Hello loves! While I haven't been writing, I have been working on updating some issues that have been hanging around on the layout! The Character change box is now at the bottom of the page, beside the up/down arrows! Green and Gold dragon flight dates have been shifted to the bottom of the page, where the (useless!) discord widget was located. Where the dragon flights were in the header, is now replaced by a Monthly Event box! This will be updated at the start of each month, with a fun mini-event you can take part in, if you want to! Thistle!
22.Aug.12, 12:50 AM
So, Tyrrisath had failed to catch Rilaleeyth. That didn't bode well.
As much as A'liran loved to see a cruel brownrider put in his place, he also knew when it wasn't the time to tempt fate. A'liran was small, handsome, and worst of all, feisty. Everything S'kef liked. He'd met with dreaded S'kef of Tyrrisath before, both locked in the bonds of flight and on a more literal battlefield. A'liran's back didn't bear the same horrible scars as some less fortunate greenriders, but he would always remember the sting of that whip.
Some dragons couldn't be slew through conventional warfare. A'liran opted for a tactical retreat.
He moved to the dining hall after the flight, settling himself at a crowded table and taking an exceptionally long time with his meal. Things happened after flights. Sometimes, the frustrated losers vented themselves in unhealthy ways. It wasn't too much of a problem normally; most of them would go home or get drunk or something. Maybe track down a willing wench or stolen northerner who needed some comfort. Not all of them were monsters. Not many of them would go too far.
S'kef would, though. There was some sort of incident almost every time he lost that damn green's flights. It was usually violence. Bullying. Shoving. Insults. But A'liran knew himself well enough to realize that if S'kef spit at him, he'd spit back. And he would lose. Best just to avoid him.
A'liran couldn't imagine how wrong things had gone this time, though.
He left the dining hall late, around a half hour after Rilaleeyths screeching stopped. Aveleth won Astoreth commented with mild amusement. Aveleth wasn't an uncommon sight in her own flights, and had won them often enough that A'liran considered Z'ia a personal nemesis. A'liran smirked. J'ver and Z'ia, huh? Those assholes deserve each other
A'liran stood up and started to head home. He was sure it would be safe by now. In fact, he was just a little bit ashamed for even being concerned. He'd never have admitted it, obviously. He would deny it to his death, but that brownrider...he unnerved A'liran.
Greenriders couldn't show fear in the face of bullies like that, though. Showing fear was an invitation.
A'liran was starting to relax when he felt Astoreth nudge him lightly. A'liran. You must look. She sounded dour, with a streak of darkness and resentment lurking behind her sweet voice.
A'liran paused and let his eyes drift as she bid them. A storage room?
The greenrider approached and pushed the door open. "Hello?"
As much as A'liran loved to see a cruel brownrider put in his place, he also knew when it wasn't the time to tempt fate. A'liran was small, handsome, and worst of all, feisty. Everything S'kef liked. He'd met with dreaded S'kef of Tyrrisath before, both locked in the bonds of flight and on a more literal battlefield. A'liran's back didn't bear the same horrible scars as some less fortunate greenriders, but he would always remember the sting of that whip.
Some dragons couldn't be slew through conventional warfare. A'liran opted for a tactical retreat.
He moved to the dining hall after the flight, settling himself at a crowded table and taking an exceptionally long time with his meal. Things happened after flights. Sometimes, the frustrated losers vented themselves in unhealthy ways. It wasn't too much of a problem normally; most of them would go home or get drunk or something. Maybe track down a willing wench or stolen northerner who needed some comfort. Not all of them were monsters. Not many of them would go too far.
S'kef would, though. There was some sort of incident almost every time he lost that damn green's flights. It was usually violence. Bullying. Shoving. Insults. But A'liran knew himself well enough to realize that if S'kef spit at him, he'd spit back. And he would lose. Best just to avoid him.
A'liran couldn't imagine how wrong things had gone this time, though.
He left the dining hall late, around a half hour after Rilaleeyths screeching stopped. Aveleth won Astoreth commented with mild amusement. Aveleth wasn't an uncommon sight in her own flights, and had won them often enough that A'liran considered Z'ia a personal nemesis. A'liran smirked. J'ver and Z'ia, huh? Those assholes deserve each other
A'liran stood up and started to head home. He was sure it would be safe by now. In fact, he was just a little bit ashamed for even being concerned. He'd never have admitted it, obviously. He would deny it to his death, but that brownrider...he unnerved A'liran.
Greenriders couldn't show fear in the face of bullies like that, though. Showing fear was an invitation.
A'liran was starting to relax when he felt Astoreth nudge him lightly. A'liran. You must look. She sounded dour, with a streak of darkness and resentment lurking behind her sweet voice.
A'liran paused and let his eyes drift as she bid them. A storage room?
The greenrider approached and pushed the door open. "Hello?"
