Cloudbreaker

Ancient and tired, Cloudbreaker found himself starting to slip. Tricks that had once been second nature began taking time, effort, energy... lies that had come naturally jumbled together and tangled in themselves... slight of claw became near impossible... Disappointed and growing increasingly downtrodden, he made his way to the Tempest Spire. He would give himself over to the Stormcatcher, move on to serve the deity that had served him for so long. As the bolts arched across the sky, chasing each other and sizzling the world around him, he closed his eyes and smiled.

The sensation was... odd. He hadn't expected it to be pleasant, and true- it wasn't quite- but it was nowhere near as rough as he'd anticipated. Instead, power seemed to ripple through him, re-energizing him. He opened his eyes, expecting to find himself face to face with the Stormcatcher. Instead, an unimpressed Ridgeback and a startled Snapper stood there, looking down at him--- when had he fallen?

"Representatives, then? Interns? Or, I guess you'd be more--- secretaries? Personal assistants?" he asked, voice sounding harsh on his crisp tongue.

"What's he on about?" the Snapper asked, flipping her goggles up and glancing to the other Ridgeback.

"He's a fool," the Ridgeback announced, "Grab ahold of his tail and help me haul him back to the lair. Velia will never let us hear the end of it if we leave him out here."

Cloudbreaker tried to argue, tried to ask who Velia was, who these dragons were, but he was tired. So... so tired...

When he awoke, it was to find himself curled up in a lair, laid out on someone's nesting space. A group of Fae stuck there heads over the side of it as he began to shift, trying to figure out what was going on and just where he was. They conversed for a moment, too quiet for him to hear, and he growled menacingly at them. This... this would not do. Where was the Stormcatcher!? He wasn't here to lounge around, he was here to work!

"Get away from him, then. Let me through," a voice called, and the Faes scattered. A Pearlcatcher bearing the marks of the Lightweaver stepped forward, tilting her head so that she was looking into his eye. "Before you ask, no. It didn't work. This isn't the Employee Lounge or whatever it is that lies beyond, with the Stormcatcher. This is our lair. We found you out in the middle of the fields while everyone was trying to farm for bolts. Not your brightest move, I'm willing to bet, wandering out there..."

He groaned, and found himself answering, "Was trying to figure out how to get to him. Ready for exaltion..."

"Yeah, well, doesn't work that way. They call you when they're ready, or you join the ranks when a Dom Call goes up, dolt. I... learned that one myself, actually."

He eyed her markings and raised an eyebrow. She just nodded, then smirked and held up a piece of metal so that he could see his reflection, "Now you're Marked, too."

Sure enough, his skin had gone translucent with whatever had happened, his veins running with electricity. Metal dotted his body, holding it all in. He hardly recognized himself. "Well, great," he grumbled, "Now what?"

She shrugged, "You get back to work."