Open Chronicles Forged in Flight.. (Thanasis)

[Cullen]

Thanasis - Six months after the Rising
The Forge barracks and training fields, near the Wall.



As the sun began its ascent over the training fields of Thanasis, casting a golden hue upon the sprawling landscape, Cullen Morvane found himself in a lone corner of the grandeur of the barracks' hall. The opulence that now surrounded him around him stood in stark contrast to the exile he had endured at the Wall, yet every ache old and new, and every scar and marking on his skin served as a constant reminder of the trials he had overcome. They called it the Forge, and though the new holdings were something of luxury, the training for those lucky enough to have bonded a wild dragon was intense, and brutal.

His gaze was fixed on the plate before him, the morning feast laid out in abundance, but his mind was elsewhere—focused on the upcoming challenge that awaited him on the training grounds. The bond between him and Meala, the golden-hued dragon who had chosen him during the Rising, was forged in the crucible of survival. The memory of a blue dragon's fierce assault, thwarted by Meala's protective instincts, still resonated within him.

Cullen knew that today's training would be another test of their newfound partnership. He had long ago become adept at handling a blade on foot, but mastering the art of combat while soaring on dragon wings required a different set of skills altogether.

The camaraderie shared among the newly bonded riders was palpable, yet Cullen remained resolute, his focus unwavering. It seemed that bonding a wild dragon was not enough to redeem one's name. He had much to endure and survive yet, and more to prove than most. Clad in the attire befitting a rider, the insignia of House Morvane now intertwined with the symbol of Meala's loyalty worn proudly on his chest, he rose from his seat, the echoes of his boots against the lavish floor resonating determination.

The training fields awaited, a vast expanse where dragons and their riders would dance amidst the currents of the wind. Cullen's heart beat in rhythm with Meala's, the unspoken connection between them a source of strength. It was a bond he could physically feel - a new, silent presence in his mind, and with each passing day he was learning to understand her.

The journey from exile to the heights of a bonded rider had not been easy, but today would mark another step toward redemption. As he approached the towering dragon, Cullen's eyes blazed with determination as he faced the challenges ahead, ready to prove that even a man marked by the brand of a traitor's blood could ascend to greatness once more.

 

[Tuon]

"You know, they keep telling me dragons are meant to be terrifying, awe-inspiring creatures we should fear. Yet here you are, sniffing flowers."

It was surprisingly how quickly the bond with Nazharul had become a natural intrinsical part of her. She had heard her older siblings and her parents speak of it of course but she had never been able to comprehend fully what they meant by a shared soul until The Rising. The thread that connected them was as solid and splendid as her dragon's jewelled talons and she knew that waking or asleep she would know exactly where he was. It was how she had found him that morning. Of course, the Jewelled dragon had not been at the training grounds at the time she had told him to be there. Respect was something the pair were trying to figure out in their new relationship. Nazharul had been his own master for far longer than she had been alive and as such, he was owed respect. But he had chosen her for a reason and a rider without respect from her own dragon was as good as dead.

Or so her mother said.

She'd followed the bond through to the rocky upper levels of Ōmeyōcān where the wind threatened to throw those unsure of their feet from its perilous heights. Up here unexpected wildflowers bloomed and created a bizarre meadow of sorts away from the prying eyes of normal civilians. It was also here that Nazharul had claimed as his own den.

The golden dragon merely huffed into the flowers once more at Tuon's words, ignoring her approach completely. Pushing down her irritation she continued her calm walk to his side. As always she held her breath, waiting for the moment that he would turn and devour her whole. Logically she knew that would never happen; their bond was strong. But every now and then she caught that look in his eyes... Her fingers grazed along his warmed scales and a fleeting smile tugged at her lips. That she could touch a dragon now after all these years of watching her family... It still hadn't sunk in.

"We're going to be late."

Another huff.

"Do you want to be shown up by all the others?"

Silence.

"They're going to think you're a bad flier and that's why you run away from these sessions."

Nazharul snarled and his tail thrashed across the grass sending flower heads flying.

"Well if you came to practise maybe I wouldn't embarrass you in manoeuvres," twice now she had had to explain to an Ascended that her dragon had apparently decided it had better things to do. She knew if it happened a third time she would get more than a few laps around the arena. The dragon had the audacity to look as though it didn't believe her assurances. Grinding her teeth and fighting down her irritation she took a deep breath. "Please."

Nazharul took another long sniff of his wildflowers and then, with a yawn rose to his feet, his wing shifting to allow her the access she needed to climb her way onto his back. She was barely seated before the Jewelled dragon launched itself off the edge of the mountainside and descended to the training grounds below.

 

[Khaato Khusakhane]

It was six months into a veritable imprisonment. Six months Khaato suffered at the claws of perhaps the most wicked creature he had the misfortune of meeting. In his naivety, he thought a dragon would bring him the glory, power, and respect that would lift his family out of poverty. He imagined bags of coin being thrown at his feet, jealously watching from the sidelines as riders basked in adoration. But he quickly realized those were only the riders he saw. There were Thanasian dragons too wild and violent to fly into the city. Khaato wondered if his own dragon could’ve even been stopped if he wished to travel to the city. Surely he could’ve been… maybe with tremendous loss of life.

The slumbering giant’s chest rose and fell, but even in the peace of sleep, the breaths exhaled by such a colossus seemed deafening. Sweat beaded on Khaato’s brow as he extended a hand to touch the beast’s brilliant scarlet scales. The red dragon’s eyes snapped open, his lips curled into a snarl, and his head whipped around to stop mere inches away from his rider. Khaato flinched and scurried back, heart caught in his throat. Smoke billowed from the dragon’s nostrils. Obsidian talons gouged lines in the rock as he flexed them.

“W-We need to go,” the rider pleaded. He took a careful step forward but froze as the dragon’s nostrils flared and flame licked his teeth. But despite all the violence the dragon meted upon others, including scores of contestants and even other dragons during the Rising, the dragon’s aggression stopped at physically harming his rider. Indeed, even the most careless flick of his tail could’ve easily killed his rider, yet he stopped short of that.

“What do you want me to do?” Khaato asked, though the dragon never answered his questions. The beast shook his great head and angled his head to show the length of his massive jaws, exposing rows of pristine white teeth. Poking out of his gums were the charred bones of his last meal, some poor creature Khaato couldn’t recognize. He sighed and reached forward, and with a heave dislodged the stuck bone and let it clatter to the floor. The rumble that echoed in the red dragon’s throat shook the floor, but he let Khaato climb up to the saddle high above.

The beast rose to his feet and lumbered out of the cavern, crimson wings spread taut as he pushed off the cliff’s edge and soared over the training fields. Even the softest landing produced a heavy thud, and either the quaking earth or the beat of his wings alone was strong enough that it could’ve knocked unwary humans off their feet. The red dragon snarled and snapped his jaws at another nearby dragon, tail lashing in irritation. Khaato’s lips pursed and he gulped, frantically patting his hand against the dragon’s scales.

“Stop that!” His dragon’s neck curled around to stare Khaato in the eye, spines and frills bristling as his rider dared try to command him.

 

[Eira]

Eira was counting on her dragon to appear, who had taken to hiding out somewhere she was unable to get to on foot. In order not to be late, she made her way to where the letter had detailed training would be held, and let out a disgruntled sigh when she did not get an immediate response from her dragon.

Alas, she had bothered Tyafainne enough for her to rouse from her slumber. The first response from the Moon Dragon was an image of the bright sun, indicating that is was daytime and that sleep was a luxury she had been disturbed from. It earned a snort from the youngest House Malennis member, who too could sympathise with her dragon.

Ever since she was bonded to Tyafainne, she had taken up a routine that kept her out late from home to spend time with her dragon, to help shape her growth and training. Eira's father had done the same when he was a boy and was bonded to his Moon Dragon, Eirenthe. Perhaps she was a little too smug that she could join her father and spend so much time with him and their dragons, who preferred the veil of night. It was also an education for her, to learn how to care for the dragons that were so few in number.

I look a fool standing alone. She thought, and she could feel Tyafainne's acknowledgement in her own chest; a rumble that a human could not make themselves unless they had the ability to purr like a feline.

After some awkward greetings and smiles, Eira could feel a shift. It was an awareness, something she had felt the moment Tyafainne laid eyes upon her once she hatched from her egg. She lifted her head, hand shielding her eyes from the bright sun to spy where her dragon may be, knowing she was close. After all these years, Eira Malennis learned the telltale signs of where to locate her dragon as the reflective nature of their scales and hide could turn them invisible. It was how Tyafainne was able to soar down towards her, effortlessly dodging other dragons and coming to into proper view once she had landed. Eira let out a sigh of relief and begun approaching her.

"Who would have thought it would be you that had to be woken up so early." She mused once she was close enough, running a hand along her dragon's side in greeting. Her hands were gloved, although her fingers were exposed and she felt the rough but strong texture. It was her version of stroking a fluffy pet for comfort.

 

[Raimond Thesius]

How things changed...

The last few months had been considerably slow for Raimond: He'd stopped being called for assignments some time ago for reasons he wasn't entirely privy to, and his family was beginning to put pressure on him to either find a wife or a job, neither of which was exactly high on his priority list. No, the youngest Thesius was far happier in the air, unchained, with his winged companion beneath him. He'd seen what adhering to duty and responsibility had done to Errune, the shell of his older brother, and he wanted none of it.

Still, there came a point when even he couldn't deny the strain his behavior was taking on his family. Raimond's free-spiritedness, easily taken as laziness, was beginning to affect the Thesisus house's reputation. Jokes were being made at gatherings, and snide remarks from other houses were made daily by those who saw Thesius as a doomed name that would produce no further heirs. Their status as a historically significant bloodline would only offer them so much goodwill.

So, when a letter arrived at the Thesius manor with an offer of (extremely tentative) employment, Raimond finally had no excuses not to accept it.

What had been most stunning to him though was the position, and employer, in question.

---

"How are we all doing this morning?"

It felt bizarre, to walk opposite the trainees and freshly-bonded rookies. The training field he'd traveled so many times seemed so different a landscape when the positions were swapped. That Vhagor had requested his aid in teaching this new batch of riders was a shock, considering the notoriously bad student he'd been himself. If Thesius had a coin for every headache he'd caused the old man, he'd be rich enough to pay for his own manor and move out of the single room he had within his family estate.

"My name is Raimond Thesius." He offered a friendly wave, though it was rather awkward coming from somebody younger than some of the people he was supposed to help teach. I'll be helping with your training today."

Despite his thickheadedness and occasional arrogance, however, one thing that couldn't be denied was Raimond's innate talent for flight, and the strong bond he held with the pearly-white dragon that soared above his head. The two of them had bonded at an extremely young age and shared the sort of 'sibling precognition' that allowed them to know what the other was thinking by instinct. According to Vhagor, it made him a promising candidate for training the next generation, but Raimond still didn't seem too sure of himself as he stood across from the group, shifting his weight as he counted them down.

"Before we get started, let's make sure everybody's here, yeah?" Thesius rose the parchment, not so subtly referred to as a 'cheat sheet' by Vhagor when he'd given it to him, and rattled off the names printed on it. "Cullen? Alright... Tuon? There you are. Eira? Mornin'. Khaato?"

Raimond looked over the list, only counting three trainees. He could feel his stomach drop, the idea that his first assignment as a trainer would be stained by an AWOL rider. Thankfully, a thunderous roar overhead broke his looming worry, and a massive red dragon swooped down recklessly from above, landing in the field with a quaking thud.

"Oh, there you are. Good."

Raimond peeked up at the angry red dragon. It didn't take an expert to see he was a bit of a rowdy one. Thesius prayed to the heavens that the big bastard didn't try to gobble up any of the other riders... Or other dragons for that matter.

"Now that you're all here, we can get started. Everybody mount up, we've got an appointment and we're already running late."

 

[Leovold]

Heavy wingbeats and furious, burning light descended from on high. The Heir of House Solherre had been circling the training fields from atop his dragon for some time, like a great, burning vulture. Leovold had been gone for far too long. Campaigning against Thagretis, against the wretched, mutant soldiers they'd sicced upon Thanasis. Months had been wasted in pursuit of their origin. Months of absence that Lord Tyros, Leovold's father, had likely reveled in.

No longer. House Solherre had been left to wither and rot for far too long already. It was beyond time to make its presence known in Thanasis once more. What better place to begin than among the freshest of the Ascended and most impressionable youngsters of rival houses? 'Let them know their place,' he had thought. Or, at the very least, give them a taste of what horrors awaited them beyond the safety of Thanasis' walls.

As Leovold and Iralux made their descent, perhaps by some gift of fate, the rider identified the familiar form of the younger Thesius brother. Leovold had last seen him at one of the city's festivals, nearly a year prior. What on Arethil was he doing at the training fields? Surely he of all people wasn't serving as an instructor? Curiosity piqued, Leovold decided it was worth investigating. Iralux veered at his behest, and soon the duo were rushing towards the group of gathered trainees.

A rush of wind and a call from Leovold heralded their arrival.
"Hail, Raimond!"
Iralux skidded to a halt, huffing and chomping at the bit restlessly. Even among these newest of Thanasis' progeny, Iralux was not the largest (that award seemingly went to the hulking red drake stood among the trainees). There was no doubting his magnificence, however, as radiant light spilled from Iralux crest and breast alike. At the same time, his fangs gnashed about in his mouth and claws scrabbled across the ground, gaze darting between the trainees' drakes. Warring against Thagretis had not tempered the sun dragon in the slightest.

"Pray, pardon the intrusion. Iralux and I have only just arrived back in Thanasis, and I wished to see how the next generation of riders was stacking up, seeing as I missed the Rising," Leovold greeted his fellow noble in a roundabout manner before casting his judgmental gaze across the gathered youth, his amber eyes simmering dimly. "Are you serving as their trainer this day? I would see you all along."
It wasn't a request.

 

[Cullen]

Cullen stood among the gathering of riders, his gaze sweeping across the familiar and unfamiliar faces that would share the training grounds with him on this day. He subtly acknowledge the others that subsequently arrived. He had not spoken much to anyone, nor did he really care to. People were dying every day in one way or another, and he wasn't here to make friends, so he was glad therefore, to be left alone.

His dark gaze rose toward Tuon's descent first, regarding how well she landed, before a timorous Khaato and his dragon stole the need for his attention. The ground quaked underfoot and Cullen inwardly groaned as the aggressive red beast stormed its way onto the field. This one was a nuisance, and one that required vigilance. A few of the other dragons shifted uneasily, others snarled and snapped back, Maela included, but it wasn't his business to involve himself in the politics of dragons.

Eira's dragon took him by surprise, not for the first time. Cullen sighed quietly in awe of it, of them and of where he now stood, surrounded by the creatures he'd had to admire from afar for far too long. The challenges ahead were not limited to the training grounds, and the diversity among the riders only emphasized the complexities of their shared destiny, but he was still here, much to the chagrin of many.

As Raimond Thesius called out his name, Cullen's jaw tightened and he gave a stiff nod, his expression a mix of solemn determination and silent assessment. How he hated when the runts of the great houses were sent here to 'train' them. Judge them, more like. They were not all lucky enough to have been handed dragon eggs in infancy. Cullen should have been, but working for it had strengthened him far more than their lives of luxury could. There would be many amongst the nobility, he knew, who would loathe to hear that a Morvane had won a dragon for himself.

As though one noble wasn't enough, Leovold Solherre's presence descended upon the training fields like a burning storm, and Cullen couldn't help but feel a surge of tension at the sight of him. His eyes rolled at the audacity of Leovold's intrusion, and Cullen suppressed a groan in frustration.

The dragon beside him seemed to huff too, at the addition of the sun dragon. Meala was a particularly proud Dragon, and he had learned early in their relationship that she responded well to flattery.

"Come now, Maela. You're far more impressive." he murmured, earning him a firm nudge that threw his shoulder forward. Cullen flashed the briefest of grins before he turned to climb the towering beast's leg and pull himself into her saddle. Her wings spanned for no other reason than to show off as she preened, the golden scales on her long neck glittering in the low sun as though to rival those around her.

A few others joined as they awaited the go ahead to launch into the skies, and soon ten ascended would take to the skies for maneuver training. How many would finish the lesson alive, however, was another story.

 

[Tuon]

Tuon didn't bother dismounting when Nazharul landed upon the training field, knowing that soon they would be off again. Part of her wasn't entirely convinced that the golden flower sniffer wouldn't just take off to do Luthalarix only knew what if she did. So from atop her perched she watched the others arrive including their apparently instructor for the day. She knew a little of the Noble families having grown up around the Ascended, as one of their own and yet never fully until The Rising, but she had never interacted with them. Dragons equalised the lowly in many ways but there was always something... different about those with noble blood. They kept themselves separate.

She felt Naz tense before the shadow of the red monstrosity fell over them and then landed in their midst scattering a Tsonye and its rider, and almost crushing a Me'ei dragon altogether. Tuon grimaced. How the beansprout of a kid had bonded the worst tempered dragon they had met during The Rising, she did not know. How he was still alive was an even greater mystery even if a tiny part of her was rooting for him. She offered the kid a nod and slight smile before turning her attention back to their tutor.

Nazharul paid the instructors no heed at all. Instead the golden Jewelled dragon seemed to straighten up as the traitors golden dragon preened and he nearly fell over his own talons at the appearance of the bloody moon dragon. Tuon didn't manage to stifle her sigh this time.

 

[Khaato Khusakhane]

Khaato wouldn’t have been able to dismount to speak face-to-face with anyone even if he wanted to. Even with his dragon lying down, it felt like climbing up a small hill.

The red dragon’s fiery eyes glanced at the moon dragon but otherwise paid her no mind. Khaato gave a sheepish wave toward Tuon before his attention was wrenched back to his own dragon. One of the small dragons that hissed back at Argoroth and had the misfortune of being too close was swatted away with a flick of the red dragon’s thick tail. The victim, a white dragon, staggered from the force and yelped. It wasted no time scampering away to nurse its now bruised hide. Khaato kicked Argoroth’s side, but the dragon didn’t seem to register it this time. The boy may as well have been like a tick clinging to his thick scales.

The dragon’s attention was focused elsewhere. Argoroth’s yellow eyes flicked toward the preening gold dragon, but aside from returning a vicious snarl of his own in response to hers before that, he couldn’t be bothered by her preening. Instead, his focus was drawn to the sun dragon that barged in. The red dragon’s eyes narrowed, and his lip twitched in a barely contained growl as the sun dragon landed. Plumes of smoke curled above nostrils. His talons dug into the dirt as if bracing for the other dragon to lunge. After all, it seemed the other dragon had barely contained aggression himself. Khaato shifted nervously and yanked the reins. His dragon paid no heed to him.

 

[Eira]

Eira paid no attention to the light warning the red dragon gave to another, ascending to her usual perch at Tyafainne's back like she had done so a hundred times. And she had, from the moment Eira was tall enough to climb and ride her dragon, she had done this for many nights leading up to this moment. The bond between rider and dragon was what one could imagine between two young beings growing up alongside each other; the two able to anticipate each other's thoughts in a way that made them a unique team. They were both of equal temperament, only because Eira had the theory that her talking back to her father's lessons once she had bonded was amusing to the young Moon Dragon.

Her head whipped round to see the sun dragon land, brows knitting together as she wondered if there had been a name left off from the list called out. No, only another member of a noble house. Eira looked around at the recruits, and arched a brow.

Hm. So she was the only noble here for training?

Eira was only here at the insistence of her father, who told her that in order to serve the House well, she needed to be a well rounded flyer. There was no good in simply studying the breed that chose her House; they would not respect her if she did not learn to defend this home the dragon gods had helped them keep themselves.

 

[Raimond Thesius]

You could say a lot about the diverse group lined up in front of Raimond, but you couldn't claim that they were particularly similar to one another. As the Thesius heir scanned over each of them once more to judge their riding posture, he began to better discern each one's quirks, to a degree. Rai had always felt strongly about knowing the people you ride with, and that extended to rookies. If things got hairy for any reason, he needed to know who he could count on.

Eira was a noble, and it showed. The clothes were one thing, plucked from a high-end vendor in the Inner City, no doubt, but her demeanor was another entirely; She seemed almost innocent as she looked about at the others with an air of nervous anxiety, keeping close to her Dragon for both safety and companionship. She didn't seem particularly enthused to be here.

Conversely, Raimond had half a mind to try and pull the poor Khaato kid off of his beast of a Dragon; The red behemoth was extremely agitated, and Khusakane didn't appear to have the slightest control over it. He'd heard a rumor about some kid bonding with one of the most ill-tempered dragons in the history of the rising, but to see it up close made him bite his cheek-- He'd need to watch that one with a close eye.

Especially if a fight broke out between them and Tuon's brilliant golden jeweled companion, poised so proud and still you could have convinced Thesius it was a gilded statue built outside one of the noble family estates for some exorbitant price point. She was a Stryker, and there was a hell of a lot of expectation behind that name. That General Furyk's daughter was to be evaluated by him of all people, was admittedly rather terrifying.

Raimond had absolutely no desire to tell that man anything negative about his child.

The man he was truly curious about was the only one to stare straight back at him, nothing but a curt nod and fire in his eyes as he steeled himself for whatever Raimond had to throw at him today. Cullen was older than Raimond himself, but that was only because of the long and twisting road he'd taken to get here. He'd heard the tale of House Morvane from his parents on more than one occasion, and the fact that Cullen had completed The Rising, clawed himself back from a doomed spot upon the wall, and acquired a Dragon all his own was making waves among the aristocrats and the politicians. Some saw it as a spit in the face of the punishment that had already been given, but others, admittedly in the minority, thought the young man deserved his chance for redemption.

Raimond was in the latter camp, but he doubted Cullen was going to be any keener on him for it.

"We're headed out to the southern mountains today, I'm going to be testing your maneuverability and adaptability first and foremost. Nothing too crazy, but you'll embarrass yourself if you take the tests lightly, understand?"

Ha'Than awoke from his light slumber behind Raimond, letting out a sharp, brief cry of greeting from between his long, razor-sharp teeth. The brilliant white dragon spread his horned, pink wings and bowed his neck, allowing Rai to place a gentle hand on his dear friend's snout.

"Keep an eye on the red one, buddy. He seems like kind of an asshole."

As if on cue, a burst of wind collided with Raimond's back as a certain red-haired asshole made his uninvited presence known. Thesius felt his eyes rolling before he'd even turned around to face Leovold and Iralux as they brazenly landed in the middle of an official training exercise, but he did his best to put on an air of professionalism, knowing well that Vhagor was likely hiding somewhere, giving him that arms-crossed, disapproving glare he had down to an art form. "Leovold! Yes, I'm just putting these four through their paces. Vhagor wants to make sure they're ready before they move on to his more advanced teachings."

The last time Raimond had spoken to Leovold the two of them had very nearly come to blows, albeit over senseless and inconsequential matters. Still, he doubted that the torchbearer of the Solherre family had fully retrieved his head from his own backside in the time since. That he more or less invited himself to join them seemed to prove his point.

"I can't give you orders, Leovold. Just know that if you somehow complicate matters with your presence, it will be Vhagor you deal with, not me." Raimond shrugged and offered that simple warning as he climbed atop Ha'Than and signaled to the four trainees for take off. The white dragon pushed off, and Raimond soared towards the mountains to the south at a high altitude.

 

[Butch]

Butch hopped off of Tartarus, stretching after the relatively long flight. He had arrived a bit late and had to work to keep up, quickly falling into rank with the rest of his class, arriving shortly after Leovold and Iralux crashed the party, most likely to Raimond’s chagrin. He rubbed his back, stretching out during the little break the class was in the process. Tartarus was bony and slim, which made riding him hurt the lower body quite a bit. Fortunately, his dragon was the most vicious and dependable fighter he had ever had the privilege to work with, so he could handle a bit of soreness.

Butch pet Tartarus, mentally preparing himself for one of the dragon's daily games. When his dragon eventually tried to bite off his hand, he jerked it away, barely winning the day. Tartarus nodded appreciatively and he relaxed, turning away. Just then, he realized he hadn’t exactly figured out who was attending, and took the time to scout out the others in case a team task was coming up. Some in the clearing were bound to be helpful, others…not quite as much.

Starting off, there was Khaato, a comparatively tiny boy bonded with a red dragon capable of causing a giant to shit itself. A good person, surely, but obviously one who seemed to be being dragged around, kind of like the extra weight of a purse or satchel on someone’s shoulder. Butch felt bad, really, he did, but he mentally sorted the boy into the less than favorable ally category within his mind. It wasn’t like that distinction couldn’t change, but the lack of rider respect was evidently even more nonexistent than Tartarus’ for himself, and that meant danger in battle.

Next was Eira, who was a noble and acted like one, which was nice. Her heritage probably meant a close up relationship with dragonkind, which showed in the fact that both her and her dragon trusted each other. Just forming that kind of bond (no pun intended) was a feat worthy of admiration. Still, though, she wasn’t exactly enthusiastic about learning to fly with monstrous winged creatures, something Butch couldn’t really relate to. Definitely kept to herself, but that was fine. In this life, As long as one did good work and didn’t die, nothing else mattered, at least to him. Favorable Ally.

Cullen was the most mysterious of the bunch to Butch, and also very reserved, or so it seemed. He probably had a personality, but to an outsider looking in, he was absolutely unreadable and stoic. Butch grinned at the thought, noting that mysterious often meant interesting as well. He seemed to know what he was doing. Favorable ally, but I don’t think I can totally trust them.

Finally, Tuon Stryker. Daughter of General Furyk, perhaps one of the scariest people aligned with Thanasis, she handled the dragon like it was child’s play. It was saddening to admit, but he was fully aware she was about the only one who could claim to have almost full control over her dragon. Out of the entire class, he could firmly say the general’s daughter was perhaps the most badass person he had ever seen dare step foot on a slightly homicidal winged lizard. Best in the class, or so I think. Most Favorable Ally.

Now didn’t seem like the time for idle chatter, so Butch just took off when Raimond signaled, falling into formation with the rest of his classmates. Whatever exercise Thesius is pulling us into, I’ll have wait and see. He hasn’t been exactly forthcoming with details.

 

[Leovold]

Many eyes fell upon the Solherre duo, exactly as expected of an entrance as audacious as that one. It was to be expected, of course. Iralux was a unique specimen, the other dragons of his House not being nearly his size. Of course, the sun dragon was nowhere near the largest of the drakes in this little flight; a red dragon that would've proved a suitable rival to Vhagor's Nyxondra was being ridden by what Leovold could've only described as a whelp of a boy.

Burning eyes fell upon the red dragon's rider as though warning him to keep the massive drake under control. Iralux would have been all too eager to scrap with such a behemoth, of course, but Leovold had become quite adept at keeping his overly energetic bondmate under wraps, despite the sun dragon's enthusiasm. A pat of Iralux's side and a sharp warning kick was all it took to get him to reluctantly give up on his aspirations of turf warring.

Raimond's response pulled Leo back into the moment, the aggression melting away.
"Yes, yes, of course, I wouldn't dream of dragging you down, Raimond. I only wish to see what sorts of 'paces' the recruits are enduring these days. Hard times await we riders in the future, I should think."

It was at this moment that Leovold took the time to give the four acolytes a once over. The first three he did not recognize, though the dragons being ridden by the women he'd later come to know as Eira and Tuon were riding particularly exotic specimens of dragons. The former he recognized as the celestial counterpart of his own House's, a moon dragon, meaning that the rider must've been a Malennis. Interesting; then not all of the trainees were of the riffraff that made up the ascended.

The last dragon looked to be nothing special, beyond bearing a passing resemblance to a sun dragon in its slightly less lustrous shade of gold scales. This time it was the rider atop the drake that caught Leovold's attention, and whom Leo tried to catch the eye of. How could he possibly not recognize the face of the treacherous Cullen Morvane. His eyes flared brighter in outrage at the man's mere presence, a look of disgust on his mien.

"I see that the bar for becoming a dragon rider has been lowered to subterranean depths at this point. How unfortunate," he mentioned loudly to Raimond, only breaking eye contact with the Morvane traitor after he'd done so. By the time he finally tore his gaze away, he'd realized a fifth rider, as obscure to Leovold as the three not named "Cullen," had joined the ranks. "And it seems you have another tagalong. What is it they say? 'The more the merrier?' Hmph."

 

[Cullen]

Cullen's jaw tightened at Leovold's insult. He had long grown accustomed to the disdain directed at him, a shadow of his family's tarnished name, but the overt hostility still managed to elicit a silent response within him. Cullen had faced far worse than the spiteful words of a noble heir. The scars on his body were a testament to the trials he had overcome, and he was all the stronger for it.

His gaze met Leovold's, a cold fire burning in the dark depths of eyes. The memory of past slights, the weight of the Morvane name that he carried like an anchor, all played a part in the stoic expression he maintained. Funny that he should bear the mark of a traitor's blood when the Solherres remained unblemished.

As the man spewed his condescending remarks, Cullen swallowed his bitterness and remained composed, refusing to be drawn into a verbal duel. The politics of dragon riders were as treacherous as the maneuvers they were about to embark upon, and Cullen understood that every word spoken carried weight. He had come this far and succeeded where so many had failed - had overcome hurdles where so many would have given up, and he was fucked if he'd let this worm into his mind now.

Instead of responding directly, he turned his attention to Meala, placing a reassuring hand on her scales in silent acknowledgment of the unbreakable bond they shared.

"Apparently nobility these days think it's within their rights to question a dragon's choice, Meala.." Cullen said to her with a hint of dry amusement, feeling the dragon's muscles coil and shift beneath him as she snorted defiantly in response. Cullen's composure faltered only to let out a short laugh, if only in the effort of riling the arrogant bastard.

Meala let out a screech of a sound that was quite clearly meant as a warning toward the noble and his bondmate, before launching herself into the air to follow the white dragon toward the southern mountains.

 

[Tuon]

Tuon snorted at the Marked One's comment. She might not hate nobility with the same venom with which Cullen did, but she didn't particularly enjoy their company. In the mess growing up they had always dismissed her - even when they had found out who her parents were. With no egg a child was pointless. She had had more acknowledgement from them since The Rising with comments such as 'of course it was expected' but it had still held a dismissive air. She wouldn't be worthwhile knowing until she proved herself in their eyes. Dragons were commonplace to them. As such she couldn't help but feel a little fellowship with the Marked One, especially when noticing the look Leo had levelled in his direction. She tried to think why the two might have a history as Nazharul all but launched himself after Meala.

"Don't sit on her," she muttered to the jewelled fool as he levelled into the sky almost wing tip to wing tip. Convincing ones dragon to get so close to another was a hard skill, but it seemed Tuon was going to be cursed with the opposite; getting her dragon away from them. Using the pressure from the inside of her leg she nudged Nazharul a slightly safer and more respectable distance apart though they were still close enough that talking was a little easy.

"Don't let them wind you up."

The cadets sat behind the two nobles - their instructor and his guest - in a loose formation. If formation was even the right word for the orderly chaotic arrangement of dragons each trying to fight for their spot within the Fist.

"You earnt your place, just remember that," Nazharul rumbled in agreement which happened to sound a lot like thunder.

 

[Khaato Khusakhane]

Khaato’s seat atop the red dragon may have distanced him from the other riders—so much so that it was difficult to discern their faces from his vantage point—but he couldn’t shake the weight of a scornful gaze falling upon him. He glanced at the Solherre before turning his head away. Argoroth snorted, gouts of flame erupting from his nostrils. It was only by the grace of gods that the beast didn’t lunge for the sun dragon’s throat. As much as he hated the creature, he felt the simmering rage boil through their bond, that another would dare threaten what was his.

The young rider tilted his head back to watch the others take off. He bit his lip, and his eyes flicked downward to his agitated dragon. Although he rarely flew with his dragon, it didn’t take a genius to know that the creature wasn’t the most maneuverable in the air. Still, Khaato didn’t have much choice in the matter. He tried to spur his dragon skyward, almost hoping that Argoroth didn’t obey him for once. The red dragon shook himself off and plodded forward, trunk-like legs propelling him into a run as he spread his wings. Khaato jolted and then leaned forward, buffeted by the wind as the gargantuan creature took to the air. Heavy wingbeats sent a small brown dragon tumbling across the ground, fluttering its own wings in a desperate attempt to right itself. Khaato glanced back nervously, but tore his eyes away to focus on the path forward.

Though Argoroth took wing on command, the dragon didn’t bend to any others his rider issued. Even as Khaato tried to steer his dragon both mentally and physically, the beast opted to lag behind the others. He may have been lazily soaring, but his golden eyes were fixed on the dragons ahead of him, a menacing predator seemingly ready to surge forward and snap one of them up into his jaws at a moment’s notice.

 

[Eira]

Eira remained quiet as the bickering words between Marked one and noble began; her attention had gone to inspect her nails, clean and trimmed, to a stray thread in her saddle.

Tyafainne did not wait for her rider's command to follow, already taking off to naturally fall to the back of the formation. Eira slid her riding goggles on, her dark hair braided down her back as she assumed a position in the saddle to keep watch on their whereabouts. To take up the rear was no lack of experience, rather a show of how well Eira had been trained by her father. Tyafainne kept up within pace of the dragon in front, clearly holding back in order to keep the formation tight.

The Malennis rider could never deny how freeing it was to fly, to be on the back of a powerful beast despite Tya being one of the smallest in present company. The Moon Dragon was growing at a rapid rate, and Eira had finished her growth to a comfortable height of five feet and four inches. Soon, she would need to adapt her ascent to this saddle seat.

Eira echoed Tya's enthusiasm with a hearty grin, unable to help herself. It had been a long time coming to get to this point, to witness the fruits of her labour in getting her dragon healthy enough to fly.

 

[Raimond Thesius]

Raimond had his hands full enough with the rookie riders, and there was some small part of him that was happy Leovold was here to help out if things got out of hand, especially with Khaato's temperamental partner seemingly unwilling to follow any of the young man's commands aside from "Fly" and "Stop flying". Still, he did catch the daggers that the Solherre was staring at Cullen and only after Leovold had stopped bemoaning the state of his recruits, Thesius replied in chastisement.

"We were all new to this at some point, Leo. Somebody had to teach your clumsy ass how to stay on a saddle before you could fly worth a damn. As I recall, Vhagor had to swoop down and catch you a couple of times, even." It had happened to all of them, more or less. It was easy to forget how difficult learning to let go of your fear and trusting in your Dragon was. Especially after the fact, when it came second nature. "They deserve a chance just as anybody else does to try. Or maybe you think we should start plucking people off of The Wall to bolster our numbers? Leave The Borderlands to the Jarlax?"

It was a little harsh, and Raimond shook his head and looked forward, tucking himself down and letting the chilly air of the approaching mountains skim across his back. Behind him was a clumsy and unorganized arrangement of Dragons, and Thesius pulled forward a bit, calling back behind him. "Tighten up back there! If one of you falls behind, it'll be a pain in the ass to find you! Try to line up behind me in an arrowhead, yeah?" And you, new guy! You can participate, but you're getting points taken off for being late!" was a simple enough formation, one that didn't need to be explained, though he was certain some would pick it up easier than others.

"As for you, Leo. Cullen earned his place here like everybody else. I'd thank you not to talk down to him." Raimond lowered his voice, nodding back to Khaato and his flying red temper tantrum of a Dragon. "We're almost to the training area, can you pull back and help Khusakhane? His Dragon isn't taking well to this whole following orders thing."

The mist covering the mountains wasn't quite as thick as usual, which was good news for the riders behind him. The southern range was vast, and easy to get lost in if you didn't have good visibility. With luck, there wouldn't be any problems. As Raimond angled up to soar above the peaks, he gave Ha'Than a little pat on the neck. "Ready, buddy?"

"Alright people, we're about to start the exercise! Here's how this is going to work: My buddy Ha'Than here is going to blow some rings of fire in the air, and you lot are going to fly through as many as you can. The fire isn't going to hurt your Dragon, so don't worry about skimming the sides, and don't crowd each other either, there'll be enough for all of you. A point for each ring, a point deduction for touching the fire. Make sense enough?"

 

[Butch]

Butch grinned as Raimond allowed him to join, taking the points off as less of a disappointment and more of a challenge. You take points off of me...shit, that just means I'll have to do extra well, he'd think, gritting his teeth in excitement. "Yes sir! Thank you. I'll be sure to be on time after this, not to worry!" He'd shout, just to let Raimond know he had learned his lesson. Well, had learned it for today. If he forgot the very next day, who could blame him?

Then, something caught his attention, namely the lesson plan. "Moving through rings of fire, huh?" he'd mutter almost silently, secretly worried. The exercise seemed decent, but would Tartarus listen well enough for him to pass? When Raimond asked whether the point system made sense, Butch decided to wait for another to answer, because he had talked enough and was unsure whether it was a rhetorical question anyway. "Tartarus. I need your help." He'd say, which to the black dragon was almost like begging, apparently.

He figured that the dragon thought the fact they could even talk was a blessing to Butch, so when Tar' snorted agreeably, he knew that they would stick to their side of the deal. After all, they both had something to prove. Him, that he could handle flying a dragon, and his dragon, who had a strangely fierce need to prove himself correct for choosing Butch. We each have something to gain from this. He'd think seriously. Yes, Butch wasn't exactly the most serious of the bunch, but when he set his mind to something, that sometimes changed.

I promise, you won't look bad, just promise me the same thing. He'd think silently, grinning as he heard a low grumble of agreement. Now, the only thing left to do was to wait for permission to move.

 

[Leovold]

By now Iralux had fully given up on any dreams of a tussle with Argoroth. Had the sun dragon been paying any attention Argoroth's continued aggression might've riled him up once again, but now Leo only sensed a general feeling of boredom and disappointment through their bond.

"Apparently nobility these days think it's within their rights to question a dragon's choice, Meala.."

Cullen was smart enough not to address his better directly, but not smart enough to keep his mouth shut. If he wanted to play a game about it, and if Raimond was so insistent on Leo not speaking down to him, Leo would play along.
"Ohh, hear that, Iralux? The Branded thinks I question the dragons' choices rather than the stock of riders. Gods help our dragons if they feel the need to select a betrayer."

Bored, glowing eyes flicked over to Raimond, the amusement having drained from Leo's mien.
"Indeed, I do recall my earliest flights and the rigorous training Vhagor put me through. I also recall that I was fourteen when I began my training," he retorted, casually scratching at his own cheek with a pinky. "If I had my way Thanasis would not have put itself in a position where it needed to scrape the bottom of the proverbial barrel in the first place...ah, but my apologies; I did say I wouldn't distract you from your duties."

Leovold ran his fingers backwards across Iralux' neck, the signal he used to get the dragon to hold position in the air. Together they would watch the novices performances in quiet, shared amusement.

 

[Cullen]

'The Branded'. Of all the insults he might have chosen...

Cullen's teeth clenched in his jaw - the moniker, chosen intentionally to provoke, succeeded in its aim. Yet, he refused to let the insult mar the composure he had carefully maintained, and he let a slow grin curl on his lips and crease at the corners of his dark eyes. Meala's growl reverberated beneath him, her protective nature and a subtle reminder that the noble's words were nothing more than echoes in the vast expanse of the sky.

As Leovold continued his commentary, Cullen focused instead on preparing himself and Meala for the task at hand. He couldn't help but feel a subtle surprise at Raimond's unexpected defence, however, and he shot a brief, appreciative glance toward Raimond in silent acknowledgment. The unspoken bond among dragon riders was a thread that connected them all, but in the turbulent skies of politics and power, Cullen knew better than to fully trust anyone. As they soared toward the mist-covered mountains, he kept his guard up, a watchful eye on both the noble riders and the vast expanse that lay ahead.

'Don't let them wind you up.. You earned your place, just remember that..'

His brows rose as Tuon offered her own defensive encouragement and he shot the woman a look of utter perplexity. He had grown accustomed to the isolation, to being the reviled outsider, and the sudden glimmers of solidarity caught him off guard. In a world where alliances were as fickle as the winds, he found himself navigating unfamiliar currents.

"Thanks." he replied dubiously... "That's precisely why he's pissed." he added with a small smirk before tilting Meala through the first of the fiery rings.

Meala was a dream to fly. She cut through the air with such ease and responded to his shifts without hesitance, and Cullen had quickly realised that he was luckier than most, having seen several riders fall to their deaths having failed to find the necessary trust with their dragons.

 

[Tuon]

"No. Crowding. Did you hear that, pose sniffer?" Tuon muttered to her dragon as they watched the first group of cadets take their go at the series of fiery rings.

It was not such an easy task as Rai had made it sound. The rings were all various sizes and in a seemingly random order. Neither did they go in a straight line but rather curved like a sea serpent through the air. It forced the riders to be quick but also precise; the slight wrong angle on one of the turns and they would go through half of the ring rather than through the centre like he wanted them to do.

Nazharul huffed but she could feel his building anticipation to show off not only what they could do as a team, but what he could do. Finally they were given the nod and they glided over to the starting mark. She could still see the slight embers remaining for the previous cadets flight test, until they were obliterated by the ten new rings breathed into existence. As soon as the last one was done, Nazharul darted forward.

Tuon gritted her teeth at the burst of unexpected speed but kept her seat.

"Take it easy!" she hissed but the dragon shot true. The first three rings were easy consecutive hoops of varying sizes meaning Nazharul had to tuck his wings in not to touch the flame and redeploy them before losing height. The fourth required a sharp almost 90 degree turn which the dragon took with a roll to add flare. She could feel his glee when they sored through. Immediately the fifth ring was placed at another angle above forcing Nazharul to switch from a freefall into a climb, before evening out to finish the next three. The last were a dive Tuon's stomach had no preparation for.

After passing through the last Nazharul flared out his wings and drew up level with the rest, practically glowing with pride.

 

[Quintus Varro]

He didn’t belong here. It was the first thought that traveled through his head repeatedly as he pushed against a scaly dragon flank of the unmoving beast. Images of other dragons flashed through his head, each one just making Vex angrier as he refused to be moved from his spot on the jutting rock. He really didn’t belong here.

“Come on, Vex, they’ve already taken off, we’ll stay to the side so you don’t have to be too near any.” The solid no that came back came less as an image and more as a force of nature in his head.

It hadn’t taken Quintus long to realize three fundamental things about his bonded dragon. First, he didn’t like other dragons, or at least seemed to avoid them. Seems your mother trying to eat you and chasing you into a cave had a profound effect on trust. The poor dragon had ran into the tightest tunnels and stayed there hunting what prey it could in fear its mother was still awaiting it to snap it between her jaws. Not a trust creating experience.

It had however worked in Quintus favor as it had misunderstood the initial feeding and became exceptionally trusting towards it’s rider. Vex seemed to go between treating Quintus like a father figure and being a stubborn child. It just seemed to pick the worst times to go stubborn. Somewhere inside he knew he was supporting the whole notion, Vex wasn’t the only one in the pair with a void to fill in his life.

“Vex, enough it’s one thing to embarrass me but if you don’t go how will we show them all how mighty you are?”

That caused the dragon to pause as it flashed its enormous wingspan out. The second thing he’d realized is that Vex’s wings were far bigger then his body, and he would likely grow to a massive size. A good ending for the runt of a litter who couldn’t hunt at first. If he could get the damned stubborn thing that far. He had no doubt the hunting debacle was likely over it’s wings just being a bit larger then it knew what to do with. Poor tyke.

“Exactly, I know how powerful you’ll be and you do. We do need to train and eat though to grow that large and powerful, however if you don’t let me train when you are you’ll have to go at it alone so I don’t slow you down.”

A low roar came from the dragon, but it finally stood. It might dislike everything else in the world according to what he ‘said’, but Quintus had no doubts about how if felt about him. Six months ago he’d been too small to ride at all, but now it’s mighty wing span was under control and it seemed to fly with ease. Perhaps not always grace, but Vex seemed to be able to fly forever.

The third and most important is that it had picked badly. Quintus didn’t know anything about what he was doing, and he didn’t belong here. He certainly hadn’t meant to hamper the power of this beautiful creature.

With ease the dragon launched into the air flying south using the scent of the others to track them across the heavens. The entire time it kept sending more images of the dragons it tracked and Quintus could feel it’s violent temperament rising at the idea of approaching.

“Listen, we don't have to fly next to them. I think. If we do though, well we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

Vex did not like that answer.

Finally they arrived as dots in the distance drew into great dragons all larger for the moment it seemed then his own. Was he doing something wrong that it was growing more slowly? Worry for his charge poured over him and his care bleed through placating the dragon slightly. It enjoyed knowing how much it’s rider as puny as he was felt protective over him and cared. No one else did, Vex knew that for certain.

With such thoughts in mind he made the flight stopping a good distance still away from the others, a low hiss coming from it’s mouth before turning its attention to the full rider attending the class. With a sigh Quintus bowed to the teacher quite aware he was very, very late.

“Apologies, sir, for the unexcused lateness. It is my fault and I will do better.”

 

[Khaato Khusakhane]

Khaato didn’t quite catch the argument between the senior riders, but his heart leaped into his throat when he heard the sun dragon rider’s name associated with his own. He breathed a sigh of relief when the nobleman decided to continue squabbling with a fellow cadet instead. Of course, nothing that was good ever lasted, and his Argoroth’s eyes caught sight of something moving on the mountainside below. Easier prey than the dragons flying ahead of him. He banked, completely ignoring his rider frantically kicking at his side and growling in frustration. Khaato turned his head upward to stare in futility at the fiery rings above, then down to his dragon. He scowled.

The red dragon landed against the mountainside and dipped his head, scooping the hapless creature into his mouth. The color drained from his rider’s face, and his eyes flicked up nervously to the other dragons, who seemingly obeyed their own riders without question. Khaato tapped Argoroth’s shoulder, but the drake only growled and crushed the gray lizard-like animal in his teeth. The red dragon’s wings spread again wide, and he pushed himself off the mountainside and into the air.

Khaato wanted to say something, to call out for help. His thoughts frayed in panic, and he could only try to focus on desperately trying to bring his dragon to heel. It didn’t work. The behemoth faded into the mist, carrying his dying prize in his jaws.

[thread exit]

 

[Eira]

Eira could feel the confidence radiating through her bond with Tyafainne; the drake of moon delighted in the idea of moving through hoops. It was how Eira's father helped her train the strength of Tya's wings when they began to help her heal. Tyafainne had years of flight maneuvers down pat, confidence in being able to pull of the most daring of moves.

Her lack of experience in such endeavours did not give her anxiety, not when the shared bond had no room for such disbelief. Go on then, Tyafainne. Prove me wrong! Eira stifled her own grin, but the dragon's enthusiasm made rider laugh.

There were many rings set up, different paths to take in order to fly through as many as one could. Whereas her dragon was in it for the fun, Eira was in it for the calculation. Her honey eyes looked out, scoping clusters of fiery rings that could get them more points in a single run. Malennis positioned herself low, readying herself for the comforting folding of Tya's wings as the drake soared through the first ring. Fire whooshed above her, but Eira felt no heat as Tya had tucked her wings over her enough to shield her.

"Up!" She commanded, lifting her head in time to see that a perfect run still burned. Tyafainne could see it, see the vision Eira had thought of immediately seeing the three rings sectioned off to the side. The ascent would be steep, but Tyafainne and Eira were well accustomed to such a rise. Moon dragons were well accustomed to higher altitudes, and many occasions they both broke free of cloud cover to bask in the moonslight.