Open Chronicles The Wyvern's Nest

[Rulgak]

Petra had been gazing upon a set of armour on display, one that the smithy had forged not long ago. The full had taken herself and many smiths two months to complete. It had been crafted with deep steel, sourced from a place even beyond the deep caverns of the dwarves. A hard and sturdy metal, though it had nothing on the adamantine metals of the dwarves themselves, it could hold magic far better. The armour has been almost as much an exercise in enchanting as it had smithing, and while the smiths could handle the former, the latter had largely been left to Rulgak.

But it had taken them all to build such a thing. Crafted from scratch, it had the journeyman to beat the plates into considerable shape, and apprentices to smooth and assemble it. Masters oversaw the work and added the detail only their experienced touch could. Laden with many runes which had taken meticulous work by Rulgak to etch upon the surface, she had taken great care to ensure the shape of the etched steel matched that of the runes it was meant to hold. Lewan handled the damascene, having carefully hammered gold into the steel Rulgak had carefully roughened and prepared. Then, the plates were heated by kiln and hammered again. It had been a tedious effort, but the results did show when the runes lay smooth against the surrounding steel. Enchanting had taken the greatest amount of time; Rulgak had taken care of most of it, but there were quite a few enchantments that had to be outsourced, some of which required the hand of a mage from beyond the order.

Seemingly distracted, Petra quickly turned her attention towards Rulgak once she'd been adressed. She seemed a touch flushed, as it caught in the midst of mischief. Sure, her hands would spoil the shine on the armour, but that was an inconvenience to be borne by the apprentices. Fingerprints would be all she could do to damage the armour by bare touch. Nothing in the shop should break so easily. If that happened, someone was getting a stern talking to from Rulgak. Likely while working the bellows for the day.

"Madam Rulgak, well met. I've heard that your title of head blacksmith is well earned! So tell me. How do you feel about trying your skill at making a saddle fit for a dragon of storms?"

Rulgak appeared a bit confused at the request, but only for a moment. She had talent in leatherworking, but she was no saddler. A horse's saddle would have been a strange item to commission for her, but a dragon's saddle was a strange item for anyone to commission.

Petra excitement was contagious though, and Rulgak wondered if she could craft such a thing. Help would be scarce, she could not imagine the end result being anything akin to one for a horse. The seating perhaps, but supporting the weight of a rider would be a negligible problem in comparison. Fit might matter more, and rather than designed to the whim of the rider, it was clear that this would need to be designed to fit the whim of the dragon who'd wear it.

“That is an unusual request. We haven't made such a thing before. But that doesn't mean that we can't.” Rulgak replied with a hint of determination to her otherwise low and steady tone. She'd need a sense of size and some measurements, as a start. It would be a design like no other, and that she'd be blazing ahead beyond her usual area of expertise was a touch exciting.

Who could say they made a saddle fit for a dragon?

Petra Darthinian Faramund

 

[Faramund]

Listening to Rulgak's estimation, Faramund nodded in agreement. Five days was fine. His timetable wasn't so packed that he needed his armour back anytime soon, though, he made that assumption without knowing what the knight-captain had in store for him once he got back. No doubt she would grant him a few days rest before duty reared its ugly head once more. In such an event, Ruglak's journeymen would have had plenty of time to tend to his armour.

"Three days it is," the big knight jested, appreciation working its way into his gaze. "Thanks, Rulgak."

Glancing at Petra as she came to stand by the counter, Faramund let himself fade into the background as the two talked business. While the job in question might have been better suited to the Order's Master of Horse, Faramund knew Rulgak wouldn't shy from the challenge -or the opportunity- Petra delivered to her doorstep. The she-orc was Head Blacksmith for a reason, after all.

A consummate professional, it was clear to everyone that she took great pride in her work. She was diligent, and whilst rumour had painted her as a harsh taskmaster, she was far from unfair. Faramund knew that, as did most everyone who had ever stepped foot inside the Nest.

If anyone was capable of making a saddle fit for a dragon, it was Rulgak.

“That is an unusual request. We haven't made such a thing before. But that doesn't mean that we can't.”

"You don't have to decide right now, of course," Faramund interjected, coming to the she-orc's aid as she ran the numbers in her mind. "We should go take a look at the beastie first, take measurements..." he trailed off, knowing full well she didn't need his guidance in this matter. Petra, on the other hand... "Speaking of, perhaps we should find a spot outside the village to inspect, uh, Norvyk, was it?" A pause as he waited for confirmation. "Last thing we need is to cause a stir. As for room... well, I imagine he's a big bastard, this Norvyk?"

Another pause.

"Aye, thought so." Looking back to Rulgak, the big knight met her gaze with his, frowned. "Hate to put on you again, Rulgak, but could you send a runner up to the Monastery to inform my brethren of what we're about to do? Don't want them filling their trews when this thing blots out the sun, now do we?"

Petra Darthinian

 

[Rulgak]

"Three days it is. Thanks, Rulgak." Faramund jovially responded, eliciting the slightest chuckle from Rulgak's throat. It sounded like more like she was clearing it than a noise of amusement, but the curl to the corner of her lips told of it to those who knew her well enough.

“Return in one days time. I’ll tell you to come back four days later.” Rulgak remarked back, letting another deep, one note, chuckling cough from her throat. It was about as much elation as she'd ever outwardly display.

"You don't have to decide right now, of course," Faramund said, speaking now of the saddle Petra had just commissioned.

“I know. But I would like to see this through.” Rulgak responded, already intent on the commissioned task. It was a unique challenge, and already she was planning how she might see it completed. Faramund continued to speak of measurements, a concern she shared in mind.

“Measurements will be a priority. There is no getting started without them.” Rulgak said. It was a good start, and now Rulgak had a name to put to this dragon. Norvyk. She'd need to prepare some rope and mark measurements upon it in order to have a proper tool to record the dimensions needed for a well-fitting saddle.

"Hate to put on you again, Rulgak, but could you send a runner up to the Monastery to inform my brethren of what we're about to do? Don't want them filling their trews when this thing blots out the sun, now do we?" Rulgak asked next, and it was a suitable concern. They surely couldn't just have a dragon arrive unannounced, not without plentiful chaos and inevitable trouble from leadership. Rulgak hadn't much idea what would be required, and someone would need to find out.

“Good idea. I'll get an apprentice on it.” Rulgak said, before disappearing back into the workshop for a moment.

“You. I need you to go to the Monastery.” Rulgak instructed him.

“Sure thing Rulgak. What for?” He asked, though he was already on his way to the shop.

“It's a special commission.” Rulgak began, careful to leave the shop before revealing the message. The smiths had already dawdled once, and she didn't need them to do so again over such rare news. It had taken some effort to get them to their current level of productivity for the day, and Rulgak didn't want to spoil it so soon with temptation of gossip over work. She'd have at least until the runner returned before that happened.

“Tell them a dragon will be arriving. We must know what is needed to prepare.” Rulgak added, once they were well within the shop.

“A dragon?” The apprentice asked with a touch of shock and disbelief.

“Yes. A dragon. Likely large, to be fitted for equipment. Return with instructions once you have them, if any are given.” Rulgak added, and the apprentice turned away to depart and do exactly that.

Petra Darthinian Faramund

 

[Petra Darthinian]

As Rulgak disappeared through the swinging shop doors, Petra lightly elbowed Faramund, "Did you say the Monastery? How could we now be dedicated drinking buddies and I didn't know that you were a Knight of Anathaeum?" She looked over at him, a teasing glint in her eyes. When they had first met, Petra had only assumed the man was a knight of some order based on his gear and attitude. She stood up and stepped from the counter, walking back over to the armor stand and leaning closer to try and read the runes that had piqued her interest before. "That was a very thougtful suggestion by the way. I was just going to have him land here in the square after announcing to everyone to not lose their minds." Her mouth twisted into a mischievious grin. "But I suppose your idea is better for causing less chaos. Now one moment while I let my dragon know that his scaly presence is finally needed. Did you perhaps, also have a suggestion where we could meet him?"

Faramund Rulgak

 

[Faramund]

Nodding, the burly knight watched as Rulgak disappeared back into the part of the smithy where the magic really happened. "My gratitude," he said, parting words lost on the she-orc who, if his ears did not deceive him, was already busy giving instructions to the nearest -and perhaps one of the more trustworthy- of her subordinates. Straining his hearing, Faramund's resting expression changed to one of surprise as he felt an elbow nudge his side.

"Did you say the Monastery? How could we now be dedicated drinking buddies and I didn't know that you were a Knight of Anathaeum?"

Turning, the knight saw the glimmer of amusement in his companion's eye. "A knight of what now?" He said, reacting accordingly, unable to keep his fool's grin hidden behind a mask of feigned stoicism. "Yes, I am a knight of Anathaeum. I hope that does not change things between us?" People usually got caught up on the title, he had found. He did not want Petra -nor anyone, really- treating him differently simply because he had a Syr in front of his name.

Respect was earned, not owed. And no-one owed him a damned thing.

"...Did you perhaps, also have a suggestion where we could meet him?"

Grinning, the big knight stepped up beside Petra, an appraising look in his eye as he studied the suit of armour on display in front of them. "As a matter of fact, I do!" His reply bounced around the shop, eliciting a squawk from ol' Snappy and bringing an attendant to the swinging doors behind the counter. Meeting the young man's gaze, Faramund smiled as he quickly withdrew back behind the scenes.

"There's a practice field a mile or so south of Astenvale that should suit our needs perfectly," he said, his words accompanied by a reassuring nod. "It's where those sworn to the order go to hone their mounted combat skills. There are quintains and archery butts, and lists for when you fancy taking on something a bit more... animate." He grinned, picturing in his mind's eye the faces of all the knights he had unhorsed in his time. The faces of those who had unhorsed him soon followed, however.

His grin faded.

"There's plenty of open space to be found there. We learn to ride in formation, y'see. Open ground allows us to manoeuvre to our heart's content, and to split and break apart should anything ill befall one of us during practice."

Rulgak Petra Darthinian

 

[Rulgak]

The apprentice returned some time later, bearing permission from the Monastery. There was no such protocol for an arrival of a dragon, were that dragon visiting purely for the purpose to be fitted with gear from the smithy. Helena, Selene, and the Knight Masters were aware, as were the Pursuants. Responsibility was left to Rulgak to determine a suitable clearing, and to issue sufficient warning to those Knights who might not otherwise be expecting a dragon to visit.

* * *​

On the day they were expecting Norvyk's arrival, the practice field had been cleared. Notice had been given to ensure it was reserved and remained unused for the day, and Lewan had been sent to alert the other knights. Rulgak was reluctant to task a master smith at a time the Wyvern's nest was so busy, but she needed someone with authority to make the announcement. An apprentice was fine for the relaying of simple news and requests, but not for notifying her fellow knights. With Lewan delivering the news it there could be no doubt it was a mistake. She could trust him to manage matters far more.

Specialized rope had been woven from cotton string, lengths of it had been cut and markings drawn across it at measured intervals. Two of the more senior apprentices were at Rulgak's side, each of them bearing tall forked sticks to aid in guiding the rope over the dragon. She could easily have thrown the rope, but preferred not to be so careless around a dragon. The guiding sticks would allow for the rope to be hoisted over him with control.

In Rulgak's hand was a large square patch of soft padded leather, with weights added to it to bring it to a similar weight to the intended saddle. Steel rings had been attached to each corner, through which she planned to thread some rope and ensure the measurement she took would lead to a good fit. Rulgak didn't know where the ideal place for a saddle on a dragon might be. nor did she know much of draconian anatomy. But she was skilled at solving problems and putting things together, and felt confident that both talents would serve her well in the task to come.

Rulgak spent the last moments surveying the equipment, ensuring it was all in order and had been put sturdily together, which it had been. She had some notes on what measurement's she'd likely need and a thin piece of charcoal on a small table. A sundial had been set beside it, and Rulgak noted the hour grew near. Everything was in order, and it was now almost time for Norvyk's arrival.

“He should be arriving any moment.” She announced, keeping occasional watch on the skies to look for the visitor they were expecting.

Petra Darthinian Faramund

 

[Petra Darthinian]

There was a playful wind that danced the black curls around Petra's face as she watched the skies next to Faramund, where they stood in a patch of sunlight that had managed to escape the rolling clouds above. She noted the cleared training field that the Knight had suggested as she crossed her arms, absently listening to Rulgak bark out instructions to the two apprentices she had granted the privilege of helping her today.

Petra was beyond grateful that the she-orc had accepted her special request. It was not a project for the faint of heart, and from what little time she had known Rulgak, she didn't think that would ever be an issue. The woman was a force to be reckoned with and she admired that. It was something she herself strived to emulate.

They hadn't discussed pricing yet on the saddle. How could they, if they did not yet know how much leather would be needed? But Petra was prepared to spare no expense to get exactly what she and Norvyk wanted. She already had a few ideas of what she would need added to the saddle to make this something that would work over long distances and in battle.

Battle. She was sure it would be unavoidable now.

Her talons tightened where they clasped her opposite bicep. Valdr's earlier words still smarted her pride. He was right. She did have greater power now.[1] One that she shared with a cryptic creature of legend that she was just beginning to know. And with their emerging power, they would be the political target of orders, creeds, noble houses, and whomever else sought to twist and manipulate them under their reign.

A rumbling growl answered her in her head, "Dragons do not take well to cages, Little Lark." Norvyk's threat was a clear one. One that echoed in her own chest. They shared a fierce determination between them. And she would be dead before she allowed any governing entity to misuse either of them for political machinations. Or at least one that they didn't believe in.

"...and its further proof that in your hundred and more years of life, you've never found a true cause to stand behind."

Valdr's words floated to her mind unbidden, Petra ground her teeth in response. A cause, no. But people, yes.
Except that person is now dead.
Yes... Yes they were. But staring out across the grassy clearing, Faramund's steadfast presence next to her, she thought maybe, just maybe, she could find new people to stand behind after all.

*****​

“He should be arriving any moment.”

Petra could feel the underlying current of excitement and caution from the surrounding group. But all she felt was anticipation. No matter who you were, a dragon in flight was a marvelous thing. And already, Petra was rallying to be back amongst the clouds. To share that freedom on the back of her dragon. It was an addictive ordeal that could not be described, only experienced. Hopefully with a well fitted saddle in place to avoid the debilitating blisters she had suffered thus far in their trial and error.

Suddenly, a vibrating hum began in her chest. The gilded bond alighting internally with brilliant music at her dragon's appoach. The unexpected joy from the reaction left her briefly breathless and found herself laughing as she turned to her companions, a light in her eyes.

"Ha! It seems that scaly beast has deigned to grant us his presence after all!" The sarcastic words were hardly out of her mouth when a thunderous roar echoed her. Petra whipped around to face the North, searching the billowing clouds that sat on the horizon like a cloak. Unable to catch sight of him when suddenly the underbelly of the clouds began to spark and color with the blueish-purple of lightning that jack-knifed through the sky. And on the tail ends of a stray spark, came her dragon, diving down from the heavens. Now fully revealed from where he had been flying in concealment.

The deep jewel-toned green of his scaled hide glinted in what sun did break from the clouds above. And the closer he dove, the more she could make out the the green spiked frill along his jaw and the pitch black points of his two curling horns that swept back from the top of his head like a crown.

He gave another sonorous metallic roar at the end of his dive, before opening his wings with a loud snap of leather. The sound of his call could be felt in her chest and goosebumps rose on her skin in answer.

Norvyk glided to the them almost lazily, the wind from his wings buffeted the hair from her face as he landed with a heavy thump onto the earth in front of them. He kept his wings partially open and even arched his neck proudly while his tail whipped around like a great jungle cat. The dragon turned his golden reptilian gaze on his Rider's companions, sizing them up in the quiet and curious way that predators do.

Petra placed her hands on her hips, steppign foward as she smiled and raised a brow at her dragon.

"Fucking show off."


Rulgak Faramund
[1]: Conversation reference for those interested in backstory.

 

[Faramund]

Well, at least it's a nice day for it, Faramund thought as he craned his neck towards the sky, his head in the clouds despite the grounding presence of no less than four other people, all of whom were likely as eager to see this dragon as he was. If not more so, he mused, his gaze falling to where Rulgak and her apprentices waited patiently for Norvyk to appear. It had been a day since they had settled matters at the Nest, and in that time the she-orc had apparently been very busy, if talk was to be believed.

The Order had been busy, also. It was a once in a lifetime opportunity, after all, witnessing a dragon up close. Better still, this one was reported to be friendly. Or so Petra had told him once they'd gone back to Eth Tikund to share a few more skinfuls. Fara hoped she was telling him the truth, and that he hadn't seriously misjudged her. Or offended her during the mead-soaked stupor that had followed.

Otherwise this might really be 'once in a lifetime'.

Blinking away the thought, Fara turned to regard Petra as the day dragged on. The sun was nearing its zenith, and still there had been no sign of Norvyk. It was hard to estimate how long they had been stood here, twiddling their thumbs and pissing in the wind. Too damned long, if the knight had to guess. Hell, he was even starting to entertain the thought that maybe -just maybe- Petra was full of shit.

A ripple of bluish light in the cloud-bank caught his eye. Faramund's jaw dropped.

"Well I'll be..." he began, before shutting up entirely as Norvyk descended from the heavens above. Darker than the deepest forests, the winged beast took his time to enjoy a freedom the likes of which Faramund would never know. To be so high, to feel the elation Petra surely felt, was beyond the once-mercenary. Indeed, a part of him wondered what it would have been like if he had been the dragon rider, and she the knight.

Whistling in awe, he shook his head as his elven companion broke out in a fit of laughter. Above, and beyond the reach of steel and flesh, Norvyk roared in response. The deep-seated sound made the hairs on Fara's skin stand up, and sent a flock of birds scattering from the distant trees, their shrill shrieks lost on the knight and all those who bore witness to the dragon's arrival.

Grinning like a fool, Fara shook his head again as Norvyk came to land in front of them. Faramund could feel the ground shaking through his boots as the lightning dragon took a few running steps to arrest the last of its momentum. Raising itself up high, the dragon set its sights upon the gathered party.

Despite not being as big as he had expected, the weighing look he saw in the creature's slitted pupils was enough to make Faramund reach for his sword somewhat subconsciously.

"Fucking show off." Petra said, a smile on her face.

"Yes, you are," Fara agreed, not bothering to hide his awe as he took a tentative step closer.

Petra Darthinian Rulgak

 

[Rulgak]

"Ha! It seems that scaly beast has deigned to grant us his presence after all!" Petra remarked, causing Rulgak to turn to look at her before a roar blasted from the sky and stole Rulgak's attention faster then Petra had taken it. With her head craned up, Rulgak scanned the skies for the source of the sound. The apprentices began to move immediately, with one holding both forked sticks while the other tossed the rope over top of them. Rulgak remained with her eyes glued to the sky, standing still in wait for sight of the dragon.

A creature of legend she never imagined she'd encounter, certainly not so close and under terms so friendly. None in the clan she grew up in had ever seen one, and they had known nothing of dragons but stories they shared. Stories that told of beings who could be benevolent or terrible, but in all accounts great. Rulgak was already excited for the meeting, but the bellowing roar that broke from the skies left her utterly awestruck. A cloud began to spark with lightning, and Rulgak's gaze was locked on it. Now, she had heard the dragon and seen sign of him, but had yet to actually see him. She had a description of Norvyk, sufficient enough to be able to recognize him. Yet it left her wondering all these days what he would actually look like before her eyes.

Rulgak would not need to wonder any longer. A streak of vibrant green broke from a corner of the cloud, diving down and towards him while Rulgak remained where she was. Partly out of continued amazement, but largely out of respect and etiquette for the visitor. She had no idea how she was to introduce herself to a dragon and opted to to respectfully wait as Norvyk continued in his descent from the sky, revealing himself in more detail by his increasing proximity. There was a spiked frill beneath his neck, and two horns of black upon his head were a contrast to the jewel-toned green of his body.

When he had dove from the cloud, he bellowed out with another roar, wings held aloft to slow his descent. A moment later and Norvyk touched down, shaking the ground once he had landed. Now before them, Rulgak could witness him up close, with every scale on his body distinct and his wings spread on full display. Eyes roamed up to his stretched neck, before Petra broke the silence with her own greeting to Norvyk:

"Fucking show off." She spoke, clearly far more used to his splendour than Rulgak was.

"Yes, you are," Faramund agreed. The apprentices stood still, now each with one stick holding the rope between them. They too were amazed at the sight, but didn't dare move. To have been selected for this task was a great honour, and Rulgak had taken care to ensure the two would set a good example. She had selected the best of them, she'd want nothing less when making her first impressions and introductions. Which, it was now presently time for.

“Norvyk.” Rulgak spoke.

“Welcome to Astenvale. I am Rulgak, head of the smithy.” She added. She spoke her words with formal flatness to them that belied her astonished wonder. Coming to a stop after having taken only a few steps, Rulgak looked upwards towards his head as she await his response, in whatever way he would.

Petra Darthinian Faramund

 

[Petra Darthinian]

The dragon stared at them all for a moment before Norvyk dipped his head to Petra's waiting hands, where she briefly cradled his scaly maw and patted his cheek in greeting. A deep rumbling purr started in his throat and after a moment between them, he bumped gently against her sternum, which she took as a cue to step back.

“Norvyk.” Rulgak spoke.

“Welcome to Astenvale. I am Rulgak, head of the smithy.” She added.

Petra turned in front of her dragon's wing and stood at his left shoulder, placing her clawed hand against his scales. Taking comfort in his presence. She didn't realize that she cared for her companions' opinion as much as she did until she stood before them, her request at their feet. She desperately wanted this meeting to go well. The elf still sought answers from the Monastery. So it would behoove her if her dragon felt the inclination to behave and make nice. That last sentiment traveling down the gilded bond like an arrow. Norvyk's faint amusement blooming briefly in her mind as a response.

Always the cheeky bastard.

She could feel the awed curiosity like a note that danced with the wind that had brought Norvyk to them. The silence was brief after Rulgak spoke, but poignant. As if Norvyk was taking the time to size them up and weigh their merit. Petra was still unsure how far his draconic telepathy could delve. Especially since his innate magic already allowed him the ability to speak as any sentient creature.

It was only a span of heartbeats, but in the next moment, her dragon turned his fierce gaze from staring down Faramund to regard Rulgak with a more intrigued gleam in his eye, nostrils flaring. Having completely ignored the apprentices behind the orc. His regal crown of spiraling black horns dipped briefly in acknlowedgement of the she-orc, his voice rolling through the air like a charged bass drum.

"Blacksmith. I am Norvyk, Storm dragon of The Sahu Coast. Kin of Tzarkata. My Rider has told me that you will be the one to make a saddle worthy of my kind. For I will not suffer the disrespect of second best." His mouth curled in the perversion of a reptilian grin. "What say you to such a task?"

Rulgak Faramund

 

[Rulgak]

Rulgak stood respectfully, her stance relaxed but still with her head turned to glance upon the greeting Petra gave to Norvyk. After a moment of affection, the dragon displayed he’d had enough with a gentle nudge to gesture her away.

With her introductions made, Rulgak kept her stance at the dragon with Petra at his side. Norvyk remained silent, and while she remained amazed at the sight, she hid a great deal of anxiety behind her unchanging expression. She’d been as tactful as she was able, but never before had she met a dragon. She remained standing where she was, her gaze near but not quite meeting his in the brief moment of quiet.

The squires behind her stood still, already visibly anxious enough without being directly regarded by the dragon before them. Still, Rulgak dared not display the slightest shake, barely concealing her awe as Norvyk turned his gaze towards her, nostrils flaring. It was only a brief moment further before he would begin to speak, and Rulgak was eager to hear him. She'd need wait no longer

"Blacksmith. I am Norvyk, Storm dragon of The Sahu Coast. Kin of Tzarkata. My Rider has told me that you will be the one to make a saddle worthy of my kind. For I will not suffer the disrespect of second best."

"What say you to such a task?" He spoke, his voice deep and as authoritative as he appeared to be.

“That I shall. Petra brought me the request. I accepted, certain the challenge could be met.” Rulgak said, her tone carrying the same sense of confidence and conviction her words did.

“I’ve never made such an item before, but it matters not. I am no stranger to fitting gear upon those both meagre and grand.” She added, subtle astonishment still carried in her voice that she was addressing an actual dragon. By the stressed syllable it was clear she regarded Norvyk as the latter, though there was surely little doubt. She looked over him, taking a mental estimate of the best place for a saddle, ideally the small of his back. But it had to sit right, and it was clear that the saddle would be more akin to draconic attire than a rider’s apparatus. If Norvyk didn’t care for it, it was unlikely Petra would be seated upon it. Rulgak didn’t know actual dragons, but the assumption seemed sensible enough.

Petra Darthinian Faramund

 

[Petra Darthinian]

As if guided by a silent command between them, Petra stepped back from her dragon as Norvyk gave a great shake of his body before settling down; the tension in the air dissipating with the soft shifting of his scales and a quick flex of the powerful muscles behind his shoulders that attached to his wings, spreading them so Rulgak had easier access to his back. His tail an ever flicking commentator behind him.

And it was with a mischievous glint in his eyes that the dragon answered Rulgak, "Then by all means Blacksmith, proceed with all of your meager fittings. I shain't fuss too much." His eyes glancing purposefully at the apprentices, his serpent's tongue escaping his maw with a flourish to wrap briefly around his snout. His intention to tease them with the imaginary fear of becoming lunch.

Petra rolled her eyes at his antics and glanced over at Faramund, the awe on his face curating an amused grin on her own. She gave him a quick nod, encouraging him to take a closer look if he dared. She didn't think Norvyk would actually bite, but she couldn't promise the same for herself.

Faramund Rulgak

 

[Rulgak]

Rulgak remained as awestruck as the apprentices before Norvyk, wings outstretched in his grand display. The dragon adjusted his wings in a position that might make measuring and fitting him easier. While the gesture was encouraging for the work to begin, all remained still at the sight before them. None made movement, even as Norvyk began to speak again. Beyond that, Rulgak remained fretful, but concealed her worry beneath her continued stoic stance. She had little idea if she had gotten draconian etiquette right, and the response she received would be telling. It was to her relief that the it carried a mischievous tone, reassuring her with affirmation that Norvyk was relaxed and comfortable.

“Let's begin, then. Alright apprentices, take the measurements.” She announced, and the moment she did they burst from their stillness into a flurry of activity. One apprentice held the rope, hoisting it up onto a pair of sticks held by another pair of apprentices. Once they had the rope raised, the two parted ways with the rope carried high and aloft above them. With care, they carried the suspended rope over Norvyk's back before lowering it to drape the smallest point on his back. Another took note of the markings along the side to record the length, calling out once he had. “Got it, lets get the next one!”

The apprentices moved a few feet, hoisting the rope up on the carrying sticks again to move it further, taking another measurement near Norvyk's shoulders. While they did, Rulgak walked around the dragon to survey for herself. Measurements were one thing, but the saddle would have to be designed to the shape of the dragon, else he may not take so well to it. But it wouldn't be rigid, and there was little need to measure the shape with any more accuracy than her own eyes. The saddle needed to be designed for a dragon in motion, flexible enough that it would not hinder movement, yet of a proper fit that would not slip from position.

There were a few more measurements to take. Once both Rulgak and the apprentices had completed their assessment, work began on construction of a crude prototype. Horse leather was cut down from a singular large piece, then turned over so cloth padding could be quickly sewn to the underside by the apprentices. Rulgak prepared long strips of hardened leather, strategically attaching them to give the saddle further stiffness along the sides where it was needed. After a few moments of rehearsed work, the prototype was ready and the apprentices suspended it on the same sticks that had held the rope. Carefully, the moved on both sides of Norvyk to move the saddle over him, hanging a few feet above his back. Rulgak guided them, and they moved sideways in short shuffles according to her instructions, until she finally gave the clear and had them slowly lower the saddle down.

“This isn't the riders seat, but the finished one should fit like this. Does it sit comfortably?” She asked, opting to refer to it as a seat rather than a saddle. It seemed more respectful, though she didn't know whether Norvyk even cared about the distinction. Rulgak knew little of dragons, but she figured better than to dare risk irritating one while within biting distance.

Petra Darthinian Faramund

 

[Faramund]

Meeting the dragon's serpentine gaze, Faramund stifled a cocksure grin as he felt a shiver work its way down his spine. The beast, Norvyk, meant them no harm, Petra had assured them all on the ride over. Even so, Fara couldn't help but feel ill at ease as it came to loom over them, scaled feet a-thumping. Loom? No, he's just standing there, Fara thought with a nod, his hand drifting towards the hilt of his blade. He wouldn't wish to intimidate us! No, Syr, not this dragon.

Thoroughly 'not-intimidated', the dawnling kept his distance all the same.

Sharing his disquiet, the apprentices maintained their distance as well. Rulgak seemed unperturbed by it all, the knight noted, but then she always did. You could tell her a gateway to Hell had opened in the Monastery kitchens and she would still treat the news with the same casual indifference she did the dragon stood before her.

All the same, Faramund saw a spark of interest in her orcish features... a touch of bravery, too. Had she committed herself fully to the warrior lifestyle, Faramund was sure she would've conquered half the known world by now. "Let's begin, then..." the she-orc said, snapping the knight from his thoughts as her helpers rallied to her side. Summoning his resolve, Fara approached the dragon as the 'pprentices began to take Norvyk's measurements.

"Big bugger, ain't he?" Fara said to Petra as he came to stand before her mount, hands on his hips and not his sword's hilt. "Not as big as you described him to be yesterday, mind, but big all the same. I'd hate to tussle with the fucker." Looking up at Norvyk, Faramund smiled his surest smile as they locked eyes. "You hear all that up there?" He asked, confidence blooming. Then, in a quieter tone, "'course you did."

Petra Darthinian Rulgak