Taken [Frengine]

marsbat

marsbat

Dragon Obsessed
Benefactor
@aryamajor, @Drakey

It was dark when the eggs started to hatch. Three of them, carefully set down in a nest of hay in the old barn with nothing but an oil lamp by them for warmth. The farmer's son was at hand, eyes closed and barely awake while he watched over the treasures his father had been tasked with caring for.

Their liege, Count Delinard, had brought the eggs back after a campaign against the Northern Kingdom and gave them to his serfs to care for under utmost protection. A lord with dragons at his side, trained beasts that could spew fire across the sky at his enemies, could easily be made marshal of the realm, possibly even contest the king for his rule. Needless to say, the surfs' lives were at stake if they were to fail in their task, and that meant constant supervision and protection.

The stirring of the leathery brown egg, the largest of the three, was enough to wake the boy. A half opened eye fell across the clutch, closing again just as the egg moved again, a crack forming in the shell as a clay-coloured snout poked through. Sleepily, the boy stood and stepped over from his chair to the eggs. His eyes went wide at the sight of the crack, and the others seemed to be stirring too.

"Fatha! The eggs!" The boy shouted, sprinting out from the barn back to the farmhouse.
 
CRACK!!!!

The middle egg, all black in color, split down the middle. A black lizard, though winged, tumbled forth. The smallest bolts of blue lightning played around the dragon's snout. With a sneeze, a small fire started at the dragon's feet. With a short scream, Hroth, jumped backwards into brown snout of the larger hatchling. All the time, the small fire steadily grew.
 
The smallest and almost perfectly round egg began to jiggle. This one was a rare find even compared to the others as its kind hardly ever took to land except to breed and occasionally seek shelter from storms too impossible to navigate or fly around in the skies. The marbled pearl shell shuddered and rolled in the hay like a large marble until a tentative crack appeared along the side. Another little tap caused a section of the pearly ball to pop out revealing a bright pink cats eye. It blinked away the mucus, trying to clear the blurry image of a strange creature peering over it and then disappeared into the depths of the shell again. It was cold and bright out there, wherever there was but there was so little room inside now. The temptation to stretch and found out what it was all about was too tempting.

The shell gave a few more taps and when it proved too slow to peck out of it, the little creature stuck her tiny legs on either side of the shell and pushed. With a tiny snort, more like a sneeze, the shell broke apart, sending the pieces skittering across the floor. In half the rocking shell sat a dainty dragon with pearlescent scales, tiny sectioned wings, a finned tail, and bright pink eyes, already taking in the world.
 
The clay dragon broke free from his shell, stepping forwards into the world with a fierce determination. Just a step later and his fierce determination met with his clutchling's leap, tumbling both down into a pile in the hay.

The flames from his brother's snout, barely even an ember, nestled themselves into the dry hay the eggs were sitting in. Accidents like this were rare among all but the most elementally-aligned dragons, but even then dragon parents were never foolish enough to nest with dry material. The spark took easily, a flame being born along with the hatchlings as the boy returned, his father in tow with a lamp in hand.

The look of horror on their faces would have been clear even to the clutch as they froze at the entrance.

"Jerimer, the cages! Quickly!"

The farmer rushed forwards, stomping viciously at the growing flame. The boy ran across to the back of the barn, grabbing a iron wire cage from the darkness. It was crudely fashioned with a bulky latch and gate at the top, with barely a square foot to it's inside. He ran back, putting it on the ground as he quickly snatched up the two drakes, one with each hand, and put them into the cage. The hen soon followed, joining her brothers in the cramped space.

The older man had nearly put out the fire when his foot collided with the nearly-hidden oil lamp, knocking it over into the hay and spilling a pool of oil across the floor. The flames jumped up at their new fuel, spreading even faster across to the walls and bales of the barn, growing beyond what they could fight.

"Take them to the house! And run for the lord!"

The Jerimer nodded, sprinting out from the barn and jostling the hatchlings along as he came to the house. He put them down on a patch of dirt just outside the door of the farmhouse. He spun on his heel right after, sprinting back past the barn and up a hill, heading to a dark castle standing over the farmstead.
 
Hroth was being jostled around inside the cage, bumping into the larger brown and smaller hatchlings. The brown one was a male, the pearly one was a girl. Hroth couldn't help but to bump into them. He had only hatched a few seconds ago.

However, Hroth did not like to be jostled around, thrown from side to side. With his temperament cracking, electric blue arcs of lightning began to abound in his tiny snout. With the cutest bloody snarl that a dragon could make, Hroth bit down on the cage. Both to keep him from moing around, and to try and shock the fingers of the thing carrying them.
 
Safyia squeaked and flailed her tail as the creature clamped her up in his big paws and stuffed her into an already cramped space. From one small space to another, then being tossed around, and she hated it. With an indignant squeal she pushed at the little black dragon for taking up too much space as it bit down on the dark box confining them. Her little paws kicked out until a harder bump from the outside slammed her into the bottom of the cage next to the other occupant.
 
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At the age of 4 or so minutes, the black dragon's attempt at protest wasn't even noticed to the farmboy. The clay dragon, confused by the sudden change in his orientation, was still lying on his back and staring at the other two things in the cage with him. Soon, the world stopped shaking and swaying and he was once again right-way up on the dirt. He stood, his tiny frame still the largest of the three as he looked them over. They looked kinda funny...

"Bah." He said, sitting down while he looked at the growing glow across the yard. It looked kinda neat, even if everything was still a little blurry to his new eyes. He rubbed at his snout, falling forwards as his legs suddenly dissapeared from under him.

Oh yeah, he was standing on those.
 
A few moments passed, and a set of lights emerged from the dark castle on the hill. Soldiers carrying torches, with the boy in front running back down to the farm. The older man emerged from the barn, stumbling from the smoke and heat, and fell to all fours just outside the doors.

Another few moments passed before the soldiers were on the farm. Despite the man's begs and pleads, they did nothing to try to fight the fire.

One of them stepped forwards and loomed over the cage. A man wearing a sweeping black cape and full plate armour with a crest of a lightning bolt on the front. His face was barely lit by the fire, shadows dancing across him until another man passed him a torch.

His face was neither old nor young, but it did show experience. A long scar ran from the bridge of his nose, through his lips, and down to his chin. A short greying black beard ran along his chin, and his grey eyes shone with a calculated coldness in the dark.

"Just hatched and you've already burned down your home. Well, not to worry, you'll be useful soon."

His torch waved near Safyia first, analysing how the light made her scales shine. "She's certantly a looker. Sfyia, after my niece."

His torch moved to Hrothulf next, his dull black scales absorbing much of the light. A last little spark of his elemental birth danced around his snout. "Hrothulf, the house patron of lightning. It seems the gods have given us his servant."

"And you," he said, moving to Ire last. "Clay scales... No, iron? Ire it shall be then."

"My lord," A soldier asked. "What of the farmer and his boy? Shall we flog them?"

"No, leave them be. Take the beasts to the castle and put them in the dungeon cell with the grated roof, there will be no accidents there."

"Very well, my lord."

Another man grabbed the top of the cage and their world began to shake and tumble once again, the men marching up the hill to the castle.

- - - - 4 years later - - - -

Ire stood at the top of the pile of snow that had come through the open grated roof of their home. His body was larger now, about the size of a fox, and just a bit larger than his siblings. He was by far the heaviest though, his iron scales weighing his already bulky body down.

"I'm the king of the hill!" He declared, taking a regal pose like the lions in the manuscripts that Jerimer had shown them. The boy was charged with their care, and he had grown to be like an older brother in the time. It was him who had taught them how to play king of the hill, after all.
 
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Hrothulf immediately pounced on top of his larger brother. "Thou is a fool, for it 'tis myself that 'tis the king!" Shouted the slim black dragon. Small crackles of electricity danced along Hrothulf's muzzle. He had been busy melting the snow off in the corner.
 
Safyia rolled her pink eyes and hopped from snow patch to snow patch up the pile with her little wings fluttering awkwardly. The little pearl dragon bounded up the snow pile and pounced onto her brothers. "Queen is best! Jerimer says so!" All four of her paws landed on Hrothulf's back, and the dragon let out a soft 'oof'. The tower held in perfect balance as Safyia looked up to the grey sky beyond the grate where snow was drifting down for just the briefest of moments. Then the world teetered and they swayed, sending the three tumbling down.
 
Ire slid across the snowy stones, stopping near the thick wooden door of the dungeon. "Pfft. He said that I'm Uncle's favorite. You two will never be as strong as-"

His words were cut off as the door suddenly opened behind him. Jerimer slipped in, a bucket of river trout under his arm and a torch in his hand. He wore a tattered brown wool coat dirtied with years of farmwork.

"Hello everyone. Suppertime! Count Delerand says tonight is a special night for you all."
 
"FISH!!!!" Hrothulf yelled out as the all-consuming scent of fresh seafood filled his nostrils. His blood, coming from the North, benefitted greatly from the proteins and vitamins found in fish. His scales tended to glisten a little after every meal. Bowling over his steadfast brother, Hrothulf jumped on top of the boy, Jerimer. With a great purr, Hroth begged for some fish.
 
"Hey!" Jerimer laughed, hunching over a little so Hrothulf didn't need to use his claws to stay on his shoulders. "Come on, there's plenty here for you three."

He put the wooden bucket down next to the snow pile in the center of the room, sliding Hro off just next to it before he sat down cross legged a few paces from their food.

Ire marched over, taking a fish from the pail and starting to munch on it.
 
"Fish!" Safyia squeaked. She loved fish with its slick, pointy scales on the outside and cool meat on the inside. Even the bones tasted yummy. She pounced toward the bucket with her long tail flicking in anticipation. With quick consideration, she chose the plumpest fish and dragged it into the snow where it could get good and cold again. Warm fish was just not as good as cold. While Safyia waited, she folded up her glittery wings padded over to Jerimer, giving him a nudge with her nose. The boy knew exactly what to do and gave a few light scratches right on top of her head. The little dragoness made a happy clicking purr and tilted her head so he could reach better. When her eyes caught the dim light beyond the grate, she remembered what Jerimer had said. "Why does Uncle Dereland say tonight is special?" It looked like every other night in their den and she was curious.
 
"He is holding a feast and says you three are to be presented before the other lords and ladies of the land. Now, he says you'll have to be on your best behaviour, and no talking to the guests unless he says you can. You guys can do that for me, right?"

Ire looked up from his fish. Normally they weren't allowed out of the den, the world was too dangerous for hatchlings he said. Ire never really questioned it, but the walls of the den were rather boring to stare at all day every day. Their only view of the rest of the world had been through the grate at the top.

"Uncle wants to see us? At a feast!? How many people are going to be there?! Are there any other dragons coming?!" Ire asked excitedly.
 
Safyia's wings fluttered and tore away from Jerimer hopping around the room in an exuberant dance. "We get to go outside?! Uncle wants us to go outside!" There were so many things she had heard of from their human brother and she wanted to know.

Since Hrutholf was too busy eating and paying little attention to anything, Safyia bounded over and tackled him mid chew. "Didn't you hear him? We get to go outside!" The spindly black dragon looked mad for having his dinner interrupted but this news was far better than fish!
 
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Hrothulf jumped as Safyia pounced on his back. Surprised from his meal, the young dragon snapped at the female. "What did you have to go and do that for?" Then he thought for a little bit, remembering the conversation.

"WE GET TO GO OUTSIDE!!!!!" His excitement, though large, was quite belated.
 
"Yes, outside. If you're good tonight maybe the count will let you come out more often, maybe even let me see if I can get you flying."

Ire jumped at the idea of getting to fly. They, Safyia especially, often talked about how great it must be to fly.

"Once you've eaten, we'll get you cleaned up and then it's time for the feast."
 
Safyia ignored her brother's snapping and let out a squeal of excitement. They would get to go outside and if they were good maybe even learn to fly! The pearly dragon leapt from her brother's back and bounded over to her chilly fish buried in the snow. She would eat fast as possible so they could go outside even faster. Tearing at her fish with her sharp teeth, the little dragon barely chewed before swallowing whole bites. When the fish was picked over, Safyia scurried over to Jerimer, sliding in the snow and gave him a toothy grin. "I'm done. Let's go!"
Never mind the fact that there were bits of white fish meat and scales stuck to her maw.
 
Hroth quickly scarfed down the remains of his own dinner. Following quickly behind Safyia, the young drake stepped on her tail, pinning it in place. This wuld be his revenge for earlier.

"Yep, me too! I'm ready to go!" Unlike his sister, Hrothulf's mouth was devoid of any fishy remnants. With a stark glance at Ire, he continued, "Hey, Ire, hurry up! We're gonna learn how to fly!"
 
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