Roleplay

Moon waited for the Imperial to finish speaking, watching him carefully, listening to every emotion that colored his tone. When he spoke, he spoke carefully.

"I am not a warrior, nor am I interested in warfare. I am a scholar without a clan, in need of food and support. I thought it would be wise to offer my services to the Icewarden's army in exchange for food, shelter, and purpose."

He pulled out his pick and laid it across his journal, watching as it caught the cold gleam of wintery sunlight where it peeked into the mess hall. "My mind is my tool of choice, a tool I elected to offer to the army. However, I also have this. I mostly use it for climbing, of course, but it's tasted the flesh of hostile beasts before."

He looked around as he spoke, noting the two new arrivals: an uncomfortable-looking Mirror and an armor-clad Skydancer, silent and narrow-eyed. The latter looked dangerous. He thought it best to avoid staring at her, so he turned instead to the Mirror, trying to catch her eye from across the hall with a wave of his glittering white claws.

Nayru examined Moon with a cold gaze. "War is something not meant for scholars. Our comrades," The Imperial gestured to the room. "Half of them are bound to be cowards in battle. Scholar, warrior, it doesn't matter. When you witness your first bloodshed, then we'll see how you'll do." He watched the Wildclaw try and gesture someone over. He paused for a moment, before leaning forwards, Icy eyes gleaming slightly.

"If you were meant to command an army, then I hope you don't go by the books. I don't want to be killed in my first battle because a slip up in your decisions. Your pick may have killed a few, but have you heard the screams of hatchlings? There are no prisoners of war. Everyone suffers." Leaning back, Nayru flicked his tail in slight contempt. The Veteran couldn't help it. Granted, he fought with a scholar once, and they were rather commendable, but this one appeared snooty and arrogant. Such a personality isn't welcomed in battle. He figured he would just have to wait and see how this Wildclaw would play out.

Shifting, Nayru examined the room and the newest arrivals. "I don't like how this camp continuously grows..." He muttered. The Imperial sighed softly and rubbed at his snout. He was being harsh and he recognized that, but such a war is not to be spoken of lightly. Knowing himself, he would probably scare half of these dragons away with just stories of his past battles.

"I'm afraid I haven't read any books on the subject of warfare. It never interested me much until I was forced to turn to it for survival." Moon kept his tone calm and collected, though his short fur had begun to prickle with the heat of Nayru's aggravation. He turned to the Imperial.

"Know this, Nayru. When there comes a time for me to fight, I have no pretenses about being a hero or being a master strategist on the battlefield. I know that I will likely be down in the rank-and-file of the army. I understand that I will be asked to do things that no good, decent dragon should have to do. I know that I will suffer and I will bring suffering to others." He paused, considering the magnitude of his words. He did not relish the idea that he would have to grow even more detached from his own kind in order to survive. He did not relish the idea that the dragon who emerged from this war, should he emerge at all, would not be the one that sat in this mess discussing the weight of warfare.

However, he accepted these consequences without hesitation. There was no point in agonizing about absolutes.

"I only wish that we could battle sooner, rather than later, and get it over with. I do not wish to waste more nights on this war than I need to. Those nights would be better spent stargazing, I think. Less bloodshed. Less suffering. Less of a burden."

Lazuli resumed munching on her Frosted Violets, the texture of the petals smooth against her tongue. Those were her always favorite kind of plant food, since they mixed quite well with the cold climate here. Of course, there would be no cold climate when they will eventually go to the Ashfall Waste. She's going to have to go back there sooner or later, since she's in this war like everyone else.

She felt a small of wariness from one of the dragons' signatures here, but she ignored it. As soon as Lazuli finished her flowery meal, she brought out her trusty sword. She's not going to strike down anyone with it, not at this moment. Instead, the Skydancer brought out a piece of metal and began sharpening her blade.

Nayru studied Moon quietly, before turning to look away and observe the tent. "I wish that were to be true. Have you noticed, the Flamecaller's desperation and stubbornness? She still insists to fight, even when it is obvious that she is fighting a loosing battle. Think about it..." The Imperial turned to fixate Moon with a steady gaze. "Most of our flight is placed in her homeland, fighting. The blizzards only manage to freeze the coast, but nothing inland. If there was to be a sudden disaster, it could potentially wipe most of us out. I believe she is waiting for something, waiting for the right moment."

Sighing softly, Nayru leaned back and away, once again surveying the tent. "But that is just a possibility. Maybe, as they say, the Flamecaller did loose her mind and grip on reality." He allowed a dry chuckle, but it fell away as quick as it came. He felt no humor, or anything of that matter. Not now, that is, but he suspected that wouldn't be the case. Sighing softly, he found his attention drawn to the female Skydancer. "If you're wanting to find a few companions for this war, then join me. I would like to speak with her... And please, don't ask why."

Standing and pushing himself away from the table, Nayru lumbered his way over, bumping into others. Eventually, he reached the Skydancer. "Mind if my companion and I sit here?" He asked, peering at her with slight curiosity. In this mess hall, she looked to be the only dragon here whom knew what to do, how to feel. He was curious, was she warrior?