Fantasy The Dragon Wardens: Exodus

[Elle Joyner]

It occurred to Raleia as she listened to Olsten's brave, impetuous speech that the Guide who had slipped her the key hadn't exactly indicated what the 'right moment' might be. She assumed, therefore, that there would be some sort of signal, obvious enough that she wouldn't improperly interpret it, and use the key at the wrong moment. Dear, sweet Olsten spoke with authority and courage, and for a moment Raleia was lost in the words, in the absolute honesty of them. He was a boy, but he had been forced to grow up far too quickly.


She was sure their words would fall on deaf ears... They could have rehearsed the most heartfelt of speeches, but it would avail nothing. The trial would never end in their favor, and the Queen would see to it that she came out of the entire debacle a hero. That the Wardens went down in history as the monsters she was portraying them to be. The few who had heard her and Olsten's claims would eventually forget, or be swayed to believe otherwise and they would die, their reputations in ruin... demonized for the actions of a few blackened souls.


Her eyes stung with tears, as she thought about Olsten, about failing him. She couldn't let it happen. She had to do something.


Suddenly, from the midst of the crowd a voice cried out with such unadulterated rage it sent panic awash over Raleia. Her eyes moved past the bars, squinted to see what the commotion was, but in the end she could see very little. Then it hit... the guide's words. Wait for the right moment. It was the distraction they needed... Surely, it was the sign.


Shifting, she twisted her wrist so that the key slipped from her palm in between her fingers. It was no easy feat, but she managed to get the teeth in to the lock and turn it, and as the band fell away, she swung to undo Olsten's shackles, "When the cage door opens, make for the gates. Do not stop... not for anything, do you understand?"


Undoing her second latch, she rubbed her wrist, her eyes focused on the cage... the lock was on the outside, but if she could burn through...

Patience was not the strong suit of a dragon. Least of all one attuned to the flames. Winnock's jaws snapped in frustration at the gesturing guides, smoke furling from his nostrils with a snort. For all the smoldering, however, the black beads within his eye sockets registered a twinge of uncertainty, of fear... if a dragon were capable of such an emotion.


These were not his Warden. These were strangers, and for the all their attempts at communication, Winnock understood them no more than he might a fish or a bird. They looked about as tasty, too. But something in that brain wedged between his spindly horns stilled the sulfurous breath of fire and watching the guides, with resignation, he inched forward, moving slowly, apprehensively... distrustfully, in the direction the men waves their arms.


Raleia was out there. A great distance, but she was there... If these creatures could be of assistance in finding her, then he would meet them with compliance. After all, he could always eat them later...


Step after step, heavy footfall bringing up clouds of dust from the ground, Winnock followed the men out into the main chamber, where another dragon awaited... bedecked in the most outrageous refinery. Winnock made a low growling sound in his throat, snorting sparks. Even without words distinguishable from the myriad noises, the mockery of the absurd arrayment would have been clear. Dropping down to a seated crouch, raising billows of powdery earth, he swished his tail, hard, knocking into a rack of spears and swords. At the cacophony of sound he reared upright, swiftly, hissed and craned his neck around. Upon realization that the clattery was of his own design, he dropped back down with a whump, blowing steam from his snout.


Served them right. It was a foolish place to put one of those racks, anyhow.


@Macaberz, @Effervescent

 

[Macaberz]

Olsten & Grybil

​

Olsten jumped at the thunderous sound rolling across the courtyard. A wordless gasp rippled through the packed crowd. He swiveled his head around. An old man with a silvery beard like a weeping willow, and just one ferocious, wolf-like eye, gazed up. In his wrinkled hands, a broadsword too heavy for his age. For a split second Olsten thought the old sage had broken free from the madhouse, but the pure hate etched onto his face suggested otherwise. Olsten’s eyes shot towards the balcony, towards the slender viper, towards Lisella.


Dragon? Had she been a Warden once?


He was not given the time to dwell on the matter as Leia undid his cuffs. He barely caught the enchanted metal on his fingertips and prevented it sliding from his wrists. For the moment, all attention had been drawn away from them, and they could ill-afford to get it back.


He nodded vigorously at the barrage of instructions and was about to act on them when a crackle of energy shattered the air. His heart skipped a beat. His eyes shot towards the crowd like a magnet. Not one, but two lunatics stood with blades held high. One old, but determined, the other hidden completely in blackened armor. Guides perhaps, or just troublemakers. People with a deathwish certainly.


Tearing his eyes from threats, Olsten glanced up at Raleia. “Together,” he breathed as he grasped her hand. Simultaneously, he reached out and into himself, towards a whirring pool of magic. There would be no stopping them now!


A brief burst of fire shot from his right hand, catching the steel bars in a red-hot blaze. But like a candle extinguished in a gust of wind, the flames vanished, leaving naught but smoke.


He stumbled, his breath faltered. Like sand slipping through his fingers, his grip on the spell he had tried to weave fell apart. Some terrible wall had placed itself between him and the source of magic. The gut-wrenching fear he'd felt at the silver lance, the sense of having lost all control washed over him. He couldn't even conjure a spark.


He squeezed Leia’s hand.




Deep within the crystal cave, a young, nimble, fire dragon lay napping. A few red scales had been chipped away, just under his right wing, but aside from some shallow surface damage, the wound had healed well. But instead of jumping for joy, the dragon remained still for half of the day and spent the other half restlessly pacing around. Grybil hadn’t even once gone out to fly and stretch his wings, nor had he eaten much. Olsten was so far away, he couldn’t sense his counterpart anymore, and with every passing minute he grew more and more certain that the little fool was no more.


Grybil flared his nostrils. Smelly humans. Smelly humans were entreating upon his lair. He snapped his eyes open and raised his head from where it had been resting on his forepaws. Perhaps today Olsten would be with them. Perhaps he’d even be alive.


Alas, it wasn’t so, it was just two trembling two-legs. A light snarl escaped him, enough to send chills up spines. His companion, that oversized excuse of a dragon, seemed even less forgiving. For the longest while he remained watching from the sidelines as Winnock slowly but surely surrendered to the wildly gesturing Guides. When Winnock had left, Grybil sank his head back down and closed his eyes. Just a few more days…just a few more days before he’d break out and lay waste to those who’d taken Olsten from him.

Orignal art by

Naznamy. Edited by me.
​

 

[Space Cowboy Ein]

Cinder


Cinder could only languish in the confines of her cot for so long before she ended up pacing the room. Outside she could hear the rhythmic breaths and huffs of her dragon. It seemed like she was resting, and Cinder was glad that at least one of them were able to relax. Then again, Voarex had to push herself harder to get here than Cinder did, though if she could fly and carry the dragon herself, she'd have done so. She had just reached the far end of the tent when she heard someone call out to her from the entrance. She spun around on her heels, hands on her hips and ready to give that damned medic an earful on why she shouldn't be out and part of this 'plan' of theirs. But, it wasn't a medic, instead it was a fellow dragon warden, Dromast if she remembered correctly. She'd never seen the woman before the day, but it hardly matter. Since Haven, each warden had a little more in common than just their power or status or dragon. Since the attack, each warden life had become that much more sacred to her, especially after losing her students.


Her tense body relaxed as her hands slipped into her pockets. "Yeah, I'm feeling fine. The shoulder is pretty sore, and I'm not supposed to move it much." She started back towards the woman. "But I couldn't lay in one of those stiff beds for another minute. I heard that there was going to be a trial today for two of our own. I know there's a plan in place, and that I'm not in top shape, but if I can I'll help." She finished just across the entrance from Dromast and crossed her arms. A soft low grumble seemed to echo in agreement from the side of the tent. Voa sat up from her spot beside the sent and craned her neck from around to corner to see who was talking to her rider. "Hopefully that's why you're here?"

 

[Effervescent]

Rosenfall Castle Courtyard

​

Lisella's visage held a cold apathy as she stared down at the cage below. Her age was not noticed by most, for she carried a strange beauty that seemed to age well as the years moved forward. Her silver hair was woven and held into place by black lace and ribbon to match her striking frock. Raleia's words were expected by the Queen's Advisor, and the crowd jeered and threw wilting cabbages at the cage to display their distaste with her response.


It was only further agitated by Olsten's guilty plea. At first, when he uttered the phrase, a silence blanketed the courtyard heavily. All eyes fixated on the young teen, bodies shifting in anticipation as if he would rise up and mutate into a horrid monster. But his words continued and strayed from what they wanted to hear. The rotten cabbages returned to harshly fly over the masses and splat against the iron bars of the cage.


"Rubbish!"


"Liars!"


A grin formed ever so slightly upon Lisella's pallid lips. The mood was set, and the crowd was ravenous for justice. Thallas roared for revenge as their bodies leaned against the railings and peered out the windows that lined the halls. Queen Malan looked on with distaste, her thin lips downturn as she looked away. Her daughter turned to face her, and the two exchanged a brief conversation until all was quickly silenced by the booming voice of an unsuspecting old man.


"LISELLA! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH YOUR DRAGON?!"


The queen's head shot towards her advisor with an expression bent in confusion. Lisella did not move for a moment, her breath halted in her lungs as the crowd parted to reveal an old man clad in the armor of the Inferno. The sword pointed upward as if to close the distances between the two, and she raised her chin in defiance as her jaw set.


Her mouth parted in preparation to retort, but her words were not able to speak before the crowd parted yet again to reveal another man clad in dark armor. Magic flared about his blade as he held it high, and Lisella turned towards the royal party with wide eyes. She honed in on the guards closest to the thrones.


"Take them to safety!" Lisella commanded. The queen rose with pursed lips, her eyes threatening for a later explanation. Lisella nodded in turn before turning back to the scene.


Chaos ensued as the masses tried their best to clamor away from the armored men in the coutyard. They didn't come to the trial to die. They came to witness what they felt would be justice for their people. But the doors were shut, and the mass of citizens pushed themselves against the wooden doors, stressing the locks from the other side like mindless animals fleeing a predator.


Addiver did his best to hold his position, but the situation had him at unease. This was part of no plan he accounted for, but he had to quickly figure out a way for it to be used to their advantage. Sifting through the crowd, he too pushed his way towards the cage. The temperature change was sudden, and the cold hit him like a biting slap to his skin as he came to the cage and found a hooded figure, his weapon drawn.


The two guards saw Quynn coming as the mass of people thinned around the courtyard opening. Most of the wooden bleachers were empty on the side opposite the door. Their hands clasped the hilts of their swords, but they did not draw their weapons just yet. The change in temperature caught their attention, and their gaze fixed upon the hooded man. One of them dared to take a step towards Quynn, his hand now off his sword to show he would not resort to violence. Instead, within his hand was a large key.


"Take it," he said. "Get them out."


Just as he spoke his words, fire burst through the chill that clung to the air around them and was gone just as quickly. It caused the two guards to take a step back from the cage, their eyes wide before falling to confusion at the sudden disappearance of the flame. It was enough of a fire to melt the ice upon the iron bars to water droplets, but it was not enough to melt the metal.


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

The Crystal Cave

​

Dromast gathered her thick, curly red hair into her hands and manipulated the hair into a bun as tight as she could manage. "Absolutely," the Dragon Warden said to Cinder as she tied off the knot with a leather ribbon. "We'll need all the help we can get. It's not that far of a ride, and we'll be needed to make a distraction along the outside of the castle. We need to draw everyone out of the courtyard, and we need to get going soon. Trials are long, but they won't last forever. I've got it on good authority that Queen Malan wanted to make it a grand show."


Dromast nodded her head to beckon Cinder to follow her out of the tent as heavy footfalls echoed throughout the cavern walls. Winnock growled a guttural tone that caught Lo's attention. He spun his head about, the plate armor clacking with the swift motion as he moaned and clacked his teeth in retort.


"Well, there's one," Dromast thought out loud. She looked over to the two Guides she had sent earlier to fetch the dragons. "Where's the other?"


"He won't come out," one of the Guides responded.


"He might still need some time to recover," the other suggested.


A sigh escaped Dromast. There wasn't a lot of time to prompt and deal with a dragon on his own. Without his rider, figuring out the issue was a chore, and that's if the dragon is willing to cooperate with poking and prodding. This particular dragon hadn't been much for cooperation, and she found herself wondering what to do.


Lo's frustrations and embarrassment were pushed aside for a moment as the dragon considered the dragon not present. His gaze moved from Winnock to the other chamber where the fire dragon continued to rest in the soft blue glow of the magical crystals. A feeling of sadness and pity filtered through him as he put himself in Grybil'sshoes. And with that, Dromast nodded in understanding.


"Leave the dragon for now," Dromast finally said. "Make sure you keep him well cared for, and try to check on his wound again. We'll bring his rider to him."


Turning back towards Cinder, she smiled and adorned her helm. "Let us head for Rosenfall."


@Space Cowboy Ein @Macaberz @Elle Joyner

 

[Red Thunder]

Waethrin


Rosenfall - the Castle Courtyard



​

Waethrin found himself in an island of emptiness, the crowd having fled before his wrath and the sudden appearance of the other armed individuals. The screams, the shouts, the audible terror; they filled the courtyard almost to the extent that the multitude did. To his side some distance, guards bustled about, unsure of what was happening. Above him, the queen sped off, she and her daughter whisked away by their bodyguards. Any other day the old man might have pursued her out of vengeance for the deaths of his comrades.


But not this day. This day he only had eyes for Lisella. His sole eye, his sole window to the world, watched her closely. She seemed undeterred, frozen in observation. If the woman would not act, he would. Crouching to leap into the air, his sword by his side at the ready, he exploded toward her, the fire that erupted from the soles of his feet rocketing him at the balcony. Hate, pure and unadulterated, shone in his eye, and he screamed.


"ANSWER ME!"


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Four Decades Previous


~the Haven~
​

Duck. Block. Sidestep. Thrust. Riposte.


His single edged blade flashed in the bright summer sun, coming to a stop against her buckler. Her arm gave ever so slightly, and she dropped to a knee from the weight of his blow. Undeterred, she lashed out with her gladius, sweeping at his legs. Quickly he pack peddled, desperate to escape the biting edge. Seeing her chance, she sprang forward with an overhead spring. Predictably, he was ready. His free hand gestured toward her. The air between them expanded rapidly, superheated in an instant by a brief flash of flame. The expansion of air shoved her backwards, and she landed hard upon the sand that covered the training ground floor. A scowl drew back her lips.


"Hey! This was supposed to be a martial fight!"


Her long brown hair, already turning to silver in places, fell around her eyes, adding to the disgruntled expression. For his part, he laughed, the black beard the covered his throat wagging as he did. He reached toward her, his hand open in offered assistance.


"You know better than that!" He laughed, his voice deep. "Since when does an enemy play by the rules, Lisella? Go into any fight expecting the unexpected."


At the far end of the courtyard, two dragons watched, intrigued by the fight. One, a fire dragon of average size, bore a scarred, ill-healed wound upon the left side of his face, and the skin that the broken gray scales revealed glowed an angry yellow. At his side sat a smaller female Fire Drake: more lithe but no less interested in the goings-on. The female Warden chuckled as she stood, if a bit begrudgingly, and pushes her hair back after sheathing her sword.


"Yeah well. I get carried away sometimes. Not that you can talk, Waethrin. If I leap jump to assumptions in battle, you often fly into them headlong!"


A giant HA! escaped his lips, and he nodded appreciatively. His bare head, shaven clean, glistened with sweat in the sunlight, and a scar ran up the left side of his face, through his closed left eye and up past his forehead.


"You've got me there. The difference though, and don't forget this," the Inferno thumped his student on the forehead playfully, "is that I've a fair bit more skill and offensive power than you do. But you'll get there, don't worry. You'll get there."


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

[JDParadox]

Quynn, Rosenfall


Chaos and panic spread like wildfire in dry season once the realization finally hit them, the crowd now a mass bodies pushing against and clawing at each other, desperate for escape. Fear had turned them quickly, people into animals, a mob of men into a stampeding herd. A great sigh of relief escaped his lips as Quynn finally slipped past the last of them and into the front, gasping for breath; the sensation was more or less the same as breaking surface after coming dangerously close to drowning. He composed himself quickly and stepped forward, cloak half-white with frost, drawing his blade; the long length of steel made a quiet rasp as it left the scabbard, sharp edge glinting. Servants of the Queen, Warden Killers, Damned Thalls,... He muttered quietly under his breath all the desensitizing names he could think of, gearing himself up for more death. If those two guards wish to fulfill their duty to their Queen, it'd be their end.


"Try to stop me," He hissed. There was a chilling edge to his voice he had never realized. "and I'll run you-"


Quynn never got to finish his threat. The surprise hit first as the guard stepped forward, weapon far out of reach, then came the confusion as the key was dropped into his hand. He pulled back the hood and raised one brow at the guard. His other hand still gripped the sword tight, still ready to kill at the first sign of movement, but the cold was starting to fade. "Well, uh. Thank you" Quynn mouthed, staring sheepishly at the key still in his palm, still physical somehow, half-expecting it to vanish in a puff of smoke. It looked like the Dragon Wardens weren't as alone as he believed.


Quynn was still staring when the world burst into flames around him, snapping him back to reality a little more violently than he liked. He cursed. "Get those doors open and get out of here!" Shouting, he sprang forward and knelt beside the cage, grinning as he fumbled the key into the lock. Someone was screaming behind him, might have been the flaming old coot, though the specific words were lost in the mass panic. "You made your case quite well back there, both of you" The lock opened with a satisfying clack, the metal bars creaked as he dragged them open. "Shame we won't be here to see the end of this 'trial'"


"We should hurry" Quynn met her eyes and offered the girl his boot knife. His smirk was a wide and an arrogant one - that familiar sense of pride coming back to haunt him again after so long. He turned to the boy, chuckling despite the chaos that still raged behind him. "You're Olsten, right? Then you should know not to keep old man Rasrik waiting."


@Elle Joyner @Macaberz @Effervescent @BookWyrm

 

[BookWyrm]

Rasrik took advantage of the confusion of the crowd to lower his sword and slink away after Quynn, who had already made it most of the way to the cage by now. The sudden roar from Waethrin as the Inferno launched himself into the air definitely helped pull the attention of the guards off of him. Rasrik ducked around, pushing his way through the crowd before coming face to face with a guard. The Thall tried his best to slam his axe against Rasrik's head, though with a flick of his wrist Rasrik put the edge of his blade beneath the axe's beard and ripped it from the guard's grip before tapping the guard's chest, sending an arcane burst through the guard, who collapsed onto the ground as Rasrik passed on towards the cage.


Rasrik arrived right after Quynn had opened the cage. Rasrik held out his hand to Raleia and helped her out before turning to see Olsten. For a moment Rasrik felt his heart stop. The last time Rasrik had seen Olsten was two days before the fall of Haven, and Olsten had been his normal incorrigibly obstinate self. He'd caught Olsten skipping out on his sword training...again, and had made him run five laps as penance. Olsten had been stubborn enough to run six laps. Despite his pushing Olsten and his ever increasingly difficult training of the kid, Rasrik had seen such potential behind him. Whenever he had actually been in his class and applied himself Olsten had proven to be Rasrik's best student, but those days were few and far between his normal standing around and letting people hit him. After running those laps he had told Olsten to take that victory and better himself, and Olsten had sulked and walked away, not before throwing a dirt clod at him though.


Rasrik shook his head, snapping himself out of the memories. They could catch up in a less dire situation. He grabbed hold of the boy before turning to Quynn, "We need to get to the rally point. Valos and Kovinth will be coming soon."

 

[Elle Joyner]

In terms of rescues, it wasn't perhaps the most gallant or well executed, but Raleia wasn't keeping notes on the efficiency of those that remained... only that they were there at all. They had survived. She'd been so afraid, so certain, that she and Olsten were all that was left. She'd tried to hold out hope, but it seemed so dire. Yet here they were, and that was all that mattered in the end. She could deal with the details later, when she and Olsten were safe. When Rosenfall was behind them.


Releasing Olsten's hand, Raleia stepped back to allow the gate to swing opened, then took hold of the older man's grasp to pull herself free. Outside of the cage, she looked to the younger of the two strangers, to the blade her offered. She took it, with an appreciative nod, the hilt clutched tightly in her hand, "Quite alright. I'm rather keen to skip the end of this one... all things considered."


Reaching back, she held out her hand again for Olsten, "Together." Because out of the cage was not out of the city, and they were no nearer to freedom then when they had been in the cold, dank prison. She had promised to protect him, and she would. Her wrists ached from where the ward bands had been clasped, the skin raw and sore, but she could feel it already, the fire coursing again, running fluid through her.


Her gaze shifted to the two men and she bowed her head. Gratitude could not properly be conveyed in such a chaotic environment, but what she couldn't say was clear enough in the expression she wore. For now, though, escape was of utter importance... and there was little time to lose.


"Stay close to me, Ollie. Keep a sharp eye." Frowning, she looked away from the flooded courtyard, swollen with panicking patrons, "We'll never get through that crowd... Is there another way out of here?" What she wouldn't have given to have Winnock by her side.


@Macaberz, @Effervescent, @BookWyrm, @JDParadox

 

[Macaberz]

Olsten & Grybil

​

Not only had he failed to melt the lock, but the air had grown cold. As cold as it should’ve been for the time of winter. Was that what it felt like to die? They were still trapped, surrounded by well over a hundred blood-thirsty citizens and many vengeful soldiers. If this was the extent of Leia’s plan…


The queen and her ilk were hastened to safety, but the pale-haired prosecutor remained. Through cunning use of his attunement, the crazy old fire warden launched himself at Lisella. For a split second Olsten admired the brilliant lunacy of the hermit’s spell, then his eyes snapped back to the lock.


Click.


The half-elf’s red hair made his heart jump to his throat. More astoundingly, the guards at the cage made no effort to stop the lean trespasser from freeing Queen Malan’s property. Olsten could not recount the prominent cheekbones, the wind-swept hair, or the icy cloak. Ice. That was why. He had never been keen on mixing with the icicles, back at the Haven.


“Shame we won’t be here to see the end of this trial.”


“Want to swap?” he fired back at the stupidly smirking Warden.


But whatever fire their savior had rekindled in him was immediately extinguished at the mention of that cursed name. Rasrik. Out of all of them, out of all the possible survivors, that miserable ploughin’ old goat-face had survived? Olsten cursed inwardly, of course he had. Vermin tended to survive.


Leia let go of his hand, but he paid no heed to it. There, before him, decked out in ancient armour, stood the tyrant himself. It was impossible to gauge Rasrik’s emotions through the arcane helmet, but Olsten imagined it to be the same mix of horror and relief that rocked his soul. At least someone he actually knew had survived.


He opened his mouth to say something, but his mind had gone blank. None of the words Rasrik or Leia spoke registered in his mind, and it was a good thing that the sword-master grabbed his arm and practically yanked him out of the cage. His free hand found Leia’s again, and like a petulant toddler being dragged to bed he found himself caught between Raleia and Rasrik. A dimple showed on his cheeks.


The terrible sounds returned. Screams, fire, panic, swords being drawn, arcane energy crackling in the air. He broke free from both Leia and Rasrik and sprinted to where the dead guard’s axe lay. It was heavier than it looked, but better than nothing.


Breathing heavily, Olsten glanced around. The majority of the crowd cowered in the corners, but soon a company of guardsman had shouldered their way through the smelly, clawing sea. The tallest of the lot flourished his sword in his hand. “Traitors!” Olsten followed the lieutenant’s index finger to the two guards near the cage. He tightened his grip on the axe and braced himself. But what could a blade of grass do to withstand the trampling force of a fuming bull? He swung the axe at his charging assailant, but it caught on the upper rim of the man’s shield. The double-chinned bulldog smirked, seized his chance, and tossed Olsten aside as one flicks away an irritating insect.


With a smack, Olsten landed two feet to the side and one feet behind the guardsman. The axe flung from his arms and lay even further away. Heart racing, he scrambled back onto his feet.


--


Something ate at him as he heard the other dragons plod away. Were they leaving him behind? Would they ever come back? A soft wail escaped his nostrils. He wanted to be left alone, yes, but he didn’t want to be abandoned. He could not rescue Olsten alone. As much as he hated it, he needed the help of the other Dragons to even stand a chance.


Defeated, Grybil rose and plodded after Winnock, keeping his head low and hardly minding the poor guides who had to jump out of his way. Undoubtedly one of the dragons present would try to prod him, but he would give no response.

Orignal art by

Naznamy. Edited by me.
​

 

[Space Cowboy Ein]

Cinder and Voarex


The Crystal Cave/North of Rosenfall


Cinder's face lit up as Dromast confirmed her suspicions. But, now was not the time for excitement, now was the time to start focusing. She followed her fellow warden out of the tent and took in everything she said. Behind them, she could hear the grunts and cracks of Voa fully waking from her position of rest. As fast as she was in the air, she was always the slowest to get up from a point of rest. Cinder would meet the pile of lazy bones at the cave entrance instead of prodding her, rather she would give her attention to Dromast. "I see... In which case it'd be rude of us not to put one on ourselves. We are the main attraction as it stands."


One of the two riderless dragons had risen from their slumber to join the party and caught Cinder's attention. Her head turned to face the Guides that she had assumed were tasked with bringing them out. Even if they couldn't get the second dragon out, she was simply impressed that they could get the first to cooperate without a rider. But, for the time being, three dragons would suffice. Maybe even the last one would join them later on. Cinder nodded to Dromast. "Right. You lead the way. I'll give you support and make what trouble I can." Cinder had to admit, she envied the protection that Dromast would be going into battle with. But Cinder knew that armor would slow both rider and dragon down to the point where one of their strengths, speed, would become a moot point. And so, she was left with a spear, sword, her own magic and an unladen arcane dragon. All against a city full of people who more than likely wanted her and her people dead. They'd be sorely disappointed.


Behind her, Cinder could hear the heavy footfalls of a dragon from behind her. It seemed that the last member of their troop had shown up after all. Voa looked back and flexed her wings in what would have amounted as a shrug at its arrival. She was ready to go, but Cinder could feel the uncertainty coursing through her partner. "We'll be fine Voa. They won't be expecting us. This time, it'll be us striking the heart of the enemy." Voarex gave a grumble in what was best taken as hesitant agreement. With that Cinder looked back to Dromast. "Looks like the gang's all ready to go!"


@Effervescent

 

[Effervescent]

Rosenfall Castle Courtyard

​

A smile breached Lisella's pallid lips as she took a step away from where Waethrin landed upon the balcony. The lavender stone had turned bright orange from the Inferno's fiery entrance, the roar of his flames sending the nobles fleeing into the shelter of the castle. No other soul was left in the vicinity, and Lisella rellished the intimacy of their sudden privacy.





"I wasn't sure you'd come," she said in a wisp of a tone, almost as if she hadn't meant to say the words out loud. The hard heel of her shoe clacked against the stone as she took a step backward. Her age was more apparent up close with looser skin around her jawline and fine lines that streaked the hollows of her eyes. The smile she adorned was genuine and fond. There was no hint of insanity for just a fraction of a second until she fully registered Waethrin's demeanor. It was as if something switched within her, and her eyes went as wide as her grin.





"It took so much to get you out of hiding," she said. "Will you walk with me?"





The large, thick doors that closed off the courtyard moaned in protest to the unrelenting force brought upon it by the mass of terrified citizens. Finally, the lock broke and sent wooden splinters flying forward. Those who were at the front of the line found themselves trampled by the herd that made their way to the second gate. There was no stopping, and the guards knew they had to open the doors to let them run free.





Addiver finally found himself away from the chaos as the courtyard cleared to the mere wooden skeleton of the makeshift bleachers and stage. There within his sights was the cage and his two men giving away their key to a hooded figure. Addiver rushed forward, nearly running into the magnificently armored man as he and the hooded figure freed the two Dragon Wardens.





"Traitors!" The lieutenant cried out. This was not good. Addiver motioned to his two comrades with a swift wave of his hands as he mouthed for them to run. They nodded, their eyes darting between the young Dragon Warden who bravely picked up an axe to attack and their superior who plodded towards the cage in hefty steps.





The lieutenant tossed Olsten aside like a rag doll, and Addiver knew he had to step in. A broadsword's weight could cleave a grown man in two. Addiver did not wish to see what it would do to a thin boy no older than his nephew. Sword drawn, nerves wracking, Addiver charged behind the lieutenant and used his momentum to pierce clean through his kidney and right out from his liver. It was enough to halt his endeavors before bleeding out. Even in his dying breath, he looked up at the boy in disgust.





"No, you need to get to my rally point," Addiver cut in, his eyes set on the armored man. "I'm Addiver Cald. I'm a Guide." He looked to Olsten and Raleia. "We have your dragons coming for you. They'll be set to take you back to a cave north of here where supplies are waiting for you. Please trust me and follow."





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


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What To Expect

Your characters may have witnessed Addiver kill one of his own, but that does not mean that they will follow a stranger. Raleia may recognize him as the one that gave her the key to their cuffs. Olsten may remember their travels on the road to Rosenfall and the conversation they had in that time. But will it be enough?


Should they choose to follow Addiver, he will lead them through the castle halls. Distant screams can be heard echoing through the corridors, footsteps leading somewhere far away. Feel free to write of any conflict against NPC guards looking to stop their endeavors. Addiver will lead them the way the two prisoners came, eventually coming out along the outside of the castle wall. Rooftops of homes and businesses can be seen dotting through the trees that wind down the snake like roads. Booms and crashes can be heard both near and far. They will be able to see the chaos in the skies as two Dragon Wardens create their distraction. Raleia will be able to feel Winnock.

Above Rosenfall Walls

​

Dromast and Lo led the distraction assault on Rosenfall on schedule. Rolling hills and vibrant greenery soon gave way to the topmost towers of the castle peaking out from above the sea of trees until more and more of the expansive city on a hill was revealed. Dromast could feel the tension in Lo's mind as they flew closer and closer. It did not help her own unease. Something wasn't right, and she couldn't quite place a finger on it.





A loud crack echoed through the valley in a gust of wind where only half a second before a bright flash of blue light blazed into the air. Dromast looked behind her at Cinder, nodding to the other rider to signal it was showtime. Whatever that was, it was not planned, but it meant they had to act as soon as possible. Lo felt his rider's urgency and groaned in a guttural call to express his displeasure with the heavy armor. Dromast let out a groan of her own and leaned forward and close to her dragon's crystaline scales. She knew he was all too eager to pick up his pace, and he excitedly took off.





At this point Dromast assured herself the riderless dragon would sense her rider. She at least hoped somewhere the rider was still alive. The dragon was free to act on his own and possibly locate whoever it was he was bonded to so that they could make this job quick and easy.





The ballistae and cannons were set and fired as soon as they were in range. It was a fool's errand with such clunky weaponry where swift dragons were involved. Lo was slower than usual, but he was still able to shift his way through the array of projectiles. Ballistae were difficult to reposition, and the cannons had a puny fourteen degree turning radius from side to side, and a measly twenty-three degree angling position up and down. All they had to do was keep moving and hope the archers would move out too late.





@Space Cowboy Ein @Elle Joyner





no slide no slide no slide

 

[Space Cowboy Ein]

Cinder and Voarex


Rosenfall


Cinder's confidence was tested greatly as she crested the last bit of treeline and the walls of Rosenfall came into full view. Silently, she cursed to herself and settled into position, spear at the ready. For what it was worth, she probably would not have to use it, but it was always good to be prepared. The little light show that lit up from the center of the city caused her to grit her teeth, it seemed like this was it, and her eyes met Dromast's. It was showtime. With a nod she directed Voa to descend below Lo, accelerate and pull softly to the right. Best to not let the enemy focus their fire, and hopefully they'd take too long to lower their guns to get effective fire out.


It seemed that Dromast was the first to be spotted as the wall's defenses opened up on her. Cinder made the mistake of sparing the pair a look as a cannonball exploded into the ground just ahead of her. She grit her teeth and made note of the offending cannon on the wall. She put Voa on a bee line towards it and lowered herself against the dragon's back as she directed her into a hard climb with the wall fast approaching. Cannon and ballistae shot whizzed past at frighteningly close range as they shot up and over the wall, but stopped the higher they got. Cinder groaned as Voa peeled left and made a descending circle inside of the town. They had earned a moment of solace well out of the firing angles of their adversaries. And now they were in a prime position to strike back.


"Let them know what's on your mind Voarex." She said as she brought the dragon back down for a run across the section of wall she had first approached. The arcane dragon was happy to oblige and spewed a jet of pure magical energy over the wall as they sped past. A great number of the soldiers manning the wall simply dropped dead, their aetherial presence unable to hold up against Voa's attack. Those who didn't face the full brunt of it were rendered unconscious. Voarex gave a boastful roar but Cinder did not want to let the dragon use up all her energy, or do all the work. She brought the dragon around once more to hit another section of wall with a continuous blast of magical energy until she could feel the pain she was inflicting bounce back to her.


Cinder brought Voa up and around again for another pass and wondered where the city archers were. They would have made this whole distraction bit much more difficult with their accuracy. They'd likely come to face the two dragon warden's sooner rather than later, and she wanted to get as much damage in as possible before it became a lethal game of dodge.

 

[BookWyrm]

Rasrik turned swiftly, raising his sword to Addiver as he put himself between him and the children. "A Guide? You expect me to believe that?" When Addiver spoke to Raleia and Olsten Rasrik turned and looked between them and the man as he tried to put everything together. Could they trust this man? Was he seriously leading them to their dragons, or would he lead them straight into a trap set by Malan? Rasrik connected to Addiver's presence before sheathing his sword, only to reach out and grab him by his lapel before raising his in front of Addiver's chest, a surge of Arcane energy pulsing around his finger tip.


"You don't talk to them, you talk with me, got it?" Rasrik's tone implied that he would have no problem killing Addiver if he disagreed. "How do I know if you are really a Guide? How can I trust you not to lead us straight into Malan's clutches and get all of us killed?"


Rasrik felt something, a quiet knowing in the back of his mind. Valos and Kovinth were coming. "You've only got a matter of seconds to convince me otherwise I'm going to paint the walls behind you in a nice shade of red."


Valos had not been expecting the sight that befell them above Rosenfall. He and Kovinth had flown out from their hiding place towards the set rally point, but when he had picked up the smell of dragons Valos found himself slightly distracted. And yet, there were dragons flying above Rosenfall. Valos growled over to Kovinth in slight confusion before flying over towards what he could sense was another Arcane dragon. When he closed enough distance to be heard Valos roared, announcing his presence to Voa, and hoping to meet a friendly response.

 

[Red Thunder]

Waethrin


Rosenfall - the Castle Courtyard - the Balcony of Pronouncements
​

The role of the Dragon Wardens was, of course, twofold: they were first and foremost diplomats, expected to mediate disputes and rectify conflict before it could erupt into martial acts. But many a time was that diplomacy could achieve nothing, despite the best efforts of the most talented mediators among the Wardens; at such a time, each Dragon Warden was expected to fight.


As with all things, when a group of individuals is organized and trained in certain skills, some take better to certain abilities than they do others. When the trumpet sounded the charge, when the drum beat the march forward, few were more talented among his peers than Waethrin the Inferno. His admirable skill with the blade was enhanced considerably by an almost preternatural talent at his Fire Magic, and the flame he wielded were often described by those who saw him fight as having life unto itself. But before Waethrin took up his sword and spread burning destruction about the Wardens enemies, he would be proceeded by Lisella. What her teacher was on the battlefield, Lisella was at the mediation table: her voice was like the easy flow of a brook dancing across pebbles, and she found with few troubles happy compromise between parties. Not that she was unskilled in a fight; to be the Inferno's apprentice meant that she received focused training in his area of expertise, and Lisella could hold her own. But such things usually did not come to pass, for her mind was sharp and her words carried an earnest strength.


Even now, decades later, he felt it: she spoke in a way that could not be ignored, that made those who heard her want to listen. Even as her eyes widened in a sort of instability he'd seen only once before, Waethrin still found himself pausing in consideration. The stone floor of the balcony on which he stood was smooth as glass, having cooled and hardened quickly once he'd made his firey landing. He stood stock still, aged muscles taunt in anger, sword in a death grip, and black leather armor like a carapace. He stared at her, teeth grit and threatening to break. The opportunity was there, it was there. Lisella the Defiler stood but a few feet from him, defenseless. He could end it; he could avenge them! But there she was, inviting him to walk with her, of all things. A stupid proposition! Yet Waethrin found himself unwilling, as yet, to act. He had to know; there were so many answers he desired. Face taunt, wary as an animal unsure of whether it was predator or prey, he stepped forward to follow at a distance.


"Speak, while my patience yet lasts."


@Effervescent

 

[Elle Joyner]

The scene unfolded with such swiftness, Raleia could hardly concentrate. When Olsten pulled away, she spun to see him reaching for a discarded axe, "Olsten! We have to--"


But her words were shattered by the exclamation that burst from the guard, advancing towards their corner. Traitors... The others. The ones who had given the key to the younger warden. Olsten ran forward and Raleia felt a cry build and die in her throat as she bolted forward to intercept, but before she could move the man lurched, froze and Raleia's gaze dropped to the red glazed sword, poking out from his middle. It was the man... the same man who had given her the key for the warded cuffs. The guard fell forward, what little light there was in his gaze fading to a dull, frozen expression of hatred. The guide stepped forward to introduce himself and Raleia slipped aside to help Olsten back to his feet.


"...What happened to sticking together, hmm? You're lucky you're not in pieces!" Her voice was scolding, but the expression in her eyes was nearly all concern. Once he was upright, she turned to find Rasrik accosting the guide.


"He is who he says he is. He gave me the key, to remove our bonding shackles. Were you the one sending the food to the prison? Thank you. We... we would surely be dead without your aid." Her gaze flickered to Rasrik, to the younger warden before she continued, "I'm going with him. If you've another rally point, you needn't come along, but either way, standing here is just foolish. We'll be inundated soon enough... and I'd rather not test the limits on how quickly the ward's worn off. We should--"


Pausing, she glanced upwards and inexplicably, the corner of her lip twitched upwards in a smile, "Winnock. I can feel him. He's close." Looking to Addiver, she nodded, "Thank you... for keeping them safe. I owe you a debt, friend. All of you. Now... That Rally point?"

The motion of wind between his wings, the feel of the air, cool against his face... condensation leaving streaks along his stone-grey scales. It was freedom, pure and unadulterated, and it was beautiful. He opened his jaws, snapped at the clouds as they raced by. To the outside eye, he might have looked indifferent to the chaos towards which they propelled, but that was only because to an extent, he was.


His sole purpose was to get to Raleia. Whatever else happened along the way matter little to the fire dragon. Rather suddenly, wings tucked against his sides, he darted forward, moving faster along the slipstream of the creature ahead of him. He could feel her, stronger than when he'd been in those caves.


They were close...


Opening his jaw wide, Winnock growled, the sound rippling, resonating through the open air.


@Macaberz, @Effervescent, @BookWyrm, @JDParadox

 

[JDParadox]

Quynn, Rosenfall


Quynn cursed under his breath as stepped forward to challenge the rest of the guards. The boy had flung himself at the bastard, Quynn reminded himself, and there was little he could do. There were more coming as they argued, all armed and armored, yet still but a fraction of what Rosenfall had to offer. By now, the alarms would have sounded throughout the city, which meant these halls would soon be swarming with guards. Quynn did not come here to get captured, or killed.


"She makes a good point. And we can always kill him later if it comes to that." He shouted back at Rasrik, eyes never once leaving the advancing guards, longsword raised in challenge. Someone was starting to make sense at last. For all he knew, this man, Addiver was a part of some elaborate scheme to capture them, but there was no time to bicker, nor any real choice but to trust him blindly. Quynn had not expected this level of chaos when they planned this little rescue, though he supposed plans had never been his forte.


Quynn backed away steadily, gearing himself up to run. "We came here for you. Wouldn't be much of a rescue if we were to leave alone." Valos and Kovinth were close now: at the back of his mind he could feel it, the little string tugging at his subconsciousness, the link between him and-




Kovinth, Above Rosenfall





-and Quynn. The bond between a Dragon and his Warden was a strange one, and even Kovinth himself could not explain it. But it was there, he was sure. The tug got stronger yet as the houses passed by below them in a blur. He could catch the flashes of metal in the streets, weapons and armor, and screams. A battle. Kovinth growled and picked up the pace. He could already feel the cold frost building up in his throat, almost taste the scent of blood in the air, and the smell of dragons.


They circled the wall as a pair, chipping away at the defenses, weaving between the cannonfire and ballistaes. Valos seemed to be as confused as he was; there was not much else to do but keep on beating his wings and hope for the best. Soon the battle would be joined, and soon he would be back in his element.

 

[Macaberz]

Olsten & Grybil

​

Groaning, clutching his stomach, he rolled over. Death loomed over him, armed with a sword almost taller than him. He raised his arms to shield his head. It was futile. No strike cleaved through bone and flesh. No darkness took him. Not today. Instead, red hot blood sprayed over him like water bursting through a dam. When he lowered his arms, he saw not his savior. Only eyes. The eyes of a predator. Wide, fixed on him, and filled to the brim with hate.


He was about to get up when Raleia got to him, her hair dancing behind her like a flame. Shrinking at her verbal assault, he nearly wished he hadn’t been saved after all. No rebuttal came to mind. Besides, now was not the time to argue. For once, Olsten made no comment and simply nodded before scrambling back up unto his feet.


Olsten took a brief moment to wipe the lieutenant’s blood off his face. Rasrik was making a scene, because of course he was. Wishing to stay out of it, Olsten turned around and dropped to one knee next to the lieutenant’s corpse. While the wardens bickered over Addiver, he stripped the dead guard of a smaller one-and-a-half blade. It was a bit too short and off-balance, but it would have to do. “Don’t be an idiot Rasrik,” Olsten said as he once again raised himself. “At least, I assume it’s you. Only you would dress up like…” he gestured at the whole of the Arcane warden. “Well, you get the point…”


A shallow smile revealed itself. He couldn’t possibly hate the man that had come to save him. Even if, that man was a boar-headed brute with no sense for style and even less for friendliness. While Raleia rushed through the details with Rasrik, Olsten looked up at Addiver. “You should come with us. You’re no longer safe here. Besides, I think I have some favors to return.”

Orignal art by

Naznamy. Edited by me.
​

 

[Effervescent]

Rosenfall Castle Grounds

​

Waethrin's compliance to Lisella's request made her slowly link arms with his, a smile on her face as she began to calmly walk towards the doors to the castle. It was a rather large balcony, and despite the chaos around them, Lisella meandered and spoke with her former mentor with a friendly demeanor. Her aging features were more worn and sunken than wrinkled and pruned. Dark circles encompassed her sunken eyes. It looked as though he eyes had lost any former sparkle. They would seem darker; a darkness to accompany the striking black of her robes. She stood out among the pale of her skin and the white-lavender of the castle architecture.


"How many years has it been?" Lisella asked rhetorically, for she continued on to speak. "I've wanted to show you so many things. My accomplishments. My family. How wrong you were." She came to a stop at the center of the balcony, her grip tightening around Waethrin's arm. She could feel the strength under his infamous armor still. He may be old, but he was not weak. And with that the two disappeared in a cloud of smoke that billowed like black ink dropped in water that plumed up into the air. Waethrin would find himself transported in a dark cloud, the rush of wind lapping his hair as the city streaked by until suddenly they were grounded within a dark, quiet alleyway. She let go of Waethrin and took a step back, her eyes eagerly awaiting his response. Above them came the crashing sounds of ballistae flying their powerful arrows through the air, the boom of cannons along the outer wall, and the roar of dragons in the distant sky.


While all was now quiet around Waethrin and Lisella, the chaos continued around Rosenfall castle. Guards had given up attempting to control the citizens and let them loose from the confines of what was meant to resemble a bastion of hope. Those who managed to stay upright in the stampede rushed out of the final doors and into the crowd along the road. They scattered like ants whose dirt mount had been kicked. The booming of unfamiliar heavy weaponry only served to further their fear. It was the first time any Rosenfall citizen had heard such a powerful weapon as a cannon. Most of them weren't even sure of what they were hearing. The trajectory of each cannonball and ballista arrow rushed high over the rooftops and crashed into the woods outside the city walls. Those who dared to look up into the sky screamed in terror as dragons swooped through the air high and low, their powerful wings beating through the wind. Ever since the Butchering of Edlenfeld, this very scenario has been the nightmare of every Thall and Fallenite.


Those who knew the Dragon Wardens could be trusted had bigger issues to concern themselves with. Addiver found himself in a bit of a pickle when Rasrik questioned the Guide's credibility. He was lucky Raleia spoke on his account, but even then that didn't seem to satisfy the other two completely.


"You won't be killing me later," Addiver said to Quynn, his head shaking somewhat at the complete lack of faith. He knew after all that had happened to them, the Dragon Wardens had every right to be hesitant. But he was Addiver Cald! Spearhead of the Guides and achiever of goals! But it looked as though his reputation only proceeded him among the other Guides and nothing more. Raleia's trust was all he had to cling to in hopes to achieve this next goal. He needed to see to these Dragon Wardens' release and return to their dragons.


"Aye," he said to Olsten with a small huff of a laugh. "I don't know if anyone saw me kill Lieutenant Bartague, and I'd rather not take the chance of sticking around here until I get the all's clear." His eyes moved between Rasrik and Quynn as he adorned a more serious tone. "You can either follow, or don't. Either way, I've got a duty to do."


But he knew they wouldn't leave them alone with him, especially when at least Raleia seemed to trust him enough to follow. Addiver took point and rushed into the castle through the western courtyard door. Any remnants of citizens within the walls were mostly nobles, their screams and cries echoing through the stony halls as cannons boomed and shook the earth. Even Addiver jumped at the unfamiliar sound. He had worked with ballistae out on the mountains, but the cannons were new. It was the first time they had ever been fired, and little did anyone know the cannoniers were sweating profusely reading instructions off of pieces of parchment.


Down through castle halls and winding stairs they went. They passed through the dungeons where prisoners pleaded for release or asked what was going on outside. No guards were on duty. At least none that were seen. "Keep to the middle," Addiver advised. "Don't let them grab you." He was grabbed once by a prisoner and nearly had his throat split open by half a rat's spine. Most people believe Rosenfall to be filled with prosperity and high standards. That was due to the guard doing their job well. Thieves and ruffians were dealt with swiftly, and multiple offenses meant exile from Thallas. It was likely the reason Faledrin was riddled with the unsavory. But those with only one or two marks on their record were kept within the dungeons to serve out their sentence, and some of them never relinquish their habits.


Just as they went down another staircase and reached a door, someone distantly called out, "Who goes there?" Addiver opened the door and motioned for those who followed to get out.


"I'll deal with them," he said in a hushed tone. "Get out while you can. They're just around the corner I believe."


The sunlight pierced through the darkened spaces of the castle's bowels. Outside was the way to freedom. Dragons were close, their shadows whisking by in the cold air. Addiver looked to Rasrik and Quynn once again despite his words really being meant for Raleia and Olsten. He wasn't sure if these two were Dragon Wardens themselves or if they were just elven casters passing through.


"The crystal cave is to the north," he continued. "Dromast is the Dragon Warden out there. She can lead you to it."


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

Above Rosenfall Walls

​

Flying through Winter's air was chilly in plated armor, even with all the padding underneath. Dromast could feel the cold permeating the thick underlayers before the heat of adrenaline could catch up. It was a rush surging through uncertain death. One wrong maneuver could spell the end for Lo and her. She looked over where Voarex blasted the wall with arcane energy, and part of her felt a pang of guilt. This was not her style. She was not looking to kill those of Thallas.


Memories of her time helping the kingdom flooded through her. Lo assured he would not kill either. It was a comfort to know the dragon felt as she did. They were Dragon Wardens; the peaceful protectors. And even though their own lives were threatened, Dromast felt that killing would only bring her down to their ignorant level. Was it her ego that blinded her to what needed to be done, or was it conviction in the old ways the Dragon Wardens once upheld? Lo felt the old ways were dead. Dromast was always a diplomat first and foremost. She never really saw much of a battlefield and it was by design. She wore too much of her heart on her sleeves.


Lo swooped down and took aim at a ballista with his powerful breath. Blue streaked from his maw as pure arcane was channeled onto the wood and metal, obliterating the weapon and leaving it in a mess of debris. Dismantling the siege weapons were priority over the Watchers that scattered away from the exploding ballistae. One after the other, slowly but surely, Dromast and Lo worked their way through the line of fire and removed the threats they could. Lo's blast only did so much as to knock the cannons off of their rotating stands slightly.


Two other unfamiliar dragons came into view, one of them roaring through the air. Lo took a turn and bellowed back in response to signal they are friendlies. Dromast kept her focus on conjuring wards to deflect projectiles. Her hands moved through the air quickly in a spell, bright blue light shining into a dome. A cannon ball hit the dome of arcane and flew through the air out and away from the city. Lo reassured his rider the coming dragons were on their side, and she blew a sigh of relief through her helmet. The last thing they would need was a real attack.


There was darkness that loomed in Rosenfall she couldn't quite place. It was small at first, and then suddenly a plume of inky smoke flew up into the air and disappeared into the streets below. Shadow was strongest in that moment, and then it was gone, or at least it was back to the illusive looming. Through the Arcane, Dromast could sense the presence of Shadow, and while it was faint within the city walls, there was something greater far beyond, and it was slowly growing nearer.


@BookWyrm @JDParadox @Elle Joyner @Space Cowboy Ein

 

[Red Thunder]

Waethrin


Rosenfall - the streets



​

Waethrin had flinched visibly when Lisella had hooked her arm into his, and at first he'd resisted. But something in his mind prevented it. So he allowed himself to be led along.


"How many years has it been? I've wanted to show you so many things. My accomplishments. My family. How wrong you were."


She spoke so easily, and so calmly, damn her, despite his sudden appearance, and the sudden appearances of the other Wardens. She always had been persuasive, though, and so often he'd found himself swayed by her reasonable words. The screams of the terrified citizens were intermingled and often drowned out by the roars of the incoming dragons, desperate to save their Wardens. The chaos triggered memories within the old man, memories of war and conflict, battle and death. And beside him in every moment, from the time he'd taken her as pupil, had been the woman who stood now beside him. Time it seemed had favored her scarcely better than it had favored him, and to his weary eye she looked almost his own age. But no; even Time doesn't ravage to that degree. Lisella was more than a decade his junior. Perhaps, rather, the fault lay with-


Blackness, like the lowest pit of his despair in exile, enveloped him, and he withdrew his arm from hers in a panic. But the deed was done, accomplishing both the transport of their persons to an abandoned section of Rosenfall as well as affirming suspicions in his mind. The clamor of terror and escaping prisoners could still be heard in the distance, but the townsfolk, guards, and other Wardens may as well have been back on the coast for all the attention either party present paid them; they had eyes only for each other. Though in the old man's case, every meaning that phrase usually inferred was expressly absent. His expression darkened. From within his clenched left fist, a furious red light could be seen shining, straining to be set free. A similar blaze roared behind Waethrin's eye.


"Enough, Lisella!" He growled. "You have requested my attention, and I've given it. But it shall soon be a rather different kind of attention, should you continue to occupy my time thus. I ask again: what have you done with Sapphira?"


His blade remained clenched in his fist and at the ready, his body tense with fear and rage.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ancalagon

Rosenfall - the North Gates



​

Gavin Fellwind, Sergeant, was having a hellish day. He and those assigned to him were given the responsibility of monitoring those who came and went through the north gate of the city; namely, they were to account for them what entered and them what left. Spies were after all plentiful, and who was to say whether the Dragon Wardens or some other equally terrible enemy might try to sneak someone within their fair city to sew terror or cause harm? He'd regularly encouraged his men in this way, at any rate, but for all his dour certainty and patriotism, none of the guard there had found a single bit of evidence that trouble would come to them, and his men spoke mockingly behind his back. They shirked their training and pursued their responsibilities with all the passion of a child given their grammar studies.


On this day, it showed. As even the vague fear of the haunted forest to the north was easily overwhelmed by the very real perceived danger of an assault by dragons and their wardens, Thalls fled in any direction they could, including running for the northern gate. Gavin, frustrated and flummoxed at the ineptitude of his soldiers, was doing the best he could to filter everyone through the portal in as quickly and safely a manner as could be managed.


Inexplicably and with a suddenness that seemed almost supernatural, the crowd suddenly began sprinting and shoving back into the city. Shouting as best he might commands to go the other way, the Sergeant soon gave up, instead climbing the stairs to the parapets above. And he suddenly understood. Charging at the gate with a speed belied by the monster's size was another dragon: scarred, old, and angry. Gavin screamed for ballista and all other methods of siege repellant to be loosed at it, but the beast had already acted. He had no sooner turned to give the order when four fireballs, each as large as hay cart, erupted from the dragon's mouth and enveloped the weaponry most centered at the gate. Each exploded upon impact, and firey planks rained down around them. Gavin sprang into action, determined to not allow this thing into Rosenfall. He sprinted down the steps, back down to the path, only to be swept aside by the wave of a clawed foreleg. The impact he made against the stone wall set his vision reeling, and consciousness began to leave him quickly. But before it did, he had one strange thought: the dragon, incredibly, seemed to be making an effort to step around the waves of panicked Thalls. The observation sat oddly in his fading consciousness, and it rested there to be pondered later, when he awoke hours later with a stabbing headache.


*


Anacalagon rushed forward into the streets, seeking his Warden. He needed him, oh how he needed him; little else could stir the Fire Drake to such decisive action. But he'd felt the stir of emotions from his Warden even as he'd had them, and only one person could cause them. Fear, fear for Waethrin, gripped the old creature's heart, and he hurried all the faster.

 

[Space Cowboy Ein]

Cinder and Voarex


Rosenfall


Cinder was winded, but felt that she and Voa had created enough of a gap in the defenses to allow for a swift exit when the time came. She took in a deep breath and directed her dragon away from the path of death and destruction they had created. It didn't make her feel better. Despite giving Voa the promise of vengeance, it still didn't feel right. It wasn't going to make either of their lives normal again, and it wasn't going to bring anyone back. In the short moments of their engagements, their 'want' turned to 'need'. The destruction would not bring anyone back, but it would keep alive the ones that she still had a deep enough connection with. She most certainly did not want to die, but she didn't want to be the last warden alive either. Voa caught on to Cinder's thoughts and gave an authoritative growl. She was right, reflection could come once she got back to a warm campfire.


From behind her, Cinder could hear two other dragons making an entrance. She did not sense a dark presence from either, and wondered if there were other wardens inside the city, waiting to strike alongside them. At the least, having four others in the sky would keep her nerves at bay. Voa noticed one of the new pair, an arcane one, greet her with a roar. Voa responded in kind just as a plume of black smoke shot briefly into the air. Cinder's brow furrowed as she turned to the source of shadow magic. It had gone as quickly as it had come, but she still felt its presence. And as if that wasn't bad enough, it seemed like it had a friend in the distance, large but slow. Could it be the army she carried a warning about? She truly did not want to find out.

 

[Macaberz]

Olsten & Grybil

​

Just before they dashed after Addiver, Olsten shot a final glance at Bartague’s corpse. Blood, near maroon dark, pooled underneath the motionless body, seeping between the cracks in the cobblestone. No pity welled up in him. No sorrow ached his heart. He was supposed to feel something. He was supposed to feel regret for another live lost in a false war. Yet he only felt his cold, numb bones. His left hand painfully clutched the looted blade as he waited to get going.


A rush of wind made him spin around on his heels. Before his very eyes the old maniac that had disrupted the trial disappeared in a cloud of inky black smoke. Shadow Magic… Even looking at it set his hairs on end.


But there was no time to lose. No time to wonder about the why’s and how’s. Following Addiver, they set off, and the scene vanished from his mind. Down they went, back into the belly of the castle. Every corner they had to round made him grip the blade even tighter in his hands. Every so often the castle rocked as the air was ruptured by loud bangs. The further they went, the lower the thunderous sound became until was like a mere rumble.


A nauseating stench hit his nostrils when they returned to the dungeons. For a split second he feared Addiver would cast them all back into the oubliette, but soon discarded the thought. The man had proven his loyalty over and over again. If he had wanted them dead, they would’ve been so a long time ago.


The voices of the imprisoned were like a chorus of pitifully howling wolves. At first, Olsten slowed his pace, concern for those behind bars etching itself upon his forehead. Like twigs on a leafless tree arms sprouted from between the bars. Some thin and long, others thick and scarred. Keeping his gaze ahead, Olsten insisted on moving forward until a claw of long sharp nails raked his shoulder and tore at the fabric of his prisoner rags. More scared than angry, he swung his blade at the offender. Like lightning the sea of hands retreated, but not before the sharpened steel cut at the skin of all who stood in its way. A pained yelp followed, before the sea of hands re-emerged, hell-bent on grabbing hold of him. This time accompanied by growls and threats that made his knees buckle. Even when sticking to the middle, some managed to make him stumble and nearly trip over his own feet, though most only managed to scratch at his skin. Waving his sword around only deterred the assailants for a moment. It was like swatting away wasps. They only returned more angry and with even more sting.


Finally, they left the rotten dungeons and were guided towards a staircase which ended near a door. Olsten could hear Dragons outside. Yet he did not sense the presence of Grybil in his mind. He gritted his teeth. Grybil was going to be there. There was no way his dragon would abandon him.


“Who goes there?” a voice sounded. Addiver urged them to move on, but Olsten lingered. Something told him that abandoning the brave Guide now would spell the man’s death. Addiver was an enemy of Thallas now. Every second spent in Rosenfall was a death sentence getting closer and closer. More than once had the man put his life on the line for him. If not now, when else would he return the favor? A dozen different options raced through his mind. But there was no time. No time to think.


And so he snuck up behind Addiver, looped his right arm underneath the man’s armpit and put his blade to the man’s throat. When and if Guards would emerge around the corner they would find Addiver Cald being held hostage by a very cold-hearted looking , blood-spattered boy. Though in truth, Olsten’s hold on Addiver was flimsy at best. He had never been very strong, and the small rations he’d been on hadn’t helped. He could only hope that Addiver would play along, at least until the other Wardens had managed to escape.

Orignal art by

Naznamy. Edited by me.
​

 

[Elle Joyner]

Things were escalating through the city. She could hear the canons, feel the vicious roar of the iron beasts down to her core. There wasn't time to stand around and argue, and the consensus, luckily, seemed to be a shared one. As they moved, Raleia looked up skyward one last time, shaking her head, "Be safe, Winnock..." She murmured, "I'm coming..."


Resting the younger warden's knife in the palm of her hand, she straightened, following the others along the path Addiver led them on. All at once, it was a little too reminiscent of the escape from Haven, and as her mind traveled back to that night, she felt pinpricks of pain as her heart cinched in her chest. Surely they had all lost enough, but the war wouldn't end. They would certainly be hunted, now. Fugitives... escaping their well deserved fates. That's what the people would hear. There would be nowhere left to go for them that was safe...


How had it come to this? They had been so loved, so trusted. How had hatred spawned, rooted so deep in a people that once relied on the Warden's to bring peace. And why continue? Had the slaughter at Haven been somehow deficient? Was it not enough that so many of them had lost their home, their friends and loved ones? When would the killing stop? When all of them were dead?


Eyes stinging, she blinked away tears as she stuck close to Olsten's side, listening intently to the Guide's directions. But as they reached the dungeon, and the many hands shot out, fingers like tendrils waving, grasping, grabbing and she felt the tension roll through her, all thoughts converging on the moment , her hand gripping the knife tighter. Olsten, ahead of her, swung the axe he had taken and she grimaced, watching as the blade clipped at those desperate hands. The prisoners did not relent, however, and they were forced to pass through, single file. When they emerged on the other side, a voice cried out and Addiver directed them to the exit... towards their escape, and she felt a twinge of uncertainty.


"You can't stay... it's not--" But before she could get the words out, Olsten... remarkable, impulsive, stubborn Olsten leapt into action and what started as a exclamation of shock was strangled by the realization of his sudden brilliance. The Queen couldn't accuse Addiver of helping them if she was under the impression he had been taken against his will.


In case the others didn't gather the boy's motives, Raleia held her hand up to keep them from advancing.




Winnock slashed through the sky, a streak through the clouds, building speed, as smoke curled from his nostrils. The city stuck out white and gleaming, but in it's body darkness shrouded the minds of the people, twisting their thought, blinding them to reason. And somewhere among the throng of stupid humans was Raleia...


Nothing mattered but finding her...


The ballistae were being quickly rendered useless as the ridiculously outfitted dragon unleashed arcane upon them, but the cannons... though new and unfamiliar to the men in charge of firing them, they were devastatingly accurate and powerful. Swooping low, Winnock surveyed the scene and reeling back, angled towards the first of the iron foes. The soldiers scrambled... one of them shouting out instructions read from a scroll as the others worked to load the weapon. But they were no match for the speed of fire and rage... Darting forward, sudden and quick, Winnock unleashed a breath of flames. There were no screams, for there was nothing left of the men but dust.


Plucking up the weapon in his claws, Winnock gave his wings a swift downward thrust, again and again, rising high against the sky, then with a cry of fury, he released it, watched as it plummeted down, down to the outer wall where the other cannoniers were frantically struggling to load the other barrel. Iron met stone and a large chunk of the wall crumbled against the impact, sending machine and man falling, flailing to the earth.


@Macaberz, @Effervescent, @BookWyrm, @JDParadox

 

[JDParadox]

Quynn

Rosenfall
​

Quynn followed Addiver in uneasy silence, knot in his stomach, bad taste lingering on his tongue. He bit his lips hard, almost hard enough to draw blood and kept walking. No time for trust or choices. Fugitives and traitors of the realm like themselves couldn't afford those kinds of luxuries. He could hear the chaos from outside, screams of panic, cries of fear. If they were not hated before, they surely would be after this great mess. But that did not matter, not now, regrets were for after a battle. The now was staying alive.


Quynn's grip tightened around his blade. Staying alive often meant you had to kill, and there was no hesitating when you do.


He was careful to keep his sword far from any prisoner's grasp as they passed through. They pleaded and wailed, begged and goaded, no longer men but starving beasts wearing human faces. For more than a few times Quynn was tempted to let them go, if only out of spite for the Thalls that captured them; but sometimes, the enemy your enemy is anything but your friend. The stink assaulted his nostrils, an onslaught of a hundred different kinds of sweat and human refuse, none less foul than the other - that distinct smell of desperation, as if Quynn needed another reason to despise this city of butchers. The boy Olsten swung at them with the his axe, sharp edge drawing a thin line of blood, did nothing but aggravated the others further. The arms, all bones without any real kind of flesh, grew denser around them; their voices louder, bloodier, hungrier. He picked up the pace and pushed onward through the forest of grasping hands, more than ready to leave the dungeon, nearly breathed an audible sigh of relief when they reached the door.


Not many would rejoice at the sight of winged shadows in the sky, but for the dragon wardens those were the best kind of sights. The air, slightly singed with a hint of dragonfire, the best kind of air. Voices from behind halted them before he could take it all in. Were they followed somehow? Were they meant to be here? Was this all a beautiful, perfectly laid trap? Quynn turned and shot a glance at Rasrik, then at Addiver. He could not bring himself to the same sort of trust Olsten and the girl placed in him, but the meaning was clear: unless Rasrik is right about him, Addiver was dead if he stayed. Then the boy did something he did not expect.


There was something about that plan that made him smile: The deviousness of it, or perhaps Quynn had just grown to enjoy seeing Thalls at knifepoint. He would have laughed if he was one for loud laughter. Could be that it would all be in vain in the end, maybe he was in fact a spy, maybe Queen Malan simply liked seeing heads roll, but there was something brilliant to be admired in the boy's hasty actions. Quynn stepped forward to join the girl, still smiling sharply, long steel by his side to make sure the meaning got well across.

 

[BookWyrm]

Rasrik​

Rasrik had followed Addiver, though his trust of the "Guide" extended about as far as Rasrik's sword. As they ran Rasrik heard what sounded like countless voices crying out in pain and terror. He closed his eyes for just nary a moment, his mind taken back to the ruin of Haven, before he cast it from his thoughts and focused on the task.

We need to get them out.


The countless arms, or what used to be arms, hung out from the cells as they ran through. Worn and withered, fingers now scraped into claws and twisted to look like malformed branches. Rasrik was thankful for his helmet keeping the majority of the smell out, as well as most of the noise. He hated these places. They reminded him too much of the inn back at Bettleben. People were put in those places to die slowly as their soul rotted from within. It almost made him want to retch.


Rasrik couldn't help but find Olsten's hacking away at the arms to be slightly infuriating, but he understood the purpose behind it. Those arms belonged to deranged beasts, and if they could they would have ripped all of them to pieces. There were too many for Rasrik to use an illusion on, and to work a glamour over the group would be just as difficult at the moment. He needed focus for something like that, and with the whole group it would drain him swiftly.

No. Get them to the dragons.


Finally they had reached the end, only for things to go wrong once again, but Olsten seemed to have some kind of plan. Rasrik ran out and grabbed Addiver's other arm and helped Olsten pull the man back towards the others.

It will look more convincing if there is someone other than just a scrawny boy trying to walk off with this man.

"I'll get him. Go!", Rasrik said as he hoisted Addiver up onto his shoulder and turned to run off towards the others.

 

[Effervescent]

Rosenfall Streets

​

Citizens were rushing to their homes by the time they broke free from the castle grounds. The dragons flying overhead signaled the possibility of destruction to their livelihoods, but the only place they felt safe was within the confines of their own homes. Market closed early. Stalls were packed up and as much carried with them to the nearest tavern or shop that would let them in. And among all the panic, no one noticed the two figures tucked within the shadow of an alleyway.


Lisella frowned at Waethrin's demeanor. It wasn't that it was an unexpected response, for he had expressed his distaste to her chosen magic before. For some reason in all these years, however, she fantasized about their reunion being more tearful and apologetic. She received nothing close to the sort, not even fear.


"Sapphira is safe," she stated. "I'm sure you understand my precaution to hide her." Her eyes flecked down towards the blade his fingers gripped so tightly. "We have no need to fight here, Inferno." When she looked back at the old Dragon Warden, nostalgia pushed her arched brows to a furrow. "I have a request, and you must comply. The boy from the trial. Do you remember him? I want you to bring him to me alive. Will you do that for me?"


@Red Thunder

Rosenfall Castle Grounds

​

The kid had balls. Addiver, despite being held hostage by the sharp edge of a blade, was impressed with Olsten's bravery and split second thinking. They were qualities he looked for in a lot of his men and sought to strengthen it through training. Was it the circumstances from the past season that built this boy so maturely, or did it come to him naturally? These were things the officer debated as he did his best to play the damsel.


Within those few seconds, two guards emerged from around the corner, blades drawn in preparation of what they may face. Their eyes grew wide at the sight of Addiver Cald being bested by a boy. The Addiver Cald was held against his will with a blade to his throat, and while they wanted to marvel in the sight, their duties kicked in. They began to rush forward in hasty response, readying themselves for a fight with their swords at the ready.


"You idi-"


Addiver's chastising was cut off as he was easily hoisted over the armored man's shoulder. The black armored spaulders were thick and incredibly uncomfortable, which other furthered to agitate the former officer of Rosenfall. He just witnessed trained men rush at a hostage situation, and it was a perfect opportunity missed to offer a much needed lesson for the two. Luckily for him, the company that now carried him out of the castle walls didn't wish to kill him, at least for now. But once out of the door, they had the issue of keeping themselves separated from the two charging guards.


Outside the door brought the group to a grassy ledge that was barely wide enough for the lot to stand side-by-side in pairs before a sudden drop thirty feet to the street below. The grass was worn in a path that led down the small incline that bordered the exterior walls of the castle where eventually it would lead to the oubliettes designated for the worst of the kingdom's criminals. They would not need to head that way, and they shouldn't. It was all a dead end from there, and it was absolutely imperative that the Dragon Wardens were reunited with their dragons at this point.


"Please tell me you all are summoning your dragons now," Addiver said as he steadied his weight on Rasrik's shoulder. He looked between Olsten and Raleia at that. He still was not completely sure what Rasrik and Quynn's angle was in this mess. "They'll be out here any second now." And just as he uttered the final syllable, the two guards burst through the doorway with gusto.


"Unhand him!" one of them commanded as he moved forward. His sword swooped towards Rasrik, and the other took the cue to aim his blade at Quynn. They weren't going to give this up without a fight, and it seemed as though they were greatly underestimating exactly who or what they were up against.


@Macaberz @Elle Joyner @BookWyrm @JDParadox

Above Rosenfall Walls

​

Upon the walls filed archers in droves. Within their quivers were collected arrows they thought were all completely dipped in poison. For the most part, the arrows were just arrows, and likely to be just annoyances if stuck within a dragon. It was a careful step in Addiver's planning to clean or replace the arrows laced with poisons, and an endeavor that took nearly the entire week to execute without the Guides involved being detected. It was known, however, they could not completely rid the entire stock of poisoned arrows. There were just far too many.


It was also a step to insure the archers were not all on duty along the wall. They had been stationed elsewhere, especially within the castle, if they were working. But they were all called to the walls as they quickly found their siege weapons failing against their quick flying foes. The archers quickly fell into position, their arrows knocked and let loose as the dragons flew low. Voa was a particularly focused target for these men, for they quickly took note of the rider upon its back as the two obliterated not just their weaponry, but their people. Dragon Wardens were loathed, and seeing their comrades and friends die to the blasts of arcane only furthered their anger.


Dromast directed Lo to a higher altitude as she gauged the range of the longbows' power. Fire and heat burst from the wall to her right as Winnock spewed a stream of flame. Arrows flew towards the fire dragon in a cloud like insects as the archers to the side of the carnage struck out against the dragon. Anxiety rose in Dromast, merging with Lo's own nervousness as they realized the dragon had yet to reunite with his warden.


They changed their course for the castle. Cinder and Voa seemed to have a good handle on keeping the wall defenses occupied. It seemed their particular flair was like a beacon for attention that fueled their passion and mindset to save their people almost to the point of inducing tunnel vision. It was a good opportunity to slip past to the check point to see if Addiver had brought the prisoners out of the castle. They needed to get them out of Rosenfall before things could possibly get worse.


@Space Cowboy Ein @Elle Joyner @BookWyrm @JDParadox