide himself away from her. Now it was the polar opposite from when he’d tried to overwhelm her; his conscious was a distant memory.
“Our good-will.” She sniffed. While she knew that his intentions were good, it was never a pleasant thing to have his emotions replace hers. Now that her trance had been broken, her arms began to throb from the bloodletting. Gingerly, she removed the linen bandages and replaced them with new ones. They were not so deep to require stitches. Though they would bleed, her experience told her that they would clot up and heal with time. Some blood loss was good for clarity, in any case, and she was planning on revisiting the cards later tonight—regardless of Asmund’s disapproval. When she was satisfied with the wrappings, she gathered the cards away, placed the sword on the bed, and wet a cloth to clean the floor. When she was finally ready to step out of her room, the sun was blazing overhead.
--------------------
Polina Yakovlevna had been in Ilragorn for a few weeks prior to the summon, and yet, she couldn't help but be amazed by the scale of the keep whenever she ventured outside of her living quarters. For one, it was situated on top of a mountain. Breathing in the crisp air made her feel as though she was being cleansed from the inside out—not only was it helpful for her work as a Seer, it helped wash away a bad mood like none other. There was no getting up on the wrong side of the bed here and soon, her fight was Asmund was forgotten. As the wind picked up pace, she was thankful for her thick robes but wished for a sturdier hat; her hair was starting to become unruly beneath her bonnet. Her bones ached and she leaned on her cane as she took a breather.
The courtyard was where all the ceremonies were held, including the crowning of their new commander. As she passed the platform, she swore she could hear echoes of Haylan Atwood's speeches—one for his acceptance of his post and another for his lamentations of their fallen allies. But where others had heard inspiration and hope, she'd gathered the opposite. They'd been getting pushed in ever since Atwood had been in command. So many dead... not that she was mourning them personally, but rather what their lives meant. If only she had been a better Seer! If only she had thought to use her gift the night of the election. If she could have foreseen this future, how many Riders would she have been able to convince to kill Warrick Pearson right then and there? Or better yet... just fly away, far beyond Alera's clutches?
The first sign of the Riders was the drake perched atop the library. Atwood's drake. From this distance, he looked more a bird than anything else. Just as she hoped that she wasn't late for the meeting, a large gust of wind threatened to bowl her over. Instinct made her duck as a shadow swooped over the courtyard—a brown dragon and his equally tanned rider. Though she didn't know the man personally nor had she been on a mission with him, she'd seen his figure around the Coalition strongholds. He looked strong and despite the situation, somewhat carefree. The way he was fooling around with his dragon dragged up the fight she'd had with Asmund earlier. If she was a coarser woman, now was the time to spit on the ground. Instead, she hobbled up the steps to the library and nodded to the man.
"Here for the meeting?" She was slightly out of breath. "I hope we aren't late. I haven't brought my letter with me... have you?"
interacting:
Quados
Quados
maybe something out of this world
Aron saw this young looking woman, only her white hair sets him off. He shaked his head, it doesn't matter how someone looks, it only matters how they act. He wanted to answer her question until he was stopped by his friend, who told him in his mind. >>Be respectful to her, she is the seer of the coalition.<< Aron was a little confused, because he didn't understood why a seer is so special, everyone can see. "Yeah, the meeting, my dragon kinda forced me to go there." He pulls out a crumbled up paper. "Agur meant it could be Important, so yeah I brought it with me. My name is Aron, Aron Ironfist and what's yar name friend?" He felt how Agur gave him an evil stare. >>that wasn't RESPECTFUL<<
Interacting:
undeadrat
Interacting:
undeadrat
TYPE
Now what?
Anexmander and Essotus
-- Early morning on a mountain peak, just outside Ilragorn --
- Interaction - None yet, greeted everyone in the Library -
-- Early morning on a mountain peak, just outside Ilragorn --
- Interaction - None yet, greeted everyone in the Library -
The morning sun had brought with it no reprieve. Still his mind raced. Still he was angry. At this situation. At these people. Over his heart, in a breast pocket, lay two notes - one a thinly veiled threat, the other a cordial invitation to a military meeting Later that morning. Rolling his shoulders, his neck, his wrists - all of them tired, aching - as he had been put through the inelegance that was 'combat ready training' - Anexmander felt his teeth grind together. Him. He, had to run around, and prove himself to a bunch of sweaty morons whom together have not had such a subtle thought as had come naturally to him before his sixth year. In the distance the city stood. It was all that was wrong with this world. Lords in their castles, corrupting themselves to save a power begot through violence and extortion. Exploitation of the weak, the stupid and the poor. If not the current lord, the one before. Or his father. Or his. And because they were so far separated from their progenitor, they imagine that somehow they were free of the horrors that make up their foundations. Even this very endeavor unto war had been directly caused by all of them. Coddling the dangerous because they showed promise in battle. Acting shocked when they turn on each other like rabid dogs over being denied a bone they imaged their own. They made their enemy. Try trained him. They formed him. And now, when on the edge of chaos and death - they employ the same tactics he had come to exploit, becoming more like him every day, in an attempt to kill their monster. Again the note over his breast felt heavy.
Anexmander stood atop a cliff-side, the cold winter sun casting white and gold light past silver clouds - a pale wind moving his long golden hair gently within the breeze. His chin turned up, looking down upon the fortress in the distance, the corners of his mouth turned down, his disgust still apparent. His eyes, swift - moved over the horizon. Then he sighed loudly, letting the breath he had been holding unconsciously for the last few minutes out.
What was done. Was done. The reality now was that Warrick was rampant. Anexmander's eyes ran over the horizon once more. Soon. Soon the edge of the world, once implying freedom... will come to represent a cage. He will encircle us. And starve us of all things that make us civil. All things that make us... us. In his fury there will be no compromise. The monster these fools had made... will not be done with their ashes. The world will choke beneath him.
Anexmander stepped forward again, his feet on the edge of the cliff, hundreds, of feet below him a still shadow gilded ravine, the sun still too young to have peered yet between the spine of the world. When it could, he would need to be at the meeting. His eyes returned to the fortress. He would need to attend. Ilragorn. Anexmander could not help but feel that perhaps it had been more beautiful as a ruin. Set not to the purpose of war. Inviting challenge once more. Another deep breath, the wind picking up again, his long green robes flapping in the wind, mixing with his hair, his arms clasped behind his back, his shoulders straight.
Behind him, a crack of stone, thunderous - as though the earth itself were moving - erupted from the quiet. Anexmander turned his head to the side, his green eyes falling onto the vast mass that was Essotus. His companion. His mentor. His teacher. His friend. The ancient earth dragon was larger than any other dragon Anexmander had met. His vast wings could each cover entirely some of the smaller ones he had seen. His neck so large, that Anexmander could not sit astride it, and chose to position himself further back than most riders, on the back of Essotus. His scales were harder than steel, and worth infinitely more. Green, beautiful in the early morning sun. More than once, Anexmander had though of him as a living, emerald mountain. Or fortress even. As the thoughts ran over his mind again, Essotus snorted, as he positioned his head next to Anexmander, looking towards Ilragorn as well.
"Do not be so angry, my friend." The voice of Essotus felt as vast and powerful as the dragon. Ancient. Wise. Reverberating over Anexmander's consciousness like an earthquake, yet retained an air of elegance, subtlety and gentle camaraderie. "Not all of them are as their leaders. Most of them are fighting for something far more noble. They don't want to lose their families. Their loved ones. Just like you don't." Essotus shrugged his massive shoulders, letting a few pebbles and clumps of grass fall to the ground, breathing out heavily. "Here is my wisdom. The head of the body may be concerned with consuming and culling, but the body itself functions for a singular purpose. To survive. Unaware of violence. Uncaring of power. It reproduces. It thrives in care and light. And remains infinitely more noble for it. And to abandon it to death, because you dislike the head above the shoulders would set you among the worst to have yet lived." The massive head, almost as tall as Anexmander himself was, moved gently to the side, resting against the elf. Anexmander sighed again, before leaning to the side, gently running his hand over the scales. "I know... my friend. Thank you. Your perspective... it... Thank you." Essotus just snorted, before extending one wing, laying it down - creating a walkway up towards his back. Anexmander nodded, before walking around the head, reaching the tip of the wing, walking up it - as though it were a ramp, or walkway, until he stood upright, between the two wings. "Let's go"
There was a flash of green light, some of the excess rock that seemed to cling to the massive dragon at all times, gathered around Anexmander's feet. Holding him secure. Essotus moved forward, to the edge of the cliff, both wings extending outward vast, casting a shadow over much of the mountain, before falling forward, The membrane between the spines in his wings filled with air, thunderous shocks as the mountain took off. Gliding towards the city. On it's back, standing upright, hair and cloak flying behind him in the intense gale winds that ran over the dragon. Anexmander, stood tall. His shoulders square, his hands clasped behind his back again, his chin up, his eyes narrow as they neared the city. Each beat of the massive wings, setting Anexmander's resolve.
The people of Ilragorn looked up as a shadow flew over the city, vast, green, some even covering their ears as the thunderous winds shook roofs, windows and carts, before the mountain finally came to a rest in the great courtyard. Essotus's breathing heavy, his ancient body already a bit tired from the short flight. As he lay down, Anexmander walked down the wing once more, softly saying goodbye in his mind as the Essotus's eyes already closed. A snort the only thing that acknowledged he had been heard.
Anexmander looked around the courtyard. A few dragons. A few people. The seer, the barbarian. Raising his brow, and chin, his chest and shoulders square, he started strolling towards the library, past them, nodding to them in passing. Time to see what exactly this meeting was about. As he reached the doors, a subtle flick of his wrist behind his back - the doors opened on their own, quietly giving way as he made his way past them. Inside he saw his leader, and the lackey. The broody one. The healer, one of the few he truly respected. He did not see Addam - the kind young man whom had come to give him his initial "Invitation". Most of these were good people. He needed to try more. Do better. Essotus was right. He cleared his throat, nodding at all of them, before quietly taking a seat. Not bothering to say anything yet. "Morning".
labyrinthine
i would if i could
aiden mendel | ilragorn ; library
Before the day started for the masses Aiden was already in the fields, fully dressed and ready to go. The fields reminded him of his hometown, which he visited prior to receiving the summons. The grass grew in tussocks and flattened in waves with each gust of wind, only to spring up as fresh as a bunch of flowers right after. He inhaled deeply, his breathing aligned with the steady blows of the silent air. It's the normal wake-up time for him, before the dawn when the sky is at its darkest shade. In his spot, common folk would see the world etched in charcoal, but he was well acquainted with it. And, in it, he could see the figure of his associate, though the darkness that obliterated the sun had not faded or thinned.
The dragon was tall and towering, but definitely not the biggest. He was the color of the night, with the early wind rendering his scales cold as ice. His orbs were red, blazing bright like an ever flickering flame. His belly rumbling slightly, he spread his bat-like wings, ready to take flight. "It is best if we leave before dawn." The drake suggested. There was something about his companion that always fascinated Aiden, and it wasn't the mere fact that they could talk. He just couldn't find out what exactly it was. "Isn't that too early? Let's leave aft-" The question was immediately answered, "I am not responsible for any consequence. If you wish."
The drake had a way about him, a slowness and grace outside war. No matter how often Aiden has flown with him, arcing with outstretched wings, he would always find peace on the dragon. Aiden found Zynnen very much like himself, in some aspects. He shook the thoughts away, and focused on what was ahead. Eventually, reaching Ilragorn and leaving Zynnen by the courtyard, he found that he was relatively late. It was quite expected, since there were a few obstacles along the way. He swiftly walked to the Library, footsteps silenced and eyes cast forward on the path, ignoring any other individual around him. Upon arrival, he entered silently, with a small smile upon his lips, "Good morning."
The dragon was tall and towering, but definitely not the biggest. He was the color of the night, with the early wind rendering his scales cold as ice. His orbs were red, blazing bright like an ever flickering flame. His belly rumbling slightly, he spread his bat-like wings, ready to take flight. "It is best if we leave before dawn." The drake suggested. There was something about his companion that always fascinated Aiden, and it wasn't the mere fact that they could talk. He just couldn't find out what exactly it was. "Isn't that too early? Let's leave aft-" The question was immediately answered, "I am not responsible for any consequence. If you wish."
The drake had a way about him, a slowness and grace outside war. No matter how often Aiden has flown with him, arcing with outstretched wings, he would always find peace on the dragon. Aiden found Zynnen very much like himself, in some aspects. He shook the thoughts away, and focused on what was ahead. Eventually, reaching Ilragorn and leaving Zynnen by the courtyard, he found that he was relatively late. It was quite expected, since there were a few obstacles along the way. He swiftly walked to the Library, footsteps silenced and eyes cast forward on the path, ignoring any other individual around him. Upon arrival, he entered silently, with a small smile upon his lips, "Good morning."
MasterRed
Junior Member
Interacting:
Seabourne
Selena grimaced, and was just about to start getting angry, before she took a deep breath and remembered what Astra said. She forced a smile onto her face and said “I'm Selena. Field medic. And I’m not as young as I look.” before reluctantly taking Helena's hand. She could get angry in the future, for now she needed to know what was even going on.
Seabourne
Selena grimaced, and was just about to start getting angry, before she took a deep breath and remembered what Astra said. She forced a smile onto her face and said “I'm Selena. Field medic. And I’m not as young as I look.” before reluctantly taking Helena's hand. She could get angry in the future, for now she needed to know what was even going on.
Seabourne
Certified Idiot
Helena
Helena laughed, not an entirely pleasant sound. Giving the elf's hand a vigorous shake, she said "Don't worry, it makes you cute! Probably an advantage, nobody out there knows what to expect of you, I bet." She gave another glance around the room, at the others who had entered. "Morning to the both of ya!" She said, a bit too loudly for the atmosphere of the room. She took a seat and cracked her knuckles, ready to get on with the meeting. She wasn't an impatient person, but could not find herself able to sit and wait quietly for this, a meeting of utter importance.
"It will be fine." Miremel said, contacting her mentally. "It is a meeting, not a battle." the drake reminded her, a much calmer being than herself. She forced herself to breathe.
Interacting: Everyone in the war room
Danidify
Wigless
LUCIEN ADAIR
Location: Library, Ilragorn
Interactions: No notable ones yet.
Lucien Adair sat quietly against the cold stone wall of his quarters. Two drowsy ocean blue eyes peered aimlessly forward, eyeing over the bare room that he disliked ever so much. All it offered him was a semi-comfortable bed and a daily reminder of what he had lost, of what he missed, but also what he was still fighting for.Location: Library, Ilragorn
Interactions: No notable ones yet.
It had been a very long time since he had seen his family. Far too long, needless to say, but he couldn't do much about it. Lucien had considered going against orders and trying to infiltrate the city he once called home, but two voices in his head constantly reminded him it would be mad to actually do so.
The first of those voices belonged to a dragon with clear white scales and a heart of gold, Nayah. She had been a true pillar of support for the secluded soul she was bonded to, and that definitely didn't come without appreciation. No day passed without Lucien feeling grateful and glad to have someone like her around, although quite literally having her voice in his head was a tad bothersome at times.
The second luckily did not have that ability but had nevertheless made such an impact that Lucien couldn't erase his teachings out his head even if he wanted to. Mikael, Lucien's mentor of sorts, was a man of tough love. He taught him quickly and efficiently, leaving the then novice dragon rider completely exhausted after every day. Although Mikael's stern face was one that would scare most people off in a heartbeat, Lucien missed the man thoroughly. He wasn't deserving of such a painful death. Nor were the other spies and the various other riders that had their lives taken by those they once trusted.
A serene, stable voice suddenly echoed through his head.
"You're going to be late. Get up."
"...."
"I know you can hear me."
Releasing a heartfelt sigh, Lucien steadily got up on his feet. He didn't like thinking about the tragedies of the past year, but his dragon was often quick to distract him. There was no time to ponder anyway, for there was an important meeting scheduled today and the curious blond had woken up surprisingly late.
"I'll get ready."
"Good. I'm waiting."
Few words were used in their interactions. It was usually like that, although both dragon and rider did not seem to mind very much. It was fine this way.
A fair share of minutes later, Lucien left his private quarters, greeted by the large white frame of the commanding wind dragon.
"Finally." Nayah stated, her blue eyes fixated on the younger rider. Her big blue eyes were the only ones that deviated from the ever so dominating whites and creams.
"Hello to you, too." Lucien muttered back, gently closing and locking the door behind him before climbing up onto Nayah's back with a jump and clean sweep of his legs. They, admittedly, weren't very far away from their targeted destination, but both Nayah and Lucien never skipped an opportunity to fly for a bit.
Although initially sitting up straight, Lucien swiftly changed his position to achieve some more stability as the pearly white dragon took off in a hurry. Nayah was definitely not the biggest dragons around, but she sure was dauntingly swift up in the air. Her sudden and nimble takeoffs always made the rider's heart skip a beat.
It didn't take long for the spy to reach the main courtyard, noticing he was definitely not the first to arrive. There were plenty of dragons around, one of which took up a considerably lengthy portion of the big courtyard. He could also see a couple people standing outside, causing him to feel glad he probably wasn't the last to arrive.
Steadily slowing down, Nayah landed down in the courtyard with grace before bending her upper body down to let him get off in relative safety. Hopping off swiftly, Lucien would place his hand on her neck and look right into one of the dragon's big blue eyes.
"You should go and talk to the others." Lucien teased, the corners of his mouth curving up ever so slightly. Nayah, quite frankly, wasn't much of a social being. Perhaps that's why the both of them fit together so well.
"Very funny." A cold tone responded, turning her head slightly to look away from her rider.
"I know." Lucien removed his hand from the dragon, taking it up to his hair in an attempt to somewhat neutralize the absolute chaotic state it was currently in. He didn't care all that much, though, which is why he only spent a few seconds before offering Nayah a quick wave as a goodbye.
"I'll stick around." She would promptly add, the former impersonal tone now hinting with light care and worry. Nayah had been quite carefree when they first met. After what happened a year ago, though, not so much. Lucien nodded, expressing his gratitude through a simple "Thank you.". It was nice to have someone watching over him, although he personally didn't think he'd be in much danger at the moment.
Turning around, Lucien moved towards the Library's door at a steady pace. He had noticed the very tall guy and not so tall girl before, both somewhat familiar. Lucien would solely nod at them if they happened to notice him walking to the Library, not straying from his path. He'd remove the worn down white cloak that so often accompanied him, placing it over his right shoulder while he walked into the building.
Lucien looked around the room, his eyes moving past a few notable figures. The leader, some really short lump of green hair, and a few others that had already taken a seat. The young blond didn't know all that many riders, so it didn't phase him that some faces weren't very familiar. Nevertheless, he found it polite to at least greet them despite his detest for gathering any attention.
"Good morning, everyone." Lucien's tone and voice were similarly neutral, although the words were most certainly well meant. He would take a seat simultaneously as he spoke, waiting for the meeting to begin.
Last edited:
undeadrat
New Member
Polina Yakovlevna Popova of the Pythian Eye
She took the paper from his hands and ironed it out on her robes. Besides who it was addressed to, the contents of the letter remained almost identical to the one she'd forgotten in her room. When the crumples had been sufficiently creased out, she returned it. But what a funny man! Here they were, on the the brink of total war, and he had to be forced by his drake to attend a council meeting? And one called for by their commander, at that? She wasn't sure who the rider was in his situation. Still, this was what had fascinated her about outsiders when she had been little—their unfettered attitudes. Only they would be so quick to call someone a friend, even if it was just a figure of speech.
"I am Polina." She gave a stiff curtsey.
Her cane was tested then by another gust of wind. It seemed that the riders were now arriving in force; her hair had now been completely undone by the constant flapping of dragon wings, which came in great varieties of make. One had even blocked out the sun while he'd rested in the courtyard. None of newcomers were as loud or friendly as Ironfist; was it their nature or did they have a firmer grasp on the reality of their situation? They held their heads up high and marched smartly into the library. One elf had left the door open on his way in, as if to scold them for dawdling. Time was of the essence and it seemed introductions were not in their forte.
"Let us go in," she said, tucking her hair into her bonnet. "Commander Atwood has called for us and we are blocking the doorway. It is cold and you have worn very little. Will you farewell your drake? They await us."
She stepped through the open doors and when Ironwood followed, shut them. Although she could not see any hearth-fires in the library, just being out of the wind made her feel immensely warm. There were a few riders who had not yet entered the war-room; instead, they were gathered around dusty book-cases and never too close to one another. She knew that they weren't lost, not with that sullen confidence in their eyes. All the good chairs would be taken if they weren't quick. As she passed them, she was distinctly aware of the noise her cane made with every step—a large "clonk" made her gait sound like a three-legged beast—but the room wasn't far now. After a quick turn to affirm that Ironwood was behind her, she entered and took a seat on the far right of the table. Sitting always came to a relief to her and for a moment, she allowed herself to rest her eyes.
interacting:
Quados
, and everyone in the war-room i guess
She took the paper from his hands and ironed it out on her robes. Besides who it was addressed to, the contents of the letter remained almost identical to the one she'd forgotten in her room. When the crumples had been sufficiently creased out, she returned it. But what a funny man! Here they were, on the the brink of total war, and he had to be forced by his drake to attend a council meeting? And one called for by their commander, at that? She wasn't sure who the rider was in his situation. Still, this was what had fascinated her about outsiders when she had been little—their unfettered attitudes. Only they would be so quick to call someone a friend, even if it was just a figure of speech.
"I am Polina." She gave a stiff curtsey.
Her cane was tested then by another gust of wind. It seemed that the riders were now arriving in force; her hair had now been completely undone by the constant flapping of dragon wings, which came in great varieties of make. One had even blocked out the sun while he'd rested in the courtyard. None of newcomers were as loud or friendly as Ironfist; was it their nature or did they have a firmer grasp on the reality of their situation? They held their heads up high and marched smartly into the library. One elf had left the door open on his way in, as if to scold them for dawdling. Time was of the essence and it seemed introductions were not in their forte.
"Let us go in," she said, tucking her hair into her bonnet. "Commander Atwood has called for us and we are blocking the doorway. It is cold and you have worn very little. Will you farewell your drake? They await us."
She stepped through the open doors and when Ironwood followed, shut them. Although she could not see any hearth-fires in the library, just being out of the wind made her feel immensely warm. There were a few riders who had not yet entered the war-room; instead, they were gathered around dusty book-cases and never too close to one another. She knew that they weren't lost, not with that sullen confidence in their eyes. All the good chairs would be taken if they weren't quick. As she passed them, she was distinctly aware of the noise her cane made with every step—a large "clonk" made her gait sound like a three-legged beast—but the room wasn't far now. After a quick turn to affirm that Ironwood was behind her, she entered and took a seat on the far right of the table. Sitting always came to a relief to her and for a moment, she allowed herself to rest her eyes.
interacting:
Quados
, and everyone in the war-room i guess
Quados
maybe something out of this world
Aron followed Polina with his eyes and when he was sure, that she wasn't there anymore, he turned to Agur. "What did she mean with that I wear only little?"
>>It is cold outside and if you need to ask so stupid thinks, please, do it in your mind and don't scream it to me, the other dragons are now looking strangely to me.<< Aron scratched his head and turned around. >>I don't really think that it's cold or anything, but okay.<<
He went inside the library, he didn't like this place, the smell in here was overwhelming and the aura of this room was just like a heavy burden on him. He rushed through this place, ignoring everybody around him. As he entered the War-room he just raised his hand and opened his mouth but was directly stopped. >>NO SCREAMING AND BE RESPECTFUL, YOU HEAR ME, RESPECTFUL.<< Aron said in a moderate tone. "Aron Ironfist, nice to meet you..." He searched himself a seat and just sat down. >>Happy?<< he got no answer, just a little humming sound.
Interacting: everybody in the War-room
>>It is cold outside and if you need to ask so stupid thinks, please, do it in your mind and don't scream it to me, the other dragons are now looking strangely to me.<< Aron scratched his head and turned around. >>I don't really think that it's cold or anything, but okay.<<
He went inside the library, he didn't like this place, the smell in here was overwhelming and the aura of this room was just like a heavy burden on him. He rushed through this place, ignoring everybody around him. As he entered the War-room he just raised his hand and opened his mouth but was directly stopped. >>NO SCREAMING AND BE RESPECTFUL, YOU HEAR ME, RESPECTFUL.<< Aron said in a moderate tone. "Aron Ironfist, nice to meet you..." He searched himself a seat and just sat down. >>Happy?<< he got no answer, just a little humming sound.
Interacting: everybody in the War-room
lazee
give me oblivion
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[div class=textbox]Dragon riders of the Coalition normally had a room to call their own. The quality varies from room to room, presumably depending on how high you were on the hierarchy and despite her position as resident line cook, the eccentric rider named Marigold had some rather lavish quarters to lay her head in. It was certainly a lot better than the twig hut she used to call home twenty years past. Now if only she could just sleep in it. See, Marigold loved to sleep in the dragon pens more than anywhere else in Coalition HQ. Pretty much everyone knew of this habit and automatically went to the living space of her dragon Samael if they had any business with this green-haired pixie of a woman. They'd likely find her resting after a hard day's work, shaded by Samael's wings.
It just so happens that people did have business with her recently. Important people, too. It didn't get any more important than the Commander of the Coalition now, did it?
A steward had sought out Marigold yesterday, bearing a letter from Commander Atwood himself. She would be summoned to a private meeting of seemingly great importance. What business could the Commander have with a humble cook? She didn't know and could not ask the steward for an elaboration as she was lying in rest at the infirmary, unconscious after taking a nasty fall while getting supplies from shelves too high for her reach. This happened a lot more often that she would care to let on, but this particular fall did quite a number on her body; nurses implied that she wouldn't be walking properly if at all with her left leg for at least a month. So that was two stunning revelations Marigold had to deal with the moment she woke up. Almost made her want to curl up in the shabby infirmary bed and go right back to sleep. Samael 'talked' her out of it.
"Elma. I know you are awake. You will answer the summons."
She hated it when he used this tone, this commanding finality. It reminded her of her late father. This old lizard was not her father and she elected to ignore the voice. Marigold would reply with some bratty words if she could, but she was too tired. Samael sensed emotions of dissent regardless, and it was enough to warrant an even more stern statement.
"Marigold.". Not much of a statement, but she knew that when he stopped using the pet name he gave and began using her birthname, he meant business. Samael took her duties as a dragon rider far more seriously than she herself did, and nothing was more serious than a summons from the lord Commander himself. He would make sure she took this seriously as well. Despite herself, Elma complied and slowly rose from the infirmary bed, though she made it quite clear to her dragon that she didn't have to like it. Strong-armed into submission by my own dragon. Unbelievable. She wondered if other dragon riders had this kind of problem as often as she did. A nurse saw Elma rise and hurried over to her with crutches in hand.
"Are you sure you're ready to be up and about, ma'am? Do you need someone to come with you?" the nurse asked while handing her crutches to support her. Elma only nodded, that blank half-asleep visage not going anywhere any time soon. "It's fine, I can manage. I am summoned by the Commander. I am dutybound to answer, no matter what." The words came out emotionless but felt bitter in her mouth. She swore she could hear Samael chuckling to himself, his approval masked in sardonic amusement. Regardless, it was off to the war room.
If only she could remember where it was. The same nurse eventually had to escort her to ensure she didn't get lost. One might be bemused at the fact that this 20-year veteran dragon rider could still get lost in her own headquarters.
When Elma finally made it, it took her a few minutes to work out that she hadn't been the only one summoned by the Commander. Plenty of faces to be seen here, familiar or slightly less familiar. She might not know their names, but she knew these faces. Her one good eye read faces well, but reading situations was one of her many blind spots. Another minute was spent working out that she was late. The people in the war room might be confused as to why Elma spent three whole minutes blanking out. Before a fourth minute could come through, she snapped out of...whatever that was and muttered a to-the-point greeting to the motley crew present.
"Hello. I'm late." A completely unapologetic statement said in a tone of unveiled indifference. Par for the course for this airhead. Elma weakly limped towards the closest empty seat, which was still quite far away as it turns out. As she sat down on said seat and leaned her crutches against it, she gave the group a good glance. Maybe some of these people knew her. Maybe some didn't. I think that one has an allergy to seafood.. At her seat, she retreated to her headspace, once more blanking out to ponder the group's dietary specifications.[/div][/div][/div][div class=credit]credits @RI.a[/div][div class=overlay]Marigold E.[/div][div class=tags]The War Room[/div]
[div class=wrapper][div class=scroll]
[div class=textbox]Dragon riders of the Coalition normally had a room to call their own. The quality varies from room to room, presumably depending on how high you were on the hierarchy and despite her position as resident line cook, the eccentric rider named Marigold had some rather lavish quarters to lay her head in. It was certainly a lot better than the twig hut she used to call home twenty years past. Now if only she could just sleep in it. See, Marigold loved to sleep in the dragon pens more than anywhere else in Coalition HQ. Pretty much everyone knew of this habit and automatically went to the living space of her dragon Samael if they had any business with this green-haired pixie of a woman. They'd likely find her resting after a hard day's work, shaded by Samael's wings.
It just so happens that people did have business with her recently. Important people, too. It didn't get any more important than the Commander of the Coalition now, did it?
A steward had sought out Marigold yesterday, bearing a letter from Commander Atwood himself. She would be summoned to a private meeting of seemingly great importance. What business could the Commander have with a humble cook? She didn't know and could not ask the steward for an elaboration as she was lying in rest at the infirmary, unconscious after taking a nasty fall while getting supplies from shelves too high for her reach. This happened a lot more often that she would care to let on, but this particular fall did quite a number on her body; nurses implied that she wouldn't be walking properly if at all with her left leg for at least a month. So that was two stunning revelations Marigold had to deal with the moment she woke up. Almost made her want to curl up in the shabby infirmary bed and go right back to sleep. Samael 'talked' her out of it.
"Elma. I know you are awake. You will answer the summons."
She hated it when he used this tone, this commanding finality. It reminded her of her late father. This old lizard was not her father and she elected to ignore the voice. Marigold would reply with some bratty words if she could, but she was too tired. Samael sensed emotions of dissent regardless, and it was enough to warrant an even more stern statement.
"Marigold.". Not much of a statement, but she knew that when he stopped using the pet name he gave and began using her birthname, he meant business. Samael took her duties as a dragon rider far more seriously than she herself did, and nothing was more serious than a summons from the lord Commander himself. He would make sure she took this seriously as well. Despite herself, Elma complied and slowly rose from the infirmary bed, though she made it quite clear to her dragon that she didn't have to like it. Strong-armed into submission by my own dragon. Unbelievable. She wondered if other dragon riders had this kind of problem as often as she did. A nurse saw Elma rise and hurried over to her with crutches in hand.
"Are you sure you're ready to be up and about, ma'am? Do you need someone to come with you?" the nurse asked while handing her crutches to support her. Elma only nodded, that blank half-asleep visage not going anywhere any time soon. "It's fine, I can manage. I am summoned by the Commander. I am dutybound to answer, no matter what." The words came out emotionless but felt bitter in her mouth. She swore she could hear Samael chuckling to himself, his approval masked in sardonic amusement. Regardless, it was off to the war room.
If only she could remember where it was. The same nurse eventually had to escort her to ensure she didn't get lost. One might be bemused at the fact that this 20-year veteran dragon rider could still get lost in her own headquarters.
When Elma finally made it, it took her a few minutes to work out that she hadn't been the only one summoned by the Commander. Plenty of faces to be seen here, familiar or slightly less familiar. She might not know their names, but she knew these faces. Her one good eye read faces well, but reading situations was one of her many blind spots. Another minute was spent working out that she was late. The people in the war room might be confused as to why Elma spent three whole minutes blanking out. Before a fourth minute could come through, she snapped out of...whatever that was and muttered a to-the-point greeting to the motley crew present.
"Hello. I'm late." A completely unapologetic statement said in a tone of unveiled indifference. Par for the course for this airhead. Elma weakly limped towards the closest empty seat, which was still quite far away as it turns out. As she sat down on said seat and leaned her crutches against it, she gave the group a good glance. Maybe some of these people knew her. Maybe some didn't. I think that one has an allergy to seafood.. At her seat, she retreated to her headspace, once more blanking out to ponder the group's dietary specifications.[/div][/div][/div][div class=credit]credits @RI.a[/div][div class=overlay]Marigold E.[/div][div class=tags]The War Room[/div]
Braddington
Based... based on what?
Addam Strongheart
Location: In the skies around the fortress that housed the Coalition
Interaction: Those in the library
Location: In the skies around the fortress that housed the Coalition
Interaction: Those in the library
Addam had been up to his usual morning routine, that was to say having some fun. He found it ironic that his fun was so strict and orderly, but such was life when part of an organisation and goal greater than ones self, besides, it was a miracle he had any time at all given the state of affairs in the world. And any still was appreciated having come from a life where ones free time was spent tending to your masters every whim instead. No, he learned to embrace it with a smile rather than with a roll of his eyes. After all, he had much to be grateful for, without the Coalition, where would he be right now? Dead in a ditch somewhere most likely, a victim of the very freedom he had achieved. No purpose but making up with greed all the things he had never had in childhood.
"Oh darling, please stop slipping into your dutiful phase. It's most droll indeed. Not to mention distracting. You have to keep your eye QUICK!" Addams attention was snapped back to the moment, as Estara, ever ready to take advantage of his distractions for a bit of a laugh, span through the air as he clung on cursing her as she gargled a loud, almost roar like chuckle. "What have I told you about doing that! Give me warning!" He communicated in his head, turning around, loosening his attachments to the Golden Dragon underneath him and staring up into the clouds. His mind once more wandering, this time to the civil war tearing the realm apart, his own home already having fallen to the enemy. Not that it meant much to him, they should of burnt it down instead. There would be party's throughout the Kingdom. Alas, other cities under threat did not share the same...reputation as his venerable homeland. Now they were scrambling, a letter, a mission, a flight to distant lands to fetch a man he didn't even know existed. This was all leading to something, and today he would find out what that was. "Ah well, Estara. Best get on with the maneuvers we had planned for this morning. Can't slacken off." He said out loud, as if to emphasis to the point, "Of course, I couldn't lead you on like that dear, you're not like other men. Your important to me beyond just our affair." A sarcastic, noble like laugh followed her words.
Addam shifted, his body steady as his dragon flew a straight path with a slow pace and no fast movements. With both his legs free of their restraints, he grabbed one leg and pulled it forward, his nerves overtaking him slightly for but a second. Then, with pressure, he arose and stood. His feet were locked in place, his eyes staring straight ahead as he kept his arms outstretched. In a time that felt like an eternity, he adjusted his body and stood straight on, a smile reaching his face as his dragon let out a deafening roar. A roar that made him that much more bolder, flailing his arms around, "Wooooooo! This is amazing! I have never felt so free!" His legs began moving, he began walking, in place of course, but much less stiff than before. "I think that's enough for today though, don't want to miss an important meeting or something of that sort." The Golden Beauty edged to the side, not by much, but enough for him to lose his footing and fall in place back into the custom saddle. Fastening himself back in place, they both headed with some speed to the fortress. Time having apparently passed him by.
Once they arrived at a reasonable location, outside the library, many dragons flying about, Addam hopped off of Estara and waved towards her as her eyes fell back to the skies and she flew off once more. Graceful and elegant as always. He ran through the halls, taking off his gloves as he did so, almost falling into the library with some speed, looking as dopey as ever with his hair a mess and his smile unwavering. "I do hope I am not late."
mintis
hero
𝘏𝘢𝘺𝘭𝘢𝘯 - 𝘍𝘺𝘳𝘪𝘢𝘯
As Haylan busied himself with clearing papers from the large table in the middle of the war room and pulled open shutters to cast some light into the darkened room, Fyrian stretched his long body across the roof of the Library. His wings flared out a bit and his feathers spread - the drake taking full advantage of his spot in the open to sun himself while he waited for Haylan.
His perch had many advantages than just being sunny and warm, of course. From his spot atop the Library, Fyrian had a clear view of anyone or any dragon that approached. He tilted his head in curiosity, ears perked and angled forward like an attentive dog, quietly watching from his elevated perch as Rider and Dragon slowly filtered in and made their way to the building. He relayed to Haylan when each pair showed up and Haylan thanked him accordingly, keeping a mental checklist of each one who arrived. During the moments between arrivals they idly chatted through their link.
"I'm hungry."
"You just ate two hours ago. How are you hungry?"
"Only one sheep's leg! That's barely enough to fill a hatchling. Besides, you're heavy, it takes a lot of energy carting you around."
"...I think you're exaggerating a little bit. But if you're really that hungry you can go hunt while I speak to everyone. Or maybe one of the other dragons will share their lunch if you ask them nicely."
Fyrian huffed, obviously not finding Haylan's answer to be what he wanted to hear. Largely ignoring the pouting, Haylan greeted each Rider with a nod as they arrived (save Celica, who received a verbal "good afternoon"), though he remained silent on the reasons for their meeting or why he'd called upon them in particular until they were all gathered in the room. The only information their letters contained was a commendation for their service in the Coalition so far and a time, date, and location for the meeting. Any further information was considered sensitive, even the names of their fellow summonings, and the Coalition went to great lengths to avoid the Tihcai getting their hands on any intelligence.
Minutes stretched by as the final few trickled in, the last to arrive finally appearing with a grin and windswept hair, a telltale sign that he'd recently been on the back of a dragon. Despite the few that showed up slightly late, Haylan refrained from commenting and merely gestured for Addam to find himself a spot, either seated or standing as some still did. This was the first meeting of many, he wanted to make a good impression on all of them, and there would be plenty of time to scold them on their lack of manners if they proved to have a habit of arriving late. As everyone found a spot or a seat at the table and finally assembled before him, Celica at his side, Haylan cleared his throat. He spoke once he had everyone's attention, his tone calm and level, gaze unwavering as he addressed the diverse group.
"Thank you all for gathering here today." He began, casting a glance at Celica. "I know you all must be wondering why we've called you in, and I apologize for not disclosing many details in the letters you received, as well as disrupting your schedules. We hopefully won't be keeping you long." Haylan inhaled deeply through his nose, idly straightening out a piece of parchment that sat on the table in front of him. The page was almost entirely covered in Haylan's neat, looping script, though some words had been scribbled out or written over, some were bolded, and some lines were underlined a few times, denoting importance. To the left of the papers was a small, neat stack of three envelopes, sealed with crimson wax and stamped with the official Coalition seal.
"After much consideration, Celica and I are under the impression that the ten of you are the most promising Riders that the Coalition has to offer.” His gaze swept the group, lingering for a moment on each individual as he spoke. “Each of you has contributed to the Coalition in your own ways, and we are lucky to have you in our ranks and thankful for your service, especially during these times." Haylan's eyebrows drew together slightly. "In a perfect world, I would be content to leave you all to your usual work.
"Unfortunately, as we are all painfully aware, this is not a perfect world. The Coalition has found itself in a time of need, and it has become necessary for us to come together to change the tides of war. This is why Celica and I have called you here today. We understand that each of you are of different specialties - some are more academically inclined, some are natural fighters - but in the coming months, each of you has been called on to partake in a series of steps that will give the Coalition the upper hand in this war and ultimately bring us victory over the Tihcai. Our victory will restore peace in Alera."
Haylan reached out and lifted the sealed letters from the table, neatening the stack between his hands before passing them over to Celica so that she could distribute them to their respective parties. The recipients' names had been carefully transcribed on the front of each. "Inside these letters are the details of your first assignments. Read over them carefully, take some time to prepare, introduce yourselves to one another. We will all be working closely for some time."
Next, he lifted the note-covered parchment from where it was sitting, emerald eyes scanning the page briefly before he promptly folded the parchment in half and slid his fingers along the crease. Haylan didn't really need the notes - he'd gone over them again and again and again with Fyrian, Celica, and himself, enough to have memorized them. It simply was a comfort to hold something in his hands as he spoke - he'd long since gotten used to speaking to large groups yet still felt some anxiety welling in the pit of his stomach whenever he stood in front of a crowd.
"Aiden Mendel, Addam Strongheart, and Marigold Eltonbrand - your destination would be Blackvale. The Ravens have held onto the city long enough, and we've received word that the Tihcai have been entering the city and are growing increasingly aggressive towards the Ravens and the residents. The Coalition needs to reclaim control before the Tihcai can take it.
"Selena Vilheart, Aron Ironfist, and Zilas Culstoull. There is a village near Eastcliff that has been attacked by the Tihcai. It's reported that there is a strong Tihcai presence in the village, and they're holding the residents hostage. This village has a contract with the Coalition, and we received word yesterday that they've killed a handful of villagers. Your assignment would be to put an end to the Tihcai occupation there.
"Lucien Adair and Helena Woodsworth-" Haylan seemed to hesitate almost, his sharp gaze wavering for the slightest of moments. He folded the paper he held over and creased it once again. "Your assignment would take place within Ekhaya." He did not elaborate further - their letter would detail the mission.
"Anexmander, Polina, you would be accompanying me and Celica to Alverton." Haylan's gaze shifted from the seer to the other man and he regarded the historian briefly. He was aware of Anexmander's feelings towards him and the idea of being a Coalition member, but the Commander didn't hold any negative feelings towards the other man. Haylan had basically given him no other option but to join the Coalition ranks, involving him in a war he wanted no part of.
"Furthermore, we have reason to believe that Warrick and the Tihcai are going to make a move on Lindow within the next few weeks. You all should prepare yourselves for that battle. We cannot afford to lose the city."
Haylan, finally finished with his mini-speech, scanned the gathering with some curiosity. He'd just thrown a lot of information at them in a very short time - telling them all that they would be participating in dangerous missions when some of them hadn't seen much combat outside of a training course. Every Rider that joined the Coalition had an obligation to fight when the need arose, but it was a rare occasion that the Coalition found itself in a position where their normal fighting force was not enough. Furthermore, it was rare for the Commander to directly assign missions. Most assignments were able to be claimed by any interested party, first-come-first-serve.
"If you have questions, concerns, or objections to carrying out these assignments, please voice them now." Haylan shared a look with Celica, their expressions clearly revealing that they didn't quite approve of anyone declining their assignments even though Haylan offered to hear their concerns. Each one of them had been chosen for a reason, and the Coalition needed them all to work together if they had any hope of gaining the upper hand in the war. "We will not gather again until all the assignments have been completed, so this is your only chance. If you have no questions or objections, you are dismissed. Good luck."
location - the library in ilragorn
company - all riders in the war room
company - all riders in the war room
Last edited:
Quados
maybe something out of this world
Aron, heared all of those assignments and in him rose anger, anger he couldn't let go. He stood up from his seat and looked his commander straight in his eyes. "You want to tell me, that the Tihcai are now several days in a village, killing people and you have the balls to tell us that NOW? How long did you know that, I bet long enough so you could have send a group already, but no, you needed to gather everyone just to tell us that..."
>>Calm down, he is your commander, someone you should respect.<<
>>Do you think that it's right? That he waited so long to send someone? How many families did get destroyed? How many father or mothers needed to bury their children?!<< Aron inhaled deep and shook his head. "Caution, good and well but we need to think about the people, the more time we loose here, the more damage the Tihcai will cause, so we should hurry to that village. Selena Vilheart, Zilas Culstoull, I will wait outside, don't waist anymore time." He gave his commander one last evil stare and walked right out of the war-room.
When he reached the outside, Agron pressed him to the ground. "What do you think, what you just did there? Did you speak your mind? Did you told your commander your concerns? NO! You insulted him in front of everyone! Do you think this will help in any way? Can't you think befor you act, just once?" Aron smiled at his dragon and just said. "Yeah, he is the commander, but he is like everyone else, mortal, he is not a god, so he should be treated like a mortal and everybody need sometimes some harsh words.... Could you let go of me, you crush me...."
Agur took a step back and watched his friend, that is Aron Ironfist, the one who wrestled with a bear, over one fish and the one who took 3 weeks of his time to help some farmers with their farm, because the father of that young Familie broke his arm. "Aron, I am sorry, I shouldn't have pounced you like that. I understand you but next time talk to me befor you insult your commander, okay?"
Aron just laughed, sat down and began reading the letter they gave him. "Maybe I was a little harsh on him, just maybe."
>>Calm down, he is your commander, someone you should respect.<<
>>Do you think that it's right? That he waited so long to send someone? How many families did get destroyed? How many father or mothers needed to bury their children?!<< Aron inhaled deep and shook his head. "Caution, good and well but we need to think about the people, the more time we loose here, the more damage the Tihcai will cause, so we should hurry to that village. Selena Vilheart, Zilas Culstoull, I will wait outside, don't waist anymore time." He gave his commander one last evil stare and walked right out of the war-room.
When he reached the outside, Agron pressed him to the ground. "What do you think, what you just did there? Did you speak your mind? Did you told your commander your concerns? NO! You insulted him in front of everyone! Do you think this will help in any way? Can't you think befor you act, just once?" Aron smiled at his dragon and just said. "Yeah, he is the commander, but he is like everyone else, mortal, he is not a god, so he should be treated like a mortal and everybody need sometimes some harsh words.... Could you let go of me, you crush me...."
Agur took a step back and watched his friend, that is Aron Ironfist, the one who wrestled with a bear, over one fish and the one who took 3 weeks of his time to help some farmers with their farm, because the father of that young Familie broke his arm. "Aron, I am sorry, I shouldn't have pounced you like that. I understand you but next time talk to me befor you insult your commander, okay?"
Aron just laughed, sat down and began reading the letter they gave him. "Maybe I was a little harsh on him, just maybe."
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TYPE
Now what?
Anexmander & Essotus
-- Afternoon, in the Library -- Outside in the courtyard --
- Interaction -
Everyone in the Library -- The Dragons in the Courtyard
-- Afternoon, in the Library -- Outside in the courtyard --
- Interaction -
Everyone in the Library -- The Dragons in the Courtyard
The Afternoon sun, cold here high in the mountains, slowly seeped into the dark green scales of Essotus. The massive dragon, easily larger than all the other ones now assembled among the courtyard, lifted his head again. He had not interacted much with his own kind over the last hundred or so years. Yet here he was. His eyes ran over the various younglings. Some of them older, sure... but none... old. per se. He looked them over, his mind slowly trying to consider whether he wanted to greet them. Would they even speak with him? He felt as removed from them as they felt to most humans. In no derogatory sense, he just did not feel like them. Separate. Similar in some ways.... but in some critical, yet ephemeral sense, he was not like them. A deep sigh escaped the massive form, before he lay his head down again. Perhaps he would not want to impose on them the implication he expected courteousness. For he did not. Perhaps these strange urges were the lingering thoughts of Anexmander? As the thoughts ran through his head, his eyes closed once more. Quiet, not moving - the green mountain once more.
Inside the library, Anexmander listened carefully. As their 'leader' spoke, stating the obvious. Over and over again. His insights... if this was the measure of them, left much to be desired. His eyes moved from the boy, over the group. At least this whole affair, if not entirely morally sound, would perhaps prove to be academically stimulation. The seer... he would be traveling with her? He was immensely interested in her. His own magic, his skill with potions, alchemy... they all felt like science. Research. Practice... but her gifts. They were fascinating. Complex. In a word. Awesome. A word most used too frequently for it to carry the same weight anymore.
His eyes moved to the side, to the blond boy whom had come to get him not a few weeks ago. He had an amazing dragon. He seemed very enthusiastic. Very driven. Good... but good for war. It's not gonna end well. Not at all. A deep sigh, before his eyes moved on. He saw the cook, nodding towards her, remembering an event regarding potatoes. A small smirk grew upon his lips.
One of the bigger ones. Noisy. Brutish. And... for that moment very, very passionate. Anexmander felt the smirk growing as the slightly angst ridden leader got a tongue lashing. When the brute rushed out, Anexmander cleared his throat, resting his elbow on the chair armrest, his chin in his palm. "Well then. That's you told... my lord." He looked towards the door, then back at Haylan. "So.... let's be off. Our merry band of marauding miscreants. Can't waste too much time... lest we lose our chance to actually take down the entirely inevitable and entirely ironic product of our... wait. Your... avarice." He could not help himself. Even as Essotus growled low in the back of his mind. He got up from his chair. Raising a brow, as he turned towards the door, waiting to be excused. Without looking back at Haylan and the others. "Let's get this over with."
undeadrat
New Member
It was good. The commander had a plan—good or bad, it did not matter—and so long as she followed it, Polina knew her future. While she could have hoped for friendlier companions, it did not matter so long as they did their duty... or did it? Alverton was where the King lived. She'd never met the man before nor heard much about his doings. Did he want court jesters, do-gooders, or strong men to all but sit on the throne for him?
"We will get ready," she said. "Perhaps Asmund will wish to fly ahead; I will try to calm him."
Polina clutched her walking stick and followed the elf's exit. It was lucky, she supposed, to be on a diplomatic mission. Despite all her training, she wasn't yet confident in her arm. Just before she left the library, she leaned against a dusty shelf and allowed her mind to probe for Asmund's. His conscious was still bristling and it took three gentle attempts before he opened up his mind. A cold ripple trickled down her back and her chest felt compressed, hindering her ability to breath.
"Hello, Asmund. Are you fishing?"
"There are no fish this deep." A flash of darkness sliced through Polina's mind. "Nothing but bones and worms."
"Yes, I see. We're to be on a mission. My memories are still fresh but please look through them gently."
There was a pause; Polina winced.
"Alverton? The city of Kings..." He hummed and beat his tail. The pressure in her chest let off and she took in a deep breath. "With the Commander, no less."
"You're pleased."
"It is an honour to fight along your leader."
"I'm not sure if we're fighting at all." She looked out the open door. Asmund had not arrived yet. "I've never talked to a King. Have you?"
"Nor I. It does not matter; he needs us more than we need him."
"Asmund—he's the King."
There was no answer, which gave Polina all the information she needed. She gathered herself up and stumbled out the door—just in time to see the white drake land in the courtyard. His scales shimmered from his seaside dip but with this wind, she knew it would dry in seconds. Despite the fight they'd had, she could not help but smile in his presence. She was far too dependent on him, Asmund had said, but she knew that he'd never let her go.
"Polechka," he rumbled. How was it possible for a seafaring creature to be so warm? It was like a furnace was lit inside him, despite his oceanic nature. "Polechka..."
"I missed you."
"As have I." He spread out his wings, allowing her to slowly crawl up to his back. Once she was secured, he took off into the air, raining little droplets of water on the ground.
"The Commander isn't here, you know."
"A small flight first," he said. Then, "The winds are strong here. They may blow us to Alverton just yet, through no fault of our own."
Polina simply smiled and let herself sink into his back. One thing was for sure: he'd never let her fall, no matter the winds.
"We will get ready," she said. "Perhaps Asmund will wish to fly ahead; I will try to calm him."
Polina clutched her walking stick and followed the elf's exit. It was lucky, she supposed, to be on a diplomatic mission. Despite all her training, she wasn't yet confident in her arm. Just before she left the library, she leaned against a dusty shelf and allowed her mind to probe for Asmund's. His conscious was still bristling and it took three gentle attempts before he opened up his mind. A cold ripple trickled down her back and her chest felt compressed, hindering her ability to breath.
"Hello, Asmund. Are you fishing?"
"There are no fish this deep." A flash of darkness sliced through Polina's mind. "Nothing but bones and worms."
"Yes, I see. We're to be on a mission. My memories are still fresh but please look through them gently."
There was a pause; Polina winced.
"Alverton? The city of Kings..." He hummed and beat his tail. The pressure in her chest let off and she took in a deep breath. "With the Commander, no less."
"You're pleased."
"It is an honour to fight along your leader."
"I'm not sure if we're fighting at all." She looked out the open door. Asmund had not arrived yet. "I've never talked to a King. Have you?"
"Nor I. It does not matter; he needs us more than we need him."
"Asmund—he's the King."
There was no answer, which gave Polina all the information she needed. She gathered herself up and stumbled out the door—just in time to see the white drake land in the courtyard. His scales shimmered from his seaside dip but with this wind, she knew it would dry in seconds. Despite the fight they'd had, she could not help but smile in his presence. She was far too dependent on him, Asmund had said, but she knew that he'd never let her go.
"Polechka," he rumbled. How was it possible for a seafaring creature to be so warm? It was like a furnace was lit inside him, despite his oceanic nature. "Polechka..."
"I missed you."
"As have I." He spread out his wings, allowing her to slowly crawl up to his back. Once she was secured, he took off into the air, raining little droplets of water on the ground.
"The Commander isn't here, you know."
"A small flight first," he said. Then, "The winds are strong here. They may blow us to Alverton just yet, through no fault of our own."
Polina simply smiled and let herself sink into his back. One thing was for sure: he'd never let her fall, no matter the winds.
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