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(To be Updated - 1/28/08 )

The young woman received a handful of glances, mostly because she was new, and in this small town anything new was greeted with innocent curiosity. They left her alone though, as she sat huddled in a corner, her veil drawn about her face to hide it from prying glances, and her arms were wrapped about her middle – an unconscious, protective, gesture. They wondered what she was so afraid of.

Avalene Mierdeth was afraid of a lot of things. Most of all, she was afraid of the wind, for it carried voices in it and she was afraid these voices would come and wrap their words around her. They carried events that were unfolding that very night and she hoped that here, in the glow of a quiet tavern in a small town in the borderlands, that the walls would lock out the voices, outside in the wind where they belonged.

But this was an event that would shatter lives, rebuild them, and bring both hope and despair to her world. She would probably not know everyone who was affected by this but she would know their troubles. This was the way of things. She was born to be a voice for these events.

“Miss?”

It was a round-faced man who approached her, cautiously gazing down into her face. She started and stared at him like the deer confronts the hunter.

“Are you alright miss?”

She shivered. She had told the tavern owner, when she got a room for the night, that her name was Lene. Too many people in this area had heard of the young prophetess Avalene. She hoped he hadn’t seen her face elsewhere.

“I’m fine,” she said softly. Her eyes trailed to a figure near the back of the room. He was a small man and had an air of supreme smugness about him. The wind pounded at the windows and the round-faced man looked up from checking on Avalene and frowned. It usually wasn’t this windy.

Again, the wind beat against the windows and the tavern grew silent in surprise. Was a storm hitting hard? They had not seen any clouds rolling in. But the silence was disturbed by a thin cry from the girl in a blue veil. She convulsed, violently, and jerked inward on herself, her head snapping down and her spine bringing her entire body together. She fell from the chair and seized a few more times before lying still. No one moved and the round-faced man carefully knelt by her side, hesitating to touch her. The smug man in the corner had gone still and focused on the scene unfolding.

The voices in the wind were about him, what he had done, and what his actions were about to cause in the world.

She rose. Stood very slowly and raised her face to the ceiling and the sky beyond, her eyes rolled back in her head.

“The sins of the generation before have been given to the children,” she said and everyone felt a chill wash over them. The wind hummed at the window.

“Her name isn’t Lene,” the tavern owner said, “It’s Avalene...” And those gathered there that evening knew who this was now and drew back in fear as the girl continued her prophecy.

“The righteousness of the generation before has been given to the children. Their inheritance is the sky and the blessing and curse that their blood carries. We have torn them apart once and now they have been torn apart again – by one of our own once more. It shall be times of blood and fire again and deeds most terrible if this remains unaltered.”

The fire spluttered and the wind shrieked in triumph.

“The cunning fool has brought this upon us. Cursed be his fate, cursed be his kin, and cursed shall be those that allow this future to continue. The time of Heritage has begun.”

She collapsed. When she rose this time, it was only to her hands and her knees, and she was coughing. It was a wet sound and the people gathered about her, in some fear, and in concern for they saw the small droplets of blood that she brought up with her breath. In the commotion surrounding Avalene no one noticed the man at the back of the room slip unnoticed up the stairs and to his room where his things were safely stored. For he knew, without a doubt, that he was meant to hear this prophecy, and that he would see firsthand this Heritage she spoke of. The wind howled at the window and he was afraid.

Roleplay will be opened on the 5th.

Fam barely had time to register the youngling’s name before he darted off. She made a mental note to keep an eye out for him later in case he couldn’t find a spot to sleep for the night or lost track of where his clan was. It was easy to get lost in Genyiel Circle. She then turned her attention to the rest of the clan and received their names. Some she recognized. Others were new. After that was done she turned and led them into the interior of the caves. They could use one of the remaining bowl cave. They were called that for the bowl-shape they formed as the floor and they were scattered about the mountain in various sizes. She’d already put several clans in these and so far things had gone smoothly. She just hoped it would remain that way.

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(anyone can overhear this)

“Meeting starts tomorrow at dawn?”

The voice belonged to a female dragon, still fairly young. Most likely an adolescent still. The other voice was male and older, probably another dragon from the same clan as the speaker.

“Yes. Master Lierce insisted as Genyiel is crowded enough already and this matter needs to be addressed quickly.”

“Hrm.”

There was quiet for the moment. The two had settled in along the wall of one of the wider passages for some quiet talk.

“Any idea what is going on yet?”

“Well….”

The male dragon dropped his voice a little.

“My Bound – he’s rather clever – was exploring some of the smaller tunnels of Genyiel that we can’t fit through. Managed to overhear something I don’t think is supposed to be common knowledge. He couldn’t see the speaker but they were talking about one last dragon that hasn’t shown up yet and is supposed to be here by now. They did not sound pleased.”

“So who is this?”

The older dragon chuckled.

“Tarketh. You have heard of him, correct?”

“He’s going to be here…? oh… by the skies…”

And her voice trailed off in dismay.

Fam paused as she saw a youngling come trotting out of one of the tunnels. She’d been wandering through this area, hoping to come across him again while she still had some down-time. He was fairly easy to recognize on account of his bright colors.

“Youngling,” she called out, stopping and looking down at him, “Viscal, correct? You need to find your clan?”

“Tarketh?” Fam was momentarily startled out of her train of thought. “Well, he….”

She took a deep breath to compose herself. Why was the youngling asking her the uncomfortable questions? Wasn’t that something they were supposed to do to the older dragons? That was how things worked. The difficult questions were given to the adult dragons. Unless she was considered an adult now… of course… She fiddled with the stone hung around her neck for a moment while she composed a reply.

“Tarketh is one of the Fallen,” she said, “You know of those, right? He’s one of the most notorious as well. Most Fallen are quiet and rarely cause trouble on a wide scale – isolated murders, an occasional raid on a human town, and general cruelty to others. Tarketh has made being vile an art and is not adverse to flaunting it. The only reason dragonkind as a whole hasn’t done anything is because he lives in isolation.”

She huffed in irritation.

“Now, we need to get you to your clan. They’ll want to speak to you before the meeting tomorrow I’m sure – you have heard that it’s tomorrow? Master Lierce just sent out the word today. He’s rushing things.” Fam paused, a thought occurring to her. “Why you asking about Tarketh, anyway?”

“Uhhhh… oh.”

This was suddenly out of Fam’s range of experience. Her job was quite simple. Relay news throughout Genyiel. Make sure food was in adequate supply. Relocate lost younglings and hatchlings back to where their clan was.

“Listen, those older were probably just speculating on what’s going to happen,” she said, “Since a couple Fallen have shown up they were probably just guessing that Tarketh would follow just to cause more trouble. I wouldn’t worry about it. Besides, even if he does show up – which I highly doubt will happen – we’ve got Master Lierce and the Dragon-Bound Knights here. They won’t let him do anything bad.”

They were already keeping a close eye on the Fallen already present. A very close eye.

“But no clan? That’s not good. All younglings need a clan… how did you get here then?”

She ran through her mind trying to find someone she could put the youngling with. There was always Eym. They were large enough to be able to shelter lost younglings and quite a few of them were already here in Genyiel. Assuming that Viscal would let her, that is.