Rimbold

Slight Eyewing
Third Generation (Four First-Gen Imperial Grandparents)
wip

Within the outer reaches of the Hoverview Vale, a secluded oasis was nested into the heart of one of the lush islands. As if the Earthshaker himself dug in his claws and tore out the earth, the core of the island acted as a bowl to protect and hide the fragile paradise. Steady falls poured in from it's edge, and tranquil pools of turquoise blue water rested at the lowest points. Along it's walls were a countless number of caverns, caves, cliffs, and small pools. Fauna leapt, swam, and flew throughout the expanse of the oasis, spared the fate of hunting thanks to their hidden home.

Within the oasis, there was another secret hiding among it's lush walls. It's huge form was sprawled on the floor of one of the lower caverns, shifting slightly as intricate rays of the morning sun found their way through the dense flora to the imperial's now wincing eyes.

Rimbold pulled himself to his feet, the young imperial thrashing his tail in annoyance at the night's end, wishing he could have slept longer. He quite honestly was not as tired as he was dreadfully anticipating another day of nothing but hunting and trying to find shapes in the texture of the cavern walls. He'd only left the Behemoth a few days- weeks..? However long ago it was. The first few days were spent traveling and regaining energy, but since then he had found himself losing direction.

The nature and plague flights were now at a peace, but one which was tense, and fragile. He'd only heard descriptions of the conflict in the plague's homelands, but it filled him with a foreboding sense of dread the moment he heard. He was certain such a thing could not occur and not instigate retaliation from the opposing flight, not when hundreds of plague dragons had died. It was clear to all who observed that Liefa seemed stricken with a mysterious illness when she plunged The First Seed into the earth, but Rimbold knew that did not matter. Emotion always beats rationale, and the friends and families of those lost need someone to blame, some way to avenge the loss of a loved one.

He found himself losing focus, no matter where he focused his attention, be it studying, training, hunting, dread loomed over the imperial. The thought of his homelands withering, of an attack at the most unsuspecting hour, of warriors so blindly grief-stricken that self preservation was not even considered in their siege. It was these thoughts that kept him from sleep, clouded his mind in his waking hours, took hold of Rimbold and wrapped themselves within his chest, as if they were a plague of their own.

So he left. It was as simple as that really, with his parents having passed and his siblings hardly being in any sort of content, it was not a decision with much weight behind it. He had a few friends, sure, but leaving didn't mean they could never visit each other, right? If it was the dread of an attack on the nature flight keeping him from truly living, then the solution is as simple as relocating.