Vaalintine
Wild Wondorous Wolfalope
Just how old is he exactly? Because I'm not sure if he's elderly or just has great wear and tear on his body from a life of fighting monsters.
A Fine Sediment (Inheritance Cycle SI)
- Thread starter Chairtastic
- Start date
Evaunit02mark1
S-s-smell the Prey, S-s-start the Hunt.
I believed he was described as a youth by the elves, but that could mean anywhere from 12 to 50 honestly.
So far I'm guessing he's the usual "YA protag" age of "doesn't get pinned down but you can assume they don't pay taxes yet."
- Location
- Omniverse #1345
His body is apparently 17. He's just using it very much beyond what it can stand.
Mizu
Software Developer
- Location
- Victoria, Australia
That's a big dragon. Did we ever get to meet any canonical dragons around that age? Do they just keep living forever, using magic to ignore the square cube law?
Assent
That combat battle went very differently to how the elves intended it. Sure they won in the end vs a human, but only because he forfeited right at the cusp of victory.
Krazyfan1
Worrying for the future.
- Location
- Australia
from what i remember, Dragons AND their riders are straight up immortal agewise.
well, Riders need to be bonded to a dragon for that to work.
Chairtastic
Anything's a chair if you're brave enough
- Location
- Breakfast nook
- Pronouns
- He / Him / It
Never underestimate what people can fail to notice. I've had to learn that since I started mixing in implied/indirect storytelling into my fics.
You know him so well~
Doctors hate him.
Glad you're enjoying! Hope the fic keeps bringing you back for more!
Fixilored!
Shruikan, and yes. Yes they do.
Elves were long-lived even before then, though. Because some elves born before the bond to the dragons lived long enough to see their race become ageless due to the bond.
Can I ask what you mean by this?
Chairtastic
Anything's a chair if you're brave enough
- Location
- Breakfast nook
- Pronouns
- He / Him / It
Hold on lemme grab a link. Blam!
Playlist & Picrews
Chairtastic
Anything's a chair if you're brave enough
- Location
- Breakfast nook
- Pronouns
- He / Him / It
Hiya, I've put together some music that helps me with writing the characters or for certain places. I hope you enjoy them!
--
And down here we have picrews I've made for our Chair and his teacher Sëylid! The links to the picrews used will be included with them!
Skaelbrosa and Little Sister, reminder that's a placeholder name since Inheritance Cycle dragons usually name themselves, will have to wait until I can afford art to be commissioned of them.
- Doru Araeba
- Sëylid/Skaelbrosa
- The Good Spirits
- The War Spirits
- Goda Nyberg/"Little Sister"
- My Dear Heart(s)
- The monstertötungs cane
- Tronjheim
- Ilirea
- The Plan
- Ellesméra
- Panahedan
--
And down here we have picrews I've made for our Chair and his teacher Sëylid! The links to the picrews used will be included with them!
Picrew used: https://picrew.me/en/image_maker/32350, and picrew result! 
Skaelbrosa and Little Sister, reminder that's a placeholder name since Inheritance Cycle dragons usually name themselves, will have to wait until I can afford art to be commissioned of them.
Last edited:
Goda's Journal #4
Chairtastic
Anything's a chair if you're brave enough
- Location
- Breakfast nook
- Pronouns
- He / Him / It
Goda's Journal - Entry Four
---
Sëylid has me worried. I can tell she's going against her natural tendencies trying to be the ideal generic Rider. But she's not.
Everything she tells me about Dúnedain tells me that he didn't teach her to be like this. He taught her natural sciences, he taught patience. And it didn't make sense until she told me his age.
Sëylid's teacher is fifteen hundred years old, and boy does that clear things up. Okay, let me explain something in case this is found by someone who is having problems similar to this. When finite minds are stretched over infinite time, they develop oddities and habits to keep their minds engaged in the world. Otherwise they start seeing repetitive patterns over, and over, until it drives them to insanity.
What I heard from Sëylid is that she's not enthusiastic about the natural sciences that she was taught. She learned it because her master taught it, not because she wanted to learn.
A common oddity for people to develop as they get on in years? They neglect things outside their passions. They neglect people who don't share their passions.
My hypothesis on this is that Dúnedain mostly phoned it in after he found out Sëylid wasn't as druidic as him. And that's why she doesn't seem to have any hobbies like Skaelbrosa does -- no one cared enough to cultivate what interests she did show.
I'm going to have to fix this. While she's teaching me, I'll teach her back.
You won't believe what's happening, by the way. So, right now eggs aren't kept in any secure vaults -- those vaults haven't been build yet. So every capital-r Rider has a few eggs in their care. Until they get apprentices, they're expected to go on tours of the region in shifts to find more.
And since Little Sister hatched -- they brought Sëylid another egg to bring her back up to four.
It was green. Emerald green.
Her other eggs are blue, red, and brown. You can see where this is going.
I did an augury, and the odds are good that those three eggs? That's them. No idea who the brown one is, but. Saphira, Thorn, Fírnen. Right there.
A plan is hatching in my wicked little mind. A wicked plan. A plan worthy of a Thanos 'fine, I'll do it myself' reaction!
Gods I miss technology sometimes. BUT ANYWAY.
In case Galby's reading this, first of all you's a bitch. A stanky bitch. Second of all I'm not writing my plan down at all. If I share it with anyone, it'll be by word of mouth.
So nyeh. And third of all, if you are Galby -- your mom's a ho.
If you're not Galby, disregard.
Little Sister picked a name. The two heads are starting to diverge in personality and thought patterns. They're picking up information from me -- I'm going to use 'they' from now on, since they are basically two people in one body.
Shiro, and Deru. Shiroderu. They had me flip a coin to see whose name went first in the combination.
Shiro is inquisitive, likes to listen and learn and experiment. Deru is artistic, has better understanding of people, and loves to cook. I'm so lucky that they both like similar foods, and they both love garlic as much as me.
And now they're demanding I make French onion soup with them -- because Shiro has an idea how to bake without a proper oven, and Deru happened to grab a memory of mine which included the soup's taste.
I'm thinking of framing the dwarves for this onion soup. Because someone has to be France, and it might as well be Orthíad who is too dead to defend herself from French accusations.
If Shiro's baking idea kills me, know I died in pursuit of delicious soup. What all warm-blooded men should die for.
Ciao.
---
---
Sëylid has me worried. I can tell she's going against her natural tendencies trying to be the ideal generic Rider. But she's not.
Everything she tells me about Dúnedain tells me that he didn't teach her to be like this. He taught her natural sciences, he taught patience. And it didn't make sense until she told me his age.
Sëylid's teacher is fifteen hundred years old, and boy does that clear things up. Okay, let me explain something in case this is found by someone who is having problems similar to this. When finite minds are stretched over infinite time, they develop oddities and habits to keep their minds engaged in the world. Otherwise they start seeing repetitive patterns over, and over, until it drives them to insanity.
What I heard from Sëylid is that she's not enthusiastic about the natural sciences that she was taught. She learned it because her master taught it, not because she wanted to learn.
A common oddity for people to develop as they get on in years? They neglect things outside their passions. They neglect people who don't share their passions.
My hypothesis on this is that Dúnedain mostly phoned it in after he found out Sëylid wasn't as druidic as him. And that's why she doesn't seem to have any hobbies like Skaelbrosa does -- no one cared enough to cultivate what interests she did show.
I'm going to have to fix this. While she's teaching me, I'll teach her back.
You won't believe what's happening, by the way. So, right now eggs aren't kept in any secure vaults -- those vaults haven't been build yet. So every capital-r Rider has a few eggs in their care. Until they get apprentices, they're expected to go on tours of the region in shifts to find more.
And since Little Sister hatched -- they brought Sëylid another egg to bring her back up to four.
It was green. Emerald green.
Her other eggs are blue, red, and brown. You can see where this is going.
I did an augury, and the odds are good that those three eggs? That's them. No idea who the brown one is, but. Saphira, Thorn, Fírnen. Right there.
A plan is hatching in my wicked little mind. A wicked plan. A plan worthy of a Thanos 'fine, I'll do it myself' reaction!
Gods I miss technology sometimes. BUT ANYWAY.
In case Galby's reading this, first of all you's a bitch. A stanky bitch. Second of all I'm not writing my plan down at all. If I share it with anyone, it'll be by word of mouth.
So nyeh. And third of all, if you are Galby -- your mom's a ho.
If you're not Galby, disregard.
Little Sister picked a name. The two heads are starting to diverge in personality and thought patterns. They're picking up information from me -- I'm going to use 'they' from now on, since they are basically two people in one body.
Shiro, and Deru. Shiroderu. They had me flip a coin to see whose name went first in the combination.
Shiro is inquisitive, likes to listen and learn and experiment. Deru is artistic, has better understanding of people, and loves to cook. I'm so lucky that they both like similar foods, and they both love garlic as much as me.
And now they're demanding I make French onion soup with them -- because Shiro has an idea how to bake without a proper oven, and Deru happened to grab a memory of mine which included the soup's taste.
I'm thinking of framing the dwarves for this onion soup. Because someone has to be France, and it might as well be Orthíad who is too dead to defend herself from French accusations.
If Shiro's baking idea kills me, know I died in pursuit of delicious soup. What all warm-blooded men should die for.
Ciao.
---
If Seylid ever reads that journal Goda's getting smacked like a particularly ugly piñata.
- Location
- Book Fort
- Pronouns
- They/Them
Hm. An elf Rider without any particular passions, who learned her skill in natural sciences because it was the specialty of her mentor --rather than out of any true love for the discipline...
It makes me wonder just how good of a Rider Seylid is, if her education was marred by a lack of passions --or, rather, a lack of institutional investment in her passions. Someone whose hobby is calculus will find it easier to learn calculus than someone who detests calculus. So either Seylid isn't up to par with her fellow Riders, or she is equal to her peers through an insanely dedicated work ethic, and will be truly monstrous in skill once she develops a specific interest/hobby.
Though I don't know, my gut instinct is to lean towards the latter. Dragons are vain creatures, after all, and refuse to hatch for just anybody. But someone whose work ethic is that insane? I could see a uniquely insightful/introspective Dragon acknowledging the worthiness/respectability/honor in that.
It makes me wonder just how good of a Rider Seylid is, if her education was marred by a lack of passions --or, rather, a lack of institutional investment in her passions. Someone whose hobby is calculus will find it easier to learn calculus than someone who detests calculus. So either Seylid isn't up to par with her fellow Riders, or she is equal to her peers through an insanely dedicated work ethic, and will be truly monstrous in skill once she develops a specific interest/hobby.
Though I don't know, my gut instinct is to lean towards the latter. Dragons are vain creatures, after all, and refuse to hatch for just anybody. But someone whose work ethic is that insane? I could see a uniquely insightful/introspective Dragon acknowledging the worthiness/respectability/honor in that.
Ch 5
Chairtastic
Anything's a chair if you're brave enough
- Location
- Breakfast nook
- Pronouns
- He / Him / It
Chapter Five: From beneath you, It devours.
---
Author's Note: Going forward, we're going to mark the use of the ancient language through the formatting {underlined text inside of braces}. It might get obnoxious when characters are having conversations but it's no more obnoxious than half the cast speaking in italics for me.
---
Thuviel
Just like Fira-ebrithil had said, at three months old their dragons were old enough to fly and pick their names. It had been shocking to watch Snowfire go from small enough to fit in his arms, to larger than any horse he'd ever seen.
Kjöti, was his partner's name. Meat, in the ancient language. A little gauche, but for the snow-white dragon it felt appropriate. And Thuviel was so eager to know his partner better, he didn't care.
Nami's dragon took a name from her culture – Morito. Between the three of them, Thuviel, Kjöti, and Morito, they had steadily worked on her confidence over the months. Fira-ebrithil helped as well, but allowing her to start combat training with polearms. Apparently, in Nami's culture, it was the womanly weapon – which perhaps informed Thuviel why she mistook so many elves using spears for women.
Apparently, by the standards of Nami's people, Thuviel himself was very feminine. Which was why Nami felt at ease around him. And because he was one of the only friendly elves she knew, she included him in all the human activities she got up to.
Games, training, training disguised as games, and so on. Goda, eldest of the human apprentices, also helped them all learn Dwarvish to his skill level.
By far Thuviel's favorite activity was training disguised as a game of hide and seek. The seeker would be given a stick, and blindfolded. The hiders would have bells tied to one leg and the opposite arm, then be forced to move around a space in silence to avoid the seeker. Even their dragons were involved.
It was always so amusing to see a dragon wander a copse of trees with a stick in their mouth, ready to hit someone. But it was terrifying when that same dragon was looking for him.
It took far longer than Thuviel felt comfortable admitting to before he learned that the humans weren't all subjects of the former King Palancar. Lisbet was, but none of the others were.
They had completed a round of 'the floor will eat you' out in a snowy glade, and had sat together to talk when Thuviel asked what their parents had done when Palancar was banished.
Mansa stroked his dragon, Maahes, and looked at Thuviel like he was crazy. "I'm Surdoni," he replied, like that answered everything. "We have no kings."
Minne, atop her dragon Errol, answered in much the same. "I'm Giddo, we aren't even some the same part of Panahedan as the Broddrings."
"My people, the Proda, were not subjects of King Palancar," Nami gave the most informative answer.
Lisbet got quiet, and scooted to hide partly under the wings of her dragon Aya.
Goda had been passing out treats – baked potatoes he had wrapped in thin scrap metal after seasoning and cooking. "You think of us as monolithic, like the dwarves. It isn't like that." He sat down between the claws of his dragon, Shiroderu, and held up potatoes for their heads to devour. "But it will become like that, in time."
The other humans looked at Goda like he was crazy, then. Thuviel's faux pas was forgotten.
It allowed him time to enjoy his potato, and fend Kjöti off from it.
"The Broddrings had the greatest number of their people survive the evacuation. We Amusel number… two hundred? At best? We will be subsumed under the Broddrings as they grow in numbers. Unless any of you think your people also arrived here, tens of thousands strong?"
Silence followed, until Mansa spoke up. "I did a quick count, in my head," he tapped his skull, with thick curly hair. "When I left there had to be at least fifteen thousand Surdoni. What about you two?"
Minne and Nami had no readily available figures to compare to.
Lisbet was still quiet.
"Let us change the topic slightly," Goda said and folded his hands underneath his layers of clothes. "And each share something about our people. Lisbet? What's the coolest thing about the Broddrings?"
The little girl – youngest of them all – emerged from her dragon's wings to talk. "Um, I think… I think the coolest thing is… I think it's how everything is knots!" She smiled. "Braids, clothes, patterns on walls – we love knots!"
Aya, the algae green dragon, bent down to lick her Rider on the head.
"Very cool, Lisbet. Minne?"
Thus Thuviel learned a bit about each of the nations which had comprised the human's homeland. Minne's people, the Giddo, once had a working relationship with dragon-sized animals called 'elephants', who were able to communicate via thoughts. They had the most idea of what architecture would fit dragons – all the human architects on Vroengard were Giddo.
Nami's Proda nation had been the best carpenters among the human nations. They had achieved a way to bridge the cutting of dead wood into shapes and elvish singing of living plants. Though Nami didn't know any of it, she hoped to bring elvish plant singing to her people to expand their capabilities.
The Surdoni were craftsmen, artisans. All of their dedicated warriors had remained behind on Panahedan, the human's homeland, to guard their escape. So he wished to be the first of a new generation of them.
Then, before Goda's turn, all eyes turned to Thuviel.
Under their collective gaze, he froze up. It was like when Kjöti had hatched for him in Éwayëna. All eyes had turned to him, like they expected something from him.
Kjöti nudged him in the shoulder. 'Go on, tell them.' His partner's mind spoke, soft as the snowfall his scales mimicked.
Thuviel took a deep breath and tried to articulate what he found most worthy of a boast about his home. "Each flower has a list of insects that pollinate them. Bees, flies, wasps, even mice! But the red lilies, which my city's famous for? All their pollinators are extinct." He took another breath. "So when my people settled in Silverwood, we had to pollinate them ourselves – with special tools. If we hadn't the flowers would be extinct too."
The humans heaped words of praise on him and the elves of Éwayëna, until Thuviel mimicked Lisbet and hid under his dragon's wings.
Goda's turn was next.
He was quiet for a moment, before he brought up one of the many, many, many braids in his hair. "Similar to the Broddrings – we had a pronounced weaving tradition. We believed anything any everything could be bound up in thread, if you knew how. Even our mistakes." He tapped each section of the braid, every knot and twist. "Didn't look up. Wasn't fast enough. Was too weak. We Amusel bind up our mistakes in our hair – and reflect on them every day when we brush and remake the braids."
Goda continued. "To that end, we are quite adaptable. Our culture has no fear of death, and we're willing to pack up and leave when necessary. Ours was a naval culture, the only cities we had were shipyards and their supporting infrastructure."
Thuviel cocked his head to the side. "Why didn't your people come across sooner, then? Before there were only two hundred of you left?"
The eldest human among them cast his sour look upon Thuviel, and it felt like a heavy stone had been laid on the elf's chest. If looks could kill – Thuviel would've been mashed to jelly then and there.
"My people were the very last to leave Panahedan, we had to guard the last shipyards in Palanquin as they built ships for everyone else to leave first. When it became clear Panahedan was a lost cause, everyone had a job to do, that was ours. 'Guard the shipyards, build the ships.'"
Goda stood from the snow, and shook it off his clothes. "Anyway, it's Lisbet's turn to be a seeker."
The little red-headed girl cheered, and scampered off to find a stick to her liking with a wicked laugh.
--
Sëylid
With a bit of coaxing, she got the apprentices to play-train with each other while Sëylid and the others acted as barriers against their peers.
More than once, Thaecosdi and Vonukirn reported gangs of young elves looking about for Lisbet with violent thoughts in their minds. The eccentric Rider and her partner would hound the apprentices' masters about what form of manners they taught their students.
Lisbet, by elven standards was frighteningly young to be a Rider, only nine years old. That there were apprentices willing to fight her was a major cause for concern.
Sëylid and Skaelbrosa were mostly occupied with attempts by Yidun to confront Goda. An odd thing – Yidun's partner the grey dragon Logi would often help their attempts to keep Yidun away.
Another matter occupied what little time remained in her days over the course of a month – research.
She talked to every Rider she could find who had participated in the Palancar Crisis, and the people who had tried to negotiate prior to the outbreak of violence.
"Was there anyone you fought that had a monstertötungs cane? Did you see bonfires at night? Did the captives react badly to the sounds of birds? Did any of them talk about ra'zac, or lethrblaka?"
These were the questions she asked. And she didn't receive much of anything useful.
Until Skaelbrosa brought her a tool: blank fairths.
A slab of slate imbued with pigments, that could replicate a scene, a visual, or a memory – provided there was sufficient mental focus.
'Teach Goda the words,' her partner told her with no room for argument. 'Have him borrow Shiroderu's strength, but this will help us make headway.'
He paused, sheepish.
'Also don't ask how I got them.'
Sëylid decided not to, and rushed back to her tent as the sun passed beyond the western edge of the valley. Doru Araeba was lucky to get six hours of direct sunlight, most of the day was spent in twilight.
Back at her tent, Goda was in the midst of the rigmar, with Shiroderu beside him. Shiro had a book held up to her snout while Deru was painstakingly trying to mix something in a bowl with their tail wrapped around a spoon.
"Stop what you're doing," Sëylid told Goda and shoved the fairths into his arms. "Do you know what these are?" She dared hope that was among the trivia that Goda had pulled from her mind while she'd been trapped in his attack barrier.
Goda looked down at them, and narrowed his eyes. "Fariths, right?"
"Fairths. You know what they do?"
He looked at her like she was insane. "Yes, but who the in the flaming pits of Tarkna named them fairths? That sounds so stupid."
"The stupidity of the name is not what we're here to discuss." Sëylid, at long last, lost her patience and snapped at Goda verbally.
Goda's eyebrow arched, Shiroderu stopped what they were doing to watch.
"I will teach you the words. Pull on Shiroderu's strength to make them if you feel tired after the first attempt." Sëylid took a deep breath, gathered her hands in front of her face then interlocked them save her pointer fingers – aimed at Goda. "Show me what ra'zac and lethrblaka look like."
Her student nodded without argument, and sat down immediately.
Sëylid joined him as Skaelbrosa entered the tent behind her. {"Let that which I see in my mind's eye be replicated on the surface of this tablet."} She watched her student, keen for any change in his bearing as he took the first fairth and closed his eyes.
Then he spoke the words.
She watched as the blank grey slate bloomed with colors. It was upside down, but she could see – it was a defined image. To fake a fairth was a high level skill – one that she herself did not possess. She had no reason to believe Goda had it.
He handed her the slate, and she turned it around for a better look.
A scene at night – lit by a fire. Shadows cast by other humanoid figures on a a tree's trunk, fallen across muddy ground. At the center there was an insectoid figure, tall as an urgal but skeletal in thinness. Clad in black chitin, with a hooked bird-like beak, with large, lidless black eyes the size of her fists.
The creature had a child's head in its mouth as it looked over its hunched shoulder at the viewer. At Goda.
"Ra'zac," Goda told her.
Sëylid was frozen at the sight of the monster. The decapitated child's head in its mouth had only one eye – listless in its socket – with the other socket empty. Surrounded by dried blood. A lesson from Dúnedain came to her mind against her will – that blood would not dry to the level she witnessed sooner than half an hour.
Skaelbrosa's mind nudged hers to shake her from her stupor, then talked to their student. 'I have not seen that before. What of the lethrblaka?'
Goda repeated the process with the fairth – and handed her a fairth that made both Sëylid and Skaelbrosa freeze mentally.
His fairth showed them an image of the same creature they'd seen around Helgrind mountain. The one they had assumed to be an illusion.
'It still might be, there was no mind we could feel. But it could be based off a real creature.'
Goda glanced up at Skaelbrosa with his eyebrow arched and lips pursed. "Could I kindly ask for a cup of context?"
Sëylid did as she was asked, and shared the details of their alleged encounter with a lethrblaka at Helgrind mountain.
Shiro leaned her head down to look at her alongside Goda. 'Magic costs exponentially more energy the more distance is involved. So, how many people could realistically create an illusion able to be seen far enough away to be outside your ability to find their mind?'
Sëylid immediately began to contemplate – it wasn't impossible, but the list of people capable of it was short. And all of them were Riders, for their partner dragons granted them prodigious magical strength.
"I'm going to start with the Riders I know have interacted with humans recently," she said, and carried the fairths Goda had made of the monsters with her. She and Skaelbrosa quickly left the tent, an action plan in their minds.
Moments after she left, she returned to stick her head through the flap of the tent.
"You might want to take those blank fairths somewhere… and just leave them on a box… or something."
Then back to action!
--
Thuviel
Something had agitated the masters.
Shortly after the onset of evening twilight, Sëylid came to Fira-ebrithil's tent with a pair of fairths and questions. Fira-ebrithil didn't have the answers, but also didn't dismiss Sëylid's questions. The two women left and came back with the other elven masters, and their human students.
Her instructions were thus: {"Thuviel, you're the oldest here – we leave you in charge while we're going off to investigate something with Elder Dúnedain. Continue to practice the rimgar, have Goda lead in teaching swordplay, and continue rhetoric lessons."}
Then, with the singular purpose of an arrow loosed from a bow, they departed. The air shook with the flight of the Elder dragon Annúminas minutes later.
"Your tent is enormous," Lisbet commented as she set up her cot. Aya coiled around her, protective.
"Naelgaenolfr-ebrithil needs the space," Nami commented. She was in the midst of helping Minne with her cot, then went to help Lisbet with hers.
The massive tent fit them and their dragons easily. However, without Naelgaenolfr's bulk to retain heat things were a bit chilly.
At least, until Goda went to work. He began to summon spirits to fill the tent with warm air though not much light.
Thuviel watched him – as he'd never seen sorcery at work.
"O warmly burning flame," Goda chanted, his voice soft, "dance with me a while." And then, a dancing fire spirit would appear in the air.
Thuviel was going to go to one of the spirits after Goda had moved on to summon another, perhaps have a conversation with them, but Kjöti grabbed him by the back of his shirt with his jaws, and tugged him back to his cot.
'They are working, as you should be sleeping.' The white dragon nuzzled his Rider after he let Thuviel go. 'Rest, there will be time in the morning.'
Mansa had spent the entire time since the masters left watching the tent flaps with a hawthorn staff in his hands, with Maahes at his side. Nothing looked important enough to step away from guard duty, so Minne and Nami set up his cot for him.
Goda continued to summon dancing fire spirits. Once summoned, they seemed fixed in place, so he called upon Shiroderu to help him place them in the air, above their heads.
Once done, Thuviel watched him walk to Mansa and tap his shoulder. "You know what to listen for?"
The question threw Thuviel for a loop. Listen for what?
Mansa nodded. "I do. Four hour shifts?"
Goda nodded, and went to his cot. The humans, and Thuviel, were arranged in a circle around where Fira-ebrithil kept her cooking fire at the center of the tent, with the dragons in a ring around them. All of the fire spirits in the tent gave the impression of being surrounded by candles.
And by the stars was it warm. All the small fire spirits were positioned in a way that they moved air, to create a breeze of warm air toward the center.
Warmth of that strength in winter was enough to make Thuviel fall asleep quickly.
What seemed to be a moment later, Thuviel was woken by Kjöti's nudging. Elf eyes adjusted quickly to the dark, and he could soon see other elves in the tent.
With Mansa, Goda, and their dragons positioned between them and the others. Maahes and Shiroderu filled the air with the sound of snarls.
{"Do you not speak, humans? Where have your masters and Elder Dúnedain gone?"} One of the elves asked, in a familiar voice. It took Thuviel a moment to realize – the voice belonged to Elder Vrael.
"Has it not become clear that we don't speak that language?" Mansa said, and tapped his hawthorn staff in the tent floor. "Speak to us in Dwarvish, if you know it."
{"You speak only the dwarf language? Your masters haven't taught you enough to converse in this tongue?"}
Thuviel quickly pulled his blankets off and ran in his nightshirt to intercede. He wormed his way between Goda and Mansa, and bowed before he even looked to see who stood beside Vrael.
It was several of the Elder Council, save Grand Master Anurin. Vrael was the leader of the posse, clad in white robes with leather adornments in mimicry of armor, his black hair held back by braids in silver-white thread. He, and the other Elders snapped their gaze down to Thuviel.
{"You, apprentice, do you know where Elder Dúnedain and your masters have gone?"}
Thuviel found himself the center of the attention for several Elders in his order. Riders with storied histories, some old enough to recall the world when it was vastly different. Beings of magical potency which could reshape the landscape if they cared to. And they all looked at him, with expectations.
It was like they towered over him, so high he couldn't see their faces any longer – he only perceived their shadows, and the glint of light where their eyes were.
Then, however Kjöti joined Maahes and Shiroderu. The snow-white dragons snarl harmonized with theirs, and shook Thuviel out of his paralysis.
Thuviel choked on his words, but eventually managed to eek out a response: {"I… don't know. They left in a rush, didn't say anything about where they were going."}
Vrael dragged his hand down his face, the living embodiment of frustration at the time. {"What of these two? Do they know anything."}
Thuviel asked them in Dwarvish, and hit a thread of what Vrael sought. {"Goda says before they left, Sëylid had him make fairths of…."} He stopped to confirm the unfamiliar words with Goda. {"Of a ra'zac, and lethrblaka. He says Sëylid alleges she saw one around Helgrind mountain. Perhaps they went there?"}
Vrael scowled at Goda, then focused again on Thuviel. {"When your masters return, inform them that the Elder council would like to speak with them. Immediately."} He turned and left the tent quickly, along with his fellow Elders.
As soon as the tent flaps were closed again, the dragons stopped their growling.
"He has the most punchable face I've seen in my life so far," Goda commented, then patted Thuviel on the head. "You did good, didn't piss yourself. Dawn is in thirty minutes, so you can catch some sleep if you want."
Mansa shook him by the shoulder. "Goda has promised to make hotteok for breakfast. Nami has told you about them?"
They both acted like the meeting with the Elders hadn't happened.
It took Thuviel a moment to process that the Elders were gone, he was alive, and the world hadn't ended. "Oh. Um. The… the griddle cake with brown sugar and nuts?"
Mansa gently led Thuviel back to his cot, and told him all about alternate fillings they could try – berries, custard, something called 'cream cheese'. It helped the young elf relax, at least enough to relax in his cot.
He didn't stop to think 'wait, what are ra'zac and lethrblaka' until he was moments away from sleep again.
--
Cast:
Maahes: Magenta dragon paired to Mansa. Very beautiful, very powerful. Pronounced: MA-heys.
Morito: Forest green dragon paired to Nami. Pronounced: More-E-toe.
Errol: Stormy grey dragon paired to Minne. Likes to have Minne on his back at all times. Pronounced: Air-ull.
Aya: Algae green dragon paired to Lisbet. Protective and supportive of her young rider. Pronounced: EYE-a.
Vrael: A member of the Riders Elder council. Very punchable face.
--
Glossary:
Surdoni: A culture of dark-skinned human artisans, seemingly the second most populace human ethnic group, after the Broddrings. Singular, Surdon.
Giddo: A culture of humans with varied skin colors who were the first to form a dual society with larger megafauna, namely elephants. Singular, Gidd.
Proda: A culture of humans with a distinct eye structure from other human groups. Renowned carpenters. Singular, Proda.
Amusel: A culture of humans with elaborate braids in their hair. Naval, with the knots in their hair represented mistakes that they have to remember their whole lives. Singular, Amuset.
Fairth: A slab of slate with pigments pre-planted inside to allow for the creation of detailed images depending on the user's intent.
Dancing Flame: A fire spirit, which takes the form of a small winged person with clothes and wings of fire. They dance endlessly where they are summoned until dismissed, or they tire of dancing. Primarily used to produce heat, not light.
---
Chair has been able to produce these chapters so quickly because he's trying to escape stress of real-life. If you like what I do, and wanna support, I have a ko-fi link on my discord. You can also participate in variable-context votes for this and other stories, share music or discuss settings you like. There are also some under-the-hood goodies you can see.
Any help is appreciated, but your viewership helps in its own way in that it keeps me writing. Thank you.
---
Author's Note: Going forward, we're going to mark the use of the ancient language through the formatting {underlined text inside of braces}. It might get obnoxious when characters are having conversations but it's no more obnoxious than half the cast speaking in italics for me.
---
Thuviel
Just like Fira-ebrithil had said, at three months old their dragons were old enough to fly and pick their names. It had been shocking to watch Snowfire go from small enough to fit in his arms, to larger than any horse he'd ever seen.
Kjöti, was his partner's name. Meat, in the ancient language. A little gauche, but for the snow-white dragon it felt appropriate. And Thuviel was so eager to know his partner better, he didn't care.
Nami's dragon took a name from her culture – Morito. Between the three of them, Thuviel, Kjöti, and Morito, they had steadily worked on her confidence over the months. Fira-ebrithil helped as well, but allowing her to start combat training with polearms. Apparently, in Nami's culture, it was the womanly weapon – which perhaps informed Thuviel why she mistook so many elves using spears for women.
Apparently, by the standards of Nami's people, Thuviel himself was very feminine. Which was why Nami felt at ease around him. And because he was one of the only friendly elves she knew, she included him in all the human activities she got up to.
Games, training, training disguised as games, and so on. Goda, eldest of the human apprentices, also helped them all learn Dwarvish to his skill level.
By far Thuviel's favorite activity was training disguised as a game of hide and seek. The seeker would be given a stick, and blindfolded. The hiders would have bells tied to one leg and the opposite arm, then be forced to move around a space in silence to avoid the seeker. Even their dragons were involved.
It was always so amusing to see a dragon wander a copse of trees with a stick in their mouth, ready to hit someone. But it was terrifying when that same dragon was looking for him.
It took far longer than Thuviel felt comfortable admitting to before he learned that the humans weren't all subjects of the former King Palancar. Lisbet was, but none of the others were.
They had completed a round of 'the floor will eat you' out in a snowy glade, and had sat together to talk when Thuviel asked what their parents had done when Palancar was banished.
Mansa stroked his dragon, Maahes, and looked at Thuviel like he was crazy. "I'm Surdoni," he replied, like that answered everything. "We have no kings."
Minne, atop her dragon Errol, answered in much the same. "I'm Giddo, we aren't even some the same part of Panahedan as the Broddrings."
"My people, the Proda, were not subjects of King Palancar," Nami gave the most informative answer.
Lisbet got quiet, and scooted to hide partly under the wings of her dragon Aya.
Goda had been passing out treats – baked potatoes he had wrapped in thin scrap metal after seasoning and cooking. "You think of us as monolithic, like the dwarves. It isn't like that." He sat down between the claws of his dragon, Shiroderu, and held up potatoes for their heads to devour. "But it will become like that, in time."
The other humans looked at Goda like he was crazy, then. Thuviel's faux pas was forgotten.
It allowed him time to enjoy his potato, and fend Kjöti off from it.
"The Broddrings had the greatest number of their people survive the evacuation. We Amusel number… two hundred? At best? We will be subsumed under the Broddrings as they grow in numbers. Unless any of you think your people also arrived here, tens of thousands strong?"
Silence followed, until Mansa spoke up. "I did a quick count, in my head," he tapped his skull, with thick curly hair. "When I left there had to be at least fifteen thousand Surdoni. What about you two?"
Minne and Nami had no readily available figures to compare to.
Lisbet was still quiet.
"Let us change the topic slightly," Goda said and folded his hands underneath his layers of clothes. "And each share something about our people. Lisbet? What's the coolest thing about the Broddrings?"
The little girl – youngest of them all – emerged from her dragon's wings to talk. "Um, I think… I think the coolest thing is… I think it's how everything is knots!" She smiled. "Braids, clothes, patterns on walls – we love knots!"
Aya, the algae green dragon, bent down to lick her Rider on the head.
"Very cool, Lisbet. Minne?"
Thus Thuviel learned a bit about each of the nations which had comprised the human's homeland. Minne's people, the Giddo, once had a working relationship with dragon-sized animals called 'elephants', who were able to communicate via thoughts. They had the most idea of what architecture would fit dragons – all the human architects on Vroengard were Giddo.
Nami's Proda nation had been the best carpenters among the human nations. They had achieved a way to bridge the cutting of dead wood into shapes and elvish singing of living plants. Though Nami didn't know any of it, she hoped to bring elvish plant singing to her people to expand their capabilities.
The Surdoni were craftsmen, artisans. All of their dedicated warriors had remained behind on Panahedan, the human's homeland, to guard their escape. So he wished to be the first of a new generation of them.
Then, before Goda's turn, all eyes turned to Thuviel.
Under their collective gaze, he froze up. It was like when Kjöti had hatched for him in Éwayëna. All eyes had turned to him, like they expected something from him.
Kjöti nudged him in the shoulder. 'Go on, tell them.' His partner's mind spoke, soft as the snowfall his scales mimicked.
Thuviel took a deep breath and tried to articulate what he found most worthy of a boast about his home. "Each flower has a list of insects that pollinate them. Bees, flies, wasps, even mice! But the red lilies, which my city's famous for? All their pollinators are extinct." He took another breath. "So when my people settled in Silverwood, we had to pollinate them ourselves – with special tools. If we hadn't the flowers would be extinct too."
The humans heaped words of praise on him and the elves of Éwayëna, until Thuviel mimicked Lisbet and hid under his dragon's wings.
Goda's turn was next.
He was quiet for a moment, before he brought up one of the many, many, many braids in his hair. "Similar to the Broddrings – we had a pronounced weaving tradition. We believed anything any everything could be bound up in thread, if you knew how. Even our mistakes." He tapped each section of the braid, every knot and twist. "Didn't look up. Wasn't fast enough. Was too weak. We Amusel bind up our mistakes in our hair – and reflect on them every day when we brush and remake the braids."
Goda continued. "To that end, we are quite adaptable. Our culture has no fear of death, and we're willing to pack up and leave when necessary. Ours was a naval culture, the only cities we had were shipyards and their supporting infrastructure."
Thuviel cocked his head to the side. "Why didn't your people come across sooner, then? Before there were only two hundred of you left?"
The eldest human among them cast his sour look upon Thuviel, and it felt like a heavy stone had been laid on the elf's chest. If looks could kill – Thuviel would've been mashed to jelly then and there.
"My people were the very last to leave Panahedan, we had to guard the last shipyards in Palanquin as they built ships for everyone else to leave first. When it became clear Panahedan was a lost cause, everyone had a job to do, that was ours. 'Guard the shipyards, build the ships.'"
Goda stood from the snow, and shook it off his clothes. "Anyway, it's Lisbet's turn to be a seeker."
The little red-headed girl cheered, and scampered off to find a stick to her liking with a wicked laugh.
--
Sëylid
With a bit of coaxing, she got the apprentices to play-train with each other while Sëylid and the others acted as barriers against their peers.
More than once, Thaecosdi and Vonukirn reported gangs of young elves looking about for Lisbet with violent thoughts in their minds. The eccentric Rider and her partner would hound the apprentices' masters about what form of manners they taught their students.
Lisbet, by elven standards was frighteningly young to be a Rider, only nine years old. That there were apprentices willing to fight her was a major cause for concern.
Sëylid and Skaelbrosa were mostly occupied with attempts by Yidun to confront Goda. An odd thing – Yidun's partner the grey dragon Logi would often help their attempts to keep Yidun away.
Another matter occupied what little time remained in her days over the course of a month – research.
She talked to every Rider she could find who had participated in the Palancar Crisis, and the people who had tried to negotiate prior to the outbreak of violence.
"Was there anyone you fought that had a monstertötungs cane? Did you see bonfires at night? Did the captives react badly to the sounds of birds? Did any of them talk about ra'zac, or lethrblaka?"
These were the questions she asked. And she didn't receive much of anything useful.
Until Skaelbrosa brought her a tool: blank fairths.
A slab of slate imbued with pigments, that could replicate a scene, a visual, or a memory – provided there was sufficient mental focus.
'Teach Goda the words,' her partner told her with no room for argument. 'Have him borrow Shiroderu's strength, but this will help us make headway.'
He paused, sheepish.
'Also don't ask how I got them.'
Sëylid decided not to, and rushed back to her tent as the sun passed beyond the western edge of the valley. Doru Araeba was lucky to get six hours of direct sunlight, most of the day was spent in twilight.
Back at her tent, Goda was in the midst of the rigmar, with Shiroderu beside him. Shiro had a book held up to her snout while Deru was painstakingly trying to mix something in a bowl with their tail wrapped around a spoon.
"Stop what you're doing," Sëylid told Goda and shoved the fairths into his arms. "Do you know what these are?" She dared hope that was among the trivia that Goda had pulled from her mind while she'd been trapped in his attack barrier.
Goda looked down at them, and narrowed his eyes. "Fariths, right?"
"Fairths. You know what they do?"
He looked at her like she was insane. "Yes, but who the in the flaming pits of Tarkna named them fairths? That sounds so stupid."
"The stupidity of the name is not what we're here to discuss." Sëylid, at long last, lost her patience and snapped at Goda verbally.
Goda's eyebrow arched, Shiroderu stopped what they were doing to watch.
"I will teach you the words. Pull on Shiroderu's strength to make them if you feel tired after the first attempt." Sëylid took a deep breath, gathered her hands in front of her face then interlocked them save her pointer fingers – aimed at Goda. "Show me what ra'zac and lethrblaka look like."
Her student nodded without argument, and sat down immediately.
Sëylid joined him as Skaelbrosa entered the tent behind her. {"Let that which I see in my mind's eye be replicated on the surface of this tablet."} She watched her student, keen for any change in his bearing as he took the first fairth and closed his eyes.
Then he spoke the words.
She watched as the blank grey slate bloomed with colors. It was upside down, but she could see – it was a defined image. To fake a fairth was a high level skill – one that she herself did not possess. She had no reason to believe Goda had it.
He handed her the slate, and she turned it around for a better look.
A scene at night – lit by a fire. Shadows cast by other humanoid figures on a a tree's trunk, fallen across muddy ground. At the center there was an insectoid figure, tall as an urgal but skeletal in thinness. Clad in black chitin, with a hooked bird-like beak, with large, lidless black eyes the size of her fists.
The creature had a child's head in its mouth as it looked over its hunched shoulder at the viewer. At Goda.
"Ra'zac," Goda told her.
Sëylid was frozen at the sight of the monster. The decapitated child's head in its mouth had only one eye – listless in its socket – with the other socket empty. Surrounded by dried blood. A lesson from Dúnedain came to her mind against her will – that blood would not dry to the level she witnessed sooner than half an hour.
Skaelbrosa's mind nudged hers to shake her from her stupor, then talked to their student. 'I have not seen that before. What of the lethrblaka?'
Goda repeated the process with the fairth – and handed her a fairth that made both Sëylid and Skaelbrosa freeze mentally.
His fairth showed them an image of the same creature they'd seen around Helgrind mountain. The one they had assumed to be an illusion.
'It still might be, there was no mind we could feel. But it could be based off a real creature.'
Goda glanced up at Skaelbrosa with his eyebrow arched and lips pursed. "Could I kindly ask for a cup of context?"
Sëylid did as she was asked, and shared the details of their alleged encounter with a lethrblaka at Helgrind mountain.
Shiro leaned her head down to look at her alongside Goda. 'Magic costs exponentially more energy the more distance is involved. So, how many people could realistically create an illusion able to be seen far enough away to be outside your ability to find their mind?'
Sëylid immediately began to contemplate – it wasn't impossible, but the list of people capable of it was short. And all of them were Riders, for their partner dragons granted them prodigious magical strength.
"I'm going to start with the Riders I know have interacted with humans recently," she said, and carried the fairths Goda had made of the monsters with her. She and Skaelbrosa quickly left the tent, an action plan in their minds.
Moments after she left, she returned to stick her head through the flap of the tent.
"You might want to take those blank fairths somewhere… and just leave them on a box… or something."
Then back to action!
--
Thuviel
Something had agitated the masters.
Shortly after the onset of evening twilight, Sëylid came to Fira-ebrithil's tent with a pair of fairths and questions. Fira-ebrithil didn't have the answers, but also didn't dismiss Sëylid's questions. The two women left and came back with the other elven masters, and their human students.
Her instructions were thus: {"Thuviel, you're the oldest here – we leave you in charge while we're going off to investigate something with Elder Dúnedain. Continue to practice the rimgar, have Goda lead in teaching swordplay, and continue rhetoric lessons."}
Then, with the singular purpose of an arrow loosed from a bow, they departed. The air shook with the flight of the Elder dragon Annúminas minutes later.
"Your tent is enormous," Lisbet commented as she set up her cot. Aya coiled around her, protective.
"Naelgaenolfr-ebrithil needs the space," Nami commented. She was in the midst of helping Minne with her cot, then went to help Lisbet with hers.
The massive tent fit them and their dragons easily. However, without Naelgaenolfr's bulk to retain heat things were a bit chilly.
At least, until Goda went to work. He began to summon spirits to fill the tent with warm air though not much light.
Thuviel watched him – as he'd never seen sorcery at work.
"O warmly burning flame," Goda chanted, his voice soft, "dance with me a while." And then, a dancing fire spirit would appear in the air.
Thuviel was going to go to one of the spirits after Goda had moved on to summon another, perhaps have a conversation with them, but Kjöti grabbed him by the back of his shirt with his jaws, and tugged him back to his cot.
'They are working, as you should be sleeping.' The white dragon nuzzled his Rider after he let Thuviel go. 'Rest, there will be time in the morning.'
Mansa had spent the entire time since the masters left watching the tent flaps with a hawthorn staff in his hands, with Maahes at his side. Nothing looked important enough to step away from guard duty, so Minne and Nami set up his cot for him.
Goda continued to summon dancing fire spirits. Once summoned, they seemed fixed in place, so he called upon Shiroderu to help him place them in the air, above their heads.
Once done, Thuviel watched him walk to Mansa and tap his shoulder. "You know what to listen for?"
The question threw Thuviel for a loop. Listen for what?
Mansa nodded. "I do. Four hour shifts?"
Goda nodded, and went to his cot. The humans, and Thuviel, were arranged in a circle around where Fira-ebrithil kept her cooking fire at the center of the tent, with the dragons in a ring around them. All of the fire spirits in the tent gave the impression of being surrounded by candles.
And by the stars was it warm. All the small fire spirits were positioned in a way that they moved air, to create a breeze of warm air toward the center.
Warmth of that strength in winter was enough to make Thuviel fall asleep quickly.
What seemed to be a moment later, Thuviel was woken by Kjöti's nudging. Elf eyes adjusted quickly to the dark, and he could soon see other elves in the tent.
With Mansa, Goda, and their dragons positioned between them and the others. Maahes and Shiroderu filled the air with the sound of snarls.
{"Do you not speak, humans? Where have your masters and Elder Dúnedain gone?"} One of the elves asked, in a familiar voice. It took Thuviel a moment to realize – the voice belonged to Elder Vrael.
"Has it not become clear that we don't speak that language?" Mansa said, and tapped his hawthorn staff in the tent floor. "Speak to us in Dwarvish, if you know it."
{"You speak only the dwarf language? Your masters haven't taught you enough to converse in this tongue?"}
Thuviel quickly pulled his blankets off and ran in his nightshirt to intercede. He wormed his way between Goda and Mansa, and bowed before he even looked to see who stood beside Vrael.
It was several of the Elder Council, save Grand Master Anurin. Vrael was the leader of the posse, clad in white robes with leather adornments in mimicry of armor, his black hair held back by braids in silver-white thread. He, and the other Elders snapped their gaze down to Thuviel.
{"You, apprentice, do you know where Elder Dúnedain and your masters have gone?"}
Thuviel found himself the center of the attention for several Elders in his order. Riders with storied histories, some old enough to recall the world when it was vastly different. Beings of magical potency which could reshape the landscape if they cared to. And they all looked at him, with expectations.
It was like they towered over him, so high he couldn't see their faces any longer – he only perceived their shadows, and the glint of light where their eyes were.
Then, however Kjöti joined Maahes and Shiroderu. The snow-white dragons snarl harmonized with theirs, and shook Thuviel out of his paralysis.
Thuviel choked on his words, but eventually managed to eek out a response: {"I… don't know. They left in a rush, didn't say anything about where they were going."}
Vrael dragged his hand down his face, the living embodiment of frustration at the time. {"What of these two? Do they know anything."}
Thuviel asked them in Dwarvish, and hit a thread of what Vrael sought. {"Goda says before they left, Sëylid had him make fairths of…."} He stopped to confirm the unfamiliar words with Goda. {"Of a ra'zac, and lethrblaka. He says Sëylid alleges she saw one around Helgrind mountain. Perhaps they went there?"}
Vrael scowled at Goda, then focused again on Thuviel. {"When your masters return, inform them that the Elder council would like to speak with them. Immediately."} He turned and left the tent quickly, along with his fellow Elders.
As soon as the tent flaps were closed again, the dragons stopped their growling.
"He has the most punchable face I've seen in my life so far," Goda commented, then patted Thuviel on the head. "You did good, didn't piss yourself. Dawn is in thirty minutes, so you can catch some sleep if you want."
Mansa shook him by the shoulder. "Goda has promised to make hotteok for breakfast. Nami has told you about them?"
They both acted like the meeting with the Elders hadn't happened.
It took Thuviel a moment to process that the Elders were gone, he was alive, and the world hadn't ended. "Oh. Um. The… the griddle cake with brown sugar and nuts?"
Mansa gently led Thuviel back to his cot, and told him all about alternate fillings they could try – berries, custard, something called 'cream cheese'. It helped the young elf relax, at least enough to relax in his cot.
He didn't stop to think 'wait, what are ra'zac and lethrblaka' until he was moments away from sleep again.
--
Cast:
Maahes: Magenta dragon paired to Mansa. Very beautiful, very powerful. Pronounced: MA-heys.
Morito: Forest green dragon paired to Nami. Pronounced: More-E-toe.
Errol: Stormy grey dragon paired to Minne. Likes to have Minne on his back at all times. Pronounced: Air-ull.
Aya: Algae green dragon paired to Lisbet. Protective and supportive of her young rider. Pronounced: EYE-a.
Vrael: A member of the Riders Elder council. Very punchable face.
--
Glossary:
Surdoni: A culture of dark-skinned human artisans, seemingly the second most populace human ethnic group, after the Broddrings. Singular, Surdon.
Giddo: A culture of humans with varied skin colors who were the first to form a dual society with larger megafauna, namely elephants. Singular, Gidd.
Proda: A culture of humans with a distinct eye structure from other human groups. Renowned carpenters. Singular, Proda.
Amusel: A culture of humans with elaborate braids in their hair. Naval, with the knots in their hair represented mistakes that they have to remember their whole lives. Singular, Amuset.
Fairth: A slab of slate with pigments pre-planted inside to allow for the creation of detailed images depending on the user's intent.
Dancing Flame: A fire spirit, which takes the form of a small winged person with clothes and wings of fire. They dance endlessly where they are summoned until dismissed, or they tire of dancing. Primarily used to produce heat, not light.
---
Chair has been able to produce these chapters so quickly because he's trying to escape stress of real-life. If you like what I do, and wanna support, I have a ko-fi link on my discord. You can also participate in variable-context votes for this and other stories, share music or discuss settings you like. There are also some under-the-hood goodies you can see.
Any help is appreciated, but your viewership helps in its own way in that it keeps me writing. Thank you.
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- Location
- Omniverse #1345
Oh boy, I hope those fools aren't too reckless. Lethrblaka should not be underestimated. Even ra'zac aren't exactly weak. And their minds are completely undetectable so many of the tricks they usually use will slide right off.
I can understand why they didn't take Goda. But they totally should have taken Goda, as the resident expert on what they are after.
I can understand why they didn't take Goda. But they totally should have taken Goda, as the resident expert on what they are after.
Evaunit02mark1
S-s-smell the Prey, S-s-start the Hunt.
Provided it's just the one and they know what to look for they'll probably be alright.
Might lose one or two if they try to take it on at night mind you.
- Location
- Book Fort
- Pronouns
- They/Them
Hm. I wonder what it means that Saphira kept her given-name into adulthood? Perhaps it signified a uniquely interconnected Bond with Eragon? The two would need it, given the sheer enormity of the challenges before them.
Oof. An entire people, told to man the gate and guard the doors for those who would flee, first. Told to build the ships for those who would leave them to be a meatshield for their own escape.
And his people did it, too. They manned the gate, built the ships, and sacrificed themselves so other people, other cultures, would have a better chance at survival. I hope that their sacrifice is honored, somehow. By the human historians who were only able to flee to safety through the sacrifice of Goda's people, or by the spirits themselves, who witnessed it.
I also wonder, if perhaps Goda's people might see some amount of disparity among the human riders. Dragons of all personalities could see many things in that form of sacrifice --honor, bravery, battle prowess, trustworthiness, etc. I could see Dragons, willing to hatch for humans, being particularly primed to hatch for Goda's people.
Evaunit02mark1
S-s-smell the Prey, S-s-start the Hunt.
There is actually.
In the very first appearance of Goda we see people who bow in respect and cringe in shame.
Their sacrifice is known, it's just not announced.
I doubt it's something any of the surviving human leaders/warriors/kings is particularly proud of.
If it is spread I expect it'll be spread the same way most cultures spread such information, word of mouth, probably a story or two.
It'll probably last for a few generations, provided Goda's people are still around, but like most things the less people talk about it the quicker it'll fade.
Such leaders probably want this particular shame to fade rather quickly.
- Location
- Book Fort
- Pronouns
- They/Them
I'm not so sure about that... The world of the Inheritance Cycle is pretty big on honor --at least, from the Dwarves, the Humans, and even the Urgals have their own form of it. It was only Galbratorix and his undying tyranny that began to weather away at this.
I could, perhaps, see human leaders leveraging the sacrifice of Goda's people for political purposes ("my cause is what their sacrifice was for," "my cause honors their memory," "the people who sacrificed themselves would side with me"), but I think that they would be honor-bound to keep knowledge of that sacrifice around... especially since Dragon Riders are biologically immortal, and several humans who personally witnessed that sacrifice became Riders, themselves.
Kinda hard for a politician to sweep a mass cultural sacrifice under the rug when the Dragon Riders (who have a huge political, cultural, and military significance), themselves, witnessed it.
IMPORTANT NOTE: all if this is speculation is rooted in knowledge from canon, and the author may very well decide that their version of this world splits off from canon in key ways. This is their right, and I promise no salt on my end for it. This is just idle navel-gazing.
- Location
- Omniverse #1345
Someone needed to be the rear guard. The only question is if they volunteered or if circumstances forced them into it.
Also one key factor is time around the riders are discovering the Ra'zac in a somewhat different context - from the first reports of one of the last survivors of the rear guard as their entire species was forced to abandon an entire continent because of them. That takes the threat level from "These are real problem" to "Nuke it from orbit!" Canonically from what we know they eventually acted, but it was probably a human generation or two from now if not longer. It starting immediately is going to have ramifications.
Also one key factor is time around the riders are discovering the Ra'zac in a somewhat different context - from the first reports of one of the last survivors of the rear guard as their entire species was forced to abandon an entire continent because of them. That takes the threat level from "These are real problem" to "Nuke it from orbit!" Canonically from what we know they eventually acted, but it was probably a human generation or two from now if not longer. It starting immediately is going to have ramifications.
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Evaunit02mark1
S-s-smell the Prey, S-s-start the Hunt.
Good point.
Immortal witnesses would make it hard to hide. That being said I still don't see them talking about it all that much if they can help it.
If anything bringing it up, no matter the context, makes them look bad. There's only so many ways you can spin "and then we left them to die."
Bit of column A, bit of column B from the looks of things.
Goda's people were the only ones who knew how to build the boats and the only ones who were decent enough at killing the bird faced bastards to actually make a difference.
Which both increases their honor and increases the shame.
Goda's people were basically the Spartans at Reach culturally speaking.