There was a reason Demund avoided hunting; he hated dealing with nature! First they all had to wade through knee deep water. Completely soaking his boots giving the slightest breeze the enough bite to chill his whole being. Then almost immediately after was an usually steep hill at the tree line that everyone decided to climb. Now Demund was not only cold, but starting to tire as well.

Any sane person would have turned around or at least suggested another spot. But there was something... pushing him. Something telling him to carry on ward as if there was somewhere he had to be. Somewhere he was needed. But why?

At first he thought he was going mad, that his imagination was simply trying to give meaning to such a miserable trip. But as he spotted obvious animal tracks that Gale seemed to ignore completely, he knew. It wasn't just him. Gale must be feeling it as well. And who was to say the others weren't as well?

And yet, he didn't speak up. There was still a lingering doubt in his mind telling him it was nothing. That if he were to try and discuss it with the others he would find that he was alone in his feelings. So silently he carried forward waiting to see what would come off this little adventure.

Galen Derricson

They reached the top of the hill, finding the eastern face of the mound to be mostly bare of trees and granting them an unexposed view of the valley on the other side.

The place was a mess.

A patch of forest to the south was badly burned, and the very base of the valley was flooded and riddled with temporary ponds. The north was so waterlogged it appeared almost swamp-like, not at all like the rapidly drying out woodlands Gale had thought to find here. The Hadarac Desert could not even be seen, a line of hills slightly shorter than the one they just climbed blocked much of the view before them, but even still they could see green grass beyond that.

On the face of those hills, nestled just slightly above one of the ponds, was a cabin. Normally it would not be so easily spotted, but between the broken wards, the call of eggs demanding a chance to hatch, the call of riders approaching their destiny, and just a bit of true blood flowing in his veins, Galen spotted the off-colored roof immediately.

He pointed to it as soon as he saw it, "I didn't know anyone lived over here." He commented lightly, a strange note in his voice. No one lived out here, that was fact. Yet there was a small cabin in the woods, the light color of the wooden roof telling of its recent construction.

To reach the cabin the group had a few options; first was to take the shortest route, going north slightly to cross between the largest two ponds and then south again once passed. Another option was to simply swim, two small ponds lie directly between them and the cabin, they could simply go straight down the hill, through the first pond, through the next pond, and then up the other hill to the cabin.

Or they could go south. It was slightly longer, but they could reach a path that would take them through the burnt section of the forest and then straight to the cabin's doorstep. The path actually looked like it connected the house to the main road, which might have implied the place was older than it looked, but there was no way someone had been living out here unnoticed for that long, not without magic.

Gale glanced south towards the blackened, leafless trees. He was interested in going there, but the cabin- more like a but really, demanded his attention. So long as they ended up there he didn't care which way they took.

"What do you guys think?" He asked, turning from the view to face them- or more accurately, to face Alph. He felt somewhat guilty, he had after all invited Gren out here to catch some food, something the boy likely needed, and yet Gale was already distracting them from that goal. It just felt so... important. He hadn't even realized he was ignoring the tracks until they reached the top of the hill, no doubt bypassing hundreds of suitable tracks to follow. As for Demund, he probably wanted to be back at the forge and didn't care one way or another about their success.

So, he turned to Alph. Likely the only one who would take an interest, not to mention Gale simply respected him more. Alph was well traveled and independent, and though the term likely didn't exist yet, Gale thought he was cool.

But Gale hadn't realized he wasn't the only one feeling a pull to the hut, so he felt a little nervous about side tracking their quest. He didn't think about what he'd do if they didn't want to go check out the hut. It was just so... important. He had no choice but to go.

So the cabin. That was something. Grendel had been all over the lands surrounding Mashal, and never before had he seen this cabin. Not once. It was highly suspicious, and it led Gren to believe that there was something unnatural going on here. He was not a superstitious person by any means, never was. So unnatural meant magical. Magic meant money. Money meant no more getting half drowned in a mud puddle in the middle of a rain storm, or going days at a time without eating. Money meant warm, cozy fires and soft, comfortable beds. Money meant food, all that Grendel could desire. He could replace the too large glass eye that made his socket ache with something fancy and jeweled. He would be the envy of the town! Gren just needed to take whatever was in that building. He could feel it. Calling to him.

Certainly something magical was worth a great deal of money.

There was certainly something in that house.

And Grendel Kirk wanted it all.

Gren began to descend down the hill towards the first pond in a slow, methodical way. He felt as if some great puppet master in the sky was pulling him along, guiding him by invisible strings. He began to wade into the first pond, determined. The fires of his hope burned brighter than a sun. How Gren hoped.

He could feel the treasure ahead pulling him forward.

Gren could feel the tug.

Alphonse had never been a hunter and was the last person to ever notice any of the tracks, no matter how deep in the mud they were. He passed around his ale skin to any who would take it; it was the most he could display his merry disposition in a setting that required silence.

When they looked out over the valley, and Gale pointed out a cabin, like anyone in the group had missed spotting it. Grendel wasted no time to start down the hill to reach the place, and Alphonse was inclined to agree with him. It felt right, the foreignness that had invaded his mind was stronger than ever, even if it was keeping silent now. He didn't stop to question whether he wanted a foreign entity in his mind or not, but chimed in, since they were talking now.

"I reckon ole Gren likes the look of that place. You know, I've walked out this way a few times, I've never seen that cabin before. Maybe we should take a look after all?"

He started down the hill as well, but where Gren was heading right for one of the flooded out sections of the valley, he headed north to move around them. It wasn't the shortest route, but it wasn't the longest either. While he didn't have to wade or swim, he was sloshing through mud most of the way. But his boots were already soaked and muddy, so he had no qualms with getting a little more on them. Maybe he'd be a bit taller for the mud caked under his feet.

Alph arrived shortly before Gren, owing to his longer strides and brisker pace, and looked back to the line of his companions in the various ways they chose to come in.

He abandoned the pretense of hunting and called back across the valley to all of them. "Think anyone's home?" He knocked on the door. There was no answer.

The moment Demund laid eyes on the cabin he knew. This was it. Whatever this pull was it was coming from there. His focus was so great he nearly missed the fact Gren had gone ahead; followed by Alph. The doubt he had before completely vanished as he saw the dedication of his friends. Gren was so set on getting there he wadded through massive puddles that easily could have been gone around simply to cut a straight line.

Maybe being aware of the pull gave him some liberty because he took a moment to decide that following Alph around would be the smarter option. Though it wasn’t faster they simply had to deal with think pools of mud, which after the rain would be something expected back home. It wasn’t until they reached the cabin it occurred to Demund he hadn’t looked back at all to see if Gale had followed. After a quick check to make sure he turned his attention back to the hut.

This was...Impossible! The freshly cut wood showed that his was a new structure explaining why they hadn’t noticed it before. But the door, specifically the hinges, told more of a story. Walking right up and inspecting them closer as Alph knocked on the door, Demund explained his findings to the others. ”There’s not a spec of rust on these hinges. The only way that’s possible after the storm is if they were made within the last few days. But we haven’t seen anyone new in some time and there’s not another smith close enough to do this. What is this place?”

Galen Derricson

Gale had a number of oddities about him, but a fear of water was certainly not one of them, in fact he loved to swim in the river. That didn't make Gren's trip through the dirty ponds, no doubt filled with submerged plants and hidden rocks, at all appealing. No, Gale wasn't going through the water, but he rather thought haste was important, so he started after the other two.

He didn't even get that muddy.

He was last to reach the door though, and he listened to the Demund's observations curiously. When there was no answer to Alph's knocking, Gale took that to mean no one was home, yet given its recent appearance, someone must live here.

But that was wrong. Some strange part of him just utterly disagreed. Whoever lived here was dead. They were dead and their treasure needed to be found right now.

He pushed lightly on the door, but there was a lock on the inside.

Oh well.

In two short motions he drew his axe from his belt loop and smashed its blade straight into the center of the door, cutting a deep gash into the wooden face. Then he followed the move with a kick that finished splitting the door vertically in half. It caved in on its hinges, the other half hanging on to the frame only by the lock that had denied him entrance the easy way.

An air of seriousness hung over the group, the pull that reached out to them was close, yet the home was nearly bare. A sack filled with blank parchment was knocked over the floor, littering the far side of the room with loose papers. The only furnishings were a simple wooden cot cushioned by an odd green material, soft to the touch and yet reminiscent of the texture belonging to leaves, and a stone desk was shoved against the wall by the door. A wooden chair was broken beneath it.

On the desk was an inkwell, long dried out, and a couple quills that we're drifting away as the breeze from the doorway swirled around the room. More interestingly was a small leather sack, the size of a pocket, that appeared almost like a coin purse. It actually was a coin purse, a handful of silver and copper coins within; not an especially rich haul, but more than any of the village boys were likely to have.

More important than that however was the letter.

(Refer to the first post of the OOC.)

Gale surveyed the hut for a moment from his position in the doorway, and then slowly made his way into the room to investigate the letter, still holding the axe loosely in his right hand.

Gren stared longingly at the door. His future lay within, all he needed to do- CRACK! Gale's treatment of the opposing door snapped Gren out of his reverie rather quickly. The tug was still there, however. He entered into the cabin cautiously- magic also meant danger. Before him lay broken furniture and the meager possessions of someone who clearly wasn't very wealthy.

Disappointed, Gren stared at the desk. "So that's it? A coin purse and a letter?" Grendel deflated like a balloon. He suddenly looked very very tired. He was such a fool. "Gale, what's the letter say?" It's not like things could get any worse than they already were. Maybe whoever was here left something at least interesting to read, if not valuable. But the tug. What was he still feeling that bloody tug for? This place was barren, clearly. Unless there was more magic involved? Some sort of... cloaking spell? Grendel hadn't the slightest clue.

Alph didn't appear to have a problem with Gale's rash actions, in fact, he seemed to have been about to do that himself. The interior of the hut was a little disappointing, but Alph still walked in cautiously. He kicked at the papers on the floor as he walked toward the stone desk, but none of them seemed to have ever been touched by a quill. Gale picked up a letter from the desk, and Alph peered into the leather sack.

"Coin," he said, holding the bag out toward the others. "Silver as well as copper." His voice was flatter than such a fortunate discovery should have warranted. He was a little disappointed by this. Something had felt like it was building up, and this just didn't seem to be worth the excitement.

He looked around, and stomped his foot a moment, a look of curiosity spreading across his face. "Hey now," said he, "Does anyone think this hut might be just a little smaller on the inside? Here look, you can see light between the planks on these three walls," he pointed to the one they'd come from, and two others, "But not that one. I bet there's something behind it, someone was hiding out here. I've seen things like these in taverns, they help smugglers hide contraband."

He knocked on the offending wall, finding it sounding hollow, like there was another wall on the other side rather than empty space.

"Do your axe again here."

The initial chop if the axe startled Demund who was stunned by the rash actions of Gale. Nevertheless the pull was still there, and being this was their only way in decided not to press the matter. Soon as the door was kicked in they all entered. Hopefully the owner wouldn’t be home soon.

Inside, Demund couldn't help but feel cheated. This place was trashed with only a coin purse being of any value. There was a note but currently Gale was reading it. Disheartened Demund sat down on the strange green cot and tried to think what possibly could have drawn them here.

It was in that moment of reflection he felt the pull again. Had they not found what they needed yet? Maybe there were still secrets hidden here, but where?

Alph turned out to be one step ahead of him. The moment he thought of looking around the quick witted bard discovered a hidden room behind a wall. Demund pushed off the cot and stood next to the others once more with hope that answers could be found.

So close! The feeling, the desire, they were all reawakened by his presence. Her heart thumped louder than before, strength pouring into her unused limbs. For the first time, she opened her eyes.



The faint red glow of her eyes illuminated the shell of the egg. Some of the light got through, making the egg glow like freshly spilled lava. This was it! If that muppet couldn't find her now, she would have to pick another one, one with more bright mind! Stirring in her egg, she tried to break free of the shell.

*THUMP*

No luck. But maybe the sound would be the last piece of the puzzle.



*THUMP*

Galen Derricson

Gale's eyebrows rose in surprise, disappearing beneath his hair. This was "Treason." he finished the thought aloud, answering Gren's question. "Harboring information, plotting against the King, consorting with the Elves." This was big, much bigger than their small village, and it was dangerous. In the village of Ferris, a slightly larger settlement to the north of Mashal, the king's agents accused the villagers of working for the Varden, no less than ten people were executed. That was over seven years ago now, but the event served as a perfect example of what could happen to them.

They should leave.

But Gale didn't want to.

Alph found something in the wall, or about the wall- didn't matter, Gale's curiosity wouldn't let him ignore it. He swung his axe after the others made room and promptly smashed through, as if the wood was made of paper. Which it was.

Frowning, Gale gripped the edges of the hole and pulled the paper away. The material had been changed, altered by magic to appear like wood, and stretch across a doorway, but it felt and acted like paper. It was masterful work, there were even real gaps between the plank-like sheets, but in seconds he had tore it all away to reveal a dingy stairway carved from stone leading deep into the hill.

There was a torch on the floor, and a small pile of flint beside it on the first step. Using his axe and a share of flint he lit the torch in only a few quick strikes. The dark of the room beyond abated slightly and he lifted the torch from the floor before it could scorch the stone, he then promptly handed it off to the nearest set of hands and raising his axe nervously. "The letter said there was treasure." He admitted uncertainly, unsure what that information would do or mean, but it was the only explanation he had as to why there might be a secret passage in a strange but in the middle of the woods.

Gren began to practically shake with excitement the moment Alphonse discovered the strange wall. So there was something more to this dingy old shack after all! Visions of grandeur and opulence began to fill Gren's head once more. Then Gale came again with his axe. Gren quickly snatched up the torch he had been holding out, and took a single eager step into the stairwell.

"The letter said there was treasure."

"Treasure? That settles it then! To hell with treason and the Empire! I'm going in!" Grendel began to descend, but stopped, uncertainty crossing his features for a brief moment as he turned his head back round. "Are you guys going to come?" Whatever lay ahead, it simply didn't feel right to go alone. He wouldn't be out here without Gale, Alphonse was the one who discovered the passage, and Demund... Demund's family had always been kind to him. Kindness that perhaps Gren didn't deserve. "We... Should go together, maybe?" He sounded anxious, and slight irritation was present in his voice too. That damnable tug was only getting stronger.

"Oh, I mean to go down," Alphonse said, but he stopped by the desk to grab a leg of the broken chair that was by it. He wrapped it in a piece torn from the strange material of the cot, and poured what was left of his ale skin onto it. When he touched it to Gren's torch, it lit up.

"This won't last as long as yours, so let's make it count."

He stepped boldly down the tunnel with his slightly dimmer makeshift torch. The stairs went down a short way into darkness, and Alph nearly tripped when the floor suddenly leveled out. He searched along the tunnel walls, it kept going to who knew where. But not far from the stairs he found more papers, these ones written on.

"Gale," he called back in a whisper thick with excitement, "Come read these." Alphonse meanwhile was distracted by the set of rounded stones he had found. They glimmered brilliantly in the light of his and Gren's torches. They were different colors, and horribly attractive. One in particular was the shining orange of burnished bronze. What he first took for a reflection of his torch, he quickly realized there was a spot glowing inside of the stone.

"What kind of... what are these?" He wanted to reach out for one, but a last shred of caution stayed his hand.

On closer inspection, an unprepared visitor would be startled by seeing something stir and slither within the glowing stone. The motion unbalanced it, causing the strange thing to fall over and roll on the ground with metallic clanking until it bumped into Alphonse’s feet. And then, as soon as the contact was made, the entire thing would rattle for a while before shattering to tiny pieces in a puff of smoke and a thundering boom.

For a while nothing would happen, but then the pile of debris that seemed a bit too small for a stone of that size would shuffle and something would emerge from it. Something that would give Alph a piercing stare with its glowing orange eyes.

”Gods,” Alph muttered as he looked at the dilapidated pile of bones and scales. ”What have we gotten ourselves into?” he asked of those around him, not taking his eyes off the creature. He reached a hand forward to touch it on the head.

Seeing Alph leaning over her, Ashwing bared her teeth in what he would soon learn is, along with quick waggling of the tip of a tail, a dragon grin. Before his hand could touch her, the little hatchling raised her tiny wings and crouched, springing up and giving the wings a beat to launch herself against his chest. Once she bumped into him, her teeth sunk through his shirt and nibbled the skin over his heart.


And then a silver mark appeared on his chest where her teeth touched, and the little dragoness could feel that nasty void that was always present in her being filled. She could feel everything he did, and the human’s feelings mixed and blended with her own. One mind. One soul. None the same as before. Finally after a century from being laid, she felt whole.

Letting go of the poor bloke, she climbed up on his torso and laid herself around his shoulders like an expensive fur.


A wave of nauseating pain swept through Alphonse, originating from where she had bit him. His first wild thought was that she was venomous, but the pain subsided, leaving a mild sting. He put his hand over the bite, feeling the light trickle of blood.

”Rider?” he asked weakly. He looked sideways at the creature, where it sat on his shoulders. His sideways glance staring straight into the one eye that was facing him, Alph felt something even stronger than the pain. It was an intense kinship, and it was strange, because within that he could feel the same foreign entity that had been badgering him all morning. This was the entity, this small creature. This dragon. ”Thank you,” he was still speaking out loud, and tears clouded his eyes. ”It’s an honor.”

Letting out a small, high pitched kiddie roar to affirm, Ashwing settled on Alphonse’s shoulders and gave a curious eye to the other occupants of the room who were no doubt marveling at her magnificence.

Galen Derricson

Galen was right behind the other two, just as curious and eager to see what lay in the hidden chamber as they were. He followed closely behind Alph, and only realized they'd reached the bottom of the stairs when the older boy stumbled on the flat chamber floor. The room was large, and perfectly smooth. There was no way this place was natural, and yet it's perfect edges and walls defied physical construction.

This place was built by magic.

He only left Alph's side when he was directed to read the more letters while the others explored the cave. The parchments were stacked in a leather cover, as if it were meant to be a book or journal, but there was no binding and the papers were falling out slightly. He didn't notice the gem in the dark, but when he picked up the papers it fell from the book with a loud plopping sound.

It was dark blue and expertly cut, and it glittered beautifully even in the dim torchlight that had moved further away by then. Gale reached to pick it up and gasped when his fingers brushed the cool surface, a foreign feeling shooting into his mind.

---

Ghirian wasn't far, he was coming with the last batch soon. Picking which eggs could and couldn't be saved was hard, and terribly unfair, but so far Ghirian had been correct. Galbatorix was hunting down the eggs he knew of, but the more recent dragon mothers weren't as well known to him. Taking one or two eggs from their clutch was something no one, not even the traitorous Forsworn, was likely to pick up on.

A feeling of panic welled within her suddenly, transmitted through her link to Ghirian. "Kialandí is here!" The dragon called to his rider desperately. Instantly Lanarí regretted staying behind to ward the cave. She should be there! Ghirian didn't stand a chance against Kialandí and her dragon, certainly not alone!

"No!" She screamed suddenly when Ghirian stifled their link. She knew he was preventing her from seeing his death, which meant he knew he wasn't going to make it back.

But nothing could spare her from the sudden pain that seared her heart and mind at Ghirian's violent death, their link shattering to pieces amidst her scream of grief and agony.

---

It had only been a moment, not even half a second, but Galen returned to his own thoughts confused and disoriented. He stood abruptly from where he was crouched, eyes swinging to land on the spot in the far corner of the room where he- no, where Lanarí, an Elven Dragon Rider from before the Fall, had been been standing.

He flinched at seeing her corpse.

She was crouched before an egg, her arms around her legs and leaning forward. She hadn't the heart to continue on after Ghirian's death, and so she had wasted away here, in the place they'd risked their lives to keep hidden. Gale's eyes swept the room, finding Alph crouched before an egg as well, though thankfully not dead, and many other eggs of varied colors around the room. His eyes returned to Lanarí.

He started towards her, sapphire in one hand, pages in the other, and a sticky kind of sadness in his heart. He was unsure what he meant to do when he reached her, he wanted to offer comfort but she was... dead. It was probably for the best that he hadn't then.

As he passed a white egg, it squeaked at him. He paused, just in time for the egg to split in half and four-legged, wobbly creature to crawl out. He stood there facing it a little dumbstruck, his thoughts still cloudy from the strange mental vision given to him by the gem.

Suddenly it all clicked into place. The letter, the vision, the girl, the eggs- Dragon Riders! The man who wrote the letter found the eggs, that was what he meant when he said the King hadn't been as thorough as he had thought, and the eggs were hidden by the Rider, Lanarí, and now they'd found the eggs too and they were hatching! He was going to be a godsdamned Dragon Rider!

Of course, they could have been wild dragon eggs, but the thought didn't occur to Galen. It would have been wrong if it had in any case.

He crouched down on one knee, a soft star-struck hello on his lips as he lifted his right hand in greeting, only for the dragon to growl impatiently and headbutt his hand. A kind of pain he'd never felt before lanced from the location, and he jerked his hand back in shock, cradling it as if it's been burnt, but the feeling was fading quickly. A brief check over revealed a strange silvery insignia had appeared on his flesh.

"What was that for?" The pain had been enough to chase the awe from his thoughts, leaving him grumbling in discomfort and gazing at the white scaled dragon uncertainly.

Another foreign presence flashed into his mind, this one simple and childlike instead of empty and fleeting like the one from the gem, which he'd dropped into his pocket. A feeling reached him not unlike that of hunger, and he realized it was the dragon speaking to him- as much as a baby could at any rate. Another feeling reached him, that of disgust, and the hatchling glanced disdainfully over at the dead body.

Lanarí was on the far side of the room, still largely cloaked in shadows. Nothing caught the light around her, and he could not make anything out but her hunched shape in the corner. He could not smell her, as he knew the dead most certainly smelled awful, but he got the distinct feeling the little reptile could pick up on the faint scent of decay and death.

Gale shuddered, reaching his hand out to pet the dragon as an offer of comfort. Belatedly he realized trying to touch it had already hurt him, and it was a little machine of teeth and razor claws that could easily take a finger if he was t careful. Nothing of the sort happened however, and the sack of scales lept into his arms without waiting for invitation.

The feeling of hunger was further pressed into his mind. "Fine," he muttered grudgingly, "we'll get food." He was actually quite hungry himself, given their trek through the hills to get here- which now that the pull was no longer in his head, he found the whole thing very unnerving.

Oh.

He stood, dragon in his arms, and turned to look for the others. What do they think of all this? His eyes landed on Alph and a little scaley thing around his shoulders.

Oh.

---

Mashal

Three bodies, seconds ago rapidly cooling, now caught flame. A red headed woman dressed in leather and weaponry glared around at the appalled villagers and began heading east out of town.

Towards the bridge.

Having no torch or source of light at all, Demund stayed in the back of the group and let the other illuminate the way. Just from the stairway itself he could tell, something wasn’t right here. There was no way any of this could have been done without the town noticing. Once they came upon the large room it was obvious; magic. The walls were smooth and glass and the structure was near flawless. No craftsman known aside from a dwarf would have been able to do this.

The find now had gone from one note to several. Pages wrapped in a leather cover lay at the foot of a pile of magnificent stones. Each with their own distinct design their very sight sent a chill up Demund’s spine. Gazing over each one he nudging his glass-eyed friend he remarked, ”I bet one of these will fetch enough to keep you fed for months.”

As he admired each stone, one grabbed and held his full attention. Solid steel polished to perfection with dark spots to give it shape and detail. It's design, was beyond beautiful. But more than that, Demund knew, this was the pull. Whatever this thing was it had been calling him here, and he would now find out why.

Though others had hatched, Demund paid no heed as all his attention was on this egg. The word around him didn't exist. There was only him and the egg.

Letting the pull take him once more he walked over and reached out to touch it. There was no hesitation, as if he was accepting of whatever happened. He placed his hand upon the egg which cracked the moment his skin touched the shell.

Before he could pull back, a white steel creature popped out and headbutted Demund's hand. It burned worse than any of the searing metals he had ever worked with, yet he didn't cry out or flinch. Instead be watched in complete awe as silver markings formed and all feelings of pain had left.

If the markings weren’t enough, now that the creature had broken free of its egg he was able to see just what it was. A dragon. A dragon which leaped at him and now rested proudly on his shoulder.

The smith had no words. He was stunned. But even with all his shock and awe, one thing was clear in his head. This dragon belonged to him, and he this dragon.

Breaking out of his closed reality, Demund looked to the others expecting them to be stunned as well. He was not mistaken, but their shock was not to his dragon, but their own now clinging to them as well. Though it was clear he was forcing the words out, he managed to speak to the others. ”Treasure indeed.”

Gren entered the room, narrowing his eyes slightly at the strange colored stones before him. So this is where the tugging was coming from. It was almost unbearable now. He approached the most attractive looking stone he could find. Purple and black swirls coated the egg, with flecks of brilliant gold spread throughout. "This is beautiful," He whispered under his breath. "How much is this thing worth?"

That was when it exploded.

Grendel stared at the creature below him, shock etched onto his face. So the stone was not a stone. The stone was an egg. The egg had a dragon inside of it. This was a dragon egg. Dragon egg. Wait wait wait wait. This was amazing! This was going to be his path to success! Dragons only hatched for their chosen riders, this Gren knew very well! He began to extend his hands towards the small creature, who butted it's head up to meet it. There was a flash of bright pain, which then quickly subsided. Close inspection of his hand revealed a strange silver scar. A mark that Gren would come to know as the symbol of the rider, the Gedwëy ignasia.

He began to look around the room now, noticing similar creatures surrounding his friends. So... "Are we going to be dragon riders now? This is amazing! The four of us with dragons!? We'd be all powerful! We could have riches and respect that a poor Mashal villager could only dream of!"

Gren stood up now, his small dragon cradled in his arms. He scanned the faces of his companions with his one eye, a frenzied grin on his face. This was more than he could ever have possibly hoped for! Him, a dragon rider?! And the other eggs! He could get rich auctioning those off to the highest bidder! Grendel eyed the remaining eggs greedily, completely glazing over the dead person in the room with them. Those were going to be his eggs. Wait, dead body? Gren set his dragon down carefully and began to search it for anything valuable or useful.

"Gren, show some respect for the dead, man." Alph was watching him, one hand up toward his shoulder, absentmindedly stroking the dragon's head. Ashwing. "Whoever that is, they put these eggs here. We owe them."

Four young men had entered the cabin, and four dragons had hatched. This was amazing, unprecedented. Alph knew some about the dragon riders of old from songs, though the Empire wasn't fond of hearing them. Dragons chose their riders. How likely was it that all four of them had been chosen? Perhaps the eggs had grown impatient. That body looked ancient, how long could a dragon's egg sit? There was a lot he didn't know.

But at least one thing he did know, a little too well. "You guys," he said, "We can't stay here. I mean, in Mashal. If the Empire finds out four new dragons hatched... They don't like it when I sing songs about the riders. I don't think they'll like four new ones."

Galen Derricson

Galen's eyes bounced from one dragonling to the next, taking in their newest companions. Somehow, he didn't think this was going to end well. Four new Dragon Riders, another four unhatched eggs- We're going to die, he thought worriedly. The King is going to want us dead-, he withheld a flinch as new thought occured to him, the first riders since the Forsworn, he's not going to want us dead, he's going to want us as slaves! It took a moment for him to calm himself, to realize that so far Galbatorix didn't know anything, if he had then the eggs would be in Uru'baen, not in some dingy cave unattended where anyone could find them.

Reassured that they weren't likely to fall over dead and second now, Gale forced himself to refocus on the others.

Hot anger burned in his chest when he saw Gren searching Lanarí's body. At least Alph was showing some sympathy- and some brains. He'd come to the same conclusion, they weren't safe. No matter how amazing being a Dragon Rider should have been, it wouldn't be so great when they were forced to be on the run.

"Her name was Lanarí." He said suddenly, reaching into his pocket and grabbing the blue gem. He tossed it across the room to Gren. The thing had shown him a vision of her, and somehow he knew it would do so to every new person who touched it. He wondered how it came to be, after all, it wasn't like the elven woman had made it herself, she was too overcome by grief. Maybe whoever discovered the cave before them? This Terryn person who wrote the unfinished letter? But why make a gem hold a memory of that particular moment? How would that even work? He mentally shrugged, brushing it off as magic.

Later he would realize that isn't exactly how magic worked.

"You're right," he continued, talking to Alph now. "We can't stay. It's too dangerous; for us and our families." It was likely the Empire would come knocking eventually, but the sooner they disappeared the less likely that was, and if they kept their mouths shut then no one would know where they came from and wouldn't be able to trace the back to Mashal.

In a way, Galen was almost excited. His fear was abating, being replaced by a lighter curious feeling. He'd always wanted to see the world, to go learn everything there was to know, and this was his chance. There was no imminent danger to spike or reinforce his fear, so he was left with an cautiously intrigued outlook as the thoughts of the King and the threat he posed faded to the back of his mind. Then, of course, the feeling was crushed as a thought came to him. "But where can we go? I mean, they're dragons, how do you hide that?"

Displeased with the look one of the humans was giving the other eggs, Ashwing decided to watch him closely. There was a wave after wave of worry or fear radiating from her own bond. She was having trouble putting her thoguhts into words now that she hatched. Feeling the thoughts of the world and actually seeing any small part of it were different things, and the hatchling was still being overwhelmedby her newfound senses. The light coming form the stairwell that promised to hurt her eyes once they left the room they were in. The foul sweaty smell of several of the humans that torn on her nostrils. And also, the tirednes of her too long unused muscles now having to hold on to Alph rather than her small body resting against the shell of the egg.

However, she wanted to quell the uncertain feelings of her bond, so she focused her preoccupied mind to form a coherent thought.


She shared, her little tummy growling more angrily than any roar she could muster at this age to signify which one of her messages had higher priority.

She didn't commune with those who handled their eggs, and now she was regretting it. Perhaps they would have given her clues as to what to do. But alas, until her for now frail body gained some strength, she was to her unending frustration dependable on the human.