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Aivrid

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Tag: Fieravene

Finally.

The tug in his mind roused Aivrid from his sleep. For a moment he thought he was restless; the planets would be in alignment for very little time and he was wasting his time in his lair. He should have been gathering magic, slaying his rivals, conquering the world. Even so, it was difficult to do such things when the exhaustion of the day's battles had set in. He had had little rest since the preparations for the alignment had begun.

But the fatigue was pushed from his mind as soon as he found the source of the tug on his mind. One of the many magic circles scattered at his realm's border had been activated, and by a familiar creature no less. He hesitated to call her a friend -- the concept itself was still foreign to him, and she was far too mischievous to be trusted. Even so he felt an odd kinship with the dark elf.

Perhaps it was the intercourse.

Fieravene's arrival today, though, carried a certain importance for Aivrid. If she was as experienced an adventurer as she appeared to be, she would be bringing something more precious than the entirety of his hoard. It was just in time. He could sense a concentration of power as she approached.

Still, they had little time left. Aivrid rose from his great pile of gold and flew up to the exit carved into the side of the mountain. He stopped at the platform and looked out at the warm glow of the morning as the sun rose to the east. That moment of pause cost him a minute.

Of all of the secrets to life and the universe -- Aivrid prided himself on knowing many -- fatherhood was still something of a mystery. After all it was rare for the male dragon to have any part in raising the brood. For the first time in a long time he found himself unsure of how to proceed. He wondered if there was anything he needed to raise the hatchling properly.

He shook his head. Such thoughts could wait; the ceremony could not. The behemoth leapt into the air, gliding between the mountains towards the lone dark elf rider.

The dragon landed at the exit of the mountain pass, leaning his head down so he could see Fieravene. "Do you have it?"
 
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"Do you have it?"

A loaded question if ever she'd heard one. Fieravene brought her steed to a halt at the thunderous arrival of the great dragon. The lands were quaking and the planets were at alignment - a rare enough event that sent a haze of celestial energies to the living realms. Made her skin crawl, her bones ache, her head spin.

Apparently quite a lot had occurred during her absence, but she held enough of her remaining wits about her to see the urgency in Aivrid's language.

"Aye," she replied, turning her horse at an angle to indicate the saddlebag at its left haunch, "it's here, safe and sound." Red eyes narrowed as she peered up at her beastly companion, "What's wrong?"
 
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Tag: Fieravene

There is no time to waste.

"Hmm." Aivrid took a moment to pause and calm himself. It was urgent, perhaps, but it would not do to rush things and fail. Nonetheless, waiting for Fieravene to arrive herself at his lair would take time they did not have.

The dragon lowered his 'hand', turning it such that his palm faced the sky as it rested on the ground. "Come. The more time I have for the ritual, the more power I will gather. I will take you to the mountain."

Pause.

"No, I will not allow you to ride on my back. Such behaviour is degrading."

Assuming Fieravene and her mount allowed themselves to be carried, Aivrid soon took flight to return to the mountain.
 
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"Why Aivrid," Fi remarked with a faint half-smile, dismounting from her horse to lead it over to the gaping deathtrap the dragon called a hand, "I would never ask it of you."

Her steed was curiously placid about the entire ordeal. Unnaturally so. Fiera, however, braced herself against the curve of one of Aivrid's claws, peering out between the digits to watch the world shrink beneath them. She gathered the wind in her hair, now having grown much past her shoulders to an unruly length that begged to be sheered.

High up above the landscape the air was cold and thin enough to take her breath away even without the view. She might have reveled in the journey were it not for the dragon's more furtive mood - he had things on his mind that need not be distracted by the simple joy of flight. Even so, no sense not delighting in it while she could - though as he began his descent it seemed all too short indeed.

Fiera carefully stepped down from his claws, leading her horse along the stone platform and away from the ledge before turning it in place to produce the very item Aivrid sought after.

The dragon egg was the color of seething blood, the size of a large melon, and covered in stone-hard scales. With utmost care did the elf handle it, having spent enough time around dragon eggs to understand the delicate nature in which they existed. This one, especially, seemed utterly volatile in a way she could not place her finger on. Merely being near it exposed her to the burn of rampant, violent energy the likes of which she'd never encountered anywhere else across Arethil. In the Netherworld, yes, which was cause enough for care. Touching the thing beget an innate boiling in her blood, imbuing her being with a rage that was not her own.

She bridled it, glowing red eyes an all, to hold it up for the dragon to inspect, "I may not be a dragon but I have been around my fair share of dragon eggs and this one-" her lip pricked over white teeth in uncertainty, "well I do believe it to be ...special."
 
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Special.

He supposed that the creatures who could not fly might appreciate the different view of things. Alas, it was not his way to cater to the needs of others when there were more important things to take care of. Aivrid sped back to the mountain and soon enough set down Fieravene and her steed.

He lowered his head to inspect the prize. The energy, the magic that it radiated -- it was familiar. This child would be a destroyer, a creature much like its mother. He remembered Sathirena's anger well. When they had met as enemies in that valley in the Spine, that anger had bled through her voice and gaze. For a brief moment he wondered if he might make amends with the brood mother. Perhaps they might create her a new body. Sathirena was much better equipped to care for a little one.

Still, it was up to him to grant the child the power it would require. The world was dangerous. Worse, the world hated dragons. The only way to survive was to kill, to destroy -- and this child would have the strength to bring the world to heel, to bring true change. He plucked the egg from the dark elf's hands and placed it at the center of the platform.

"Stand back." That comment was likely the greatest action of care Aivrid had ever gifted another.

The stone of the platform cracked and shifted, softening and reforming. The pools normally used during his scrying ceremonies became part of a greater magic circle. It was as wide as the platform itself and more complex than he had ever created. Still, the words came naturally to him. A purple glow encircled him as he began chanting in Draconic; the ethereal light expanded to take hold of the egg, and began to trace the lines and runes of the magic circle. He stretched a hand in the direction of the near-limitless well of power that was the planetary alignment.

Curious that the power that he held was in service of someone else. Even so, what was he doing with the power he had? His gaze wandered to one of the great piles of gold below in his mountain. He had saved it for so long, just in case. To sate his own greed and give him the reassurance he so needed. And yet this... this child was uncharted territory. For the first time in thousands of years, Aivrid was unsure of how to proceed. For the first time in thousands of years, Aivrid was terrified.

The dragon closed his eyes for a moment, coming to a decision on his own. When he opened his eyes once more they focused on the egg. His chanting intensified, and in the space of a few moments the great hoard that he had gathered over those many thousands of years disappeared.

This child was worth more than everything he had.

His power gathered, he began to pour it into the crimson egg.
 
Far be it from Fieravene to ignore a word of caution from a dragon. She stood back, as far back as the limits of the physical realm allowed, and made sure her steed was well clear of the circle too. Pressed as they were against the face of the mountain just beyond the opening to Aivrid's lair, she turned widening red eyes to the spectacle before her and allowed what filled her vision to grow a broad smile on her face.

The air grew electric - no, furious with energies. Not flowing, but rushing with the might of an enraged God's storm at sea. She felt the swell of power like she might feel the swell of the ocean beneath a ship, and stood immersed in the tides as they grew ever mightier under the planetary alignment.

Something happened next that she could not rightfully describe but the closest she could surmise was a beam of power shot down ... or was drawn in? ...or was coalesced by the great dragon upon the egg. The next thing she saw was the bright searing light of furious red. She did not hear the celestial boom that followed.

The side of the mountain exploded with the fury of the ancients and where once Aivrid's beautiful lair had been there now was a hole gaping large enough to swallow an entire town.

There at the epicenter the most unassuming coil of crimson scales wheezed its first breath and spat out petulant flames of hatred.

How dare she be brought into this world without her prior consent.
 
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The birth was a miracle. Earth-shattering, world-shaking -- a miracle. The cracks in the egg as it emerged were nothing compared to the force it produced. Aivrid's lair had stood for thousands of years and now it was torn almost completely asunder by the force of his child's flames.

That was the power. The potential. So much could be done; so much yet to do.

Though the ground shook and rocks fell from the cavern's ceiling, the platform remained intact. He grabbed Fieravene's horse and tossed it to the child's feet. Though the potential was there, the flames were not yet powerful enough to tear the world apart. His child needed to grow. Eating was the first step.

"A week," he said, not even sparing a glance to Fieravene. "Young dragons grow quickly and are insatiable. This one... she will need very, very much. We will speak of your reward then."

Another gout of flame from the child. She ate quickly. Aivrid roared to get her attention, then grabbed her by the back. She was still light; he imagined by the time they returned, he would be unable to carry her in only one claw.

Three beats of his wings brought him up to the top of the mountain. Much of the snow had fallen down towards the base; it shone in the morning sun. The blue of the sky was so rich, the air so crisp, the world so vivid. Higher and higher they ascended until finally he stopped. He raised the child to the sky, releasing her. There was no doubt in his mind she would soar.

"I, Aivrid, your father and guardian, name you. You are Aivia. You are a dragon. The world beneath is yours for the taking and I bestow upon you the strength to take it." He looked to the heavens and issued his challenge. "Aivia, my daughter, shall be greater than I -- she shall be the scourge of the world, the greatest of all dragons; earth-shaking, sky-breaking, beyond all others. Gods and men will cower when she comes, for she has power beyond all of them. All shall know her name."

His eyes found Aivia. "You are my daughter. You will bring the world to heel."
 
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