The news came via an exhausted Coatl. The reports of his latest patrol, the nonsensical babble of a massive she-Guardian and a dangerous, yet admittedly alluring cavern that she "protected", and the tedious requirements if one wanted so much as a glimpse into said cavern; this entire unbelievable story came from a single, currently hyperventilating scout. It would be utter folly to believe a tale like that: a tale seemingly straight out of a child's story book. Complete and utter
folly.
And yet...
And yet the Mirror couldn't help but be intrigued. A mysterious cavern blocked by an aggressive Guardian simply
begged to be looked into.
"So all we're required to do is gather dragons that meet the Guardian's standards?" Came her smooth, confident, almost arrogant voice. Her front legs were crossed over each other as she lay, stretched like a cat, on top of an elevated platform as she looked at the mess of feathers that called himself a Coatl.
"Y-yeah." He choked out, desperately gulping for air. Hmmm...judging by his fatigue, wherever this cave was, it wasn't anywhere nearby. Which was unfortunate for him, because this Coatl was the only one who knew of the location of this conspicuous cavern. And the most qualified for a...specific position, having done similar activities ever since he joined her little group.
"Well then, I guess we have our first member."
Not catching on, the Coatl tilted his head to the side and made a quizzical "hmmm?"
The Mirror simply rolled her four eyes as she stood up, strolled to her scout, and placed a single, ebon claw upon the dragon's feathered chest. She could feel the Coatl's lime-green eyes bore into her own, a mixture confusion, worry, and anxiety written all over his face.
"It's you, hun. You'll be playing the role as
'the one who can scout ahead'."
Zephyr, who had by now caught his breath, flashed the Mirror, his leader, a pitiful, pleading look, as if she'd just asked him to fly across the world without pause. Oh wait...
"Oh c'mon! I just flew all the way
from there! Now you want me to go
back?! I...I call blasphemy! I call unnecessary cruel-ness!"
"Oh hush now dear," she replied sweetly, rather causally stepping away from her scout. "you're already a scout, so this shouldn't be too much for you to deal with. Right?"
And without leaving any room for argument, the Mirror slipped out of the room to collect the other expedition members; leaving Zephyr only to scramble after his leader, his expression now a cross between dread, annoyance, and surprisingly, enthusiasm.
---
It didn't take long to gather the other members. Some, of course, were hesitant, whilst others flat out refused to join the Mirror on her expedition. But most were content with being hauled over possibly ridiculously long stretches of land, with only the faintest promise of something interesting at the end of the tunnel.
Perhaps that was a bad thing, now that she thought about it.
The first, predictably, was her lead fighter,
Thunderstrike. One who could easily fill the role of
"the one who could withstand damage".
He was one of the Mirror's most loyal and steadfast warriors, regardless of the legacy his race held. He'd been with her almost since the birth of her clan, and yet she was almost disappointed by him instantly volunteering to join this uncertain little detour. He was horribly typical, and if it weren't for the fact that he
other right hand had/practically begged to stay, she wouldn't have brought him along. But alas, reality had struck, so she brought the Pearlcatcher (although admittedly, it wasn't a total tragedy bringing him along, now that she thought about it).
To fill out the role of
"the two who could dish out damage",
Hailstorm herself already filled one of those slots.
Being the leader of her clan, a warrior of great skill and practice, a fighter for fun, and just plain bored, Hailstorm was obviously the most qualified for the trip. But according to that Guardian's arbitrary rules, she had to bring a second fighter. So in addition to herself, the Mirror brought along
Laval.
She was younger than Hailstorm, but surprisingly talented and had passion in spades. She was fast, wild, and...unpredictable, a stark contrast to Hailstorm's more precise style. But if she couldn't beat her foes to death, she could scream at them until their eardrums explode.
That was her true calling.
The last one however, was a bit more challenging than the first. Being a clan of assassins, mercenaries, and occasional outlaws, having someone trained in the healing arts under Hailstorm's roof was certainty a rarity. It wasn't really a friendly environment to any who couldn't fight (Zephyr, simply a scout, could attest that), but, thank the Flamecaller, the Mirror at least had one. One who could fill that honorable (insert eye roll here) role of "
the one who could heal you".
Oracle. She was a strange Nocture that, despite being paralyzed from the waist down, leaving her back legs and tail useless (and, consequently, keeping her from flying properly, if at all), was a gifted ice mage who used her powers rather creatively. Her powers were the antithesis of life, and yet she could isolate areas that were profusely bleeding and slow down the flow. She could numb the pain of a wound, freeze infection and rot, then treat the injury with more typical healing supplies.
With her chosen gathered, the five dragons took off (save for Oracle, who was hitching a ride of Zephyr), heading straight towards a gamble. Would this questionable den give them something worth the effort? Something to ease the discomfort of flying a ghastly period of time, or flying in general? Or perhaps, nothing but headaches?
...Most likely, the latter. But Hailstorm needed
some way to get her kicks, after all.
script
