Fantasy The Dragon Wardens: Exodus

[BookWyrm]

Rasrik reached down and scratched the cat's back, getting a contented purr in response before it pawed up at his hand. Bending down Rasrik scooped up the cat gently before following Quynn over to the counter, petting the cat lightly as he came around to see the old man in the rocking chair. Easing back into his old skill set Rasrik quickly connected with the man's presence just in case. Quynn had already moved in and started the process. Rasrik gave a half smile, impressed by how much his old student had matured over the years. It wasn't that Rasrik hadn't admired him when he was younger. Back when he had been in his class Quynn had always seemed like he had something to prove, and he was eager to prove whatever it was that he felt like he needed to. This was both a gift and a curse when it came to teaching.


The cat mewled and purred, gently reaching up and pulling Rasrik's hand down before rubbing against it. Ras smiled, playing with the cat a little longer before letting it jump down onto the counter. It laid down and purred happily, content to have gained some attention. Rasrik opened up his pack and reached in for the arrow heads. Just the touch of the metal against his fingers was enough to light the anger again. Those damned Thalls and that bitch they call their queen. Once they had taken care of Valos Rasrik's next target was Rosenfall. If the rumors he had been hearing about this so called Trial were true there could be Wardens and dragons still alive just days away from being executed.


"These arrows heads, they have a rather potent poison coated on them." Rasrik laid said arrow heads out on the counter in front of the man, who he assumed might be Barne? "I was curious about what poison it is, and if there might be an antidote." Rasrik reached into his pack and pulled out a single gold coin, letting it flicker in the light as he flipped it around between his fingers before laying it next to the arrow heads. Knowing how some of these people were, a little incentive goes a long way in jump staring the process.

 

[Red Thunder]

Rising Embers of the Inferno:


Waethrin


Rosenfall - Stonehath - the Streets
​

"I think it's something important, regardless of who you hear it from."

"Obviously it must be important. A nation doesn't go to war unless something is important." When he'd been addressed, Waethrin had pointedly turned his head in acknowledgment. Even now he seemed none too eager to lend the ear that had been so readily open such a short time ago. Nevertheless, the old man's pace slowed, and after a few moments he spoke again. "Very well. If for no other reason than this old wander can avoid looking the fool, instruct me on Edlenfeld's fate."


His feet carried him onward at his reduced pace, taking him forward without direction. Waethrin and his companion turned a corner and found themselves in an empty alley. He turned to Addiver, the wrinkled face hesitantly curious.


"Well?"


@Effervescent

 

[Elle Joyner]

Raleia couldn't be mad at Olsten. Not really. Not for long, anyway. Her jaw throbbed and her lip stung where it had split, but in the end she was ultimately more understanding of his plight than she was angry. She was impetuous at one point, herself, and made rash decisions out of fear and frustration. He was stubborn and a little reckless, Valnir had told her as much when he used to talk about the boy. But he was also capable and kind, and right now he was the only other Warden she knew of that was living and breathing.


In the end her lip would heal and her head would stop pounding, but if they didn't find a way to make sense of all that was happening, and find a way... a rational way of getting through it alive.


He wasn't corrupt. Not by any stretch of the imagination. She had to believe that no child, even an older child, scarred by war, could be. She had to believe that in Olsten there was hope for the future of their people. That there was hope for peace, again.


Looking up through the bars, she shook her head, "Thank you, for the provisions... and for the information. We'll sit tight. It's only a week, after all." She flicked her gaze back to Olsten, a searing glance, not at all excusing his unprovoked behavior, "Be well, friend." She called, to the man above.

 

[Macaberz]

Rosenfall Dungeons

Olsten & Raleia
​

There was a look of surprise, horror even, in Raleia’s eyes, just before his punch connected. But his follow-up hit nothing but air. Like a cat she’d leapt out of reach, and out of harm’s way. He readied himself to continue, fists raised, legs apart, but her shrill voice cut through his resolve like a knife through butter. Stupefied, her rage washed over him, and by the time she ordered him to lower his hands, he obeyed like a lamb.


Yet, neither the stranger’s urging whisper not Raleia’s furious gaze could douse his simmering eyes. “My brilliant plan is better than doing nothing,” he hissed through his teeth. “You just…” he gestured wildly, “you just sit, and eat, and wait…”


With a scowl he retreated to the darkest recess of the cell and plonked down. For a moment it appeared the stranger’s question would go unanswered, but after a little while, the grumbled answer came, “you’re lucky I’m not one of them…”


He pressed his lips together and grimaced. "If you really mean to help us, then I'm sorry. Things aren't going exactly well you see..." His expression darkened, "but if this is some sort of trick to get us to speak, I swear with all my heart, I'll murder you." He paused for a moment to let the threat sink in. "What can be done to aid or Dragons?"

Orignal art by Macaberz.

​

 

[Effervescent]

The Stonehath District

​

Addiver Cald followed the old man up the road and down the alley without so much of a thought to the strangeness of the situation until he halted before Waethrin. Were it not for the curiousness creased in the aged wrinkles upon his face, Addiver would have reached for his sword defensively. Something told him to belay the instinct, and instead he matched the hesitancy with his own. So strange it was to find someone so old to not only have traveled to Rosenfall, but to be oblivious to the happening in Edlenfeld. The notion lingered in his mind as it plucked chords in thoughtful abandon.


"At Summer's End, Edlenfeld was attacked by Shadow Casters," Addiver explained. His weight shifted to his left leg, his runed leather armor creaking as he relaxed into the pose. The armor he wore was aged and worn, but well maintained despite its use. A spatter of blood still clung in a crusty spot along the side of his tasset that sprung around towards his back side. He didn't have time after his travel to change before he headed to The Joust, nor would he have time to change back into the armor once again when he had to return to the castle.


"It wasn't just Shadow Casters, though," he continued. "There were Dragon Wardens there killing Thalls alongside the enemy. I wasn't there for the initial attack, but I was stationed at Watchcall Post just North and was part of the first company called to aid Edlenfeld. Those Shadow Casters and... I don't think they were Dragon Wardens, really. They were something else. They acted differently than I'd ever seen before. It looked like they were casting Shadow Magic. They massacred nearly everyone in Edlenfeld, and when we got there... They raised them from the dead. We were forced to slaughter them again. Saverewas there. Are you familiar with who he is?"


@Red Thunder

Rosenfall Dungeons

​

The guardsman at the barred opening could not be properly seen with the only light at his back. Whatever expression he held upon his face would go unseen, and the only indication of his emotions would have to be read through his body language. His shoulders tensed at Olsten's outburst and threat, and there was a moment's pause that followed the boy's words.


"We're working on a distraction," the man responded lowly. "Something to get the attention of our fortifications while the dragons can slip away. There's a pass Southward towards the cliffs. They could be safe there. We've been informed that you'll lose connection with your dragons if separated too distantly. We're looking for a closer location as we speak, but it could be risky. For now, we have convinced the rest to keep them alive. Don't worry. We'll handle it."


A distant voice called out commandingly, and the guardsman's head quickly turned. He rose from where he crouched without another word to the pair of prisoners below and called out to whoever called for him. His silhouette disappeared and would not return. Silence fell back into the oubliette leaving Raleia and Olsten to themselves in the damp and darkened space.


@Macaberz @Elle Joyner

Bettleben

​

The Shae rocked in his chair as the two men approached him, his goat-like appearance prominent not just in the curled opalescent horns that curled at the sides of his head, but in the long structure of his face. Wide lips brought the end of his pipe more comfortably between his teeth as his dark eyes scrutenized the appearance of Quynn and Rasrik. The shop cat enjoyed the presence of the newcomers, gratefully receiving the love with a loud rumbling pur. TheShae's eyes moved from the happy cat kneading the air in Rasrik's arms back up to the customers with barely a change in expression.


"Eh?" he said as he rocked back one last time before raising himself to a stand. His large hooves clopped against the wooden floorboards as the rocking chair wildly rocked back and forth in protest to the lack of weight it once carried. The Shae retrieved a set of half-mooned spectacles, designed specifically for his larger bridge, and set it upon his nose before looking down at the arrowheads Rasrik presented.


"Eh," the Shae grumbled. "Guardsmen folksies, them arrows be from. Haha! Pickles, pickles, pickles." He walked behind the counter muttering to himself as he caught a glimpse of the gold coin. A chuckle escaped him again. "Neh, yous come to the rights place at the wrongs time. Yous gonna needs my entire stock! How to explain to Bettleben? How to explain to Barnesie morrow more?"


The Shae threw his hands into the air in protest and snatched up the gold coin before it could be taken away. "How bigsies the snake drake?" He raised a bushy brow and looked at the two Dragon Wardens expectantly.


@BookWyrm @JDParadox

 

[BookWyrm]

Rasrik and Quynn


Rasrik had dealt with Shae in the past, but his crazy old....well, Shae, was something else. Not in a bad way, most Shae had an enduring kindness about them, but in an old and slightly daft way, in the fashion of most apothecaries Rasrik had met before. "Eighteen feet in height, thirty six in length. Haven't weighed him, can't find scales big enough."


The Shae tapped his teeth against the end of his wooden pipe and took a drag of the smoking herbs within. "Yep," he said before exhaling a puff of smoke. "Barnsies gonnie rings the neck." He made a choking sound as he turned about and pushed open the door to the back. He spoke louder for the two as he pilfered through supplies set in the hidden end of the shop. "Yous outs to Bettleben, and for what? Nannie here, nannie there. No perspectives. Losts it all and no perspectives. Casts the light and no perspectives! Shadow!"His rambling was accompanied by the sounds of clinking glass and wooden crates creaking open and shut. The calico cat became interested in what the Shae was up to and leaped down onto the floor.


Quynn was standing, lips pursed, silent and eyes wide, struggling hopelessly to comprehend the Shae's odd way of speaking. He had expected a lazy, distracted oaf when he first set eyes upon the man lounging on his chair. By the gods, how he wished that had been the case. "Erm... Could you not..." Quynn started, raised a finger, then stopped as he realized he had nothing of worth to say. He shot Rasrik a glance. Damn it, but he was confused. The hurried ramblings, some of which made sense to him, the rest gibberish to his ears, wasn't much help either.


"Ah!" the Shae called out, and clopped back into the main room with a grin. He set a large, heavy satchel upon the counter with a groan and wiped his brow with the back of his furry forearm."Activated Charcoal," he said to the Dragon Wardens and then pointed to his mouth. "Ingest. Eats it all. Not yous, though. For the snake drake. If drakesie no takesie, puts it in the arrow holes. Sucks it right ups." He made a slurping sound for emphasis.His finger pointed from Rasrik to Quynn. "Thattie be allswell. Alls and alls. Halls will fall." He then tapped the side of his temple and left it at that.


If nothing else, you had to admire the man for quickness: Quynn had expected brewing up a cure to take much longer. He reached out towards the satchel with uncertainty, eyebrows narrowed. He slid the bag across the counter towards himself and Rasrik, opening it to check whatever that was inside. "Huh" He added, sheepishly, eyes still fixed on the contents; it looked like nothing more than another lump of dark coal to him."Well, thank you, friend. It's been a-" He paused, closed the satchel again and handed it over to Rasrik. He was searching for the right words. The experience had been strange, to say the least, though not all that unpleasant. There were the normal Shaes (relatively, anyways), and there were the ones that were bleedin' mad. "- pleasure" He added and forced himself to smile.


Rasrik reached inside his pouch and produced a small money purse, inside being around ten more gold coins. "This, for your troubles.", he said as he laid the pouch on the table. Rasrik was in no way hurting for money by most standards, he had never been much of a spender to begin with, and the Shae just saved Valos' life, that accounted for something in his book. "Thank you."Rasrik picked up the satchel as they turned for the door. As they passed back into the streets Rasrik looked around carefully before running across towards the alley they had come from. They wound around through the same alleys, stopping every now and then to avoid a patrol or distract a lone guard(Rasrik using his illusions, the skill having begun to come back to him now that he was sober), and they came out in the same place near the woods."No time to waste, we need to get this back to Valos now!"

 

[JDParadox]

Rasrik and Quynn - Outside Bettleben


The two arrived back at the hideout, the dragons right where they had left them. Valos looked towards the approaching Wardens, making a guttural trilling sound as he bobbed his head in greeting. "Don't worry about us. We managed to get through unnoticed." Ras laid the satchel down next to Valos and opened it, pulling out the Activated charcoal. Valos mewled as he bent down to sniff the clump. "You swallow it, but just to make sure I'm going to pull some chunks off and put them directly in the arrow wounds as well."After managing to break some of the charcoal into chunks Ras held the larger chunk out for Valos, who gently took it and threw his head back, swallowing it whole. The arcane dragon grumbled in protest. "Would you rather choke down the charcoal or die of poison? Now quit fussing about it.", he retorted as he placed the smaller chunks into the arrow wounds. Valos whined sharply, even hissed as Rasrik inserted the chunks before bandaging the wounds. "I know. It's not fun for me either."


"You see that?" Quynn was pointing to Valos and Rasrik's reunion as he lazily sauntered towards Kovinth, who was showing only the subtlest hint of relief that would have been impossible to see, that is, if one hadn't spent one's entire life with the ice dragon. "That is how a Dragon should worry for his Warden. Why can't you be so, eh?" Quynn was frowning in mock puzzlement. The answer of course, was no impossible puzzle: they both had too much pride. It was only when either or both of them was near death, and pride became among the lower priorities, that such sentiments made sense. Kovinth snorted disdainfully, but had made his way over anyways.


"Still can't believe old Rasrik is alive" Quynn spoke as he struggled to wrap his arms around Kovinth's neck, the kind of roughhousing you'd expect from young boys; not grown men and dragons. "Tough old bastard, that one. Valos too. When was the last time you seen another dragon, huh?" Kovinth had easily wriggled his way out of Quynn's grip, and had retaliated by shoving him staggering into the dirt. The dragon nodded and grunted in agreement. Quynn laughed. All was well, considering half the world wanted to kill them.


Quynn came up behind his old mentor, his left hand rested idly on the pommel of his blade to keep it from jostling as he moved, Kovinth was towering besides him. He smiled, they did good. They fought a battle and they lived; and they were now a band of four exiles instead of two. "You suppose it's true that there's going to be a trial? I could have sworn 'her exalted majesty Queen Malan' preferred to execute Wardens and eat their dragons instead." Quynn probed at Rasrik while Kovinth and Valos were conversing in their own tongue. Sarcasm turned into vehemence halfway through his sentence, and a hint of something between disgust and pain.


Rasrik shrugged as he cleaned his hands off. "The Thalls coming into Bettleben have been practically raving about this trial for weeks now. When I was sober I paid attention, if for no other reason than because it pertained to other Wardens."Rasrik shook his head. "I was a fool for letting myself stoop that low. Things could have been a lot worse for us, well, they were almost. Luckily I have you to thank for dragging me out of that. I can't imagine what I would have done if Valos had died."Rasrik sighed as he reached up and scratched the scales at he base of Valos' neck. Valos made a purring sound in response, lowering head in a contented fashion. "But if there is a truly going to be a trial, then that means there are Wardens and dragons locked away in Rosenfall right now. I for one refuse to let them die there."


"So what say you Quynn, you ready to break into Rosenfall and get some revenge?"

 

[Macaberz]

Rosenfall Dungeons

Olsten & Raleia
​

Olsten was hesitant to break the silence again. He half expected Raleia to leap out of the shadows and punch him back. Then again, she would’ve probably already done so if she’d meant to. A crushing hopelessness pressed down on his shoulders. There was nothing, nothing they could do from within here.


Nothing but wait.


And wait some more.


The stranger’s promise that Grybil would be spared hardly comforted him. That usurping gap in his consciousness remained, a space otherwise filled by the presence of his best friend. All he could do was hope. Hope against all odds that Grybil was still alive and hadn’t yet roasted the ones trying to save him. Grybil had never been very fond of other humans, expect the ones Olsten was friends with.


A drip of water shook Olsten from his thoughts. He knew that Raleia was silently condemning his actions and so he answered.


“It was better than doing nothing,” he mumbled towards the ground. It was the closest thing to an apology she would get. Saying sorry was rather meaningless anyway, and he lacked the heart to do so. “Why do you trust this…person so much? I mean, he brings you food but that doesn’t mean he can be trusted.” Olsten glanced at the remains of their provision, his appetite had all but disappeared. “Heck, maybe I can’t be trusted, maybe I am one of those forlorn, just waiting for my chance to get close to the queen and-“ he made a throat-slicing gesture. The faintest hint of a grin had returned to his face, “-I kind of want to do that anyway…so nothing has changed really. I am still stuck here with you.” His eyes, now accustomed to the dark, found her with ease and lingered upon her form. “Not that I’m complaining…” he added in the lowest of whispers.

Orignal art by Macaberz.

​

 

[Elle Joyner]

She wasn't exactly surprised that the first words to her after several minutes of stony silence weren't an apology. It seemed an issue of pride, really, that young people had such a difficult time admitting outrightly that they were wrong. She wouldn't scold him, as much as she might have wanted to. He was going through a lot and she understood why he had done what he'd done, even if it was an utterly foolish plan. But she wasn't letting him off the hook... not entirely.


"My aching jaw begs to differ, but that's not important." Moving over to where he sat, she settled down beside him. The temperature was dropping more and more each day. Soon enough, it would be unbearably cold, "I trust him because I must, Olsten. There are so few people on our side, anymore. Any help that we can get is help that I will graciously accept. He has risked a lot, doing what he's done and until he shows me otherwise, I have to believe that he is loyal to the Wardens that survived." Smiling faintly, she put an arm around his shoulder, "What you've been through, Ollie... what we've all been through, it can change us... it can make us into the monsters that they think we are, but I don't think that's true of you, now... or that it ever could be. And I know isn't of me. Whatever happens with this trial, to the rest of our people, we must remember who we are... what purpose we serve. We bring peace. And as soon as they can remember that, perhaps they'll release us back to our home."


Not that there was a home to return to. Haven was decimated, and rebuilding... there would never be enough of them, even if they could stomach the thought of it. Haven was gone, forever a ruin... a reminder of what happened when they lost their way. And they had, at least some of them. But Raleia was determined to stand stalwart in her beliefs that someday, the Thalls... all the people would see that they were wrong. That the Wardens were still harbingers of peace...


Shifting, she turned her head, pressed a gentle kiss to the side of his head, "...Dear heart, you convinced me not to lose hope. Not to give up... Don't tell me you've lost that fortitude, so quickly. If nothing else, at least our dragons are alive. "


@Macaberz

 

[Macaberz]

Rosenfall Dungeons

Olsten
​

His breath evaporated in a small puff of smoke. All sense of warmth had disappeared with the stranger. They were alone once more, and Lord Winter's icy fingers caressed the nape of his neck. Her mild agitation dwarfed in comparison to the stinging regret stabbing at his heart. Eyes swimming with guilt traced her until she sat down next to him. He quickly looked the other way. How often Olsten had cooed Grybil when he had been the size of a young cat. Now it was him that was being cooed and comforted, and it wasn't until Raleai slung her arm around him that he realized how sorely he needed it. "But we can't trust anyone who isn't one of us...they want us dead Leia, dead-" he swallowed down a gulp.


His shoulders tensed, the hairs on his neck rose. A gnagging feeling welled up in the pit of his stomach, a rising unease warning him to pull away. But before he could, he sensed the light peck to his temple. Her touch had uncovered a secret door, buried deep into the core of his being. So deep he had almost forgotten it was there at all. And with that gentle kiss, she had turned the key in its lock.


He inhaled sharply. "Yeah, they're alive," he muttered, as if to reassure himself that it was so. A shiver followed, then a sniffle. And another, and another. The first drop that splashed onto the stone floor might've been mistaken for the drizzle seeping down the walls, landing into a puddle. But the sound became too frequent, a light pattering cutting through the steady dripping in the distance. No matter how quiet, every teardrop sounded like thunder to him. He buried his face in his hands and shrivelled at her side.


Like bees his thoughts buzzed in an ungraspable swarm. There was nothing he could rationally pinpoint to explain his distress, it had come as sudden as a gust of wind, though he doubted it would leave as soon. Ever since fleeing Haven he hadn't really stopped for a moment. Always there'd been something else on his mind, a destination to go to, a hunter to evade, a group to abandon. All the while his problems had only been mounting and every decision had turned out for the worse. In the end, he had harvested nothing but guilt.


"I'm s-sorry," he choked out. But when he dried one eye with his sleeve, the other redoubled its efforts. "I don't know...I c-can't help it." Aghast, he pulled his hands from his face and stared at his trembling digits, a nervous chuckle broke through. "I'll be alright...I am sure Winnock will be alright too," he said with glowing cheeks.


@Elle Joyner

Orignal art by Macaberz.

​

 

[Red Thunder]

Rising Embers of the Inferno:


Waethrin

Rosenfall - Stonehath - the Streets
​

Saverewas there. Are you familiar with who he is?"

The wander frowned.


"Of course I am, boy. I'm only old; I'm not senile."


A brief gust of wind stirred the dust at their feet. Loose as it was from the little to no foot traffic the alleyway received, it leapt into the air, scattered light as if each grain was a miniature mirror. Waethrin looked on impassively, his mind clearly elsewhere.


"Shadow Magic," he whispered, though the breathed words were not intended expressly to be hidden from his companion. "I'd hoped I'd seen the last of it."


The clack of a closing wooden shutter farther down the alley broke his contemplation, and he blinked.


"Not Dragon Wardens, you say. But if they were astride their dragons, what else could they be?"


A sharp metallic sound echoed toward them, high and shrill, like a sword being drawn. Waethrin spun toward it, his hand instictively grasping the hilt of his sword. As he did so, his cloak blew aside, exposing the black leather breastplate he wore and the crest on it. Positioned over the heart, the crest was burned into the leather, a stylized flame with a slited eye staring out from it: the emblem of the Inferno. But there was nothing, no threat to be answered: the perpetrator was likely something far less aggressive in nature. Good eye still narrowed in suspicion but hand falling back to his side, the old man turned again to Addivar, awaiting an answer.


@Effervescent

 

[Elle Joyner]

Gently, sighing softly, Raleia gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze, "It's because so many want us dead, Ollie, that we have to learn trust those outside of our circle. Believe me when I say I know the instinct you face, to guard yourself, but in the end there are so few of us left. For all I know, you and I may indeed by the last, and we cannot afford to shut out the world for the sake of preservation."


When he began to cry, she said nothing. Her fingers raked through his hair and as he curled into her side, she shifted, let in huddle there for as long as he needed. Comforting others had always been so easy, before Haven fell, and she had feared that was gone, that with the bitterness and anger over Valnir's death, she had somehow lost that piece of her. She was glad then, when it seemed to come so naturally. But then, Olsten was just a boy. A boy, trapped in a reality much too intense for his youth. He deserved better, he deserved to have a life filled with joy and laughter... and if she had any say in the matter, he would have that.


"You've nothing to apologize for," She said, when he finally spoke, and she reached out to dry the tears that he had missed, smiling, "I am not made of stone, I do not expect you to be, either. We will be alright. They'll see, Ollie... they'll see the measure of who we are, and they will let us go. They have to..."


She had no delusions, however, that their trial would go nearly so well, but it didn't matter... she would see to it that Olsten was freed, no matter what it cost her, in the process.


@Macaberz

 

[Effervescent]

Chapter 1


11th Day of Winter
​

Rosenfall

​

Addiver Cald sat within his bedchamber located in the castle's southern face overlooking the most shallow incline of Rosenfall's inner city. The Market District was just to the left in his window view that was normally bustling soon after dawn. Stalls were closed, and most of Rosenfall's citizens had journeyed up the hill to the castle gates early that morning to eagerly await the chance to file into the courtyard within its walls. There, the now infamous trial would be held, and only a handful would be able to witness it firsthand.


Two Dragon Wardens were to be put on display in what Addiver surmised to be an act. He wasn't sure what Queen Malan's true intent was. Her advisor was not on his side and loathed the guardsman with her entire being. Had he not have been such an asset to Thallas it was likely the queen would have been advised to execute him. He had always wondered if it was his advancements upon their first encounter. The advisor was, after all, a striking woman, and the woman was not a known face in Rosenfall before her hire.


His thoughts did not linger on her for too long. They never did these days. Within the cold confines of an oubliette lied two young Dragon Wardens for the past week or so. He knew they were completely innocent, but knew there were too many that did not share his sentiment. Addiver instructed one of his fellow Guides within the Queen's Guard to give the prisoners his food each day. They would need their strength for the plans he had to free them from a possible fixed fate.


Six days ago, Thallas suffered an unfortunate happenstance. The supply of moon dust had been depleted, and the slumbering dragons confined within the halls became fully conscious. Miraculously, those very dragons broke free of their chains and fled Rosenfall before the cannons and ballistae could be readied. The Wall Commander was let go due to his negligence and another quickly named in his place. Fortunately for Addiver, the new commander is a Guide.


Both dragons, by the aid of a Dragon Warden by the name of Baelyn and his dragon Torvakt, made it safely to the system of crystal caverns north of Rosenfall. It is the only location occupied completely by Guides in Thallas. There, workers mine the crystals to trade with their elven neighbors, and it is through this system they have been able to transport goods and news throughout the kingdoms unnoticed.


Addiver's thoughts shifted back to the old man he crossed at the Joust not but a week ago. The rarity of finding someone who had not heard of Edlenfeld piqued his interest. He wondered what went through that head of his so quick to quip. He had at least heard of Wallace Savere.

"Shadow Magic," the old man whispered. "I'd hoped I'd seen the last of it." His airy thoughts wisped through the alley's shade where they stood, and Addiver found his grip upon the pommel of his blade relax. The whisper carried in the breeze and dissipated to leave the guard with his chain of thoughts regarding the butchering of his people. He could remember the deadened faces of the fallen as they rose to fight again.


"Not Dragon Wardens, you say," the old man spoke once again, this time more fully. "But if they were astride their dragons, what else could they be?"


He thought just as the rest of them. A dragon and a rider, no matter what, was always a Dragon Warden. Addiver never saw what was witnessed, but everything he heard about them did not seem like the Dragon Wardens he knew and worked with many times before. They were sinister and wielded Shadow and cared nothing for the people they massacred. To this, he refused to give them the honorable title of Dragon Warden. To this, he shook his head in response to the old man's question, unable to really think of how to define this enemy.


But just as his mouth opened to answer, Jason Gregor, one of the guardsmen he had met up with at the Joust, came into view just at the alleyway's entrance. Gregor's feet shuffled as he stumbled upon the scene, though he was clearly looking for either of them as he walked down the small way.


"Sir!" Gregor called out. "You're needed at the castle!"

"Sir?"


The voice of his friend and ward of Queen Malan, Ilyanis Estros, brought the guardsman out from his reflection. The Naveri elf stood within his doorway with an expression of curiosity as she had taken note of his once-distant stare.


"Come in, Ilyanis," he welcomed with a wave of his hand. Her feet quietly tapped against the stone floor as her slender frame slipped through the door. Like most Naveri, her hair carried the tinge of blue. Ilyanis's hair was as dark as midnight and blanketed her back in length as the night cascaded from her shoulders. She was striking, and yet another woman to turn down his advances. Only she took no offense to it, politely informing him that he's just not her type. Somehow from this a friendship was formed.


"Do you wish to talk about it?" she asked with keen awareness. Ilyanis was never one to dance about an issue. She was a woman aware of all of Addiver's deeds and on occasion helped exact what would be considered treasonous acts in efforts to aid what they believed to be the true Dragon Wardens. They shared the same morals and values, and even though she never witnessed the attrocities in Edlenfeld, she trusted Addiver's words.


"Not really," he responded in turn. Her rose colored lips downturned in disappointment with his answer, but it was typical with Addiver. She knew in time he would speak his mind, and it was best not to push it. "At least not right now. Is it time?"


"Yes. The trial is upon us and you will need to get into position before the citizens are let in."


Turning away from the window, he headed for the door, his arm turning out in formal gesture to escort the elven ward. All the pieces were set and waiting, but still Addiver ran through the plan over and over in his head. Ilyanis could see the wheels turning in the man's head, and she brought her other hand around to lightly pat the forearm she had hooked into. Her console would not be enough to calm his nerves to what is to come. This was an important step in the future of the Allied Kingdoms.


The castle's main courtyard was retrofitted with sturdy wooden bleachers spanning the length of three of the four sides facing the wall that held a wide and open balcony. There, four thrones of varying sizes were placed in a row near the railing along with several more cushioned seats for the noble parties. Down at the center of the courtyard rested a stage where witnesses from the Butchering of Edlenfeld would be placed one at a time to recount their experience. Beside it was a cage. The lower level was capable of holding only perhaps a hundred or so citizens, but the queen had requested the halls surrounding the courtyard be emptied to accommodate for a larger number. Guards had already been stationed both inside and outside as they waited for the mass of people. All of them quietly hoped the amount of those entering would be monitored and kept low. And since not everyone would be able to witness the long awaited trial first hand, Criers were stationed outside the castle walls to recount the happenings from within.


Down the hillside just at the base of Rosenfall Castle, the Queen's Guard hoisted their two prisoners from the depths of their confines. The late morning sun shone brightly above. It was an oddly warm day for Winter allowing citizens to enjoy being releived of a few hefty layers of fabric. Even the guards broke a sweat in bringing the two Dragon Wardens out of the oubliette.


Their time within the sun was soon at an end, for they entered the depths of the castle at its back. They were to lead the prisoners through the dungeons and up through the Guard Hall to make it to the courtyard. There, before the citizens would be brought in, Olsten and Raleia would be placed within the cage and chained to the iron bars by their cuffs.


Once the prisoners were secured, the castle gates slowly opened, and the people rushed in with excitement and anticipation for what was to come.


@BookWyrm @Elle Joyner @JDParadox @Macaberz @Red Thunder @Space Cowboy Ein

 

[Macaberz]

Olsten & Grybil

​

He dreamt of a large clearing in a moonlit forest, surrounded by leafless trees, creaking in the wind. Frogs croaked from a nearby pond, hidden behind a wall of tall, pointy reed. The birds had long since fallen silent. A lone mice scurried home through the vale grass. He woke underneath a hunched, gnarly tree, overgrown with moss and fungus. Slugs inched down the bark, their slime leaving a glittering trace in the meek winter light.


He stood up, with surprisingly little effort, as if the wind had swept him upright. He didn't recognize the place, yet it felt awfully familiar, as if it were part of some distant memory. Shrugging, he brushed some dirt off his clothes and stepped unto the clearing. A flock of wild goose flew overheard, their cries distant, but luring.


As if ensnared by magic, he was drawn to the pond. He followed the hedge of reed until he came across a narrow pier, sunk halfway into the water. The woodwork had been abandoned ages ago and stretched a few yards into the water, up to where a worn rowboat was tied to a rotting pole. Olsten glanced over his shoulder, as if to ask someone for permission to proceed. No one. Only ribbons of fog, slithering like snakes through the grass.


The woodwork creaked and groaned under his weight, threatening to collapse underneath him. Just two steps shy of reaching the boat, a cry pierced the night sky. Not the cry of a man in danger, nor the cry of a woman in anguish, but the cry of an infant. It came from the boat.


Olsten leapt forward. Within the wobbling boat, wrapped in layers of cloth, lay a baby. A tiny clump of bright red hair had sealed its fate. Its rosy cheeks gleamed with tears.


“Oh, Olsten…” A female voice sounded.


Olsten jumped up and whirled around. A woman halfway through her twenties stepped through the fog, her fierce blue eyes cut straight through him, as though he wasn’t there. When she hurried towards the boat, Olsten stepped aside, but there was no need. Her dress cut through him like vapor. She crouched near the boat and reached into it.


“Oh Olsten…” she whispered.


His eyes shot open, but he did not move. He could not move. His limbs were as still and solid as the rock he lay upon. There, peering into the darkness, he discerned a wretched shape. Bent and crooked, dressed in nothing but layers of rags, sown or tied together, flapping violently in an unseen wind. Her hair, thin and long, whipped about her. Mouth agape, jaw nearly unhinged, she drew closer and closer, her walking stick rapping, tapping against the rock. Olsten tried to kick his feet, but the entity drew relentlessly nearer.


By some unholy force she leapt unto him, her weight far surpassing her appearance. Like a boulder she crashed onto him, forcing all air out of his lungs. The hag’s wretched claws gripped his throat, her festering nails dug into his skin as she drooled over him, her face so close to his own that he could smell the putrid insects lingering within the hollow of her molars.


A burst of light. The weight lifted.


Gasping, Olsten raised himself. He rubbed his throat. There were no injuries, no signs of nails puncturing skin, no scratch marks. It was just a dream, he reassured himself.


Long ropes were thrown down and landed with a heavy thud. Guards called from above. For a moment, Olsten considered tying a knot around his throat and safe everyone some time and effort. But the instinct to carry on no matter how frail their chances banished the dark thought.


Cold and reeking with sweat, Olsten heeded the calling of the guards and was soon lifted up and out. Up, up, and forward he was guided through the dungeons and castle hallways. The sun, pleasant to so many, was a hellish light to him and her warmth could not thaw the ice pumping through his veins.


At long last they reached the courtyard. Blinking furiously he could make out the stands, the platform, the balcony, and eventually, the cage. He almost longed back to his tortured dreams. There could be no doubt. Queen Malan considered them animals, dangerous animals, but animals nonetheless.


Worst of all however was the crowd, flooding in with unbridled eagerness. Flocking like vultures to a downed prey. He lowered his head and stared solemnly at his feet, as if he could divine some wisdom from his dirt-caked boots. None was forthcoming.


He supposed he was quite a disappointment. By now the people of Rosenfall would’ve been used to seeing strong and able-bodied Wardens brought to justice. Or perhaps they’d expected a young prince of sorts, with the fairest skin in the land and a haircut to die for. Instead they would find a short, pale boy with unruly, unwashed hair, dull eyes, dirty skin, and reeking of moist straw. Bile rose to his throat.


“I think I saw my mother,” he whispered towards Raleia. "My real mother."

Orignal art by

Naznamy. Edited by me.
​

 

[Red Thunder]

Waethrin


Rosenfall - the Castle Courtyard

​

Like a roiling sea, the crowd listed back and forth. Each individual sought their own goals: sometimes different; this day, most times the same. The people pushed and fought as they tried to get within the limited confines of the castle's courtyard. None gave allowance for any other. Save for one.


Waethrin stepped past innumerable peasants and merchants, each practically diving out of the way of the well armored figure that approached. Not that his armor was openly shown; the cloak that concealed it, however, would sometimes blow open, revealing his getup. His equipment was worn and old, the black leather chest piece, greaves, and gauntlets dull and rough with age. The gravel beneath his boots crunched as he strode into the courtyard. He cast his eye about: apart from the increasingly packed mob, guards stood posted every so often. They were likely more there to keep an eye on the crowd, to break up potential fights, but to his experience they looked to have a more ceremonial purpose than a legitimate defensive one. The two Wardens were in chains and rendered impotent: what threat were they?


Taking one last assessment of his surroundings, Waethrin crossed his arms and looked up at his captured fellows, glowering at the bars behind which they were imprisoned. A woman of indeterminate age sat on one side, and one the other... The old man muttered a curse under his breath. He hadn't wanted to believe that one guard, but apparently the report had been right. The child Warden might have been thirteen years, but only just. It wasn't right. His fingers clenched, his fingernails digging into his palms in his anger. It was all he could do to hold himself from not leaping up immediately. But instinct told him that now was not the time to act, so he refrained. And bided his time.

 

[BookWyrm]

Rasrik


Rosenfall





Rasrik stood among the crowd that had gathered in the courtyard, Quynn next to him. The old warden had his cloak pulled about him as well as an illusion cast about him, masking him and Quynn under the guise of two peasants gathering for the coming trial. Underneath the illusion and cloak Rasrik wore his old plate armor, his sword slung at his side and his arms crossed in front of his chest. To a degree he still couldn't believe that they had managed to avoid the Thalls on their way to the capital. They had found a hiding place for Kovinth and Valos outside of the city. Rasrik had made it clear that he refused to risk them in the rescue mission. Rosenfall was covered in anti dragon siege weapons, and ever since the poison incident Rasrik had become rather cautious about his old friend.


Now, though, he stood next to Quynn as he waited for the events to begin. But when he noticed the wardens behind the bars he thought he might have saw a ghost. "Olsten?" Rasrik pushed his way through the crowd carefully so he could get to a better vantage point. I'll be damned. Low and behold, Olsten stood behind the bars next to one of the other younger wardens. Rasrik shook his head, his heart pounding in his chest. I can't believe it. Olsten is still alive. He made his way back to Quynn carefully, avoiding any guards and making sure to keep his disguise up. "Quynn, one of the wardens is a student of mine. I can't believe it. He made it out alive?!"

 

[Elle Joyner]

Time passed slowly in their prison. Cold and damp, with so very little to do or think about, beside their impending fate. Raleia did all she could to encourage Olsten, but in truth it was a difficult task when she herself was beginning to feel the weight of the burden they were forced to bear for their people. They had done nothing wrong - yet the genocide in their city, apparently, was not enough. They were being made an example of. Whether to show the Queen's power, or to show the surviving wardens... if any even existed... that they would not be safe. She would have gladly died for crimes that she committed, but the charges brought upon her and Olsten were absurd. Ollie was a boy...


As they were brought out into the light, Raleia squinted through the brilliant rays, soaking in the momentary warmth, letting it flood her, letting it bolster her. She would need to be strong. Stalwart. Olsten needed her now, and falling apart would do nothing for him... would bring him no comfort. As they were led, she stayed close to the boy, kept watch on him. The guards, the crowd, even the Queen, herself... none of it mattered. She had promised Olsten she would find a way to get him out, no matter what it cost her, and she had meant it. She could only hope that she was given the opportunity.


The sunlight faded and Raleia and Olsten were deposited into their cage. It was a sick way to keep them, trapped like animals, chained up, as if the bars weren't insult enough. What sort of monsters did these fools take them for? A young woman and a boy... their magic warded, their dragons kept from them. What harm could it do, to let them sit like human beings? To allow them a modicum of comfort in what was undoubtedly to be their final moments.


She was drawn from her thoughts as Olsten spoke, and a brow quirked as Raleia turned to look through the crowd. But of course, that was silly. Wardens were taken as infants. They never knew their birth families... It had always been their way. He wouldn't know his mother if she were standing right in front of him. A dream, perhaps? A moment in his mind, to comfort him...


Only he didn't seem comforted, at all.


"...Whatever happens, Ollie, I'm going to protect you. I promise."


@Macaberz

 

[JDParadox]

Quyntalis - Rosenfall


Rosenfall. Quynn once counted this city among this favorite places, though lately the old reasoning had made less and less sense to him. All he could see of the Jewel of Thallas, the nation's prosperous centre of commerce and culture was the packed and sweating mass of bodies that surrounded him like pigs. They had all gathered to watch the so-called trial that was about to take place; lured, perhaps, by the promise of blood at the finale of this elaborate play.


Quynn pulled his dirty cloak closer around his face despite Rasrik's existing disguise, felt sick as he watched them cheered and jeered and cried and laughed. He felt even sicker, had to swallow the rising bile in his throat, as the cage was brought out. Treated like vermins. Not so long ago the Dragon Wardens were respected, revered even. They were figures of legends, the sole subjects of a thousand songs and epics. Now, stripped down to bare rags, chained up and starved, he couldn't even begin to imagine what kind of songs and plays this sight would have made. A tragedy, or a very dark sort of comedy.


One of the captives was a young woman, lovely red curls stretching down to her back with delicate and elegant features. Quynn thought she was beautiful, though the dirt and grime of imprisonment no doubt made it difficult to truly judge. The other was the man, or boy of the hour, the sole reason they even had a trial instead of the usual prompt butchery. He couldn't have been no more than thirteen, thinly-built and caught dead in the midst of adolescence. Without the mop of amber hair on his head, Quynn doubted anyone would have thought he was a Warden. Quynn was gritting his teeth; neither of them looked much like shadow mages to him, but he supposed if you spread enough lies and shed enough blood, anything would pass for the truth.


Quynn caught sight of Rasrik in the crowd, carefully making his way back towards him. He had that expression on his face, a mix between pleasantly surprised and worry. Quynn had known what the old man was about to say long before he did. "Then we need to get them out of there. I don't know what they're planning with this 'trial', but I don't trust it to be a fair one" Quynn bit his lips as he counted the guards. There was a good chance things could get ugly.

 

[Space Cowboy Ein]

Cinder and Voarex


((This collab brought to you by Eff and myself.))


The Northern Mountains


The Fire Dragon Warden was exhausted, the dragon in a huffing heap in the snow melting in a circle as steam rose around her frame. The rider, Taklar, fell to his knees as he felt the fatigue set deeply in his muscles. The Ice Caster dismounted from her dragon and rushed to his aid.


"Sallen," he said to her. "Good timing as usual."


She didn't laugh, her face stern and serious as she helped the stocky man over to a rock. Hisred hair was pulled back in a mess, sweaty strands sticking to his round face. He gave Cinder a small wave in greeting coupled with a silent gesture to say his efforts were no big deal. Taklar was a man happy to help, thus his reason for pursuing the first Shadow Dragon alone in the first place.


Sallen turned towards Cinder after checking over Taklar for injury. "There are others still back at the Mouth of the Mountain," she explained, her head shaking somewhat as her jaw set. "We lost one of ours to those damned abominations." She pointed a pale finger to the sky to imply their former foe.


"I can't believe our own kind would dabble in Shadow Magic," Taklar said thoughtfully as he pushed back his hair from his face. "The dragons... They don't even act right. They act like puppets. Did you see anything else out here?"


Cinder shook her head and sighed. "Nothing worth while. Save for a few small game that got caught up in the traps. I wasn't expecting to see the works of Shadow Magic this far north..." The dragon warden shook her head, half wishing that everything she was experiencing was just a bad dream. One, big, long nightmare. She just wished she could have woken up from a coma with everyone she cared about alive and around her. But she knew that wasn't the case as she glanced back to Voa still nursing her wounds and glancing off to the dragons of the other wardens.


Taklar grabbed his sides as he grimaced in pain. Sallen pulled back his padded armor and untucked his shirt to check for what was causing the man pain. Blackness blotched his skin like an otherworldly bruise that pulsated with a faint purple glow. A wince escaped him, and Sallen frowned as she lowered his shirt and gave him a small pat on the shoulder.


Cinder swallowed hard and turned back to Taklar and Sallen. "Who did we lose?"


"Hale," Sallen stated, and then turned quickly towards Cinder. "He arrived with a group after you had left. Cinder, are you fit to travel with haste? We need information sent out as soon as possible."


Cinder's gaze drifted to Taklar's side as Sallen moved to inspect his wounds. A grimace worked its way into her features at the sight and deepened at the news of Hale's death. It was unfortunate for any of them to continue suffering loses like this. Hale was a good man, and the world was one bit more grim than it was the day before.


"I see.." She sighed and shook her head at the news before straightening up. "I.." She paused and looked back to Voa and two seemed to take a moment to converse. "We can go." She finished, looking back to the two wardens. "What information do you want to take and where? Back to the rest?" She started towards Voa now as she talked, not wanting to waste any time to dwell on their injuries. If she had an objective, something to work towards, she could push everything to the side until it was completed, and Cinder was not in the mood for nagging pains.


Denebren, the slender fire dragon, moaned from the pain of her own sustained wounds, and Taklar reached back to provide his companion comfort with the soft brush of his gloved hand down her shoulder blade. With his other hand he tucked in his shirt, his eyes to Sallen just as curious to hear what news would be relayed through Cinder and Voa. Sallen paused a moment in contemplation as she studied the two, her eyes moving from Voa to scanning over Cinder as she spoke.


"There is a crystal cave just north of Rosenfall," Sallen said. "I know it's in Thallas, but it's one of the best locations to get information out to Guides and survivors. Go there and tell them that the orcs are coming and they're headed for Thallas. It doesn't matter who. They'll know what to do with it."


Cinder was glad that she had mounted Voa before Sallen dropped the news on her. For a moment she paused, her beleaguered mind taking a moment to process what she had just said. A sigh escaped the warden's lips followed by a nod and a soft kick to Voa's side. "Take care of yourselves." The dragon stretched then tucked her wings and crouched in preparation for flight. "And check what's left of the former and their dragon. Something worthwhile may have survived.... 'Till next time." With a final nod, Cinder lowered herself against Voa's frame and the pair shot off into the sky, making haste due south.


---------------------


The Crystal Cave/North of Rosenfall


Seven days. Seven long days to get to just outside the lair of Cinder's new sworn enemy. She would have gotten there faster, but intuition and the luck of being downwind caused them to delay a number of times to avoid patrols. There wasn't much cloud cover to be had either, and Cinder grumbled at the lack of being able to catch and proper game, which forced out her inner forager. It also didn't help that her injured shoulder was not faring much better. She cleaned and wrapped it to the best of her abilities but it was likely she'd need to see someone more experienced in the medical arts just to be sure. Voarex had fared much better, her injuries hardly reflecting poorly on her flight. And despite all this, she had made it.


Finding the cave itself was not difficult as Voa had caught the scent of other dragons early on, Cinder couldn't have been more grateful for good weather. The pair landed and were greeted after a small bout of questioning. She delivered her intended message and reassured the people there that no, she was not crazy, and yes, Thallas was in grave danger. Finally her news was taken off elsewhere and it was revealed to the dragon warden that the majority of the cave's inhabitants were in Rosenfall where the execution of two other wardens was to take place. Cinder was held back, despite her best efforts, to go and assist in any way the could, but it was insisted that a plan was in place to prevent this. Instead they relegated both dragon and warden to the infirmary to get treatment for their wounds. And now all she could do for the moment was wait, and it was killing her.

 

[Effervescent]

Rosenfall Castle Courtyard

​

The two caged Dragon Wardens were viewed like animals from the crowd that gathered and settled into their seats. Guardsmen grumbled in their patrol through the mass, their armored bodies inevitably hitting citizens in some form or fashion. There was constant contact between people with how crowded the courtyard and surrounding halls became. The stench of sweat on unbathed bodies quickly filled the stiff air that clung to the lower level, the cold of Winter unable to sweep through to provide relief. The noble men and women sat upon the upper level dressed in furs and thick layers, their eyes downcast on more than just Olsten and Raleia.


Olsten seemed to be a hot topic among whispers. The eyes of every man, woman, and child would eventually look upon the two caged red heads in confusion. They didn't look like tyrants. They didn't look like the evil of Shadow that antagonized Thallas. And the boy no more than a teenager stood cuffed within the confines of a small cage. Mothers unconsciously clasped their children and fathers fiddled idly as their former jeers fell to quiet murmurs.


In the chaos of the herd, Addiver Cald walked up to the cage and quickly placed a key within Raleia's hand, curling her fingers into it before acting as though he were checking the structure of their confines. "Wait for the right time," he whispered before walking away.


Once the citizens were cut off and settled, trumpets sounded to herald the entrance of the royal party. Queen Malan rose into view followed by her daughter Saleste, her son Rodmidre, and her ward Ilyanis. They sat themselves within the four grand seats at the center of the balcony as a Crier stepped forward towards the ledge and cleared his throat.


"In accordance to Her Majesty Queen Malan," the man began in a booming voice. Silence filled the courtyard as all eyes moved up to regard the Crier. "On this day, The Eleventh Day of Winter, we shall put to trial the Dragon Wardens of the Haven as represented by these two individuals before you." His hand motioned down towards the cage.


An older looking man with a sizable potbelly chuckled and nudged Quynn with his elbow. "Ain't she a looker? Eheee! That angel face is right sure full of lies, I tell you. Look at them demon eyes."


As the Crier introduced the trial, a slender woman slinked up to stand next to Queen Malan's throne. Her stony eyes cast outward as she leaned down to whisper to the queen with pallidlips and hair as white as snow. Her very visage was imposing in every way she carried herself. Her arched brows raised as the queen responded to her quietly, and the woman straightened her stance to continue to observe.


Addiver's gaze lingered only briefly on the woman he knew as Lisella, the Queen's Advisor. She, in kind, locked eyes with him, a frown upon her lips as she upturned her chin. There was something unsettling about her on a deeper level than just being an imitating figure. To mere humans, she was nothing but a grumpy looking woman no one would want to mess with. To those with an affinity to the Arcane, however, there was a darkness about her that was undeniable.


Lisella walked up to the Crier as he stepped away, and in his place she spoke. "Citizens of Thallas," she began. "We are gathered here today to find justice for the crimes against our people. On the Eighty-First Day of Summer, Edlenfeld suffered an attack that took the lives of hundreds. It was an act of terrorism brought upon us by those who follow the ways of Darkness. Witnessed on that very day were none other than those to which we believed were dedicated to protecting and peace: The Dragon Wardens. They worked alongside the notorious Wallace Savere killing our families and our friends. Before we call out our first witness, I will address the accused."


She looked down towards Raleia and Olsten. "You represent all that is left of your people. Choose your words well, and make it concise. How do you plead?"


@Macaberz @Elle Joyner @Red Thunder @BookWyrm @JDParadox

The Crystal Cave

​

Just North of Rosenfal rested a variety of small mountains and foothills that carried a number of modest caves fit to ignore. There was one cave in particular that held a bounty of wealth for Thallas, for contained within was a mine full of crystals used in magical contraptions. It was the center for the perfect trade between Thallas and Eversyth aside from the bounty of Thall crops. Fortunately for the Dragon Wardens, it was operated by Dragon Warden sympathizers and quickly became the base of operations for Guides in Thallas.


On the day of the long awaited trial, the crystal cave was bustling with activity. Contained within the massive chambers were Grybil and Winnock, their wounds tended to over the week and their bellies fed to their content. It was not an easy task to procure so much food for more than just two dragons and the lot of Guides presiding around the cave. It was a task the only Dragon Warden present took upon herself.


Dromast had been in hiding within the crystalcave with her dragon Lo ever since the fall of The Haven. Upon meeting Addiver, the two came up with the method of sending out pertinent information across the lands to other survivors. Being attuned to the Arcane, she has continually warded the location in efforts to protect whatever was contained within. It was the safest place for Grybil and Winnock or any Dragon Warden in Thallas, and so Dromast and Lo continued to remain.


"Go fetch the dragons," Dromast commanded as she secured the armor to Lo's body. The two closest Guides nodded their heads, their bodies shifting nervously before moving towards the end of the cave. It was not an easy task to ask a dragon to do anything when there was a major communication barrier. Add to it the two dragons were without their riders, and both attuned to Fire. "Let me know if you have any issues!"


Cinching up another strap, Dromast pat the plate upon Lo's neck. The dragon didn't like the heft of armor. He couldn't be as fast as he tended to enjoy, and he hated the way it clinked together with every flap of his wings. Dromast huffed a small laugh as she made her way towards the infirmary and reminded Lo the protection was necessary. Lo groaned and croaked in a dramatic fashion.


"Whiny baby!" she called over her shoulder before sticking her head into the infirmary tent. "Cinder, was it? How are you feeling?"


@Space Cowboy Ein

 

[Elle Joyner]

It was a disturbing sight to behold... the procession of onlookers, their faces etched with such anger, such hatred. Was this what had become of their people? To be so utterly abhorred. Their lives had been dedicated from birth to the continuation of peace throughout the lands, that to be met with such vehement outrage seemed grossly disproportionate. Did these men and women really think they were responsible for the horrible atrocities they were convicted of, or had the animosity always been there?


For a moment, she felt certain hope was gone, a winged bird swiftly fled. Then... as the crowd grew stiflingly thick around their cage and the gawkers hedged together to peer in at them, something cold and metal pressed into her palm and a quiet voice muttered through the cacophony of noise. Her eyes snapped up, caught the man's gaze.


Hope, then, wasn't so far gone, after all. She clasped that key in her palm, tight enough that the teeth of it bit into her palm, but she didn't care. The right time. Wait... for the right time. Her eyes flickered to Olsten and she smiled, faintly.


"...Strong heart, dear one. We are not alone." She whispered.


At the sound of the trumpets, she straightened and her eyes traveled upwards, through the roof of the cage to the people seated high and lofty in their ivory sanctuary above the crowd. The crier addressed the crowd to silence, and a woman carved of frost stood to speak, her voice carrying with authority. She turned, her gaze falling on the cage and Raleia met the icy stare with a defiant composure.


How did they plead?


"What happened in Edlenfeld was despicable and tragic. But we are no more to blame for it than these gathered here are, for the slaughtering of our kin at Haven. You would hold us accountable as a people for the actions of individuals, and there is no justice in this. I implore you, see reason... but if you will not... If you insist on this... exorbitant persecution than I beg you, whatever punishment you employ, have mercy on the boy. I will accept my fate, but he should not have to suffer for actions he could have no part in."


@Macaberz, @Effervescent

 

[Macaberz]

Olsten & Grybil

​

Raleia’s futile promise fell on deaf ears. She didn’t believe him. She thought he’d gone mad. Which judgment hurt more, he couldn’t decide. She meant well, but if she thought she could mask the concern in her voice, she was dead wrong. He’d heard it too often. It was all he could remember from the last group of Wardens he’d been with. Always they’d spoken to him with concern or disappointment seeping through, sometimes both.


Raleia whispered some encouragement. He huffed. Indeed, they weren’t alone. They were surrounded by at least a hundred blood-thirsty citizens, looking for a fun distraction in their miserable little lives.


He pressed his lips firmly together and resolved to stare at his feet again. The stench of the audience was lost on him, even as their gazes stung into his back like needles into a pincushion. Every prick only served to fuel his hate. Hate for their ignorance. Hate for their willingness to believe in some fairytale, conjured up by their Queen. He gritted his teeth and it wasn’t until the crier silenced those present that he looked up.


The first glimpse Olsten caught of the Thall Queen made his skin crawl. She sat regally, her spine unnaturally straight and stiff as a needle. Cold blue eyes demanded cleanliness and order, and whenever her gaze swept over them she tore at his confidence. She was mother justice, and when mother spoke, the children were silent.


But she did not speak. Not yet. Who was the gaunt snake at her side, lisping words into the Queen’s ears? Her unusual appearance stood out like a stain on white linen. Whoever she was, she had to be important, or she wouldn’t have been allowed so close to the Queen. When she looked down at them, he quickly averted his gaze.


A hard frown etched into his forehead when the smug woman stepped forward and spoke, so he presumed, in the name of the Queen. Small fists clenched the bars of the cage. The Queen either lacked the courage or dignity to speak herself, maybe both.


Then, Raleia answered. Olsten turned towards her. At first she was predictable, though she laced her voice with admirable calm and reason. Only more lies could refute her well-phrased, brief, and polite answer. Then, his heart skipped a beat. She pleaded innocence and mercy. Mercy for him.


His jaw fell open and out with his breath came a silent “no”, quieter than the rustling of a leaf in the wind. He didn’t dare to voice his protest any louder, fearing that by doing so he might ruin whatever Raleia was up to. After all, if she still had hope, she had to have some sort of plan.


Right?


He remained staring at Raleia, his mouth half-open, his eyes wide with surprise. It took him three full seconds before the crushing silence got to him. With a rattle of the cuffs he turned in the cage and glanced over his shoulder at the menacing crowd. Among them, bankers and merchants, peasants and nobility, young and old, frail and strong. All waited with baited breath for him to raise his voice and plead his case. Little did they know that he was just as clueless as to what he was going to tell the Queen as they were.


“I…” he muttered. “I plead…”


The relentless silence turned his gut to ice and his throat to cork. He could not move, he could not think, he could not speak.


Then, as If by magic, he managed to do all three at once. His voice was barely loud enough to be heard in every corner of the courtyard, and lacked the confidence Raleia had managed to instill in her answer. Nevertheless, he spoke.


“I plead guilty.”


He paused and shuffled closer to the edge of the cage, his eyes shooting straight past the mystery woman and fixed on Queen Malan instead.


“I plead guilty to being afraid,” his voice trilled. “I plead guilty to missing home, which was taken from me twice now, and I plead guilty to missing my dearest friend…”


“I also plead guilty to hating the patriots in this city who think themselves so righteous, and I plead guilty to despising their ill-informed Queen. But above all, I plead guilty to murder. The murder of Vorstag, one of Savere’s henchmen." A tinge of pride tainted his voice. "Vorstag fell by my hand. I kill Shadow Mages, I don't do their bidding."

Orignal art by

Naznamy. Edited by me.
​

 

[Red Thunder]

Waethrin


Rosenfall - the Castle Courtyard
​

Waethrin had no affinity for the Arcane, of course, and were he to have, he lacked the insight to actually distinguish the subtleties of it. But familiarity was a far better indicator of just who this woman was than any kind of magic could have been. A rage he'd long contained began building within his chest, and around his hands the air temperature spiked. The old man had long since decided that he hated the woman for what she had done: decades of introspection and justification had shifted responsibility for his actions to her instead, and fury filled his brain. Questions came to him innumerable: how could she join the Wardens' prosecutor? why did she betray him as she had? what happened during those decades since they parted? But one question fought its way to the forefront, for as he stared up at her Waethrin could only think of his dear Ancalagon, hidden atop the tallest mountain in Thallas. So despite the answers of his fellows from behind bars of steel, despite the crowds, despite the danger he brought upon himself, emotion took him as it can only take a Fire Warden, and throwing his cloak from off his shoulders, the Inferno yanked his blade from out of its sheath. Bareheaded, the wind caught his ashen hair and tossed it about, adding to the impression of a some war-wraith that the battle-torn armor and scarred one-eyed face already inspired.


"LISELLA!" The crowd parted with almost supernatural speed, fearful as prey of this experienced predator. His voice wasn't deep, but it was powerful, and the agéd strength carried it through the courtyard easily. Pure hatred filled his countenance, and he pointed his sword at Lisella threateningly. "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH YOUR DRAGON?!"

 

[BookWyrm]

Rasrik





Something was very unsettling about that woman. Rasrik could feel something circling around her, a palpable darkness that unnerved him. And then the crier called out Olsten and the girl. Insults, all of it. How could those two be held responsible for the so called actions of their entire people? Olsten was fourteen, barely a boy old enough to have his pale fuzz coming onto his face. Besides the lies that the Wardens had attacked the Thalls, Rasrik was infuriated by the absolute arrogance in Malan's features. Her face bore the utter indifference that could only spell out execution for the young Wardens.


But Rasrik hadn't been expecting Raleia's speech. She was spoke with grace and dignity, though Rasrik was sorry it would fall on foul soil. The ears of the Thalls were shut to anything that they didn't want to hear. Then again, judging by the crowds emotional reaction to seeing Olsten, Rasrik wondered how heartless this mod truly was. Rasrik overheard the foul comment the rather obese man standing next to Quynn had muttered. If for no other reason than to appease himself Rasrik set an illusion on the man. A smile formed underneath his blackened helm as he heard the fat man whimper as his "affliction" took affect, causing him to run off to address the issue. Ras you can be a cruel bastard sometimes.


And then the young Warden of the hour spoke. "Damn kid never learned any form of tact, but I've always loved his heart." But, what happened next astounded Rasrik. The crowds parted, revealing a man Rasrik hadn't thought he would see again. Waethrin, the Inferno himself, calling out the dark woman that served as the Queen's Adviser. "Alright Quynn, time to make ourselves known." Rasrik cast off both his physical and illusionary cloaks, driving back the remainder of the crowd then they saw him standing there in his full plate, his sword held high in silent challenge to the throne of Thallas as it crackled with Arcane energy.

 

[JDParadox]

Quynn - Rosenfall


The stench of the crowd was starting to get to him, heavy with sweat and a hundred other smells, none of them any less stinking. Between that and the sight of Queen Malan - the woman who ordered the massacre at Haven, the same one who deemed it perfectly acceptable for Dragons to be butchered into meat to be eaten like cows - sitting atop that balcony, so regal, careless and so unharmed... Gods, Quynn was ready to turn around and hurl. He was also ready to send an icicle hurling towards her and that balcony where she likely thought herself to be so safe; but neither would have done much to help their cause. So instead he stood and watched, sucking at his teeth, fists balling and uncurling impatiently. There was another woman, whom he guessed to be some sort of advisor by the way she was whispering into the Queen's ear. Rasrik shifted uneasily besides him, an Arcane Mage's instincts was something to be trusted.


The girl was done speaking. It was a nice speech, all in all, but one that fell on deaf ears. Reason and mercy to this crowd who only gathered here only to see blood? She might as well have been speaking in some foreign language. And whatever doubt and confusion that had been would soon get overwhelmed by either fear or the simple pleasure of violence. The man beside him commented and in response, Quynn's laughter was joyless, sharp as a blade. "That's funny. You know what else is hilarious?" He didn't think it was funny. Fact was, he was ready to punch the bastard right in that oversized blob he called a gut, but Rasrik got to him first. He whimpered as he ran, proverbial tail between his legs. "I don't know what you did, but damn fine work anyways." Quynn let his lips curve into a hint of a smile, then let it drop as quickly as it had formed. Their work wasn't done yet, far from it.


"Brave words, but not the smartest ones to make. I think I like him already" What little good the girl's speech had done were quickly undone by Olsten's insults to the crowd and their precious Queen. It wasn't the best way to make your case against a court already thirsty for your blood, but Quynn couldn't help but feel a bit of pride himself at that note of defiance. Luckily for them, it looked like no trial was going to take place today.


Unlike Quynn's, the old man's fury burned bright and dangerous, and the crowd could feel it. They parted and amidst them he stood, full plated, blade drawn, metal flashed as he pointed it towards the balcony in challenge. Quynn couldn't make sense of his words. Lisella? The advisor perhaps. But dragon? What dragon? And who was this damned old sod? Quynn didn't know, though Rasrik clearly had recognized him. His own blade was drawn now, held up high and crackling with energy for everyone to see. Panic and confusion spread like wildfire, and Quynn knew their time was up.


But he wouldn't match their challenge. "I'm getting up there. Keep them busy, eh, old man?" The distraction provided by the two old men would be enough for Quynn to make his way to the stage, where he would take the guards by surprise and break the locks on the cage. Quynn pulled his hood up close around his face and sharp ears and ambled his way through the murmuring crowd, muttering excuses and thanks as he slipped past them; not all that difficult a feat with his lean frame. Only once he could lay eyes on Olsten and the girl would he draw his own weapon. The air grew colder and colder around him as Quynn steeled himself for the fight, a thin layer of frost was already forming around his casting hand. Around him they shivered, rubbing their hands together, holding themselves tight for warmth. Quynn almost laughed. It didn't feel so cold to him, no, nothing but a comfortable breeze, like the calm before a storm.