Banto

Being a shopkeeper was a lovely life, and had it been up to Banto, it would have been one that he kept forever.

Born as an Imperial, Banto was made for the shopkeeper’s life. His strong wings, which could easily carry him for days on end, meant he excelled at leading a caravan. It meant that he could travel with his goods – magical scrolls, which he had crafted himself – to all of the realms in Sorneith. And, of course, there was the added bonus of making contacts in his travel – essential to being a merchant.

One of many friends was Excalibur, another Imperial of the Water Flight. Though Banto only made it to the Sea of a Thousand Currents once or twice a year, due to his travels taking him elsewhere (and, considering, how easy it was to get lost in the Abiding Boneyard…) he and Excalibur struck up a quick friendship, which would last for many years. Though, never in a way that Banto expected it to.

It started out as a misunderstanding, really. He can remember that whatever he saw, it had been evil. Whether it was theft, or pillaging, or something far worse… those details have always eluded him. But he remembers the fight he had with the strange dragon. And he remembers how the fight had ended with blood on his claws. Such blood. The red still runs in his nightmares.

Of course he went to trial. And he remembered the details of that day vividly. He remembered the shouts of the crowd, he remembered how they had condemned him for what he had done – a murder! In the streets of the Hewn City! And how, no matter how he argued that he had only been trying to stop the other dragon from doing evil… everyone was deaf to his pleas of innocence.

The verdict was guilty, and he was sentenced in the only way proper. An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth… a life for a life.

He fled the city that night, taking with him only a few meager possessions and one essential item. The ticket to his freedom.

The Tundra Scroll.

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"He's... He's ... My notes... Uhm... Ah... Right, Excalibur. I knew it started with an "Ex". He's our clan leader. That's what I have wrote down... Excalibur leaves me with various things such as clippings to cuts of fur - and this journal too! It's difficult though... the smell dies after a time. I hope he's never bothered with the questions I ask him when he comes back to the Inn. He's always carrying so many objects with him, a trader I suppose. I will forever remember one thing about us though; Excalibur and I have been friends for a very long time.
I do enjoy resting in his personal chambers when he is away. That's how I knew we knew each other for a long time... I feel an overwhelming sense of warmth when I'm in his presence."

"...She smells like trouble..."

Maren Defender

Familiar

These warriors stick to the front lines, protecting any civilians and magic users from harm.

2350

"Ah! Hasmex and Mestra? They're both good friends of mine! Hasmex handles the guests at the bar, so I help out where I can by clawing out meals. However, it does depend on the type because my hair might get in it... Hasmex is not the best with hatchlings, but when Mestra isn't performing and singing, she and I love to play with the little ones that come and stay at the inn! These two out of anyone in the clan fill my life with so much joy... My favorite part of the day is when the three of us can sit down and have a meal together when a shift is done."

Serthis Archivist

Familiar

Scrollkeepers for the Flamescale clan, these studious serthis are careful to protect their writings from wayward embers and open flames.

2525

"I often mistake the smells of the guests, dust bunnies, and even Hasmex for Ultima and her assistant Eventuma. She always gets quite crossed with me when I point this out to her. I then sometimes catch her trying to bathe all the smells off of her. I never took her as a neat freak~. Hasmex and her truly do love each other... I will always be the ear Ultima can vent to in the name of ensuring her happiness. And as for Eventuma? He's always welcome to rest upon my back. My wings are sturdy enough to cradle a few heavy Snapper hatchlings, let alone a man so small such as him."

"She smells like a friend..."

"...She smells like coffee."

"Ah, Tigana! Even if I try to forget him, his presence is all over the lair! He's the one who burrows our ever-expanding Inn. All the wonderful animals he brings in? I take care of them when he is gone. All the food we get? Most of it is his doing too. What a talented young dragon he is. Truly, he's the pride of our group."

"...They smell like a very nice wyrm ..."

"Oh, little Snackers! Well... Not so little now, hu hu'~. I watched over him when he was but a hatchling. He's so sharp and cunning. And though I loath the day where he leaves the lair, I tell you, this boy's destined for great things. Sometimes though I wish hatchlings in my care always stayed so young and innocent..."

"...O-On the contrary of my previous point however; I do hope Saeiqa grows out of his gnawing phase soon. My poor thighs can't take much more of his abuse..."

"... They smell like an annoyance..."

"She...! She smells like someone who is extremely important ... at least... At least to me, that is... And also she smells like coffee... "

"...There's a dragon that's been stalking our lair... I'm sure of it by now... I've sensed the same sent one too many times to count on my walks... I must inform our clan leader next time he returns. Let me leave a note in his office and den before I forget..."

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Light Runestone

Dragonmade

An ancient stone bearing the ancestral rune of the Lightweaver. Such a find should be kept as a prized possession.

110

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• • • •

Banto One waked in thinking they smelled a friend.
He stands at the entrance way almost hesitant to head in…but has treasure he hast to spend.
" . . . . . . . "
He hands them the money and sits down, seemingly already knowing what they do.


The Imperial's head tilted curiously. Upon an instant, the tundra had a chilling aire about them, as well as radiating warmth of a caregiver. The vibrations and reverbs were quite...Interesting as well as confusing. One orange-furred ear twitched lightly, before continuing on.

"I sense something interesting about you, fuzzy one. And the reading hasn't even started, let alone be done."

Chronicle, sensing not to waste the Tundra's time, made quick work to gather colored glass this time within a bag. Softly drawing out nine to place upon the table in front of them. They were Draconic Runes, if one were to guess. The area smelled crisp, clean. The lavender and lilac incense the Imperial seemed to burn fluttered as mysteriously in the air as his ghostly, floating candles.

"Your name is Banto, and you're native to another land. Many a trials you have faced before coming to your current clan. A spirit hangs around you, similar to my make. Golden, serpentine, and familiar is what I take. It is through him another hatchling will come, that is familiar to your nose, as this spirit won't run. You perhaps may not know it until the dragon reaches his teen. Yet the only colors I make of his scales are...Perhaps blue or green. This is but one of many futures that you hold, and it is the one that most wishes to be told."