---

“Lord Hyacinth, we warned you these things would happen. You didn’t listen.”

The flicker of candle light outlined the scene. The two were sitting on opposite wooden chairs, sharing a rather lackluster meal. Lord Hyacinth looked unimpressed with his meager meal and uncomfortable seating. Aged clay walls were decorated with moons and suns, choking the room with the weight of their religious context.

”Well, surely there is a way to fix this!”

There was a scoff. The candle light shuddered. ”What do you think we’re doing? You humans are ever so hard to please. It will just take some time–”

”We don’t have time!!”

”And whose fault is that?”

”W-Well–”

There is the scraping of chairs. Footsteps. The priestess waves her hand, dismissing Lord Hyacinth. ”The chosen will arrive within the moon. We have little time for your foolish rudeness. There is much to prepare. Tell Daliah to clean the tables and take you to the guest quarters… and please do your best not to get in the way tomorrow.”

”What do you expect me to tell the King? The citizens!?”

”Tell them their leaders are failures. Tell them to end this petty squabble before it’s too late.”

---

That night, the sky was full of heavy clouds. The taste of ozone hung in the air but rain had yet to come. Rushing winds roughened the waves. In the distance, if one were on the ship’s deck, they could see the figure of an island made up of a volcano. Several other boats surrounded it but the boat approaching was easily the largest.

Under the boat’s hull were fourteen passengers. Only seven were even expected to make it out of this night alive, not that any of them knew that. Each was sectioned off in a private room and not allowed to leave. Their respective country soldiers locked them inside.

For Skagi Delling, it had been his mother’s request to send him here. She insisted it was a great opportunity, though she was unable to elaborate how. It had been offered by Lord Cherris with the insistence that the rewards were more than worth it. Skagi’s mother had no reason to mistrust Lord Cherris. That did not stop the concern of guards showing up to lead them to a boat late at night.

For Muzkane, it had been his mentor who asked if he would take on a commission for Queen Saphros. With such an offer being presented, it was hard to say no. Few sculptors ever got such an honor. When he was told he would receive instructions upon being brought to the queen, it likely never crossed his mind that he would be led to a boat by dwarven guards and locked away in a private room.

Trevor may have been the most comfortable… or, well, as comfortable as one could be when being led around by armed human guards. Orders from the capitol. It had been unclear what the end goal of those orders were, but the official stamp of approval was difficult to mistake. It was equally difficult to fake. That meant that, when he was told to go to a small port town and instructed to get on the boat there, it was impossible to mistake the orders as fake.

When the boat docked, the air was tense. Each person was brought out individually so that they had no chance to see each other. They were blindfolded before they were taken in through those massive, clay doors. As the last person was brought inside, a soft drizzle finally broke from the clouds. The wind picked up. For just a moment, the full moon cracked through the clouds.

Our story begins here, with fourteen people brought into a large atrium. It is not unlike a theatre, with boxes along the wall where masked figures watched the crowd below. There were tables upon tables set up with specific items. Some contained art supplies, notably including a table dedicated to sculpting. Not to mention the musical instruments and lined up weapons of the finest craftsmanship. Clay walls and floor were covered in religious memorabilia. At the very back of the massive room, there was a long, gray curtain which covered much of the back wall.

Standing on either side of the curtain were people in priestly clothing. One, a bald human, stood with his hands tucked together. The other, a thin and aging elf woman, kept her head held high and her hand gripped tightly around a piece of parchment. Those within the room, both in the wall boxes and on the main floor, were from a variety of places. Elves and humans, oreads and halflings. There were even several Undine, though they clung close together. A table at the center of the room was full of food. Some of it was extravagant. Some, less so. It was just as varied in culture as those that filled the room.

Disordered murmurs filled the room. Guards stood by the entrance, not letting anyone through. With little instruction and an unexpected wait, the ‘guests’ were left to mingle and explore.

Muzkane had just finished working on his latest sculpture, a simple small tortoise with a shell made from Apatite. Personally he wasn't too enthusiastic about it but it was what the customer asked for. As he was cleaning his tools Hinrew walked in, using the backdoor and not bothering to knock. Muzkane was surprised by the unexpected visit but not by old master just walking in, the older dwarf was always welcome after all.

"What brings you here?" Before answering Hinrew picked up the tortoise and inspected it, before putting it without a word. "Queen Saphros herself has commissioned me, but it involves traveling so I opted to send you instead." Muzkane was silent for a bit, Hinrew choosing not to travel wasn't unexpected, even for a dwarf he was old but that was still quite an honor. "Of course I'll go!" After Hinrew had left Muzkane cancelled all jobs he had, since the queen naturally took priority.



Muzkane hadn't know what to expect from the journey but being guided blindfolded into a room aboard a ship definitely wasn't it. The water was just rough enough to make him feel a bit queasy but he didn't feel like he was at risk of throwing up. Wanting to take his mind off things and prepare for whatever the queen had for him, he decided to check his tools again, even if he already knew they were all in good shape. He placed all his chisels, rasps and files in front of him and carefully looked over each one.

Skagi was used to being watched.

It was their job, after all—the more eyes on them, the more coins in their pouch—yet they couldn't help but feel out of place amid such opulence. Eyes were what kept them centered on stage, the emotions within reminding him that his audience was just as mortal as he. The glimmer of excitement, the glow of fascination, the glitter of suspense. The sharp light of disgust. Looking around, he rubbed the seam of flesh and stone that warped their arm. Any eyes the figures above may have had were obscured by their masks. Skagi knew his mother had friends in high places, but this… this was beyond the occasional favor from a lord.

Trying to get a better grasp of their surroundings, they met the eyes of one of the few people without a mask: a human in priestly vestments. They looked away quickly. The man's gaze was eerily neutral. Skagi was suddenly intensely aware they had no idea where they were.

Quickly diverting their focus to the tables, he was greeted by a beautiful assortment of instruments just a few paces away. Everything from finely carved piccolos to richly lacquered violins were displayed; the elegant slope of a harp felled a shadow on the table from behind. His fingers itched to play them. He hadn't even had the chance to do warm-ups before he was whisked away. The blindfold had felt tight enough to sand down the stone of his head.

No sense in exploring this strange place alone, though. There were so many people—he would do well to forge some sort of alliance early, avoid being an outlier.

Turning to one of the fourteen beside him, they smiled facetiously. “Kind of them to give us such a warm welcome, isn't it?

Trevor stood in the atrium, arms folded and his eyes moved around to take every detail. Someone was going to pay for this.

First they had knocked on his door saying they brought orders from the capitol. He had closed the door on them. They continued knocking and it wasn't until they threatened to remove the door that he opened it again. With unkind words he told them he wasn't interested in any orders, he had left that life behind. The leader of the group failed to persuade Trevor. Neither bribing nor threatening helped, but when one of the soldiers spoke, one that had once served under Trevor, and told him he didn't know what this was about but he knew it was important, Trevor took the letter. The stamp seemed genuine, just as the handwritten names of the important people who signed it. It was vague, too vague for his liking, but he read the urgency between the lines. He had begrudgingly agreed to accept the order, after he made them promise this would be the last time they would bother him with trivial nonsense like this ever again.

After he accepted the soldiers stayed as guards. He ignored them. Then the travel on boat came during which he was treated as some kind of prisoner. He barely spoke to any of the soldiers, it had become clear they either didn't know anything, or had very clear instructions to not say a word about it. The travel was fine for the most part, the solitude of his cabin wasn't unlike the self-sought solitude of his house.

He had accepted the blindfold in silence and allowed them to lead him somewhere. This Atrium, guarded to keep others out or to keep them in, and filled with people who were once considered his enemies. He knew the colour of their blood and he didn't trust any of them. When spoken to, Trevor turned to the person next to him. Oread. No, half-Oread. He only glanced at him, before going back to glare at the human priest and whatever rank the Elf next to him had.
"I was very comfortable at home, this better be worth it," he grumbled.

"woah woah woah hold it right there" Gwynn took a step back and put her arms out as the guard took out the blindfold and moved to put it on.

"the hell is the blindfold for?"

"those are the orders" the guard responded bluntly.

"the f***?" she said quietly, then shrugged. Seemed like she didn't have much choice. "whatever". She permitted herself to be led blindly. She breathed a sigh of relief when it was taken off and used her very much appreciated vision to examine the busy room, trying to attain even the slightest idea of what was going on. The noise of peoples chatter was merged as white noise to her until,

"-us such a warm welcome, isn't it?"

She gave a small jump and turned to face the speaker with a quiet "hwuah?" then heard somebody else respond.

"I was very comfortable at home, this better be worth it"

"oh. Talking to them" she muttered. She had ignoring the people in the room to focus on the surroundings first. Though since her efforts to ascertain what she was stuck in, she figured it was better to figure out who she was stuck here with and if they knew anything. She looked around to pick a victim. A dwarf laying out tools caught her eye. That sort of preparation could indicate he had something of an idea as to what was going on. She strode over to him with a cheery disposition and leaned on the table facing him.

The chances of him actually having an answer were slim, but that didn't matter much. He had a quieter and more predictable energy than the two others she had encountered. Her smile hid a stressed animal. She was out of place and overwhelmed and needed something or somebody to anchor herself to. "Hi there! You wouldn't happen to have any clue as to what the heck is going on?"

Skagi snickered at the man's response. He seemed wholly unimpressed by the display—cautious, maybe, but more annoyed by the whole endeavor than anything. Likely a mercenary type. Good. Skagi knew how to handle those. Best to antagonize whomever brought them here, make sure he knew they were on the same page.

“Amen to that. I suppose it would be too courteous to bring us here when we weren't half-asleep. Wouldn't be nearly as mysterious as whisking us away in the dead of night, would it?”

Following the human's gaze, they saw a dwarf fiddling with tools at one of the tables. An exemplary show of initiative. The tables were likely a test of some sort, unless this was an arts fair, in which case Skagi would be having a better time tonight than originally anticipated. The array of weapons was enough to suggest otherwise. Perhaps a talent show, then.

“My name is Skagi, by the way. Unless you're a faerie in the business of stealing those sorts of things, in which case it definitely isn't.” They stretched their neck as if preparing for exercise. “I'm off to get a better look at those instruments, if you'd care to join me.”

While Muzkane focused more on his tools than on his surroundings he was aware of the presence of the others so it wasn't a big shock when someone approached him to ask something. What did surprise him was when said person didn't seem to know what was going on, it meant his assumption about this being a simple job was wrong, or this human was horribly uninformed. "Well, I thought I was asked to make a sculpture for the Queen but this seems less and less likely.

Hoping that his lack of knowledge meant he could go back to focusing on his tools without seeming rude Muzkane focused on his tool again before quickly finishing the job and putting them away. Since he was done and free to talk he faced the human again. "You don't happen to have any ideas as to what is going on yourself, do you? He doubted it since the human asked him first but it never hurt to be sure.

"Well, I thought I was asked to make a sculpture for the Queen but this seems less and less likely.”

“Huh. Odd” Gwyn sat on the table in thought while the dwarf finished his job.

"You don't happen to have any ideas as to what is going on yourself, do you?”

“That would be nice wouldn’t it” she looked around then rested her chin on her fist and laughed, “maybe we’re all about to be sacrificed to a blood god”

Something moved under the table against her leg. She flipped her head over to take a look. A large cat with tufted ears. “You’re hoping to get some dropped food aren’t ya” She flipped back up to face the dwarf “I think our friend here might have some ideas”

She hopped up from the table. Her knee spasmed, it was being bitchy from the rough boat ride. She limped a few steps then regained her normal stride as she went to examine the food table, closely looking for a good bit of meat, one with minimal seasonings, at least free of any that would endanger a cat. She found her selection and went back to the table and crouched down to offer it to the cat, sitting on the floor next to it as it ate. “I bet you have some opinions as to what’s going on”
The cat looked up at her. It definitely did know a bit of what was going on. Or at least understood the gravity of the situation.

She wrinkled her nose, thanked the cat and sat on the table again.

“I don’t know what’s going on. Seems more serious than an art commission though”

The first drops of rain… they splattered on the roof of the building, signaling the breaking of tension. The priestess at the front of the room let her gaze drift upwards. Then she let out a long sigh. Both she and the bald human exchanged quick words. Then the man slipped behind the curtain. The priestess’ gaze slid coldly back out to the crowd. For a moment, she allowed the din of murmuring to continue. Then she raised her hand.



In the corner of one of the tallest booths, a massive drum was struck. It was loud enough to reverberate through the massive room, silencing all who dared to speak. Even those in the boxes, as high class as they may be, fell into respectful quiet

”Welcome, all of you. I would say this was a pleasure, but that would be a lie. We are not here to make kindness and revelry. We are here to speak of saving Elysium, before it is too late..” The priestess’ voice fills the room, sharp and well spoken despite her apparent age.

A fresh wave of murmurs crosses the crowd. It is a big statement to suggest that the entire known world was in danger. Some of the fourteen snorted or joked. Others rolled their eyes. Those in the boxes along the walls stayed eerily silent, save for a few concerned mutters. Those masked people seemed entirely convinced by the priestess’ words. Several held hands or wrapped their arms around each other.

”The lot of you were chosen because of your skill. Some are warriors. Others are artists. Still others are well versed in abilities beyond the normal person’s comprehension. Seven of you will become warriors, destined to protect and save the realm from coming danger. The other seven will never be allowed to leave this island.”

The priestess takes a pause. It lasts just long enough for one of the men in the crowd to scoff and speak up. “What is this?! Some sorta cult bullshit? Why the hell should I trust an elf?!”

With a darkening gaze, the priestess speaks again, ”King Rosmund has awakened something deep and angry from within the core of the earth. A beast that will hatch soon and destroy everything in its wake. This petty war will be the end of our people if we do not band together… But you fools refuse to make peace. As such, we, a neutral force, are gathering warriors for the purpose of defeating this beast when it rises. Believe it or don’t. You now know too much to be freed from this island peacefully. Tonight, seven of you will be chosen to tame dragons.”

This sparks a fresh wave of rage. Of laughter. The priestess grits her teeth and waves grandly with her hand. On cue, the curtains slide open and reveals the only proof of the priestess’ words. Seven perfectly similar eggs sit on a table. They are easily three feet tall in height and would be difficult to wrap one's arms around.

Gwynn turned her body to face the speaker, listening quietly and intently. She chuckled at the mention of artistic skill and playfully punched the dwarfs shoulder "I guess an art commission wasn't totally off from the truth then". The priestess continued.

The word dragon sounded familiar but she couldn't place it's meaning. And then the eggs were revealed.

She let out a small gasp. A folktale her mother had told her often. Large powerful shaekens which laid huge decorated eggs 'that were this big!' her mother would say, tapping her hand to her hip. 'large powerful beasts which great abilities! Some say they could breath fire!' the fire would flare up when she said this, always happy to contribute to her mothers theatrics.

She felt the souls inside the eggs. Unformed like chicken eggs but they felt already ancient like large trees did. One had a speck of familiarity. The presence that could be felt when her mother told her tales of one of her ancestors long ago who lived with shaekens. Perhaps that shaeken egg was descended from one of those shaekens. Her mother had died before she could teach Gwynn how to converse with spirits so she only knew how to vaguely recognize their energy. And the older the spirit the more difficult it was to converse or awaken so their was no hope of any advice from the one who lived with shaekens. She could still venerate them to invoke their goodwill in whatever was about to happen. She rummaged through her pockets to see what she had on hand. From her pouches she took a bit of dried raspberry leaves and the stem of an orange flower. She crushed them with her fingers and drew a circle and egg on her palm. After muttering a small prayer in her native language she swept half the ashes discreetly off her hand to scatter and the rest she scooped into a small locket which she promised to burn later as was proper. She doubted it would catch attention from the ancient ancestor.

The half-Oread next to him continued to speak, but it was a friendly voice at least. "Trevor," he replied when Skagi introduced themselves and with a nod of his head agreed to join them and have a look at the instruments.

Before they got to that, the priestess spoke. At least she came to the point quickly, Trevor could appreciate that. He narrowed his eyes at the comment that seven wouldn't be allowed to leave the island. He was definitely not going to be among those. Whatever it took.
One of the men in the crowd spoke Trevor's mind, why would they trust an elf? He knew he didn't. A frown creased his forehead when the elf spoke of a beast awakening that had to be defeated.

"Tame dragons?" he repeated and watched the eggs be revealed. "Tame dragons?!"
He gritted his teeth, someone was definitely going to pay for this. Ordering him to go here, where he was now faced to either never leaving this place (as if he would let that happen) or tame a dragon. He knew nothing of dragons except for some stories, and none of those stories had painted dragons in a good light. A beast they had to fight, and beasts had to be used to do it. So be it. Whatever would happen, he would not be among the losers.

After Muzkane's talk with the human and her talking to a cat nothing really noteworthy happened, until the priestess began her speech. Honestly he had no interest in become a warrior and wondered why he was even considered for this or why they thought 7 warriors were enough to make a difference. Upon hearing that failure meant spending the rest of his life on the island though he reconsidered, after he still had several centuries left.

”Tonight, seven of you will be chosen to tame dragons.” Muzkane couldn't believe it, they were brought to that place to tame fairy tale creatures? If it hadn't been for the guards he would assume the whole thing was just a prank, as it was he still doubted the priestess' words. He wasn't the only thinking this as an Oread seemed to be just incredulous as he was. "She is joking, right? She has to be."

However he quickly changed his tone when the eggs were revealed. With his experience he could tell they weren't just stone even from where he was standing. "Wow, they're beautiful."

“…will never be allowed to leave this island."

Skagi bristled, the priestess's unvarnished words burrowing deep into their anxiety. He had a feeling that “never leaving” meant quite the opposite of living on this island forever. Of course King Rosmund's mistake had been disastrous—everyone had heard rumors of what he had unleashed—but gathering warriors? For what? If what they heard had been true, seven fools with blades would never be enough to protect Elysium. It needed an army.

Hell, they needed actual fighters. Skagi was no warrior, whatever rudimentary tricks they had been taught in his childhood. What were they going to do, fiddle at monsters until they fled? Besides, his captors couldn't possibly know about Florian, right? They had no reason to believe Skagi was capable of killing. Surely not.

They glanced at the human—Trevor—reassured at least by his willingness to accompany them… not that either of them would be setting off to play instruments right now. The grim set of Trevor's jaw was enough to tell them he wouldn't be going down without a fight. Good. At least someone here knew what they were doing. The knife hidden in their boot felt immeasurably heavy.

When the priestess waved open the curtains, Skagi's heart nearly stopped. Eggs. Dragon eggs. Enormous, dazzling eggs, vibrant and sparkling and practically thrumming with life. Light spun from their shells, fractaling in identical patterns from each and every one. He had believed the tales of monsters, but really seeing them, even their eggs, was… breathtaking. Frozen in awe, they laughed, perhaps deliriously. “She wasn't kidding.”

Maria "Mary" T'shar

Mary let herself be herded with the others from the boat, surrounded on all side by Guards like a move fence of sharp metal caging them all. Their footsteps echoed through the halls almost to the same frantic beating of Marys heart. The Atrium they were led into at least held a pretence of welcoming its guests; food had been stacked atop shining metal plates, jugs of drink were surrounded by dutiful mugs and tankards, flowers in vases arranged in loving displays. The pretence however was broken by the Guards slamming the door behind them closed and taking up their posts. Tools and weapons stood to attention as well about the room, a few she recognised and even fewer she had used herself.

Mary pulled her arms tighter against her, her basket of the few personal items she had had time to gather hung from her elbow, and she pulled her purple shawl tighter around herself against an imagined breeze. About her the others mingled and talked in hushed whispers voicing the same questions rattling in her panic riddled head. IN the relatively calm she had a moment to look at the other captives, she assumed they had been dragged or lured here like her from what she over heard, and was surprised to see such a varied mix of people; Humans, Dwarves, Elves, Oreads, Undines, even another halfling like herself. Her eyes grew wide at the sight of one person however who looked to be a mix of Oread and something else, before she remembered her manners and looked away.

Then the explanation came. Like others in the room Marys first reaction was of disbelief, then silent anger at her King being accused of such a thing, fear that she had been accidentally chosen, and then the curtains pulled back, and Marys jaw dropped. Dragon Eggs. Her thumb nail she had chewed to the bed was completely forgotten. Dragon Eggs.

They were beautiful. Her gaze wandered across them each, feasting upon and devouring them each in turn. They were all as tall as her, if not slightly taller, and at first glance she wondered if they were a jewel or made of glass by the way the flickering torchlight danced upon their surface. Inside each was a Dragon, a beast of forgotten terrors, one of half remembered tales. One egg draw in her gaze and as her eyes fell upon it, a breath was pulled out slowly from her. She felt her heart twist with…longing.

Seven will be chosen. Seven will not be allowed to leave. Mary knew, realising this want with horror, which one she wanted to be.

A maddened laugh laugh slipped out and danced around the large room, the single ‘HA!’ danced manically between the stone walls before Mary had a chance to slam a hand over her mouth. She felt many eyes suddenly turn to her and as she looked to the stone tiles with unreserved determination, sweat pouring out of her again, she wondered if maybe she could change her mind and join the second group.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry.” Mary said to the floor. She spun the gold ring on her finger.

She was going to be killed. She knew it. The Guards were going to jump her any second now for such an insult, everyone knew the stories of commoners being killed for simple mistakes in noble company so Gods knew what would happen here.

Pull yourself together! A tiny part of her screamed. It told her; Imagine they’re horrid customers, ask what they want and explain why its not possible, and hope they don’t bite your head off.

Trembling like a leaf, Mary drew her gaze up to the stage, to the Priest and those beautiful Eggs on the table. Her jaw flapped silently for a moment before her voice arrived. “You…Well that is…I’m sorry but, well, um…could you perhaps explain in more detail please?” The Atrium did its work pulling her fragile voice out of her. Her breath shook. “I may be alone in this but I am-please don’t take this as insult-I am not sure who you are.”

She took a pause to gather her strength gathered from years of customer service though it seemed pathetically out of place here.

“You say you are gathering warriors, but well. I’m afraid there may have been a mistake as….I am a simple washer woman, a lady in waiting. My skills aren’t in fighting or animal handling, let alone the handling of a…” The word lodged in her throat. It was a new word to her tongue having never needed to say it before. It carried weight. “A Dragon.”

But the Egg pulled her gaze away from the priestly elf and to it. It was calling to her, the Egg was calling to her, that much Mary was certain, and she leaned forward slightly with the need to answer. Fear kept its strangle hold on her heart.

“HA” one voice rang out louder than the others and the attention of the room was drawn to one older woman who stammered apologies and then said what was on the minds of many there. Or at least what was on Gwynn’s mind. She looked familiar. Gwynn had seen this woman before in the house of Lady Carnviel. Her name was Mary. When she was visiting the lady with her duchess years ago she had snuck off following a cat and ended up in Mary’s workroom where she ended up discussing embroidery with her. Unbeknownst to Mary this conversation had been a great comfort to the younger Gwynn who could tell that Mary, like her, was very much out of place in the houses of nobles. Mary was now even more out of place here. Gwynn silently cursed whoever dragged the poor woman into this.

She leaned over to the woman from her spot on the table and whispered “I don’t think any of us know what’s going on here. I certainly don’t know why I’m here” with an empathetic chuckle hoping to put the woman at ease. She straightened herself and in a gentle but assertive tone told her “come, sit” tapping the bench she was on. This was a woman that was very attentive to rank and status. Casual address from one she knew to be above her would likely fluster her further, so Gwynn chose to frame her offer as instruction.

The priestess waited until the crowd hushed themselves before she continued. What she had not anticipated was the suddenness of the hush, nor the source it had come from. Her silver gaze sliced into Mary. Her eyes narrowed and her lips curled back into a scowl. Mainlanders were impressively annoying.

”You may call me High Priestess Dula. Or Mother Dula. Whatever will be easiest. If you had kept your mouths shut,”Mother Dula addressed the crowd, ”I would have continued to tell you all.”

Mother Dula strode up onto the stage where the eggs sat and moved behind them. Her face was carved with grim lines. ”Dragons are peculiar creatures. It has been hundreds of years since the death of the last known adult dragon… and she left us the last eggs of her people. The quirk of dragons is that they don’t hatch through time or most environmental factors. They hatch through their connection to people.”

The priestess did not wait for an answer. She did not care about the murmurs of the crowd. Her hand brushed gently over the eggs, a contrast to her sharp tone. ”I am the high priestess of the Temple of Forgotten Past. We are keepers of knowledge, protectors trained in the art of magic and history. We are well aware that very few of you are warriors now… and we intend to change that. King Rosmund created a crack in the barriers that protected this world and now there is magic and power trickling through. For thousands of years, people were made to think of the time before the barriers as fables. Stories told by mothers to keep their brats docile.”

Mother Dula stepped forward, stopping at the edge of the small stage. ”You are all here, in the Temple of Forgotten Past, for the purpose of being one of seven dragon riders. For those who succeed, it will be your job to protect this realm. You will be granted magic through your steed. You will become more powerful than any known living person has ever been. You will be taught weaponry and riding, as well as how to interact with noble company. Your talents will be honed and turned into powerful tools of protection. Your lifespans will be tied to your dragons… If you fail, you will be given the choice to become a person of the cloth, or be killed to prevent this information from leaking before we are prepared to present all of you and all of the eggs have hatched.”

With a sweeping gesture, Mother Dula signaled a man to step forward. It was the same bald human as before. He placed a bowl on a table in front of the stage. Mother Dula stared down at it for a moment, then gazed back up at the crowd. ”Everyone will draw a number. Once the number has been received, you will present yourself to the eggs. In this room, there is a table dedicated to all of you. This table will have the required items for whatever skill was recommended to us by your benefactors. Some of you may know who your benefactors are. Others may not have been so lucky. Everyone here is considered one of the best in their respective field. If another person is required for your display of skill, then Father Raloph will be here to fill in for that spot. Now… Are there other questions?”

Gwynn found Dula to be impressively annoying. She couldn’t imagine calling this woman “mother”. Despite her dislike she listened attentively. Now was not the time to miss any information. A lot was being told to her. So much had gone on the past hour that didn’t have much ability to process it. That would have to be a task for later.

She shuffled up with everybody else and drew a piece of paper. First place. No chance to observe others and learn what to expect from them. She didn’t even have a clue as to what this “test” would look like.

While the interruption left Dula understandably annoyed Muzkane couldn't blame the Halfling for her questions, especially since taming a dragon did sound ridiculous. The rest of the speech didn't actually make things much clearer but the gist of it seemed to be that, if it was true, they were supposed to bond to those eggs and become warriors or have the choice between becoming a member of the Temple of Forgotten Past and getting killed. Neither option really appealed to Muzkane, there was a good reason he became a sculptor and not a soldier after all.

Apparently there was a test and a table for each of them to perform their test at while trying to bond with their eggs. As he looked around it was obvious to Muzkane which table was his but when he heard about them having benefactors he wondered if Hinrew was his and if the older dwarf had any idea what he got Muzkane into or if he genuinely believed it was just a sculpting job that required more traveling than he could handle.

Mary T’ashar

At first, still fearing her head may suddenly be removed from her shoulders, Mary dared to only look away from the Priest with only her eyes to the other person who with a flat masculine tone, whispered from their chair that they were in Mary's same position. When the voice then bid her to come sit next to them did Mary turn to look at the speaker; staring back at her was a pale face lovingly decorated with freckles, bright and wild brown eyes shone between locks of brown hair curling just past the ears.

“Lady Gwynn!?” Recognition momentarily shattered her sense of fear. She was so stunned at seeing the girl, now a woman, seated before her that she didn’t even follow the instruction she had been given. “What are you-”

The Priest, Mother Dula, like an eagle dove upon the rising murmurs of conversation, and Mary felt like a vole in a field as she was given a look of utter contempt. Then came the explanation of where she was, why she was there, and what was expected of her. A glance behind her confirmed that the Guards were, unfortunately, still by the resolutely closed doors. Another glance to the sides of the atrium offered some promise by way of tall empty windows if only she were able to reach them or even knew what was on the other side…

This is insane. A Dragon Rider! Me, a Dragon Rider! Even if this wasn’t all poppycock I’m not tall enough to ride a horse let alone a Dragon! Mary took several deep breathes as she followed the forming queue towards the front, towards the stage, towards the bowl that would decide her fate. I have to get out of here. I have to get us both out of here.

In a horribly short amount of time Mary found herself on the stage before Mother Dula who she resolved to avoid eye contact with at all costs. Mary scurried back down from the stage after snatching her paper, the Egg resting on its pedestal made her pause for a moment. Onnce back on the main floor she opened the folded piece.

3, the number written in ink gazed up at her. She crumbled the paper in hand and resisted the urge to look for her assigned table.

“Lady Gwynn. Follow me.” She hurried over and begun dragging the young lady behind her by the wrist, proper etiquette be dammed!

Trying to find some semblance of a private corner beneath the numerous eyes from the guards, Priests, and the figures in the boxes above, Mary lead them towards a vacant work table. Notably this table seemed roughly the right height for Mary’s stature instead of Gwynns, and set up with a neat array of chisels, hammers, brushes, and other tools Mary had no name for.

She let go of Gwynns wrist and in a hushed whisper said,“I’m sorry for that Lady Gwynn, and for not recognising you sooner, you have grown much since I last saw you. But what are you doing here? Did they hurt you? Are you okay?”

Before Gwynn had a chance to think about what to do next her wrist was grabbed and she was being pulled off by someone far shorter than her. She stumbled in surprise for a moment and barely avoided falling over. Mary led her to a table that almost certainly was not meant for either of them.

“I’m sorry for that Lady Gwynn, and for not recognising you sooner, you have grown much since I last saw you. But what are you doing here? Did they hurt you? Are you okay?”

She stood there for a moment dazed, still slightly bent over as Mary hadn’t yet let go of her wrist. “Um uhhh” she shook her head like a wet dog “right yes um I’ll be honest I don’t know exactly what I’m doing here…. I suppose same as everybody else.” She paused and gently shook her wrist out of Mary’s grasp so she could stand up straight. “I’m doing about as okay as anybody else here given the situation” she looked down at her piece of paper again. “And it looks like I’m up first” she sighed.