Fantasy The Dragon Wardens: Exodus

[Space Cowboy Ein]

Cinder and Voarex


Crystal Caves North of Rosenfall


By the time Cinder had nursed the dwindling fire back to health, a guide had come over and offered her a bowl of stew. She accepted it gracefully despite being told that the meat featured was indeed rabbit. She would have complained internally if her stomach didn't argue otherwise. The rescue attempt had drained her, and she wanted nothing more than to have something to eat rather than nothing. She took a spoonful of the stew and drew back, face contorted in pain, as she realized it was still very hot. She decided to instead let it cool and looked around, first into her own campfire and then to the surrounding groups of wardens and guides. Everything they did today, was for now. The moment where wardens could sit down and rest for more than a few hours. The death and destruction that allowed it paled in comparison to what happened to Haven for a much less noble cause.


Cinder was lost in thought staring into the fire when Rasrik spoke. She took in a quick breath as she came back to the real world and looked over to the man, now a much more familiar man now that he was clean and had shaved. Still, she wasn't sure if she was to take offense to the statement or be flattered. She elected to go with both. "Well, for your information I knew how to stoke up a fire long before the situation demanded it." She shot back. "Besides, I'd be doing my name a disservice if I wasn't good with it." She huffed and relaxed a bit. "Needless to say, I've had more practice than I've wished with the current developments." She paused and swirled the contents of the stew around with her spoon before taking another tentative sip of the now more manageable liquid. It was good, better than anything she'd been making herself in the past month. She took in another scoop, this time with more meat, before continuing. "I'm just glad I can do it without having to look over my shoulder for once."


Her eyes wandered the cave again and she found Voa right where Cinder saw her last, except now she was joined by Valos. The sight brought a soft smile to her scarred features. "Now that's a sight I haven't seen in a while." She said before her features began to dim once more. "After Haven I went north. Spent some time in the Twisted Woods before arriving in Baladur. I had met up with Councilman Wuld and a number of survivors there. We were set upon by wardens wielding shadow magic." She paused as memories of the fight flashed through mind and made her burns smart as a result. "We were able to defeat them at the cost of one of our own..still it worries me that they were found. Wuld sent me south last week to carry news that the orcs are moving south, likely for Thallas. I have no doubt that it's in response to our scattering and that the coming days will prove difficult." She shrugged and looked over to Rasrik. "It's an unfortunate chain of events that's brought us back together, but I'm glad for it nonetheless..." Her smile returned as she took another scoop of her stew.

 

[Red Thunder]

Waethrin


The Crystal Caves - North of Rosenfall
​

“I’m more interested in that woman back at Rosenfall. You screamed she had a dragon, but that would make her a Warden, wouldn't it? Surely you're not saying that she was one of us? You seemed to know her.”


As Olsten had fired back, rather unwisely labeling the old warrior 'fragile' in adolescent haste, Waethrin had simply turned away. Arms crossed and lips pursed, he waited, a mountain for all the immovable patience he displayed. But mountains may hide tempestuous volcanoes. As he finished his final comment, Olsten suddenly felt the air temperature about him spike. The stone beneath Waethrin's feet took on a blackened char. It felt as though the Daystar herself had stepped within the small entrance, and the heat in the old man's voice matched the heat of the air.


"I said-" Waethrin spun on his heel. Not as quickly as some, but more quickly than a man almost eighty had any right to be moving. His right-handed gauntlet was clasped in his left hand, and his exposed right hand glowed with the white light of focused heat. It shot out, and like a steel trap sundried fingers bit into the young boy's lapels. "-There. Are. Conditions."


This boy, this...Olsten. Rude. Discourteous. Irreverent. But worse, he spoke carelessly, with no thought for personal safety. He was a fool, a fool who didn't really wish to learn. Didn't wish to be better. All he wanted was to survive. To get by. To think that Waethrin had imagined that he'd seen himself in this child.


Piss on that.


For good measure, just to be certain that there wasn't some spark of passion hiding beneath the insolence, the old Fire Warden glared into the younger's eyes. The talent was there; that much was readily plain to him. But without heart...


His hand unclasped, and he eased back. "Piss off, child. Whether it be one advanced technique or many, you have no wish to actually learn from me. I thought you might have shared my childhood passion, or if not mine, then at least... But no." As if the door to a kitchen had been suddenly closed, the artificial heat was extinguished, leaving the natural temperature to rush in like a northern wind to fill the gap. "You lack the drive to light a damned candle, let alone master and guide the inferno."


But a memory gnawed at his mind, contrary to his self-assured words. Lisella had wanted this one, this boy. Why? Why? What was so damned special about this sad dead end? Potential, perhaps? Training him might save him. It might also make him a more appealing target. So with a sigh Waethrin slid the gauntlet back onto his forearm, shaking his head.


"Go back to the master that you obviously love so much. Return when you respect our element and the life it lives of its own accord. That is Lesson Two."


@Macaberz

 

[BookWyrm]

Rasrik and Valos.

​

Rasrik grimaced as he thought back on Haven. That day had driven them all to drastic measures, from one extreme to the next. The grimace didn't last too long before it was replaced by a smile at Cinder's heated retort. All Wardens were taught how to survive in the wild, and fire making was chief among the first skills learned. It had been a stupid jib to begin with, but the fact that it evoked some ire from her was enough to cheer Ras up.


Rasrik looked back at Valos and Voa for a moment before smiling. "It's been a long time indeed. Whether he wants to admit it or not, I think Valos has missed Voa's company." Rasrik took another spoonful of the stew and swallowed it before looking over at Cinder again. "Actually, he's not the only one to miss you two." Rasrik smiled before returning to his meal. Here they were, sitting and talking together after all they had been through in the past, and they were both being civil. Actually, now that he thought of it, she had seemed practically overjoyed to recognize him among the survivors that had arrived at the cave today. Deep down, well, despite everything they had both been through before the fall, he had to admit that he was overjoyed to see her as well.


It seemed that just the thought of the fall could change the conversation, because not a moment later Cinder was going over the last few months. Rasrik shook his head when she described the scrum with the shadow wardens. "I've heard rumors about them before, but I didn't take any heed in it until now." After a moment Ras pressed the bowl to his lips and drained what was left of the broth before wiping his mouth. "I spent the first month, maybe month and a half, looking for survivors. When I didn't find any I..." His voice trailed off as he looked to the stone floor for a few moments. With a sigh he forced his eyes back to Cinder. He could be honest with her. In fact she knew more about him than any other Warden alive or dead. "I ended up in a bad way Cinder. Stuck at a downtrodden inn in Beetleben, drunk off my ass most of the time. That is, until Quynn showed up one day. And well, one thing led to another, and here we are now."


@Space Cowboy Ein

 

[Space Cowboy Ein]

Cinder and Voarex


Crystal Caves North of Rosenfall


Cinder continued to work on her stew as Rasrik talked, determined to finish it off before it hit lukewarm temperatures. She listened in on what he had been up to since Haven and did her best to keep focused on the broth swirling about in the bowl. It didn't sound as eventful as her own tale but it was just as dim. Cinder had one what she could to search for survivors who were taking refuge in the Twisted Woods as she passed through but found nobody. Most of the people she had met in Baladur had either been away at the time or escaped via a different route, or simply had a head start. But at least she did find survivors. When he paused, she felt his eyes on her and she relented to her instincts to look back to him. Rasrik's face of mixed negative emotions hadn't changed since last she saw it just over a year ago. She never wanted to see it again and yet, here it was, back to haunt her.


In the end, she couldn't blame him for falling into a bout of alcoholism. If she were supplied with an ample amount, she would have likely followed suit. Before she knew it, Ras was done, and so was her stew. Left with nothing else to distract her, Cinder was left in a state that was horribly balanced between comfort and discomfort. "Ras..." She swallowed. She cradled her empty bowl into one palm and tentatively placed the other on his own. Her eyes searched his for the right things to say, it used to be a lot easier than this. Cinder still hadn't fully recovered from not just losing Haven, but her pupils as well. And now she was being filled with shame and regret for not going back to search for someone...anyone that may have made it. "You were brave, going to look. Braver than me.. at least. I know how deeply you cared for your students above all, I wouldn't blame you for what you did. You're here now, like you said, and that's what matters."


Dammit Cinder missed him so bad. She found that she was squeezing Rasrik's hand and quickly let go once she realized what she was doing. "Sorry.." Her eyes drifted off towards the two arcane dragons deep in slumber. "Voa will appreciate someone other than me to cause trouble with. She was rather exhausted after today but, I could sense her enthusiasm when she saw you two." She paused and clutched her bowl in both hands once more. If someone would have told her this is where she'd be a year ago, she'd call them crazy and unrealistic, and yet... "I...missed you guys as well. Even after all that, it meant the world to know that someone I care deeply about survived." Cinder could feel a heat rising to her cheeks that made her healed scars tingle and she wished it was from the stew. She desperately wanted to change the conversation for now. "Are you planning on sticking around here or...something else?"


@BookWyrm

 

[Macaberz]

Olsten & Grybil

​

The air imploded. A scorching heat surged forward. In a flurry of motion, Olsten felt those dry clutches seize him with surprising force. Waethrin’s hoarse voice was so tense and strained that Olsten feared the man might lose his voice altogether. The hermit breathed into his face like a drunkard. One insult after the other was spat right into his face. He thought he felt some spittle land on his forehead.


His mind blanked out as his back found the jagged rock wall. Like a dormant volcano, the greybeard had erupted, burst into flame. Best to let it pass. Best to wait it out. Waethrin shook him, demanding attention. Meeting that cold-hearted, devilish eye was no easy feat, but he managed. Then, he was released.


Sucking in a ragged breath, Olsten rubbed his throat. It felt dry as cork, thanks to the lunatic’s show of power. But a sore throat was the least of the pains inflicted on him. Within a matter of seconds, Olsten’s notions about the other warden shifted completely. From a distance he’d looked calm, solemn almost. But now, all he could see was a deranged old man, self-centered, loathsome, and foaming at the mouth.


Olsten simply gawked at him. No words came to mind. He wanted to hurt the man back, shove him onto the ground perhaps, set his beard on fire. Yet he did none of these things. All he did was remain standing, frozen like a statue of yore, mouth slightly agape as though on the verge of uttering some rebuttal.


But even as Waethrin finished his tirade, no reply was forthcoming. Olsten clenched his jaw and ground his teeth. Rasrik was a ploughin’ saint in comparison to this insufferably sour little man. Yet, he remained, arms returning to their crossed position. He flared his nostrils.


“No.”


“I’m staying. I’ll stay until the stars have extinguished if need be. I didn’t survive this long just to be told to go away.” He uncrossed his arms and folded them behind his back, choosing his next words carefully.


“If you don’t want to teach me what you know, so be it. But you did not answer my questions.” He paused for a moment as he propped himself up against the rock face. “I know who you are. I’ve read stories about you. You’re the inferno.” Who’d have thought that one of his idols, the infamous Inferno was such a bitter old man. It was a disappointment to say the least.


“You left and no one knows why. And now you're back and no one knows why. You’re hiding something, and I’ll never stop pestering you until I find out. How’s that for drive?”


@Red Thunder

Orignal art by

Macaberz
​

 

[Red Thunder]

Waethrin

​

The Crystal Caves - North of Rosenfall

​

"It's a start."


His face twisted, and for the first time in a long time Waethrin smiled, though the effect resembled more a grimace than an actual smile thanks to unpracticed muscles.


"So you know who I am, do you? You know who I am and you still demand answers of me? Boy! When you sit atop your dragon, alone, staring down at advancing hordes of well armed, murderous armies, then can you make demands of the Inferno. This world hates you, child, and is far more cruel than the one I grew up in." Never mind the Shadow Mages who might want you. The thought was sobering. Waethrin at least was never directly targeted. He could train Olsten to defend himself; his current mentor had evidently done nothing to that end. To do that, the boy needed a fire within him. The old man had seen the spark; it just needed to grow.


"But you've got it in you to stand up, to thrive. I see your spirit; bring it out, boy." He held out a weathered hand, and from the upraised palm a small red flame appeared. It flashed and danced happily, giving a merry light that shone in stark contrast to the haunted look in the old man's face. "Show me your light, boy. Show me that you can even bring a flame to life."


@Macaberz

 

[Effervescent]

Dromast and Lo

​

Lo trotted into the cave near the medical tent, the metal armor clacking with each bounce of his step. He knew this meant he didn't have to wear the heavy plates anymore and could roam free and unhindered. The added weight had fatigued his wings from the long fight and flight. Each second that rolled on with the armor on only furthered his impatience, and he let out a guttural whine to attract the attention of not only his rider, but the other Guides scrambling about the area.


Now with so many dragons, it was quite intimidating for the regular people. Despite their nervousness and concern with being squashed, especially after what some witnessed with Addiver and the horned dragon, they still performed the duties they were tasked with upon their arrival.


"I thought we were only expecting two," a half elf said to Dromast as they passed by each other. The Dragon Warden shifted the weight of a satchel on her shoulder in her rush.


"That's why we prepare for the worst, my friend!" Dromast called out, and gave a wink towards the pinned Addiver Cald as she rushed into the medical tent for supplies. They were running low again, but with situations as they were, they were always running low. She silently hoped none of the dragons were seriously injured. Grybil was still healing and took up most of their supplies. Anything to do with medicine wasn't exactly procured in bulk by dragonless Thalls, so supply runs took time.


In a couple of minutes, Dromast emerged from the tent barking orders. She wasn't used to being a commander of sorts, but the Guides looked to her almost in a higher status than Addiver. Even he wanted her to call the shots with their dealings. Most of the Guides were sent off to hunt for more food for the dragons since they did not anticipate such high numbers. Better to bring the food to them than the other way around while they let the dust from Rosenfall settle. The others helped tend to the wounded or cook or direct the newcomers to anything they were in need of. Lo stomped his feet in complaint as his rider ran past him yet again. She wanted him to be more patient.


She met Quynn half way back out as he headed back towards the tent, her eyes moving to the injured and unconscious woman. Her brow furrowing as she took note of her sudden change in state and Quynn's disposition and concern. Pulling up the canvas of the tent, Dromast brought the two inside and helped the woman down onto a cot.


"If it were poisoned, she'd be foaming at the mouth and convulsing," she stated as she examined the wound and where the arrow had hit. From a bin she took a length of torn fabric to use as a tournaquette and tightened it just above the injury. "You wouldn't happen to be a Fire Caster, would you?"


She looked back over at Quynn and shook her head. "Ice," she continued as she calmly removed the arrowhead. The conversation she continued was a method she'd learned at the Haven during her lessons as a diplomat. It helped to keep her focused and soothed her nerves, and hopefully would do the same to anyone listening as she worked. And just as the blood began to pour out again anew, she worked quickly to sterilize the wound and stitch it up.


"Cinder out there is Arcane," Dromast continued. "With a name like that, you'd think she could throw out some fire. I'm Dromast, by the way. What's your name?"


@JDParadox @Elle Joyner

 

[JDParadox]

Quynn and Kovinth

​

Quynn followed Dromast inside, Raleia's unconscious form hanging on his shoulders, had to duck as they passed under the canvas. They laid her down stretched out on the cot, and he could only settle in to watch as Dromast tended to the wound with a kind of experience and efficiency himself could never hope to match. Not poisoned, she said. "That's... strange" Was it the potion then? Did the boy know what it would do?


"Guilty as charged. I haven't seen a whole lot of us left. It's either that or I'm the only one who hasn't went North where it's colder" Quynn quipped dryly, bit his lips and furrowed his brows as Dromast pulled the rest of the arrow out. Again the scar on his shoulder flared up. Raleia, all things considered, was lucky to be impervious to all this, she'd never experience the truly hard part; perhaps the potion had done some good after all, among other less desirable effects. He moved closer, turned himself sideways so he wouldn't be of inconvenience. There was no telling what she was dreaming of, or if she was at all, and yet still he almost envied her. Gods, what he wouldn't do for a good night of sleep, a warm bath, a hot meal,... They did well today, did they not? Thus, he figured he deserved all of that, and more.


Dromast's question snapped him back to reality. He blinked, coughed and turned a half-smile, almost offered his hand until he realised hers was in no way free, and was more or less caked with blood. "My name's Quyntalis, but most call me 'Quynn'. It's a pleasure" He nodded before stepping back a little to give her some more room. "And if I'm not mistake, you're also attuned to the Arcane. Is this your handiwork then, the hideout?" He was pacing about the tent impatiently, stretching his sore legs, stopped and turned around as he spoke. "It's quite a feat, keeping so much hidden from the Thalls." The world, to be precise.


He paused and made his way back towards Dromast. "And of course, if they weren't before, they'll surely be out for our blood after this little charade." Standing over Raleia and simply watching Dromast work made him antsy and restless, despite her best efforts to hold a conversation. Not wanting to leave it off on a somber note, he continued. "Will she be all right, anyways? Could you perhaps let me- Well, us" He corrected himself "-know when she wakes up?"


Gods; a hot bath, a warm meal, a change of clothes, and a week, or if luck would have it, a month of sleep.

 

[Effervescent]

Dromast and Lo

​

As she wiped away the blood from around the sutures carefully, she spared a thoughtful glance over to Quynn as he stumbled over his words. A knowing smile faintly tugged the corners of her lips, and she walked over to a crate to find a fresh bandage. The cave was one of the few central safe locations for Dragon Wardens that had proper medical supplies being so close to Rosenfall. Addiver, being so active in the cause, made sure to gather as much as he could to distribute to the other locations and to place what he can in care packages.


“It took more than just me to get this cave as heavily warded as it is now,” Dromast admitted. “We had requested the help of the Vuaturi since they're the best at it, but they're against taking sides in our conflict. Pisses me off, but we had some Guides from Eversythe come and help. Now all I have to do is maintain it. It's a little draining, but it's necessary.”


She carefully wrapped Raliea’s leg in the bandage as she thought about the woman’s size. She would definitely need a new pair of pants, and by the looks of it she was around her size, though possibly a bit skinnier. “You can sit and wait for her to wake up,” Dromast said. “Hopefully it won't be too long, but come and get me if she hasn't by supper. We have rabbit and some fresh salad for once if you're not a meat lover. I've got to get that armor off of Lo or he is going to bring this cave down with his tantrum.”


As if on cue, Lo moaned in lament of his heavy armor still upon his frame. Dromast chuckled. “Once I'm done there, I'll bring her back some clothes and you'll have to scadoodle. She'll probably want to wake up to a familiar face after all that, though. Nice to meet you, Quynn.”


With a wave of her hand, her fingers dancing about in a playful little gesture, Dromast pulled back the canvas of the medical tent and took her leave.


@JDParadox @Elle Joyner

 

[Elle Joyner]

Raleia woke with a bit of a start, keenly aware that her surroundings were both unfamiliar and that she had no recollection of how she had gotten there. It took a few seconds, a few long and marginally frightening seconds, before she was able to clear the fog from her mind. Vaguely she recalled the arrow in her knee but sitting upright and pushing back the bedclothes, she was both surprised and confused to find the wound bandaged... sore, but bandaged.


As the haze continued, slowly, to lift, she remembered Quynn... remembered asking him to assist her, and then she remembered taking the small vial that Olsten had given her and a few minutes later, having blacked out. It was the only thing that made sense. Whatever had been in that clear bottle, it had knocked her out, and fast. But for how long. Inside the tent there was no way of knowing how much time had passed - for all she knew, it could very well have been days.


Turning, she spotted those familiar elfin features only a few feet from her cot, where Quynn sat propped up in a rather uncomfortable looking chair. Raking her fingers through a mess of sanguine curls, something of a small, sheepish smile twitched at the corner of her mouth. She imagined she'd given him quite a scare...


"...You didn't have to stay." But there was gratitude in her voice, reflected in the steel-grey of her eyes, "I take it Olsten's gift was a bit more comfort than he might have realized. Thank you, for waiting. Seems I owe you quite a debt."


@JDParadox

 

[Macaberz]

Olsten & Waethrin

​

Collab with

@Red Thunder
​

"It's a start," Waethrin said.


One eyebrow darted up. Now he was like this again. If unpredictability was a virtue, Waethrin would be a saint. Cautious, but encouraged by the lack of physical violence used against him, Olsten stepped closer to Waethrin and assumed a more regal pose. Spine straight, hands tucked behind his back, chest pushed slightly up and out. It made a difference compared to the usual drooping shoulders and downcast eyes. He guessed Waethrin liked doing things the old-fashioned way because he himself was old-fashioned. Whether that was entirely true remained to be seen, but Olsten assumed that some assertiveness on his part could perhaps dampen Waethrin’s temper.


“I’m sorry.” He swallowed down a lump in his throat, and some pride too. “I only just made the connection with your name. If I’d known who you were from the start, I would not have-“ He bit his lips. “I would not have been as rude.” There, he’d gotten it out. But just when the faintest of smiles tugged at his lips, Waethrin dropped the bomb.


Ice shot through his veins. He almost dropped out of his formal pose to turn tail and run. The inferno wanted him to cast? To cast now? Talking with the heroic fire warden had been a test in of itself, but to now be judged by someone so revered, so legendary as the inferno himself. And under less than ideal circumstances too. He hadn’t exactly been at his best lately.


“I-“


Relucantly, he moved out his right hand, palm facing upward. So often a flame had sprung up with ease, but now he wasn’t so sure if he could even muster a spark. The only fire he managed with ease now was the heat rising to his cheeks.


“I don’t know if I can.” He shut his eyes and sighed. “The cuff- ever since- well, I kind of-“ But no amount of excuses, valid or not, was going to save him now. He reached inward-


-A flame sprung to life. And not just any flame. Bright blue, viciously hissing at the air and almost painful to look at. It was so contrary to what he’d expected that his concentration faltered, and the flame extinguished within two seconds. He retreated a pace, staring at his own hand, shaking his head.


“It doesn’t make any sense,” he muttered.


Only his eye betrayed the shock that the old man felt, and that only briefly. The hell? Blue? An orange or red flame was 'dirty': more burned in its heat than simple oxygen and belied some part of the caster that wasn't entirely devoted to the action. The reasons were as different and varied as the mages that cast it; for Waethrin, though he was able to suppress it, he was and had always been nagged by self-doubt as to his motivations. The Why. In contrast, a blue fire was pure, burning only oxygen, and a fire mage that cast it had devoted himself wholly to his purpose and action. Only fire mages who'd spent long years in focused practice and study could generate such pure and detached flame. To the best of Waethrin's knowledge, this wasn't commonly known before Haven's downfall.


And now Olsten, so obviously not focused or practiced, pulled a blue fire into existence, seemingly easier than breathing. But the time wasn't right to draw attention to that. Instead Waethrin nodded, grim surety conveying his happiness with the result. The boy looked panicked, voice trembling in uncertainty and concern. He had to know why.


"You generated a flame, the most basic skill of the youngest 'prentice. You're, what, twelve? This should be easy for you. Yet you say it makes no sense?"


“No, it doesn’t!" He gestured wildly. "I've had the greatest trouble ever since I had those enchanted cuffs on, and now this happens. I just," he sighed bitterly. "I just don't get it."


Desperation shook his voice. There had to be a reason. Waethrin seemed pleased, but none too impressed. "It's probably no big deal for you but...I've never managed blue flames before. Just hasn't happened." Perhaps it was just a flame to the master of fire, but to him it was so much more. Both hands flew to his hair as he wrecked his brain for an answer. Eyes squeezed shut he paced around, trying ever so hard to shut the world out and gather his thoughts.


Silence. All he harvested was silence.


"Thirteen actually," he mumbled. Normally he would've made a much bigger deal out if it, but he was too stumped to give the comment any more thought.


His gut turned to ice. What did it mean if one's casting abilities fluctuated so wildly? What if he tried again? What if he lost control, like he had at the Silver Lance? Had this been the dying flame of his magic? It made him feel sick to his stomach. Without magic he was nothing, nothing at all.


Again his eyes found the old master. Only this time they pleaded. "Please help me," A bead of cold sweat dripped down his brow. "I don't know what's happening to me..."


Waethrin fell quiet, merely looking at the boy before him, distraught over such a foundational issue. His face, as ever, was stoic, but his expression softened a brief instant before hardening again.


"No."


He closed the distance between them once again, yanking one of Olsten's hands up between them and forcing the palm open. Another flame burst into existence in the free weathered hand, demonstrating what he expected of the child.


"You've done it once; the hell do you need my help for? You've proven you can give it life: now sustain it." With the grunt of an old man, he stepped back. "Fire is a petulant child, full of potential for both great and terrible things. Lesson three: be patient with it."


The effect wore off after a while, and Olsten wasn't all too surprised when Waethrin flat out rejected his plea. Luckily, he wasn't given the time to mourn over it as Waethrin urged him to try again. Olsten grimaced before tapping once more into the pool of magic. To his relief, a flame sprung up. A steady orange with a core of blue.


"I don't know," he replied feebly. "I guess, I don't need your help with this?" He shrugged and stared at the steady blaze in his hand. There was something soothing about gently dancing flames. He could stare at them for ages without getting bored. Though, holding a flame wasn't terribly exciting either.


A grin split his face. "Wanna see something cool?"


Without waiting for an answer, Olsten furrowed his brown in concentration. His tongue squeezed past his lips as he elongated the flame with his other hand until it was as thin as a whip. "Watch this."


With a little twirl of his index finger the fiery line curled up around his arm. He whipped his arms into a T pose and with a flash, the snake-like fire curled from his right side to his left, shot out, and extinguished against the rock. Olsten laughed. "Cool huh?"


A charred smell would waft towards Waethrin. Little black scorch marks lined Olsten's tunic. He'd completely forgotten he wasn't wearing anything fireproof.


His new, and now quite possibly very temporary, mentor watched impassively as Olsten performed his trick. It was to be fair a reasonable manipulation of the destructive element and, clothing damage aside, impressive. Most teachers would have praised the lad, or at the least given positive if half-hearted feedback, especially considering the rut he'd so recently found himself in.


But Olsten had the misfortune of being, or having just been, the student of Waethrin. The sides of the old warrior's nose pulled up in disgust at the amateurish and immature use of such a dangerous element. With a huff he spun on his heel, striding away into the deeper reaches of the crystal caverns. He needed time alone, time to consider the situation he now found himself in: several other Wardens and their dragons, all in hiding from a mad monarch who, perhaps legitimately, sought an end to each remaining ginger life in existence; and the sudden appearance of a young lad, desired by the now dead Lisella, who reminded Waethrin so much of himself.


As he rounded a well traveled corner, nearly bowling over two Guides as they rushed about their duties, the thought of Lisella made him grimace in worry. She was dead, right? That blast had eliminated a good many buildings: that traitor should have stood no chance. Grumbling at the unknowns, he adopted his deepest, foulest looking frown to keep any others from approaching him and pressed on, seeking the company of Ancalagon.


Olsten sighed. Hands hanging uselessly at his sides he slouched back towards the fire, back towards Grybil. He’d been rather proud of his own trick and eager to show it. To be then met with a huff, from the Inferno no less, was disheartening to say the least. Without a word he plonked down against his dragon’s side. At least Grybil understood.


He closed his eyes and let the dragon’s steady breathing lull him into a light sleep.


@Effervescent

Orignal art by

Macaberz
​

 

[JDParadox]

Quynn and Kovinth

​

"I'll see you around" Were the last words Quynn said to Dromast before she departed the tent. He had left shortly after that to draw himself a well-overdue bath, fetched himself some food and a change of clothes. Sometime after coming back to the tent, he had managed to drift into a half-trance, leaning forwards in the rather uncomfortable wooden chair. The featureless walls of the medical tent made for poor companionship, nor were the sterile medical supplies great conversationalists; so Quynn opted to just wait, instead, and listened to his own thoughts.


Raleia stirred, woke with a sudden start that brought him out of his own daydream. Quynn breathed a sharp sigh of relief as she spoke, "There's far too few of us left to talk of debts.", waved her off with a half-smile and a little scoff. "You asked for my help and I promised it. Wouldn't be right to leave you to wake up alone in this dreary bloody tent"


Quynn grunted as he stood up, covered his mouth as he gave a little yawn while stretching out his stiff and still aching legs. He would need to commission some sort of saddle sooner rather than later if they were planning on continuing their fight. "How are you feeling, anyways?" He moved closer to her, resting his forearm on the pommel of his sword so it wouldn't sway so much.


"Dromast seems to have done a fine job of bandaging up your leg. You probably owe her a lot more than you do me"


@Elle Joyner

 

[Elle Joyner]

Quynn stood and Raleia's gaze traveled with him. He was tall, but then, she was almost certain everyone towered over her. Size had never been her greatest advantage and she was rather accustomed to looking up when she spoke. With everyone, perhaps, save the exception of dear Olsten, but that would undoubtedly change once the boy grew into himself. Being on the smaller scale had it's benefits, she supposed, not that she'd seen to many of them, lately.


"A bit dazed, but no worse for wear, I suppose." Reaching down, she brushed her fingertips across the bandaging, before stretching out her leg with a small grimace. It was tight, certainly, and she knew well enough that the dull ache she felt now would undoubtedly be worse by the morning, but she was confident it would hold her weight, "Should heal just fine, I should think." They wouldn't have much luxury, she imagined, in waiting for a full recovery. The caves were warded, and well, it seemed, but things were much worse than Raleia had ever anticipated. She'd seen the way she and Olsten were looked at... the fear in the eyes of the people. The hatred. And their rescue and subsequent escape had not been exactly subtle. A moment of kindness shown to a guard plagued by nightmarish visions would certainly not be enough to warrant them pardon by the Queen, or anyone for that matter.


Their world was translated... completely altered, and it would seem, irreparable. Whoever of them remained, the survivors of Haven, they weren't many and they definitely weren't enough to fight the war waged against them.


Swinging her legs over the side of the cot, Raleia tested her knee before she rose. Her legs were shaky, but they held and with some effort she took a tentative step, "Indeed, she's done a fine job. But Ollie and I, we wouldn't be here if it were not for you and Rasrik. You saved our lives at the risk of your own, and for that, there are no words to measure my gratitude."


Stretching, she turned to see the small pile of clothes on the table beside the cot and a soft smile formed, "Ah! These are for me?" Too many days in a miserably dank and musty prison had not been kind to her, and while she'd never been one to fuss, aesthetically speaking, a good wash up and a change of clothes could do wonders for one's disposition, "Is there a bath?"


@JDParadox

 

[JDParadox]

Quynn and Kovinth

​

The Dragon Warden's numbers were diminished, that much was beyond question. Their small victory at Rosenfall today was the stuff of the seemingly impossible, taken straight from some epic written by a poet who had never held a blade. And yet here they were, with only one wounded. Breaking out of a Thallas prison, less one situated dead in the middle of their grandest jewel of Rosenfall, was a feat that should have taken a great many sacrifices. Only the gods could know what the future held for them; no doubt they will require a much larger force to win this battle; but for now, Quynn was content to set the matter aside for a another day.


As Raleia moved to the edge of the cot, Quynn shuffled in closer, readied his arms in case her injured leg should give out. He waited patiently as she steeled herself and took a step forwards. His lips curled up just a little at her words; there really was no need to further inflate his ego. "Please, and here I thought we have already agreed to not speak of debts. But, since you insisted, I'll happily accept your gratitude"


Quynn glanced at the clothes as she did. "Dromast brought them in while you were asleep. Figured you needed to change out of those prison rags" Quynn shrugged, then made his way to the entrance. He lifted up the canvas, felt the cool winter breeze on his skin, squinted a little as his eyes readjusted to the light. There was no better season than winter, if you asked him, though a Fire Warden might not agree so much.


"Aye, there is, deeper inside the cave. It's a natural spring" Quynn added, turning to face her, tent flap still propped up with one hand. Smiling, he beckoned her with the other. "Come, I can show you the way. The others have already settled in and if you're hungry, which I'm guessing you are, they're cooking up rabbit stew"

 

[Elle Joyner]

Smiling up at him, Raleia shook her head, "No more talk of debts, you have my word. But the world always has a way of rewarding kindness, and I've no doubt what you've done for Ollie and I with no go overlooked." Plucking up the armful of clothes, she followed after him to the edge of the tent. The air had grown colder since their flight from Rosenfell, a bitter chill that cut through skin, down to the bone. Shivering, she peered over Quynn's shoulder, catching side of Winnock, who had positioned himself near the tent entrance.


From his posture, he seemed relaxed, but as his dark eyes took in the half-elf he rose to his haunches and a low, guttural growl rumbled in his throat. Stepping past Quynn, Raleia held up her hands, frowning, "Easy, Winnie. We've only friends here..." The dragon craned his head forward, snapped his teeth and lowering her arms, Raleia shot him a stern glare, stretching out to pat the underside of his jaw, "Enough, you big baby. Go lie down, before you make a fool of yourself. I'll be back..." Smoothing her hand over his snout, she smiled and with a small whine, Winnock turned, stomping off. He settled near two of the other dragons, turned in a circle before flopping down into the dust with a solid thud.


Rolling her eyes, Raleia turned back to Quynn, "Sorry about that. After you..."


As Quynn led the way to the springs, she looked around, taking in the rest of the caves. All things considered, it wasn't the worst possible hide-away. Perhaps not intended for quite so many fugitives, but it was secure enough, and graciously, there seemed to be more than enough supplies to go around. Still, they were hardly an army. How they were going to take on the challenge ahead of them, there was really no answer that brought Raleia any comfort.


Arriving at the springs, however, all thoughts fled but those of shedding her ragged, dirty travel clothes and sluicing away those weeks of dirt and grime. Unbuckling her cloak, she dropped it onto a rock beside the water, then bent down to unlace her boots, her eyes moving to Quynn, to whom she offered a small, sheepish smile, "If you're staying, you should probably turn around."


@JDParadox

 

[BookWyrm]

Rasrik and Valos.

​

Rasrik rubbed his temples as he sighed. It hurt to think about Haven, especially his students. Sure, he and Cinder had both lost pupils, but had she seen the fear in their eyes as they slipped from your grasp as you were flying away? A sudden familiar pressure stirred Rasrik's attention, his gaze wandering to his hand, their hands, before looking up to meet Cinder's eyes. Even after everything that happened...





He couldn't help but smile when she pulled her hand away, clearly embarrassed to have been squeezing his hand. I'm glad we didn't lose everything. Ras looked over at Voa and Valos and chuckled. "As if they need an excuse to get into trouble...again. You do remember what they used to be like right?" Ras sat back and stretched before rolling his shoulders around, trying his best to loosen up some. Even though everything was going good between them so far Rasrik was still nervous as a cat around Cinder. It had been year since he had seen her last. No, don't bring that memory back up. They had moved on in their own ways, it wouldn't do to dig up skeletons.


"I...missed you guys as well. Even after all that, it meant the world to know that someone I care deeply about survived." Rasrik caught a slight blush forming on Cinder's face before she turned away. That alone meant the world to him. "Are you planning on sticking around here or...something else?" Ras blew out his cheeks for a second before scratching at his head. Had he really given life a thought before now? Sure as hell he didn't back in Beetleben. "There aren't many of us left. All of this time I spent drinking myself away, trying to hide from the worry and fears, and what I really needed was something to live for again." Ras looked around at the other Wardens, the dragons, the guides, and everything going about in the cave. His eyes finally found their way back to Cinder as he smiled. "I've found it here, along with some other things I hadn't expected to see again." Could he take the risk? Oh how he wanted to, but would how would she respond? "I...I really missed you, Cin."

 

[Space Cowboy Ein]

Cinder and Voarex


Crystal Caves North of Rosenfall


Cinder's mind was racing at just under a thousand thoughts a minute. After a year of effectively being on her own, save for her students and Voa, without Ras, she wasn't sure how'd they'd be able to continue. But she wanted to at least give it a shot. After all this time, they would have time to reconcile, eventually. So long as they stuck around each other, she was sure that they'd find a way. She froze up for a moment before looking over to him, filled with the first real bit of joy that she'd felt in a while. "I'm glad you're staying Ras." Her eyes met his and it wasn't like that night again at all. And then, as if on cue, he went on ahead and called her by his own little nickname for her. Whatever attempts she made at keeping the blush down were in vain as she couldn't help but let her mind wander to the last time she'd been called that. "Ras...you..." Damn the man, for once he had all the right things to say.


She set her bowl down on the cave floor and a smirk came across her lips. Maybe they could worry about their depressing past later, for now.... "I've missed you too, and in more ways than one." She said before leaning over and pressing a kiss against his cheek. "If you aren't going anywhere, then maybe you won't mind wandering these caves for a bit. I don't think I can handle sitting around any longer." She took in a deep breath before standing and stretching out as far as her injuries would let her. She ran a hand through her hair and decided she'd keep her cool despite how fast her heart was beating at the moment. "And to be honest, the place is beautiful, I'd like to see what else it has to offer." She turned back to Ras and offered her good hand to help him up.


@BookWyrm

 

[JDParadox]

Quynn

​

"One would certainly hope so" Quynn muttered, smiling weakly. There was something about her words that gave him a warm, but albeit false sense of comfort. Nice thoughts to be sure, but as much as he would have liked to believe them, the world seldom worked that way. The task that stood ahead of them wasn't one to be tackled by mere words and hopeful thoughts. He turned, there was no sense in showing his disagreement, kept the canvas held up as she followed him out.


It was outside that he was greeted by that towering beast, covered in red scales and clearly intent on eating him had it not been for her timely intervention - her dragon that she called Winnock. Quynn recoiled instinctively at the sight; stopped himself just shy of the hilt as his hand reached for the sword. As Raleia moved forwards, he let him self relax, kept his eyes fixed on the petulant thing until he had settled down. "No need to apologise. Just... Dragons being Dragons" Quynn's composure had returned quickly, but his paces were a little quicker, making their way deeper inside.


Perhaps the beauty had already worn off for those that considered it these caves their home, like the guides that they passed by while on their way, but Quynn had been struggling to find the words to do it justice. They found their spring with little difficulty, and Quynn stood by as Raleia started to undress. Her skin white and pure as ivory, curling red locks stretching down to her back that complemented the contours of her delicate frame... He was staring, and Raleia had noticed it before he had. Quynn's face was suddenly much too warm for his comforts. "And now I'm the one to apologise" He turned quickly, muttering quiet curses at himself. His mind raced for something fill the silence. Should he just leave? Far too late for that.


"The crystals. They're quite something, aren't they?" He crossed his arms, still turned away from her. Something to fill the silence, but nonetheless true. They were the ceiling and the walls, a hundred different shapes and a thousand different colours, glimmering with some otherworldly light. All of it seemingly taken from some genius Arcanist's mad dreams. Mad, and-


"Gorgeous" Quynn almost turned to face her, but thought better. He was more of a gentleman than that, and besides, he would do better than to show her the red on his cheeks.

 

[Elle Joyner]

Pulling off her boots and setting them side by side, Raleia spared another glance at Quynn as he turned his back to her. There was a modest twinge to his voice and her lip twitched upwards as she rose from the rock to peel out of the rest of her clothes.


"It's magnificent..." She admitted, glancing up into the cavernous ceiling, where shimmering stalactite hung down like drapery, the silvery grey cast of the crystals shining like starlight across the deep blue pool of water. Steam rose off the surface of the spring, drifting and roiling like ghostly wisps, a small waterfall spilling down from the wall, rolling out in ripples that broke against the shore in small sloshing waves.


Stepping into the water, she tested her knee carefully, before moving deeper, until just the tips of her toes touched the ground, "You and Rasrik... you've been traveling for a while, together, have you?"


"Not until very recently, no, but we've known each other from before." Quynn paused, grabbed hold of the scabbard and drew out a length of his blade. It was a battered old thing, chipped and scratched in more places than one, leather bound hilt torn and peeling, yet the metal itself was polished to a mirror shine in which he could spot his own reflection. He looked older, still handsome, but beaten and rugged as the rest of them. The mark of a great warrior wasn't his own appearance, but that of his weapon - words to live by, that was what he was taught.


"I was one of his students, one of those unfortunate ones" Quynn snorted, slid the steel back into its sheath, let the familiar weight rest against his side once more. "He taught me the very foundations of combat, taught me how to survive. Without him, well, I might not be standing here today; possibly wouldn't have lived through-" Haven, he meant to say, but the word never left his lips. Some things were sometimes best left unmentioned.


"And what about you and Olsten?" He recovered quickly. "You too seems to be familiar with each other... Or, at the very least, he seems quite taken with you" There was only one explanation for the strange looks he was given earlier, both back in Rosenfall and when they first landed. Quynn couldn't help but let his lips curl up in amusement at the thought.


"He..." Frowning, Raleia considered the weight of those words, the gravity pressing down on her a little. Scrunching her toes in the sandy bottom of the spring, she contemplated Olsten's actions, "Ollie and I met in the prison in Rosenfall. He was brought in a few days after me. He's a good kid, but he's been through more than any child should ever endure. We've all endured more than necessary. I admit, I hadn't considered his affections might be a bit misguided."


Slowly,her lips curved in a weary, dry smile, "I've been too long on my own, it would seem. Still, it's harmless, I'm sure. He'll tender to the first pretty girl we come across who pays him mind, and forget all about me." Of course, Valnir had spoken often of Olsten stubborn resolution.


"Oh, goodness." The laughter came unexpectedly, a silvery, soft sound and sinking a little deeper, her cheeks flushed, she shook her head, "This may be trouble..." Quynn chuckled affably. He found her laughter was of the infectious kind, never mind that he couldn't face her.


Quynn leaned backwards until his back was sprawl across the cavern floor, a bit damp, but not so much that it would bother him. "Whoever this pretty girl is, let's hope we can find her quickly, before you should break poor Olsten's tender heart" Resting his hand on both his arms, his eyes found their ways, little by little, towards the brilliant crystals that hung from the ceiling. Could they have stayed in here forever? Forget about the Thalls, abandon the rest of that cold-hearted, ungrateful world outside and just stay in here, where everything was calm and still and perfect?


"Oh... but you don't think..." Poor Olsten. He'd already been through so much, and while broken hearts could in fact mend, that wasn't at all something she'd impart on her worst enemies, "Let us hope, indeed."


Still, it was hard to dwell on such thoughts in so majestic a setting. Quynn lay back against the soft earth and Raleia followed his gaze as it towards to the ceiling. The stars had been her only comfort, after she and Winnock had fled the veil - their beauty a stalwart reminder that there was still some grace left in the world. Even in their prison she had still been able to make out the pinprick lights scattered across the heavens, through the hole above them. And now here in the dark of the caves, the crystals shimmered high over head, so much like the stars it was difficult not to imagine they were beneath the black sky of night. It was magic in it's purest form...


Quynn turned his head vaguely towards Raleia, made careful to keep her form only at the very edge of his sights. "I know we agreed to not speak of it, but-" Quynn paused, partly looking for the right words, and partly desperately trying to keep the crimson off off his cheeks "-I'm quite glad we rescued you"


Turning her eyes back to Quynn she caught the corner of his gaze angled towards her. She could not see the color in his cheeks, but felt the warmth spread across her own as she looked away, "As am I, Quynn."


Clearing her throat, Raleia raked her fingers through her hair and edged towards the shallows again, where she found Dromast's clothing where she'd left them. Climbing out, she reached for her cloak, using it to dry off, then picking through the articles, found a pair of dark hide breeches and a shift that fit well enough. Slipping into them, she latched her belt around her waist and lastly, tugged on her boots, settling down on the rock, to lace them. As she rose again, she tested her knee, which still felt a little weaker than she would have liked, but held her weight well enough.


"You must be starved... Let's see if that rabbit's done, shall we?" Quynn led her back out towards the main caves, hazy disappointment lurking at the back of his mind as the springs passed out of view. He had cherished their little moment, but his lingering smile was one that spoke more of sadness. The real world awaited them still, where the challenges ahead bordered on the unfeasible, and the stars would never shine so bright.


Collab with @JDParadox

 

[BookWyrm]

Rasrik and Cinder.

​

When Rasrik saw Cinder blush he knew his words found their mark, and thankfully had the desired affect. But when she kissed his cheek and made the statement about missing him he found himself slightly caught off guard. He looked at her hand for a moment as his mind wandered over everything, including that night a year past. If he would have thought that he'd be here with her - not that he was complaining, he just hadn't expected this when he saw her at the mouth of the cave earlier.


Ras gently took the hand offered and stood next to Cinder. "I might have been getting a little bored, so I think I'll take you up on the offer." He flashed Cin a mischievous smile before looking off into the caves. "It does look quite beautiful back there. And quiet."


A quick moment of uncertainty washed over Cinder but left just as fast as it came when Ras took her hand. Maybe, just maybe, things could be a little like old times despite everything. She turned for the back of the main cavern and had to admit that now was the first time she got to fully take the beauty of the place in. It was like vibrant rainbow except it was everywhere. She squeezed his hand and smirked before starting towards what looked to be a tunnel less traveled. "It adds to the effect, certainly. You get a lot of time to reflect on it." And they certainly would have a lot to reflect on, the appearance of gems aside.


As the voices of both Wardens and Guides faded away, Cinder became more and more relaxed. The mask that she usually reserved for her kind was finally able to drop, and the calm-as-a-cucumber dragon warden became not more than a woman who had way too much on her plate since her entire life was thrown into a maelstrom. Eventually the lights reflecting in from the main caverns would not be enough to let them see, so Cinder pulled a glowstone from a pocket to help light the way. What greeted her sight took her breath away. They had come into an opening where large veins of white crystal ran along the walls while pillars of a similar nature ran from floor to ceiling in various angles. The aethereal light reflected off of the crystal, which gave off a rather intense purple/blue glow.


For a moment, Cinder found herself lost in the moment, but it quickly brought back fond memories of her younger years. She smiled as she waved her arm about to watch the light dance around the various faces of crystal around them. "Y'know, this wouldn't have been a bad spot for our first date. Though, going to see the northern lights while we were out in Baladur was a pretty smooth move." She shot a playful look to Ras. "It probably would've been more romantic if we didn't have to resolve territorial spats immediately afterwards."


Rasrik had to admit that he always enjoyed Cinder's playful side. "Well, it wasn't like they were going to take time off just because we were on a date. Although, it would have been nice." His eyes had been drinking her in again ever since they started off towards the deeper cave. Familiar curves moved and flowed in ways he hadn't seen in well over a year. "I guess I can call that one of my best ideas, though. I can remember the look in your eyes like it was yesterday."


Ras took a couple of steps forward before reaching out and laying a hand gently against her face, his other laying against her opposite hip. His thumb ran over her new scars carefully, tracing each as it veered off. "You are still just as beautiful as the last day I saw you."


"I'd put it in the top three, for sure. Right behind asking me in the first place." Cinder mused as Ras stepped forward, past the line she had drawn for so many other men since. The hand to the hip was a welcome gesture, but she lit up when she felt his thumb on her scars. She felt a mixture of excitement and vulnerability that made her mind go numb for the moments that his thumb ran across her more tender, deeper, wounds. "You-..." Her words got caught in her throat for a moment before she worked up the nerve to continue speaking. "You're just...saying that. Unless you really do dig scars...."


Ras smiled at Cinder and shook his head slightly. "As far as scars go, you've got one of the most impressive, but I don't think it detracts from your beauty. I still see the face of the woman I fell for that night under the northern lights." He leaned in and pressed his lips against her own. It was a slow kiss, but not lavish or too much all at once. It was a simple, slow kiss. After they pulled back from each other Ras chuckled quietly. "That was better than I remember it being."


Cinder would have had some witty comeback if Rasrik hadn't snatched it from her mouth with a kiss. She always hated how she was around Ras sometimes. As friendly as stern as she could be with the other people in her life, she always would find a way to turn to butter in his arms. And if the world didn't work as it did, she'd have been a puddle of a dragon warden. She went limp for a moment before returning the kiss until they parted. She was breathless as he spoke and could only manage an exasperated laugh at his quip. "You know what they say.." She said as she wrapped her arms around his neck and brought her face closer to his. "Absence makes the heart grow fonder." She stood on the tips of her toes to deliver another kiss similar in nature to his own, though she wasn't as eager to pull away anytime soon this time.


Rasrik matched Cinder in pace and intensity as they continued to kiss. She was right. Her absence had taken it's toll on him, perhaps in more ways than he had expected. He bent down slightly, getting into a better position before hefting Cinder into his arms, shortening the distance between the two of them and making it that much easier to enjoy the moment.


Cinder was lost in the moment and dropped the glow crystal, it's new position now causing the light in the room to darken some. She skipped a breath for a moment as she felt familiar hands in familiar places and in one movement she was off the ground with her legs wrapped around Ras. Soft mewlings come from her in their embrace and finally it felt like the past year's events had all but washed away, and everything was about to be right in the world if only for a time.

 

[Effervescent]

Rosenfall Aftermath

​

The fires in Rosenfall’s Market District glowed a vibrant orange as the sun rested low in the sky beyond the distant mountains. It had only been hours since the Dragon Wardens attacked. Those who traveled from out of town made haste to their homes far and away from the mess that lingered. Fear of another attack lingered within the minds of the citizens. The damage upon the walls were quickly tended to in efforts to refortify the city as soon as possible. Casualties were carefully counted as injuries were swiftly tended.


The Queen’s Guard kept the royal family confined within the castle walls under constant watch. Queen Malan paced the length of the room, her aged lips pursed in frustration fully recognized when coupled with her furrowed brow. What had transpired earlier that day brewed in her mind, her previous thoughts on Dragon Wardens festering like a diseased wound.


Her children and ward sat anxiously in silence that lingered after the last siege weapon’s boom. It was all they could hear through layers of stone aside from the occasional shouting from the guards. Ilyanis tried her best to ignore the queen’s pacing or the worried expression upon the princess. Princess Saleste spared glances towards the elf in hopes to garner the ward’s attention in silence. They were lovers in secret, and the troubling situation and fear of death had her longing for the comfort of her embrace.


Prince Rodmidre stared at a painting that hung upon the wall opposite of his family. It was a portrait of Thall as he led the first settlers to Rosenfall, his sword glistening in the sunlight as his followers praised him with open hands to the skies. He studied every brushstroke and every buildup of impasto as if knowing the subtle details would somehow be of use. It wasn't until a knock on the door caused everyone to stop what they were doing to stare at the large, steel enforced oak door.


One of the guards inside the room turned to the door. "State your business," he called out as clear as he could. The others gripped their spears as they waited for a response.


"This is Captain Aberforth Norman reporting," a muffled voice called back through the thick wooden doors. "We've found the Queen's Advisor. Paul Paulson from the walls found her in the Market District. She's in the infirmary now."


"Will she live?" Queen Malan asked in nearly a whisper. The guard reiterated her question to Captain Norman.


"It's unknown," Norman responded. "The royal physician is with her now doing all he can."


A moment's pause settled within the room as they thought about losing their friend and trusted advisor. Ilyanis looked down to the floor to hide her distaste towards the woman. No one else seemed to notice the ward's lack of concern for Lisella's well being as their gazes fixed upon the only visible door to the room.


"Bring Paul Paulson to me," Queen Malan ordered.

The Crystal Cave

​

The night was winding down, and with it everyone's nerves. Most of the Guides were told to head home after things had settled at the crystal cave. Addiver didn't want to risk any of his people being marked for treason should someone come across their hideout. Dromast's wards were strong, but being a magicless person, he didn't fully get how they worked. All he knew is that outside the cave he couldn't seem to notice the tent much less any dragons tromping about the cavern. He knew they were in there though, and through that magic he could step into the cavern and see everything normally.


Addiver rubbed his chest where the horned dragon had pinned him to the ground. His sternum felt bruised, and he was lucky the beast hadn't cracked any of his ribs in the process. He was really more lucky that the lot of them hadn't decided to kill him at any point. They didn't know him from any other stranger, and he was the only one who wore the colors of the Queen's Guard.


The scent of roasting meat around the campfire outside seemed to garner a crowd of those remaining both Guides and Dragon Warden. Dromast was conversing at length to one of the half elf guides by the fire, her skewer of rabbit meat swinging about the air as she spoke exuberantly. He made his way over to the fire, the cook handing him his own stick of meat with a smile as she poked fun at his situation with the dragon. He laughed with her, though secretly wished he hadn't been displayed so comically in front of his peers.


"Alright, I'd like everyone's attention, please," Addiver called out as he adorned his businessman air. He took a bite of his rabbit meat as he waited for people to look at him. While some still continued with their small conversations, he continued on anyway.


"I've got some things to discuss partaining to both the Guides and the Dragon Wardens," he said. "First off, we all know the Dragon Wardens can't stick around here for too long. We need to have this mine up and running for tomorrow's work day so nothing is suspicious. I think we've got all their supplies in bags, but we need to double check before the night is done."


He nodded over to Dromast. "Dromast informed me of some new intelligence we all need to take heed. Orcs are coming from the North, and they're headed for Thallas. After what's happened today in Rosenfall, we all know this kingdom will fall with another attack. They'll be heading through the Woodlands of Valnahar." He paused, looking to any Dragon Warden that paid him any mind during his briefing.


"Now, I know you folk don't care much for us Thalls," Addiver continued. "I don't blame you after what happened to your home. But please don't neglect this attack from the orcs just because of us. The Sur are the targets right now, and we all know their land is sacred. Folhath will hopefully be far enough out of the way for the orcs to bypass, but they still have hundreds of settlements throughout those woods. There are a lot of shae in there too."


"Don't forget about the Twisted Woods," Dromast reminded, and Addiver nodded his head.


"Aye," he said. "Without the Dragon Wardens at the Haven, the Twisted Woods has started to grow beyond its borders and at an unsettling pace. People close to the woods have started disappearing again. We need to remember to send out word to Guides in those areas. Maybe any Dragon Wardens passing through can help with that. We've also got a heavy amount of Shadow activity coming South. We need to send out these missives with the next export and hopefully get some Dragon Wardens to help out the Sur. I haven't heard anything from them yet, but they might already be focusing their efforts on that front already. Does anyone have any questions or concerns or... I don't know. Anything before we move on?"


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

 

[Macaberz]

Olsten & Grybil

​

Had it been anyone else, Olsten would’ve continued to pretend to be asleep. But Addiver was someone he respected. The man had kept his word and set Grybil free. Additionally, he’d saved Raleia and Winnock too. For those reasons, Olsten lazily rubbed his eyes, propped himself upright against Grybil’s steadily heaving frame and trained his gaze on Addiver. He tried to pay close attention. Not in the least because meetings such as these were usually closed to youngsters like himself, and all his eavesdropping attempts back at the Haven had failed rather miserably.


By the time Addiver and the arcane Warden he’d heard to be called Dromast were finished with their story, he was on high alert. He didn’t know much about Orcs, or the Sur. But what he did know was that Orcs wouldn’t rally into an army on their own accord. They were brutes who tended to their own most of the time. It seemed unlikely that they would band together and march against the Sur and the Thalls unless there was something to be gained by it. And unless they had a leader to rally around.


If anyone had a right to dislike Thalls, it would be the Dragon Wardens. Nevertheless, Olsten would not sit by idly and watch the Orcs trample sacred grounds. He found the idea of encountering Shae much more terrifying, remembering all too well that he’d shot one not too long ago.


Noticing the silence that ensued, Olsten took it upon himself to dispel it. He stood to his full height, little though it might be, and looked around. His eyes lingered briefly on Rasrik. All this time, they still hadn’t spoken. He was more than happy not to, yet he knew that eventually an occasion would arise where they could no longer ignore each other. For now however, he seemed pre-occupied with the feisty, short-haired arcane Warden called Cinder. Good for him. They sure looked to be each other’s match, down to the scars. Quynn was given an unusual stare. Conflicted. The half-elf seemed nice enough. Too nice. Particularly to Raleia who Olsten avoided to look at.


“I know my opinion here doesn’t count all that much. Or at all. But,” he paused for a moment. “But I don’t think we should split up. You see,” a frown etched itself into his brow. His eyes flitted downward. “I was with a group of other Wardens before. But I left them. I thought I could last on my own. But I couldn’t. Not even for a few days.” He looked up. Meeting their gazes. “You’re all better than me. Better fighters, better casters, better trackers, better anything. But even you won’t last alone, or in pairs. Our only chance is to stick together.”


A tickly sensation rose to his cheeks. He hadn’t exactly held a speech before, and he didn’t quite know where to put his hands. Nevertheless, he soldiered on. “There’s only a few Thalls I care about, and they’re all right here. But if meeting the Orcs will keep them safe and repay the kindness they’ve shown us, I’m ready to leave for the Woodlands of Valnahar by dawn.”


And with that said, he plonked back down, allowing the next Warden to speak. Looking more than a little determined, Olsten searched his surroundings for Waethrin and fired a challenging look at the sour, lice-infested hermit.


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

Orignal art by

Macaberz
​

 

[Elle Joyner]

It was a lot to take in, particularly so soon after their rescue, but Raleia had found that time and misfortune rarely waited for the opportune moment to strike. The world they knew was falling to pieces, a thread pulled taut, unraveling pieces, bit by bit, and they were all so busy fighting each other they couldn't even see the real threat. The Shadow was encroaching, slinking closer and closer, day by day. Soon enough, if they didn't put aside the ridiculous strife and learn to work together again, the land would be bathed in black... and all hope would be lost.


Olsten was the first to stand, and Raleia wasn't remotely surprised. For his youth, he was as bold and precocious as any grown man might be. She noted his glance around the crowd, the nervous knot he swallowed down before he spoke. And it did not escape her attention, the pointedly conflicted expression he pressed upon Quynn. The half-elf's warning words about Ollie fondness of her came back to mind and she felt a small smile twitch at the corner of her lips. Perhaps his feelings were misguided, but he had certainly endeared himself to her in a way very few ever had. Her fingers reached up, wrapped around the wooden amulet. Valnir had said once if he were ever to have a son he had hoped they might be like Olsten, and looking at him now with a measure of pride and affection, Raleia understood exactly what he'd meant.


He wasn't the scattered, angry child she had met in their prison, who had thrown a punch at her in order to get the guards to release them. He was courageous and wise, and she had no doubt in her mind that Val would have been overjoyed to see such a fine progression of maturity.


"Ollie's right." She added, when he had concluded, "There are too few of us, and we hardly stand a chance of surviving if we separate, now. Maybe we aren't the Wardens that we were meant to be, anymore. Maybe we can't be... but we still have purpose in these lands, and if we can help, we should. No matter what they did to us, to our people." Her fingers tightened around the amulet, then fell into her lap. Her eyes, stinging with tears, drifted forward to the flames, flickering around them, the world swathed in an amber glow, "...What we lost... we may never recover. But we still have a hope to hold to... so long as we're alive."


@Effervescent @Red Thunder @Macaberz @Space Cowboy Ein @JDParadox @BookWyrm

 

[Red Thunder]

Waethrin


The Crystal Caves - North of Rosenfall



​

The stench pressed in upon him. Death had a funny way of demanding the attention of those it paid the least mind, and all about him his few companions, their dragons, and the men they fought beside were white in palor, the shock of their mutilated brethren barely shoved aside by the threat of mutilation themselves. The Orcs kept coming; wave upon wave they issued forth against the Wardens' ranks, and it felt as though each Orcish corpse to hit the ground only gave the space for two more to leap into its place. It was a nightmare, to see even the flames of the Inferno and Ancalagon the Ashmaker have apparently no effect on the surging horde. Waethrin screamed as pain exploded across his face, and in the distance, a black shape in the form of a man laughed cruelly.





He listened to their words: the words of the optimistic woman. The idealistic child. Or as idealistic and optimistic as a Dragon Warden could be in this political climate. But Raleia's final words echoed off the stones, and the old man laughed.


"'Hope'? 'Purpose'? Maybe if you wish to die, girl. That could be your purpose: to serve as a warning to the less brave."


He took a pull on the short pipe he smoked and breathed it back out, exhaling through his nose. The effect was not unlike unto a dragon, though given his age and the bitter angry tone in which he spoke, it came off perhaps a bit more comical than he would have preferred. The lone eye roved, passing from face to face without prejudice, save for Olsten. It lingered there a moment longer, and a sneer accompanied it before it passed to the next face.


"The Thalls deserve their due, and the Orcs or Shadow mages will grant them it. Damn the lot of them, and gods take them all. We should focus on rebuilding and saving us. The Thalls can rot."


@Effervescent @Macaberz @Elle Joyner @JDParadox @Space Cowboy Ein @BookWyrm

 

[Macaberz]

Olsten & Grybil

​

He smiled and found himself nodding at Raleia's arguments. To regain purpose, and resume their role as peacekeepers was the best course of action. Perhaps, in the process, they'd be able to show the world that they weren't the villains Thallas had made them out to be. But then he thought of Rosenfall and the destruction they'd wrought upon the city, though hardly any of it was caused by him. Still, the Thalls wouldn't soon forgive or forget.


And then Waethrin spoke, between puffs of smoke from his blasted pipe. How could he stand there and belittle Raleia with his phony laughter? Being somewhat of an expert with scowls and sneers, Olsten caught on to Waethrin's dirty look.


"I think you mean saving you," Olsten spat back. He lacked a pipe, but was fuming just the same. "That's all you care about, isn't it? Saving your skin, your...honor." Grybil moved behind him, alerted to the tensing of his rider's frame. Olsten's left hand hovered unconsciously towards the grip of his blade and lingered there. "You can rot. Go back to your hideout and rot away, coward."


@Red Thunder

Orignal art by

Macaberz
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