Welcome to Gaia! ::

Far Far away, in the Kingdom of Mar, there was a Prince named Adolamin. His father the king passed away for unknown and quite mysterious reasons and his mother had died years before, leaving him sole heir to the land. Crowned and anointed, it soon became clear that he was not the same benevolent ruler as his predecessor.

However, this is not his story, but of a young woman who lives in Mar's Eastern province, Finwe. It is a rich land, with mild winters and long summers. The hub of trade and travel from lands across the sea to the rest of Mar.

The people ride with the banner of a blue dragon encircled in a ring of fire, the symbol of the house.

The town was a frenzy of activity, ever since the announcement of the king's arrival a fortnight before. Preparations were being made for every form of comfort and entertainment during his stay. Rumor had it that, having come of age and being recently crowned, the new King of Mar was in search of his queen. It was only right, as custom dictated, that the queen come from noble birth.

The house of Finwe was one of the oldest and richest of the kingdom, so it made perfect sense that the Kings' welcome tour begin here. He was to travel to all six of the regions to receive fealty pledges of his subjects, recruit knights for his royal guard and hopefully find a suitable lady to wed.

However, as Finwe was the wealthiest and most developed of the regions, so it was also one of the oldest, with many strange traditions that were dated as far back as pre Mar era, over three thousand years ago. Back when dragons and trolls roamed the hills and stole children in the night. Many people still left out offerings of cheese and mead to discourage the beasts from entering the homes, or destroying the town in search of food.

Graff liked to think he had a bit more dignity than to steal babes from their beds to fill his gullet, but he knew that their fear wasn't entirely unfounded. Some of his cousins, even now, were prone to partake from time to time when pickings were slim.

But not here, and not now. This was his territory and none of his kin dare try to contend his claim. He had made a promise, long ago. To protect this region and the house of Finwe.

The sound of the festive preparations could be heard for many a mile as farmers and ranchers brought product from their farms to be traded and made into fine foods. Musicians traveled the main road, practicing their lilting lyrics and tuning their instruments in the hopes of becoming infamous.

Unperturbed by all the noise, which although muffled, still could be heard in his dense forest, Graff listened to the animals and all the surrounding life while he gazed into a clear pool of water.

He had not moved for several months now, moss and vines having grown over most of his body, which was camouflaged to look like boulders anyway, so none were the wiser. Very few visited his wood these days, what with all the industry and trade. A fact that made his days blend in a soft current of peace.

However, there was one visitor that kept disturbing his frequent skrying. Not that he minded, the company was always welcome. As the thought of the young Finwe maiden entered his mind, Graff could see her image on the pool's surface. He indulged in watching her until a bird flitted across the surface, rippling the waters and muddying the image. Taking a deep breath, he puffed the bird away and cleared the ripples of the girl, twirling in a fine dress.

Graff watched the vibrant creature as she flitted about his wood, springing lightly from sunny patch to mossy stone to fern covered soil in quick fluid motions. It appeared almost otherworldly compared to the dances of the local townsfolk. It was enough to make him open one eye to see her directly rather than through the film of his outer lens. It pleased him to see such spryly behavior in the middle of his enchanted forest.

When she collapsed near his pool, Graff sealed his nostrils so that she may be unaware of his breath. He did not mind when she lit a candle and placed it atop a piece of wood to set afloat on his waters. Very few remembered the ancient traditions of paying homage to the dead and honoring the guardians with elements of life. And dragons were especially akin to accept gifts of flame, as a sign of fealty and respect.

After saying her prayer, she resumed her dancing. Graff watched as she began to move as if she had a partner in her dance. It would have been picturesque if she were to have a partner, but he resisted the urge. The time was not right.

"Youngest of the house Finwe, do not fret," he replied, his voice deep and guttural as it filled the grove and caused the water to ripple. It had been long since he spoke, but he was pleased that his tongue could wrap around the speech of man as fluently as ever

"So long as your heart is pure and your courage unfailing, I shall never leave you unguarded." A rush of wind ran through the trees, tossing the branches and kicking up leaves. Only for a moment could he be seen, the spears of sunlight cutting through the shadows that prevented his discernment before his magic settled and camouflaged him once more.

The dragon was pleased as the young girl looked towards him, unknowing that her instincts were sharper than she could currently comprehend. It was one of the reasons he had reached out to her, assigning her seemingly mundane tasks while keeping close tabs on her as she grew.

He let his eye drift closed again as she voiced her fears of a king that she was right to be wary of. Whispers from the west, beyond his territories, cried of a new power cloaked in darkness. Graff could not be certain that they meant the newly crowned Adolamin, but nor was he fool enough to disregard it.

"You are a child of Finwe. My vassal. He shall not have you, for your place is here," he stated in calm tones, his voice floating on the breeze that had calmed, a few groaning trees settling in their beds.

He knew that his words were very close to a promise, which he had told himself to never make again with man. However, keeping in mind that by letting this most delicate of treasures be devoured by this potential theat he would be breaking that vow made ages passed, his word as a dragon would suffer greatly. And dragons take their words very seriously.

It also was no guarantee, because as a part of a kingdom, Finwe was bound by oaths made in fealty to kings. Amettria would have no choice but to go with her king, should he ask it, because her father would be seen as a trader and disloyal if he or anyone of his house prevented it. And Finwe could not withstand the might of Mar's other provinces banded together.

However, he did not break her spirit by telling her this. Likely she already knew, or had been told by the rest of her people. Nobles often kept their children schooled in the politics of their lands and the dealings of the king's court. That aside, he hoped that his words would steel her with enough confidence to survive such an ordeal, or otherwise be unfounded should the king prove a righteous man.

"Look for a sapling nestled in stone. In its hanging roots, a gift in case your courage fails," he instructed. Little did she know, the stone was actually his massive clawed foreleg. A sapling had taken root between his scales, cascading its roots down in its effort to reach the earth. In its hurry for life, the sapling had managed to chip part of one of his scales. It looked like a stone the size of a grape, but it would glimmer in shades of green and red when in the light.

Graff watched the young lass make her way around his pool until she disappeared behind his shoulder. It was then he began to feel her, scrambling to reach the sapling. It would have been easier, had she gone the other way round, but he believed in letting lessons be learned.

However, when she lost her grip and began falling towards the water, he knew the lesson had ended. What good would his gift be, if she was hurt in its retrieval.

"Even the most nimble need beware, the treacherous path," he murmured while lifting his moss covered forearm. To Amettria, is may have looked like a mossy outcropping suddenly appeared above the water, preventing her from getting wet as she landed. The stoney gem was dislodged from the roots and rolled across the moss to land at her feet.

In the distance, the sounds of trumpets signaled the coming of nobility. The dragon knew it meant the king had arrived.

"Our paths are forever entwined, dear one," his voice a mere whisper in her heart. Graff was pleased at Amettria's admiration of the gift, sure that she saw it more precious than any other she had received. And truly it was. Only a handful of mortals held a token from a dragon that did not come at the cost of battle.

The dragon sighed when the girl then whisked away to her home to prepare her meeting with the king. Although she was no longer near, she was never truly out of his sight. Alone once more, aside from the life of the forest around him, Graff returned his arm to its original position and looked over the waters' surface to the candle left burning. The flame flickered and swayed in the breeze, then grew in the silence before being snuffed out by his breath. He watched the curl of smoke rise and dissipate before returning to his skrying.

Inside the castle proper, all manner of activity was moving at double the pace as messengers reported that the king's caravan was spotted only a league away. He would be arriving before midday. Servants hustled in their cleanings, stoking fires and preparing the meals, folding the bedding and supplying each room with a clean chamber pot.

Duke Joren, Amettria's father, was found in his chambers, getting the last few tassels and fastenings adjusted on his most respected of attire. He was a man of business and culture, poised and refined, royal and noble. A man that was a fine representation of the steadfast image of Finwe. Even if he was past his prime and pushing near fifty. The duke was a proud leader, and looked after his family and bannermen fiercely. Everyone in the region loved him and his family. He managed to maintain relations with the seafaring folk that his forefathers had ordained, bringing prosperity and safety to his lands.

"Bring my daughter to me," he commanded when he was presentable, eyeing the page that scurried off with his order. He needed to have a word with her before their majesty was to make his grand entrance.

"Ah, there you are," he replied, looking up from the raven whose leg he had been tying a message to. Letting the bird take flight out the open window, he smiled, taking in her fine dress and expertly designed hair. His child, his most precious gift from the gods. Joren could see so much of his beloved in her, even down to the smear of dirt that somehow got missed on her nose.

"My dear Amettria. You are aware that when the king arrives there will be many festivities placed in his honor, yes? I do not need to remind you to keep out of the north and east wings. For while here, our guests will demand a certain level of privacy and peace." The Duke paused and looked knowingly at his daughter, a twinkle of amusement in his eyes. She had quite the reputation for wandering off and showing up in unexpected places.

"So try to keep your adventures to the west wing and the main halls." It was well known that he had a soft spot for his only child. Many chalked it up as being devoted to her happiness, while others thought her a little spoiled for having the freedoms of her station and no siblings to keep her in check. However, no one could contest that he loved his daughter and would do anything for her, should she ask.

His smile broadened when he noticed her nervous gestures. Moving across the room in long strides, he scooped Amettria up into his arms and squeezed her in a bear hug.

"No time for gloomy faces sunflower," he chided. "Not when we have a party to attend."