A Wildclaw who was small enough to be mistaken for a juvenile was leading a gaggle of hatchlings through the festival. While he had reached an age where it was unlikely he would physically grow any further, there were hints in his gait and bearing that there was plenty of the other kind of growth to do.
While the gaggle of hatchlings were mostly Wildclaws, having come from a mixed-breed lair, there were also a couple of young Ridgebacks and a Nocturne. Since they were too young to have proved themselves to the clan yet, most were plain-scaled. A couple had a hint of shine to their wings from one of the most common genetic traits on Sornieth. One had spots, and another stripes. Genes which didn't denote a particularly estimable rank within the clan, especially on their own.
Nonetheless, given theme of the year's festival. All were daubed with colourful paints and had decorated themselves with feathers, or picked up some hatchling-sized hunting gear which looked more likely to be used to spook rabbits than take down carrioncorns.
The party hailed from a clan that had interacted with neither Casey nor her father, and the adult Wildclaw who seemed to be vaguely in charge seemed intent on continuing to see other parts of the festival. However, one young Wildclaw started tugging his tail while his Nocturne companion spoke up. “Am, Am! What's this here?” She stared at the pavilion.
Amklis stopped and took a good look at Casey. “Looks like a scholarly type. Could be hear to talk about something or hear someone talk.”
The Wildclaw who had decided to clamber up Amklis's tail once he'd stopped, hopped off. “She can hear us talk about our clan then!”
One of the Ridgebacks took up residence in one of the chairs while a few scurried around one side of the desk and the others scrambled up to peek over the top of the desk.
“Hi! I'm Keebif, and we're from the Boiling Bog.” The chatty Wildclaw introduced himself to Casey.
“It's not actually boiling.” The Ridgeback in the chair loudly whispered like she was proudly sharing her favourite secret.
“A place of legend!” The Nocturne chimed in.
“Did you hear about the lost amulet-”
“There's a sunken ship, it's true-”
“-a burying place-”
At the word legend, several of the other hatchlings tried sharing the things they'd heard and possibly seen. After a few moments passed of them trying to talk over one another, Amklis raised his voice.
“The site of the trials.”
Most of the hatchlings quietened down, a few dropped down from the desk and went to sit with some of the others in front of the older Wildclaw, eager to hear about the trials. Now they were on a topic he cared about, Amklis's speech pattern became less laconic and a little more embellished.
“At every celebration of growth, our clan has the trials. Chances to prove yourself to the clan come along all year round, but none like the trials.
“Which kind of growth?”
“Both, I think.” A couple of hatchlings whispered to each other. Amklis continued.
“Every one of our members enters their first after they come of age, and the marshals decide where in the ranks they begin adulthood.”
The Nocturne fidgeted. “The marshals pick the challenges, right? How come they compete if they're judging too?”
Amklis thought. “I think only half of the marshals judge a trial while the other half competes, and they swap every trial.”
“Aren't they called rites?” Keebif asked. “Papa says the higher ups are called, uh, venrate.”
“True, some of the clan prefer a more...reverent take. 'Venerated', 'honourable', 'respectable', and 'commoner', rather than 'marshal', 'brigadier', 'chief' and 'pouncer'.”
“Tell us about the ranks again, Am!” The Nocturne requested.
“Everyone who's gone through their first trial will have their own rank within the clan, and these are split into the classes.”
“And the ranks are what make you shiny or not.” The seated Ridgeback added. Amklis nodded.
“What do you do in trials anyway?” Another hatchling asked.
“There are always a number of tasks. Just as a newcomer must pass a small test in might, wit or magic to join the clan, all three are tested in the trials. Sometimes we race, cull Shade-possessed, train and teach the young, plan and construct some new structure for the clan's use, or carry out couriering duties.
“In the end, it's about what you can do for the clan. If the marshals sought only glory, then their rule would be a poor one.”
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In my draft I kept writing 'rites/trials', and then, having found a term for the most respected class which I liked, I found some old notes where I had some ideas for class names. So I figured out a way to use both. :)
When figuring the newer set of class-names, I decided to use 'pouncer' as a sort of analogue for 'gunner' which I found was a term for the lowest rank military members.
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