Fable - Ask On the Wings of a Myth

[Freya Thrakin]

Izerth Cyyrin Jormodo Weylin Kyrel

The setting sun streamed through the clouds, painting the sky a beautiful and vast array of oranges and reds as it washed over them with its radiant light. Birds danced through the air, filling the air with their idle songs and calls as they flocked to one another. The ground below was decorated with swathes of trees, a forest that stretched as far as the eye could see - a thick verdant blanket, masking the dirt beneath it with a mask of leaves and foliage.

The scene was a beautiful one, as dark silhouettes drifted across the sky, massive in comparison to the specks of shadow cast by the nearby birds. Orange sunlight glinted off of their scales, as their wings pounded against the sky. It was a rare sight, one that seemed more out of myth or legend than reality, to see even one dragon, let alone a group traveling in unison.

The Dragon Keepers soared across the tranquil sky, leaving the ash of their old home in search of a new one. One that would stand against the rage and anger of ancient monsters, one that would serve as a sanctuary for the weak and a keep for the strong, one that would not crumble into debris. Not if they had a say in it. They had split into two groups to ensure the journey would be quick, as well as to reduce the chances of running into something that would halt the progress of all of them. While Ash and his group would travel closer to the ground, they took to the skies.

Freya leaned back on Oris, her hand holding onto one of the dragon's spines as leverage. The sky really was a remarkable one, especially at such a height. Still, the night was coming soon, and darkness isn't the best companion for flight. "Keep an eye out for a clearing, we'll need to set up camp soon. It's been a long day." They had been flying consistently since the sun broke through the horizon, with little time for rest. She glanced down at the saddle she had placed on Oris; she typically preferred flying without one, but it provided a means for storing food and camping supplies that would be needed during their journey. They still had some meat on hand, as well as some Dragondew to serve as snacks. Still, they may need to hunt for some more while they're on the ground.

Oris turned his reptilian gaze to the sunset, admiring the array of colors as they bathed the sky and its clouds. "Youngling," he called out, clearly referring to Izerth, "Would you like to practice your flight again? It's important to keep practicing, endurance is important for journeys such as this." The dragon had taken a clear liking for the young one, a caring and somewhat paternal tone to him.

Freya smiled at the conversation. Oris always was skilled at handling and teaching the little, it was pleasing to see him continue his stride after the events at the Keep. She glanced over to Jormodo and Cyyrin, asking, "Both of you are old and knowledgeable. Do you have any tales or stories you could share, either about Sheketh," she nodded to Cyyrin, "or of elsewhere?"

 

[Jormodo]

Jormodo wasn't used to a saddle at all, but it was necessary. He carried a huge bulk of the supplies on his back since his size allowed for it, though they rested mostly on his neck and shoulders since the straps wouldn't go around the wing membrane that extended all the way from his wings down to his tail like a kite.

He loved long flights like this, he could go for days on just one glide providing good weather, and he loved seeing the younglings practicing their flight, their smaller wings pumping furiously to keep up. Jormodo traveled at the back of the formation, mostly to keep an eye on everyone else and also to provide a wide space for the younglings to land and rest.

The human dragon rider, Freya. Asked if there were any stories they could tell. Given the fact that Jormodo was a dragon who loved stories and conversation he decided to go first.
He cleared his throat with a rumble and began.
"I suppose I have a story or two. About when I was but a wyrmling.
Some of you may know but I am actually a firedrake, I was hatched an albino which rendered my scales white. This earned me the disdain of my nestlings and my mother, but to save herself from guilt she razed me until I was able to hunt on my own, and then she promptly shunned me from my home.

I hunted on my own for many years, lived off the wild or as a nuisance to farms and villages that hugged the wilds too closely. As I grew to my adultescent years I became more bold in my hunting, I took to raiding the livestock of larger villages with greater wealth and demanding tribute to not destroy them. I was nomadic in that time so I didn't care much for any of the hoards I collected, adventurers out to slay a dragon only found an empty cave full of gold.

All went well for many years, but then I picked the wrong village to attempt a raid. It was an especially wealthy one, it had a keep but I made the mistake to believe its soldiers were weak.
When I came for their livestock they retaliated with magic and mighty warriors, their magic kept me on the ground, and their warriors back me into a trap, there was no escape for me.
Keep in mind this happened in a land far from here, across the sea. Arethil is not my original homeland.
I was surprised to learn that the village was under the protection of K'i'ik'el... You would call them vampires. But these vampires had something odd about them, they fought with a sort of spirit residing in them. You never see an undead blessed by a god unless it's an evil god, but they seemed to glow with the light of a holy being.

I was spared, on the condition that I serve that village and the noble family that ruled over it."

He chuckled to himself, "I suppose that's enough for now. I doubt you wanted something so long winded."

 

[Izerth]

For a while Izerth had felt bad about being so excited about the trip they had embarked on that morning. The home of those around her had been destroyed, a potential future of her own home taken away from her, yet she couldn’t help but being somewhat ecstatic about the entire journey. Flying together with so many of her own kind, toward an unknown place where they would create a safe haven for anyone who thought alike, well, the little white dragon fantasized so much about it all that even while she was asleep on Oris’ back -- after having flown, rested and flown some more -- her paws jerked and lips twisted sometimes as she dreamed of all the unfamiliar beauty that the Isles would bring.

Slowly waking up when Freya shouted toward the others, Izerth used her paw to clean her eyes from any sleep dust. Briefly nuzzling the redhead’s shoulder she then turned her attention to Oris’ words. “Yes!” she happily exclaimed before gracefully jumping from his back and staying afloat not too far from him. It cost her way more to keep up, but she was eager to do so. Mostly because she was too shy to land on one of the other larger dragons. They were enormous; but friendly, and Izerth had grown to share her mind with all of them during the day. Now, when she spoke, unless it was a very embarrassing question -- those she kept for Oris and Freya -- the young dragon talked to all who travelled with them.

Curiously eyeing Cyyrin she sailed the wind before working her wings again when Jormodo started to tell his tale. He spoke of Arethil which she had never heard of before. Aside from that, he spoke of undead and a species like vampires but not. The difficult name had already escaped her mind, but she planned to ask him more about it, because it sounded fascinating to someone who’s only been in the Spine. One thing she did want to know immediately, though. As curious and rash as any toddler growing into someone of the age of elementary school she could only compromise with herself so far. Restriction had to be done, mostly, by others.

“Mister Jormodo, how did you manage to escape them?” she turned, looking at the dragon who was probably a hundred times longer than she was, and half bumped into Cyyrin’s wing as a hush of wind blew her off course when her concentration was put elsewhere.

“Sorry,” her red eyes met pale blue when she managed to fly toward his head. Not that he could have been hurt by her even if she tried, but apologizing seemed like the right thing to do regardless.

* * *​

 

[Cyyrin]

During his flight, Cyyrin was almost never quiet, constantly humming as he flew through the clouds with the rest of his flight, a bright smile on his face that almost rivaled the brightness of his scales. It felt good to be flying for such far distances, and though he was a bit out of practice, he wasn’t too far off from being as agile as he used to be. Were it not for the heavy pack and bags he wore, filled with padding and dragon eggs, he would’ve been ducking and diving through the clouds, spinning around and flipping through the skies. Every so often, his humming would switch from the upbeat traveling tunes to softer ones, deep rumbling vibrations through his body to give the eggs perhaps some feeling of home and familiarity, singing to them in a deep tone that was largely lost overtop the wind to the others of the group.

When the topic of Sheketh was brought up once more, Cyyrin would look towards Freya riding atop Orin, his smile brightening at least tenfold and his slightly gold-tipped yet opulently white fangs showing with his toothy grin. As if he wasn’t excited enough to be returning to the place of his hatching, he was now offered the chance to tell his own tales of the time he’s spent there - the friends he’s made, his own uprisings, and even the inspiration behind the style of much of the songs he sings! Of course, all of this would require some measure of thinking on his part, and as he focused on finding the right way to introduce Sheketh to the party, he allowed Jormodo to tell a story of his own past.

As Cyyrin search his own thoughts for a tale to weave, he actually did pay somewhat integrated attention in the things that Jormodo spoke of. It was surprising to the Ember Minstrel to learn that Jormodo was in reality an albino fire dragon, though it did make sense in hindsight with his size and his more stalwart demeanor. Not that any other dragon was small or nor lacking in any measure of fortitude, but it just… well, clicked for Jormodo. It was also a good chance for Cyyrin to learn about the story of other dragons, since he could assume that every member of his kind had an upbringing that would be considered unnatural in any walk of life for any other species or race. They were living myths and quite often born into a rather harsh world that hunted them. Cyyrin learned very early that the world was harsh, but he made his best out of it.

In the middle of his thinking on Jormodo’s tale and the picking apart of his own mind for some story or song to sing to get the party ready and excited for the new adventures on Sheketh, Cyyrin would feel a slight force bumping into the side of his wing, minute and almost inconsequential, but still present and drawing his attention toward the culprit, who happened to be the little wyrmling Izerth who flew up to his eye now, keeping pace with several beats of her own wings in contrast to the generally singular beat of his large sail-like wings, the coppery membrane stretching from his shoulders to the tops of his hind legs. As she apologized to him, Cyyrin’s toothy grin would soften to a more friendly smile, his eyes set forward once more.

”It’s no problem at all, little one. I’m impressed that you’re keeping up so well with everybody, and I feel one day you might be the best flyer among us!” Cyyrin would turn back to Izerth, ensuring that his comment could be heard by every other dragon present, and offering Izerth a coy wink, before turning back forward. ”But rest is important. If you need to catch your breath for a moment, please, I have more than enough space and strength to carry you, and I’m sure Orin doesn’t mind lifting you at all. Right Orin?” Cyyrin would call out to Freya’s dragon playfully, giving a low chuckle that built into a hum.

He finally settled that perhaps a song would be best after Jormodo’s story, and he remembered a classic, more jovial song that he was taught when he was young. It was an old classic on the Isle of Sheketh, and he felt that it would make for a good travel tune for the rest of the flight. ”You know… on the matter of Sheketh, there’s one old song that comes to mind… it’s rather a drag, but… oh, why not, right? A bit of a taste of the culture to come? And little one, come on, sing with me!” Cyyrin had purposefully set up the song as being less upbeat than it was in reality, hopefully to offer the group a welcome surprise as he cleared his throat, and his sonorous, melodic, and powerful voice began to belt out over the clouds and far into the ground below, hopefully with some of the other dragons joining in after a verse or two, even if they couldn’t get the lyrics quite right:

O Spring hath arrived,
Once more on gentle tides
Above and below new lyfe’s
Teeming!
So soon once again,
From nest, cave, and den
On soot-laden ground
Winter’s leaving!

O Bid leave the sorrow
And call for tomorrow
While red makes stars
And night narrow!
But once, said and done
We will folly Winter’s run
With the springtime that’s now
Close approaching!

The song was certainly one with a more brisk pace, every word conjuring images of spring and growth on the ashen island - it was a weird mixture of calling back towards the volcanic nature of the island, and the excitement that always surrounded the coming of spring after winter ended. Even as the lyrics faded away and were finished, Cyyrin continued to hum loudly to the tune of the old melody, chortling at times and occasionally filling the air with excited laughter - it was quite obvious that Cyyrin thought so highly of where he was born, even if it was a rather dreary place. He loved the world, but he loved his home, and always would.

 

[Freya Thrakin]

Freya turned her gaze to the albino dragon, intently listening to his tale. She had to admit that, despite both being Dragon Keepers, she still didn't know much about Jormodo's past beyond the basics. Hearing the tales of one so old and wise was fascinating to her, even as a little girl. She would often spend her nights pestering the elders beside the fire, begging for one more story from their youth. They'd regale her with tales of skinwalkers, of tricksters and warriors, of a great scaled beast that lurked within the mountains.

Occasionally, Oris and Freya would glance at the small youngling flying beside them, a smile always growing at the sight. She was growing faster and faster, and her flight had improved since the start of their journey already. At the thought, Izerth immediately bumped into Cyyrin. "You've already started to outpace my old wings, Izzy. Not many younglings get the opportunity to fly for such a distance, you've done well," Oris replied with a similar chuckle. "Not at all, I'd be happy to lift you."

Freya nodded, pleased that Izerth seems to have grown more comfortable with the other dragons. Turning her attention back to Jormodo, she asked, "When you did escape, was that when you flew to Arethil? It must have been a long journey, much longer than this one." It'd explain his love for extended flights, that was for sure.

As the story came to an end, Cyyrin piped up with mention of a song. Her village often came alive with Nordic melodies and jolly shanties in the night, a charming performance albeit one without skill, so a smile played across her face at the starting tune.

The song that was conjured up was unrecognizable to her, but the rumbling yet melodic voice the dragon sang it with made it a catchy one nonetheless. The dragon keeper found herself drumming along to the rhythm on Oris' scales until it only felt natural to sing with the bard. Not long after, the low voice of Oris found itself alongside hers, melding into a makeshift chorus — one that, admittedly, had no clue what the lyrics were and were occasionally quite wrong, though they did manage to sound charming regardless.

 

[Jormodo]

The questions came and he gave a rumbling chuckle, "Well now, If I were to answer those questions the story would have to go on, and I don't want to monopolize the conversation."
He listened to the singing. He loved to sing and couldn't help but join in with his own rumbling voice on the makeshift chorus that they were slowly forming.
He had no better idea about the lyrics, but he was able to follow along well enough. This is what he enjoyed about traveling with friends, it was fellowship like this that simply made him smile.

He slightly adjusted his flight to ascend higher into the sky. His vision wasn't so good up close, but from afar he could pick out the tiniest details of a worm coming up through the wet ground below.
He had been keeping an eye out for anything suspicious on the ground. As they flew along he knew that their passage had alerted some tree dwelling tribes, some human, some Orcish tribes, others humanoid or otherwise. But they simply watched and cowered in fear at seeing so many dragons fly over their jungle.

Afar he noticed a Wyvern flying on an intercept course, but it turned away once it saw how many they were.
This Jungle was impressive though, far larger than any he had ever seen. It would take them a long time to cross, and they were flying! His sharp eyes could no longer see its edge, and the spine was already blue in the distance behind them.

 

[Izerth]

Making up her mind she would definitely bug mister Jormodo about his history once they would have some time to speak without him dominating the conversation by telling about his past. The moment Izerth was intrigued there was little to stop her, especially from making plans. Another plan was to get to know Cyyrin. He appeared kind enough as he offered to carry her, but she was quite shy. While tired, she couldn’t go around that, her current resting place was still next to Freya. That’s where she carefully landed, curled up, and with her back against Freya’s lower back, closed her eyes to let the singing and the rumbling carry her to the land of dreams once again.

Everything felt safe. Everything felt just right.

She knew someone would wake her up should they decide to make camp. Izerth didn’t really pick a spot or knew how to, certainly not for a group this large. She would definitely help them hunt should they want her to. The last bit begged the question how much one had to eat to be full. For her, lately, she did with about six large fishes a day or a couple of foxes. Perhaps a larger animal if she came across one. Rabbits were on her menu as well. Some birds, those she liked to chase because it caused her to practice flying and making sharp dives or angles. To imagine how much food someone like Oris or Jormodo had to devour to sate himself, well, they would probably need a whole herd to settle next to if they wanted to feed everyone.

Yawning she opened her eyes to take a quick look at their surroundings. The singing went on peacefully, and with Freya drumming on one of Oris’ scales it had Izerth curiously slide her head toward it. Ruby colored eyes blinked lazily while she watched the human play. Then fell asleep with the song echoing in the back of her mind.

"Nice," Yawn. "song."

* * *​

 

[Cyyrin]

”Thank you, my white-scaled friend! It was a song I was taught in my youth by the man who found me and made sure I wasn’t somebody else’s lunch. I cannot wait to see home once more, and ensure that his cottage is still in one piece.” Cyyrin would nod towards Jormodo graciously, continuing to fly forward as the ground passed by underneath them, Cyyrin an ever-constant bubbly and warm presence. Cyyrin wasn’t infectiously energetic, but if there was one constant, it was that as long as the sun rose, Cyyrin would find a reason to rejoice.

As the group continued to fly overhead Cyyrin slowly let the hum transform into a deep, hearty chuckle as he thought about how others joined along in their own ways. Closing his eyes for but a moment, he let the wind race through his horns, scales, and spines. This is what living was for! Freedom over the skies and the chance to leave the ground behind, soaring without any binds to shackle him down. This is why Cyyrin had left home all those years ago - to find glory, fame, fortune, and purpose! Of course, the first three were still avoiding him, but the last one, he had found, and it was wonderful!

”I do not wish to be proud, but I could never imagine what it’d be like to be trapped to the ground! If the winds are free to fly, then all creatures deserve to be as well!” Cyyrin would feign a somewhat haughty and triumphant laugh, his scales shimmering in the sky as though he himself was a second, setting, dragon-shaped sun. However, as time grew onwards, even the bard began to tire, especially with the precious packs he was carrying on his back and in his talons. While he might’ve kept on flying were it not for them, he couldn’t allow himself to become clumsy and accidentally drop one - heavens forbid that!

With a quick look down towards the ground, Cyyrin spotted a rather open clearing not too far off, and no doubt one that Jormodo and some of the other dragons would’ve spotted as well. Looking at the rest of them, he couldn’t help but feel a little bit embarrassed as he raised his voice once again. ”While as much as I would love to see this journey completed with foremost haste and prove that I am as good of a flier as I tend to pride myself on - which, make no mistake, is 100% true - I feel as though setting up camp would be best for the night. I doubt the eggs will like moving so much in one day.”

As one of the Broodkeepers for the Dragon Keepers, Cyyrin was cautious about making sure the eggs did have optimal conditions for hatching, and flying at night with cold ones could very well impede the maturation of the wyrmlings, which would be a travesty and a tragedy. Ensuring that Freya and Oris, Jormodo, Izerth, and the rest were behind him, Cyyrin would begin to gently descend towards the clearing, slowing down as he used his great wings more and more like gliding sails, using his large tail to twist his body this way and that, before eventually coming to hover above the ground, the grass bending with each beat of his wings.

Placing the bags held in his talons on the ground first, Cyyrin would eventually land into the clearing, unloading his packs as the others presumably joined him, piling the bags of dragon eggs into one central grouping and keeping a lookout on the surroundings, his body curled protectively around the brood. As the sun began to set, Cyyrin grew more and more wary - even on Sheketh, night was still lit up by the fires in the mountains. Here, there was nothing but his own inner hearth to produce light.

 

[Freya Thrakin]

"Ah, you speak the truth! To glide atop the winds grants one a certain perspective on life, in more ways than the obvious. I'd spend days soaring amongst the Eretejvan peaks, joining the clouds that passed before me. Having company makes it all the better," Oris replied joyfully as he soared beside Cyyrin, casting a glance to Freya. Before they had ever even heard of the Dragon Keepers, let alone joined them, flight was what occupied much of their days and nights. Now, there wasn't much time to indulge in their favored past-time. Too many hatchlings needed care and teaching, and the urgency of hunting rumors never made for calm flights. Though they both loved doing those things, the pair had to admit they enjoyed the time for a peaceful flight.

Freya let her hand drift to Izerth behind her, smiling a bit at the napping dragon. She had a point; it was getting late enough that they should consider setting up camp. At Cyyrin's excuse, she let out a brief laugh. "Of course, Cyyrin. I'm sure Oris feels the same." A playful growl quickly emerged as a response, which was ignored. "Lead us in, we'll follow."

As they landed on the clearing, the massive weight of the draconic beast pressing against the forest floor, they quickly set about putting up camp. "Izzy," Freya called as she prodded the sleeping hatchling, "we're setting up camp. Wanna help me with the fire?" Delving into Oris' saddlebags, she pulled out a small heap of firewood, holding it out for Izerth to take a few for herself.

Soon enough, a campfire was built, food was prepared, and Oris had placed a meal in front of every person. For most of the party, it was a large pile of meat, correlating to their size. Freya, as the sole human, was left with the smallest piece: a rabbit. "We'll go hunting tomorrow to restock. Better to be safe than sorry." The local wildlife was not going to be happy—or alive, for that matter.

The fire before them glowed brilliantly, an orange pillar of light that fought back the rapidly darkening jungle. The trees that surrounded them, once a beautiful array of verdant green and emerald, became little more than looming shadows against a moonlit sky. Shadow seemed to encroach upon them, even as the fire flared before them. The grating calls of birds emanated through the night air, the occasional crow flying overhead.

As they ate their meal, the Wilds abruptly seemed to shift. Trees shook as if they were pushed, leaves falling to the floor. Bark seemed to crack as though a heavy wind had just passed by, though none had come. A heaving, visceral crunch pulsed through the forest, audible and shaken.

Then, silence. Freya and Oris's gaze immediately shot up, both glaring into the darkness. Her hand instinctively went for her spear, gripping it tightly. "Something's not right."

Another crunch came, the trees almost buckling at the sound. Birds flew into the air as it came, the sound of their calls drowned out by the eery sound of creaking, aged wood. Another came, swiftly followed by another, almost like footsteps.

However, nothing broached the clearing.

 

[Jormodo]

Jormodo landed with the others and laid down while they made camp. He had a sort of love/hate relationship with forests. While he loved to find a forest with trees tall enough to conceal him beneath the tree line, he hated having to flatten a few to make room to sleep.
Which is just what he had to do. His movements in a cramped place like this were very limited. If he wanted to fly he would have to jump above the tree line first to make room for his wings to get altitude.

He couldn't do much to help with camp, but he did provide a safe place to put their delicate passengers. He held the eggs close to him, letting his body heat keep them warm.
He ate the meat provided for him after the preparations had settled down. His body surrounded the whole perimeter of the camp and those within it, and one of his wings could make a roof over them if any bad weather came up.

But as he settled down for sleep his sharp senses began to detect large movements outside the light of their camp. His eyes remained closed since his vision was useless this close up, but he raised his head slightly. Freya and Oris heard it as well and were alert.
"I detect five large creatures moving this way... Seven now, I can sense more but I should have heard creatures of this size from a long ways off. They have been hiding close by."
He held the eggs closer, his senses alert as the creatures drew nearer. The sounds were familiar but he couldn't quite place them.

 

[Izerth]

Making a sound that still resembled a mewl more than a roar, Izerth turned a little when Freya decided to prod her awake. It took her a second because she was really cosy and didn’t feel like uncoiling from her position that she had taken during the deeper part of her sleep. Once her ruby red eyes were open she took a look around. Brightly painted rivers and colourful landscapes of her dreams were quickly replaced by a lush and dark forest. They had landed and it was time to set up camp, all she could do was her own part, and glad that Freya called out to her to help with the fire, the hatchling gracefully moved behind her two-legged, redheaded friend. “Of course!” she let Freya know, even though the tone of her voice was still sleepy. Secretly she hoped to be done with setting up camp pretty fast so she could cuddle up again and dream of new things before hitting the sky in the early morning.

Quietly dragging the wood toward where Freya decided the fire would be she inhaled deeply and lit in on fire. Immediately the happy crackling of wood crept across the area. She dragged more twigs and larger branches, the dry ones, toward the fire, feeding it until the flames appeared to lunch toward the stars above. The warmth felt good on her scales. Dragons had settled all around, those holding the eggs were careful, protected them with their bodies and Izerth found her wishing she could help. However, one egg was probably all she could hug and keep warm, and carrying it all the way the their new home.. well, she couldn’t even make it there without stopping dozens of times if it wouldn’t have been for Oris. Hence, she let it to the “grown ups” to deal with that bit.

During the meal she silently curled up next to Freya’s side while munching on her part of the food. In comparison to the others, she didn’t eat all that much. The thought of a hunt excited her enough to become more awake, and that resulted in her sitting up straight while tearing the flesh from one of the ribs.

Too worked up about the hunt, the flight, and filled with food, Izerth sniffed around the other dragons while investigating the area. Her curiosity knew no boundaries and now that she was wide awake the others would have to deal with her crawling over them in all her glory. The moonlit paths made of scales led her across Jormodo to Cyyrin. The latter dragon she found a little less intimidating and therefore she stayed around him for a bit longer. Lingering, watching the trees from his back, the little white dragon turned its head with lightning speed when the first thud came.

Unsure of what to do she flew up into the air, eyes trying their best to see where the enemies were. They had to be huge.. the creaking of bark, the almost earth-shaking steps. Surely there were giants somewhere near. Somewhere her eyes had yet to find them. Even now, as she had adjusted to the darkness it was hard to see where the creatures were. That was until one of the enormous branches swung at her and for a brief moment she thought that it would be the end of her, however, fortunately for her, it missed her by a hair.

In panic she let out a stream of fire illuminating the full horror of the situation.

***​

 

[Cyyrin]

Curled around the dragon eggs alongside Jormodo, Cyyrin would allow a low growl to rumble and build in his throat, as the first of the threats were deciphered, though he allowed the deep rumble to alleviate as Izerth gently came over, curious and investigative while he stood watch. He allowed a small, reassuring smile to come over his features as he watched the young wyrmling move about the camp to investigate, but eventually, his focus was drawn again like the string of a bow - taut with tension and ready to lash out. His tail swiped through the grass with a small whistle of wind, as his chest began to glow with the inner, radiant heat and light from his natural hearth

Out of nowhere, however, the verdant expanse lashed out at Izerth, attempting to end the life of the tiny wyrmling. Time ceased for Cyyrin as he watched in slow motion a great branch, like an arm, reaching out to crack against the side of Izerth’s head and neck. His eyes glazed over with white light as the furnace inside him roared to a crescendo, his body leaping up from the pile of eggs and moving towards the attacker in a bound, lunging through the air with a great beat of his wings and in a flash of white-gold illumination. As the branch moved to connect with Izerth, Cyyrin would ram his head into the side of the lashing limb, the wood cracking and setting the blow off-course just in time.

Standing at attention, the Ember Minstral looked as the origin of the attack shifted and moved, a figure-like shape emerging from the tree and moving towards the dragon that had deflected its attack. With a deep breath, Cyyrin would feel the heat in his chest and belly grow to an almost unbearable degree, before with an opening of his maw, unleash the inferno of alabaster fire, the night sky temporarily blinded as Cyyrin dug his claws, wings, and tail into the ground so that he could fully lean into the torrent, channeling every ounce of his fury onto the arbor that had dared to threaten one of his kind. Eventually the flames tapered off, leaving Cyyrin in his defensive stance, his eyes still set on the tree now wreathed in white fire that was quickly consumo it’s form.

”Die, you beast!” Cyyrin would shout in the ancestral tongue of dragons, his voice gravelly as per the nature of the rough language, before jumping towards the burning ent with gold-tipped fangs bared. With the tree blinded and distracted by the fire, Cyyrin collided with the wood, bark breaking and twigs cracking as Cyyrin engaged into a desperate struggled against the tree, claws colliding with thick wood and fangs clamping down on whatever hold they could, while heavy branches sought to batter, blind, and break the ferocious dragon.

As Cyyrin bit down upon the ent’s neck and anchored it for the raking of his claws against the two main lashing limbs of the burning tree, the sound of the fight and the burning fire would echo throughout the camp and into the wood beyond, signaling to the wilderness that a fray had begun, what that was currently neither worthy of song nor legend, but rather truth behind why one should never anger a dragon.

 

[Freya Thrakin]

In an instant, the forest erupted into chaos. As Izerth's plume of flame illuminated the pressing darkness, what was once a mere silhouette turned into a vivid image. A towering figure, more of a twisted tree than anything resembling a creature, which loomed over them with an intense, burning glare. A rumbling sound emanated from the ent, almost akin to a booming voice in an ancient tongue.

Moments before a wooden claw carved into the young hatchling, the Ember Minstrel instead collided with it. A sickening crack ensued as the arm broke at the impact, a torrent of vines erupting from the wound to repair it. The ent swung their gaze Cyyrin, an inhuman visage of sickly bark and moss that still managed to radiate sheer rage at the sight of the larger dragon. However, they were soon met with an onslaught of churning white fire, one that crawled atop their bark with a scorching ferocity.

A bloodcurdling screech erupted from the creature, its form a mass of writhing vines and bark covered in alabaster flame. It tackled Cyyrin, refusing to yield in the face of the bard's draconic fury. "Worm...of...fire," the ent replied, the voice strained in a clear mimicry of the common tongue. As it spoke, vines wrapped around Cyyrin's limbs, dragging the dragon downward as they grew further and further. The clash continued, the ent's bark slowly turning to charcoal as the flames consumed more and more of its body.

One by one, the trees surrounding the camp seemed to bend and contort, their limbs taking shape as they loomed over them. Wood cracked with every movement, a chorus of what almost sounded like laughter.

The tallest ent, one that looked to be adorned with a mantle of red leaves, rose a hand draped in moss. It cast a lingering glance over the group. The emotional one was handled, the youngling —The Red-Leaved Ent waved its hand, temporarily invigorating the smaller trees with a morsel of life, sending the small horde after it along with a full-fledged ent— was about to be.

That left the two worms. There was a small one, too, but they always ran. If they were smart, they'd know not to linger around beasts. Ents charged forward, tackling Jormodo. As they grappled the beast large roots rose from the earth and wrapped around him, thorns quickly sprouting from the plant growth. Small, animated trees rushed the campground, indiscriminately attacking as the horde surged forth.

The Red-Leafed Ent loomed in the background, a murmuring, eldritch chant leaving its maw as it watched the battle.

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Chaos quickly overtook the campground as ents and trees swarmed the area. Oris growled, rising to his feet as his tail lashed behind him. A plume of flame left the dragon's jaw, bathing some of the tree's horde as the scourge flooded their camp.

Freya readied her spear, piercing an encroaching tree with an unexpected amount of resistance. Ripping the blade out, she switched to her twin maces and fought off the wooden tide.

 

[Izerth]

Never before had she seen trees move with purpose. This wasn’t a storm, and certainly not a coincidence. Gargantuan creatures even with the dragons around, no, especially with the full grown dragons around to be compared with, arose from their perfect hiding spot. Among the forest trees they were barely noticeable. These mighty beings swung their awkwardly angled branches as they attacked the group. Smaller ones, or whatever those things over there were, appeared on the ground. She could see Freya move around with her spear, near the fire. Knowing that here, high in the air, she was but a fly to be squeezed between tons of scales colliding with wood, the hatchling hurried to her human friend. Diving like an arrow she used her claws to tear through one of the creatures behind Freya, then set another one on fire.

The situation was confusing as hell to the hatchling who had never seen anything like this before. Having settled in a peaceful looking forest their group was now being torn apart by wooden creatures. They hadn’t touched the trees, well, aside from the ones that had to go for them to settle down - had there been seedlings amongst those?

“What are these things?” She asked, panickedly sinking fangs and claws into the nearby one. The bark crunched, she spit it out with ruby eyes burning. Another fireball caught one of the attackers in its side.

“What do you want?” the thought reached across the area, entering the minds of the creatures, if they had one.

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