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In the age of terrorism, Team Flamer is the magic world's only hope. (Open) |
| [Introduction]
Basically, this is a spinoff of Rainbow Six, in which the agents are dragon riders. Years have passed since the last global war between the dragon riders of the Weyrlands and of the Dragonslayer regime of of Heilisia to the south. Yet beneath the fragile peace, old hatreds linger on. Armed with the modern tools of war, some have turned to terrorism to fight for their cause. The only thing that stands between them and total annihilation of the world is Team Flamer, an interweyr task force of dragon riders dedicated to fighting terrorism. Armed with both the most sophisticated weaponry in the world, the arcane sorcery of millenia past, and their dragons that can take them to any place in the world, Team Flamer could become humanity's last hope. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Anyhow, if you want to join feel free to email me Bmao   . The first submission should be a short biography on who your dragon is, whether or not he or she has a rider, what type of dragon he is (dragons are classified by elements: fire, water, bronze, brass, etc,. each with different strengths and weaknesses and have the same function as skin color) and what their specialty is. Also, I would prefer that you understand a little bit about military tactics.Once we get enough people to join in, basically enough to form team Flamer, we'll get started with the campfire. A few positions that need filling: Team leader #1: Team leader #2: Automatic rifleman: Intelligence officer: Sniper: Gadget operator: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- [Bmao] Name: Torch Species: Fire Dragon Height: 17ft 2 inches Length: 36 ft Age: 277 and 1/2 years Color: Red, though starting to go maroon Position: Dragonlord, leader of the weyr and its lands. Bio: Torch, hailing from the land of the fire dragons to the north and son of the Great Fire Dragon, is currently the leader of the weyr and its inhabitants. Still has pride and connections toward his homeland, which his younger sister Fira now governs. He is happily married with his wife Crysta, and has several children, and leads a proactive life. Enjoys making witty statements and is always quick with humor. Rider- Name: Toran Sandalfas Height: 5'10 Age: Doesn't want to think about that, yet appears in his mid 50's. Hair: Brown, with streaks of silver Eyes: Reddish-brown Position: Dragoonlord- leader of the dragon riders, commonly known as the dragoons. Quotes: Stop calling me dragonslayer!! Bio: Though he is the leader of the dragon riders, Toran had once been a dragonslayer whose father led the first of many wars against the weyr. Like his dragon Torch, he is happily married with his wife Rinoa. Because of his age, its hard for him to think about his relatives back home (all of whom are dragonslayers), who still consider Toran a traitor to this day. Even so, time has not quelled his act-first, think-later nature, which makes his dragon Torch worry endlessly. Toran is proficient with magic, yet he is even more proficient with firearms, and is never seen without at least a sidearm at his waist. He makes a point in keeping up with the changing times, and is quite fit for his age. The only thing he loathes more than idleness is paperwork, which he could care less about save the fact he is the dragoonlord. Overall, Toran is a strong, decisive leader and is popular with his people. |
| Toran, leader of the dragon riders, lounged in the fifth row of the first class seats next to his wife Rinoa. One hour into the flight, he was already restless. It wasn't as if he didn't like flying; it was just the fact he and his delegation had been forced to use a plane instead of old Torch. Rinoa, catching his thought, curved her neck to face him, her still-black hair whipping gracefully against his face. "I don't see why we had to travel to that horrible place!! We could have easily just made Liebethorp travel to the weyr if he wanted to negotiate the war reparations!!" "With Torch and Crysta hissing at him all the time? Nothing would have gotten done!!" replied Toran, throwing his arms up in exasperation. Since he usually had Torch take him from place to place, he had never bothered to have his own private jet; not to mention it would have horribly offended Torch. Heilisia, ruled by the dragonslayers (which he had been a member of early in his life ironically enough), was not really a safe place for dragons to say the least. Considering whom they were, any extremist with a grenade launcher would want to take a shot at them. Fact was, even without Torch, the dragoonlord was distinguishable enough. Though his tough leather tunic was mostly similar to those of his colleagues, no amount of cosmetics could hide the huge scar on his left cheek. During the first war against the dragonslayers, one waged against his father, a musketball had smacked him right on the chin, shattering that part of the mandible. He was back in action in less than two months, but from then on, Toran's lips were contorted in such a way as if he were mocking someone. The dry, Heilisian scowl he had for a voice only added to this impression of mockery. Once he became the dragoonlord, he didn't fight on the front anymore; Rinoa had been to blame for that. It didn't prevent him from being a bullet magnet however. While on a tour a few decades back for the transcontinental railway project, some anarchist had tried to plug him in the back with a .44 magnum revolver. Unfortunately for the would-be assasain, Torch had been nearby... "It was a miracle nobody fired a shot at me either" Toran muttered to himself. Part of the miracle was due to the efforts of his security guard, the ever-dependable D'Chav. He was a decorated veteran from the last (at least he hoped it would be the last) war against Heilisia, popular with the soldiers, dragons and the riders alike. Toran lounged his body across the aisle, "Why so stiff D'Chav?" His stony expression didn't budge, much to Toran's annoyance. Impatience was one facet of Toran's personality that stuck with him throughout the years and years and years. Ah, but to everybody else, it's called decisiveness he thought to himself. D'Chave slowly tilted his battle-weathered features, "I sense trouble approaching; we must be on guard" he mused. Toran only nodded slightly. He reclined back into his seat, yawning. Suddenly, from near the bathroom area, a floor panel flung open, revealing three masked men with assault rifles. Toran's eyes widened in alarm. Maybe Torch was right not to trust airplanes One of them immediately shot down the aisle and barged into the cockpit. The other two quickly took control of the cabin. The passengers writhed in their seats, expressions contorted in terror. "We now have plane under our custody!! If anyone is to move from their seats without permission I will shoot the captain" a tinny, yet unmistakably Heilisian voice, cried out on the speakerphone. "The plane is now heading toward an unspecified landing zone. If anyone is to come out alive, your leader must cancel the payment of war reparations" There was a long eerie silence, before the speaker said once more. Toran glared as one of the masked gunmen made his way toward him. "Not so high an mighty now without your beast are you Sandalfas?" one of the gunmen sneered. Toran forced himself to remain silent. "You're not getting a cent" snapped Toran, staring them straight in the eye. The terrorist laughed, pointing the muzzle at his face, "Unfortunately exhaulted dragoonlord, you are not in any position to negotiate any other choice" Toran merely nodded while the terrorists continued their rounds. The plane was far too high to call to Torch or any other dragons to help out. "Toran!!" cried his wife telepathically, "What are we going to do? If we move they will kill us all and if we don't it won't matter anyhow!!" "I don't think they want us dead, they're holding us at ransom. I'm sure that Torch, Crysta or any of the council would pay whatever amount these terrorists demand without hesitation." he replied. "Then what was the meaning of the last war then?" Rinoa replied. "So we really can't have that can we?" He wondered if Torch had heard about this act of terrorism. He wished that he hadn't, because dragon's never liked made compromises when it came to their rider's lives. Toran shifted his concentration toward D'Chav, "We must neutralize them somehow!!" "Sir, they watch our every movement, if we act at this moment it will mean all our deaths!! Using magic may also threaten the cabin itself!!" his secruity guard replied, just like Toran expected him to. Toran could see his point however, he needed to find somewhere the terrorists wouldn't be monitoring him as much. Shifting his gaze up, he caught the attention of one of the terrorists. "Excuse me sir? May I get up to go to the restroom?" he asked calmly. "Stay in your seat or I'll shoot you, your wife and everyone on board!!" he retorted. "That wouldn't help your country's cause now would it?" he continued, trying to sound his age the best he could, "Though I may not look like it, I'm an old man you know. All I'm asking is that I be able to relieve myself. I promise I'll be quick" The terrorist gave him an impetous gaze. "Very well" Slowly and silently, Toran tiptoed down the hall, the terrorist watching him, and enclosed himself in the compartment. He almost let out a laugh, had they been smart he'd have just kept the door open, to make sure he really did have to relieve himself. While relieving himself, he once again contacted D'Chav. "Okay, when the terrorist patrolling the corridor, passes by your area, give me the cue. I'll jump out and catch the first terrorist by surprise. While the second starts to rush for his aid, get out of your seat and tackle him from behind." he instructed. Toran had not faced any real danger for a number of years, but he hadn't become dragoonlord for nothing. He always kept his reflexes sharp in case of situations such as these. "And what of the terrorist holding the captain hostage?" D'Chav reminded. Toran bit his tongue; having no captain really would complicate matters would it? "I'd have to quickly pick up the rifle, use an aiming spell and hope the bullet's powerful enough to penetrate through the door" D'Chav reluctantly agreed to the plan, as there really wasn't any choice, and he was taking quite a while to go to the restroom. Yet nobody ever got anything done without taking risks, and hopefully if he lived it'd give him a popularity boost. In addition it would underscore the need for his proposal to create an counter-terrorism force. Before he could worry about that, he still had to live through this... |
| Name: Delgath Vortacanon Species: Water Dragon Height: 10ft, 12inchs Length: 14ft 2in. Age: 25 (a young dragon) Color: Blue (water) Position: a new hatchling dragon just coming into his own. He comes from the water caves of Ocsha on the eastern shores. Bio: His parents had been killed in a submarine attack during the last war against the dragonslayers of Heilisia, and had fended for himself ever since. Seeking companionship, Delgath had adapted to a human named Cadmare, who has never handled a dragon yet visits him often. Rider: Name: Cadmare DeeMark Height: six foot Age: 24 Hair: He has let his hair go recently, even so, you can still see that his last hair cut was one of a military. But now it is growing out and has a mustache and beard going. Oh and all of it is bright red. Eyes: A bluish green color. Position: And ex-sniper for a swat team until an accident happened. Now out of work looking for something to do. Bio: He is a fit man, young and proud for the most part. His service with his SWAT team never had a fatality until the accident two years ago. After the incident, Cadmare was dishonorably discharged from his SWAT team, and wandered about for the next two years. The tragedy haunts him to this day, and has vowed to never let something like that happen again. Two years ago “FIRE NOW!” The Commanding officer shouted into his ear. “Negative,” He replied, “Civilian in the line of fire.” It was more than a civilian, he knew the person. It was his fiance, whom he was to marry the next month. “If you do not fire, the whole building will go up if the terrorist reaches that bomb, all of them will be dead, including your team, fire now!” “Negative, civilian in the way, shot unclear.” was his reply. He was covered on the roof of the next building over, focusing his trained eye through the scope. The masked man that had taken the hostage was in the top story window across from him, staring him straight in the eye, daring Cadmare to fire. He held the girl in place with a vice grip, using her as a shield. “Fire NOW! It's one Civilian against hundreds if you don’t take the shot! Fire now, do your job, they are all counting on you!” “This is Bravo 1, suspect getting ready to move, not in position to intercept, repeat, not in position to intercept.” “Bravo six, you are the only one that can take the tango out, do so.” “Negative…” “Bravo five, take the shot for bravo six,” Came the order, the man next to him set up his gun quickly and looked through the scope. “Alpha one, be advised, target has moved, no visual, repeat, target has moved, no visual.” “Damn, Bravo 1, double time up there, target is going for the bomb.” “Yes…” Static filled the air as the ground shook, and the government building fell across from bravo five and six. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ “Shut up, or we kill you!” A masked man yelled at Cadmare. One minute he had been sleeping in his chair, the next minute the plane was under the custody of several of these people with assault rifles. He slowly reached into his jacket and placed his hand silent pistol he kept there. He was able to get it past security since he had an air marshal license in the past. He didn’t like being bossing around by anyone anymore, yet threatening his life was far from what he liked to do. He decided to wait until he knew more of the situation. He really had nothing to live for anyways, his fiance was dead, he had failed his comrades and the innocent people who died that terrible day. Then he thought about the dragon he had met a month ago, he had no idea why, but had a liking to that little creature. Maybe if he got out of this alive, he would go and visit it again. He looked around and took measurement of the situation. |
| Dragon- Name: Argos Species: Silver Dragon Height: 22'8" Length: 48'2" Age: 178 years and 7 months Color: Primarily silver, but with red highlights on the edges of the scales. His underbelly is an Ivory white, and runs from the underside of his head to the tip of his tail. Position: Council member and occasional advisor (when he has to that is) Bio: Argos is somewhat of a recluse at the Weyr. He dislikes drawing attention to himself, and really only confides with his rider in most matters. He does not know who his parents are, having been abandoned as an egg. He was raised at the Weyr, searchers having found him before he hatched. Because of this, he is usually shy when meeting new people, and does not truly trust people he does not know. He was offered a council position by Torch when he took over the weyr, and took it reluctantly. He has a sharp mind, but is normally to shy or unsure of himself to bring attention to himself. Argos cares greatly for his rider, and would do anything necessarily to ensure his safety and protection. Rider- Name: Rigar Niraoth Height: 5'8" Age: Roughly 150 years old, appears to be in his early 30's Hair: Black, with some specs of silver Eyes: Hazel Position: Council member Appearance: Bio: Before he met Argos, Rigar came from a small middle class family that lived in a city near the Weyr. When he turned 18, he took an apprenticeship with the Weyr as a blacksmith. After approximately 2 months, it appeared that he would not be able to do the job of a blacksmith. He was not physically strong enough nor had the endurance to pound on an anvil all day. Sad that he would have to return to his family a failure, he climbed to one of the top most parts of the Weyr to watch the sunset. It was there he met Argos, but at the time all he saw was a large silver dragon curled up tight, his eyes set to watch the sun set as well. Argos was surprised by the appearance of a human, but in his shyness he didn't say anything. There eyes met, and impression occurred. Rigar cares greatly for Argos, but at times is frustrated by his shyness. He knows Argos is smarter then he appears, but at times has troubles getting him to express his feelings. ------------------------------------------- Oblivious to the drama that was occurring on the fated airplane, a dragon stirred in its cave. Argos grumbled as a shaft of light entered his cave. He looked over to his rider who was still asleep against his flank, though he knew that Rigar would be awake soon. Right on cue, Rigar awoke, stretching against Argos's side. "Morning Argos. What do you say to getting some early breakfast?" Rigar said with a yawn. Argos grumbled again and replied. "Its still a bit early, Im not sure" he said. Rigar slapped his side with affectation, "Oh stop it. At least most of the Weyr folk know you at least exist now" he said with a grin. In truth, it was not an embellishment, Argos thought. Before he met and impressed Rigar, almost no one even knew he lived in the Weyr. He had mostly eaten at night and had one of the more reclusive caves. Though he preferred the term 'secure.' "Ok Rigar" Argos sighed in defeat, standing up and he started to walk sedately out of the cave. Rigar followed with a shake of his head. The walk from the cave were Argos and Rigar lived was longer then most, and terminated in a depression that was surrounded by impassive rock. It was here Argos stretched and kneeled to let Rigar mount. Together, they flew down to the feeding grounds. It was still early enough that there were not an incredible amount of other people or dragons out, of which Argos was glad. Argos scooped up a large steer before landing, and settled down a bit away from the pen and the other feeding dragons. Rigar sighed as he slid off his shoulder. At least he was starting to get through to Argos, even after all there years together. Before, he would grab a cow and then go straight back to his cave. As Argos began to eat, Rigar heard another flap of wings. Looking up, he saw the unmistakable red and white forms of Torch and Crysta. He waved, but got no response from the pair. Rigar guessed they were just upset from not having there riders with them. Well, I would probably act the same way Argos told him silently. Rigar nodded and patted Argos's side affectionately. Torch and Crysta both collected a cow apiece, and to the pair's surprise they came over to were Rigar and Argos were. Torch snorted out a cloud of smoke, before laying down with a loud "Harrumph' before digging into the cow he had. Crysta shook her head, before turning to Argos and Rigar. "Just ignore him for now, he's just upset that Toran is gone" she said with a disdainful sniff. "So, how are you doing Argos? I haven't seen you around lately" Crysta said. Argos shifted a bit, uneasy. "I'm doing fine Weyr-lady Crysta. Though I’m not looking forward to the next meeting" he responded softly. Rigar sighed, Argos was always like this. Before Crysta could reply, Torch suddenly reared up and roared in challenge, his wings spread wide. Toran is in danger! He roared out. |
| Dragon: Name: Thorn Species: Earth Dragon Height:15ft 11 inches (Extremely large for his age) Length:29 ft Age:19 and 2 months Color: Mostly green but has red around the scales. The membranes of his wings are red also. Postion: Though he is young for a dragon, he is an advisor and a great companion. Bio:Thorn and his rider were born at the exact same time, and linked together as had been planned by their parents. They have been getting into trouble with each other for a long time. When he got too big, he was put into a Weyr with his rider. From then on they have been pracicing thier espionage techniques. He is very up to date and modern and knows how people think. He is somewhat protective of his rider, like all dragons are. He is also very sarcastic. Rider: Name:Zane Gardina Height:6'4 Age:19 and two months Hair: Black with a green sheen to it and is pretty long. Eyes:Blood Red Postion:A council member, yet wants to be a spy. Bio: He has grown up with Thorn since he was born. They had been educated into Weyr earlier than most other weyrlings his age, as he was considered a prodigy by most of the elders. By virtue of his family name and heritage, he was made a council member, and is by far the youngest. Yet he wants into go into espionage because of his trouble-making childhood and his skill with delicate devices. He is good with magic and he can control earth and plants. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Zane sat on his dragon Thorn, awaiting the day they'd be initiated into the council, one of the youngest in history. All around him, council members riding their dragons were perched in a grand auditorium, the walls slanted in such a way that anyone's voice would be heard. The reason he'd been added, according to the elders, had been because Zane was extremely gifted and possessed a bright future. Thorn grunted, "No, it's because Grandpa Sifer does not want you causing trouble across the weyr anymore" Though Zane always wanted to be a spy, he realized such a profession may not be for him, considering how large they both were. Zane nodded, with his size, he had quite a bit of weight to throw around. Thorn faced a similar dilemma, he was already on average five to six feet taller than the other dragons his age, and he still had several years of growing. As Thorn had impressed Zane from birth, he had matured much faster than dragons reared outside the weyr. Mothers who had hatchlings such as these bitterly complained that they grew up too fast. Even so, Thorn at 19 and two months age was equivaltent to a fourteen year old human. As recently as last year, Thorn had been confused as to why his rider would waste his time taking females on dates. And right now, the dragoonlord and the dragonlord were not even here for this important arrangement. "It's not like them to be late" he told his formidible grandfather, seated to the ledge on his right. Sifer Gardina, seated on his bronze dragon Jockerth, glared in Zane's direction. Though upwards of 200, he was far from a frail, crippled old timer. "Our exhaulted dragoonlord does have the tendency to select the most inopportune times however" he said icily. "T-there has to be a reason why though" Zane sputtered. "We shall hear what his reason is soon enough when they dragoonlord arrive" he responded. Zane could only nod. Though Zane knew enough that grandfather's statement came from years of opposition to the dragoonlord, few would have the nerve to make that known. At his full height, his grandfather was perhaps just a couple inches shorter than Zane, and just as broad. Though premature balding had caused him to completely shave his head, this, combined with a perfectly waxed, almost villainous upturned mustache and a deep authoritative baritone, merely served to make him that much more fomidable. Just then, a messenger riding a brass dragon burst into the hall, panting. "We've received news that the plane our weyrleader has been riding in has been hijacked by terrorists!! They demand concessions if we are to get them back alive" he cried. The hall drowned in a uproar of snarls, hisses and other expressions of disdain. "What should we do grandfather?" Zane asked, having no experience in this sort of matter. His grandfather looked blase in this emergency, "I suspect he would want us to do nothing" he replied. "Nothing?" Zane replied. "Because whatever measures we try to implement with dragonslayer come too late, by now he is either dead or had found a way to neutralize them." grandfather Sifer explained, not to be complimentary of course. "One thing you should know Zane, is that Toran Sandalfas finds the political process too slow for his liking" As the council members began bickering amongst themselves, Zane did realize one thing, he agreed with the dragoonlord, and decided that maybe being in the council wasn't the right thing for this Gardina. |
| PIEW!! PIEW!! Something heavy slammed against the door, the impact causing the cheap lock to buckle. The door folded open, and the terrorist monitoring him crumpled awkwardly onto the sink like a dead sock puppet. Toran flinched back as far as he could. A single bullet hole had caught the terrorist right in the back of the head. By the gape of surprise on his face, he had never known what had hit him. The assault rifle was still clutched with both hands, and Toran had to use a bit of force to pry it out. The third terrorist could still be patrolling the halls, as he had not shot the captain. The next moment, he heard the door from the pilots compartment swung open. He heard the terrorist scamper down the hall. Toran pushed the dead body out of the way and crouched down as much as the tiny bathroom stall could offer him. With instinct developed through his military service, Toran lowered his shoulder and charged out with all the weight he could muster. He caught the terrorist from the blind side, pinning him against the wall and sending the assualt rifle flying out of his grasp. Though dazed from the crushing blow, the terrorist swung a fist awkwardly at Toran. Toran's rifle stock caught him first, sending the terrorist to the floor. The dragoonlord quickly jumped on top of him and pointed the muzzle at the back of his head. Toran shifted his glance upward, toward the frightened passengers. "Is everybody okay!!" he shouted. The passengers quavered; they weren't used to seeing heads of states knock out terrorists like a common SWAT team member. A young man with red hair and a beard leaned over, "Yes dragoonlord, nobody got hit" he said. Toran nodded back, relieved before looking back toward the first class seats. "D'Chav!!" Toran shouted down the aisle, "Get over here and help me keep this bastard down!!" D'Chav quickly rushed over and added his weight onto the terrorist. Pressing the muzzle onto the terrorists neck, he asked, "So, who sent you and your asshole buddies after me?" Rinoa would always chastise him for using such bad language, but in situations such as these he couldn't help himself. The terrorist snarled in defiance, "You'll pay for this traitor" Releasing a sigh, Toran realized that he'd best leave a job like this to the interrogators. "Incarcera" Toran muttered, pointing with his hand. Out of thin air, a pair of handcuffs materialzed and locked the terrorist's hands behind his back. With the terrorist taken care of, Toran sought after the mysterious savior who'd fired those silenced pistol rounds. "Who fired those shots?" he called out. The passengers pointed to the red-haired man sitting on 20C. Toran could tell immediately he had experience with this sort of thing before; he had a certain glint in his blue-green eyes. "What's your name son?" Toran asked. "Cadmare Deemark" he said cooly, not at all cowed by Toran's title or presence. That gave him good favor with the weyrleader in a hurry. Even so, Toran realized this man had been cradled in his mothers arms during the last war against the dragonslayers. No older than thirty, or even younger perhaps. When Toran had been that same age, war had been fought with muskets, cavalry and breech-loading cannon. Back then, the enemy had been clad in red tunics made of wool, wearing their distinctive spiked helmets. He himself still recalled wearing dark blue and leading men in their firing lines, to disguise himself as a common officer rather than the former dragonslayer who'd betrayed his country. Last time he visited the front, the Heilisians wore grey trenchcoats, carrying semi-automatic rifles and machine pistols... Rumor had it they were changing to a green-grey camo. Now, he had to deal with terrorism... Toran shook his head, he felt really old indeed. "You should be proud of yourself young man. If you hadn't snuck that silnced pistol past security, we might as well all be dead" Toran complimented. "I didn't sneak it past sir, I had been part of a SWAT team until two years ago. I still have my air marshall licence, but now I'm basically a wanderer" he responded, pulling his I.D. out of his pocket. "Did you know the terrorists would be attacking the plane?" Toran wondered. Cadmare shifted in his seat, "Well, I'd been fast asleep, so I had no idea they'd be coming" he responded. Toran nodded, he liked young men with initiative, that's what kept the weyrland safe and moving forward. All too often he was faced with those who sucked up too much, hoping to gain favor and high positions while concealing alterior motives. "Anyway, how would you like to have a job at the weyr? Though you might not agree I just get this feeling you might have the stuff to be a dragoon. I'll sign a reccomendation for you" Cadmare's eyes shot open in surprise; most of the time when Toran made offers like that to young men like Cadmare, they'd jump in without question. "Thank you for your generosity sir, I'll think about it" he replied. "Bully!!" Toran replied, aware his slang was more than half a century old, "I'm looking forward to seeing you then, glad to have met your acquaintence Cadmare" Cadmare smiled, shaking the dragoonlord's hand, before Toran walked down the corridor back to his seat next to Rinoa. "Next time we fly to Heilisia, Crysta and Torch are taking us understand?" Rinoa snapped, giving him a stern finer. Toran kissed her on the cheek, "I don't think I'd have any other choice." Once Torch heard about this (which he would), there really wasn't much chance he'd be seen in public for a week, nor would he be flying in a plane for at least the next few months (if Torch was generous). Fortunately, the rest of the plane trip was smooth enough, and landed at Sandalfas international airport in the late morning. The moment Toran and his wife stepped off the plane, they were subjected to a bombardment of camera flashes and swarmed by news reporters and other media fiends. A bald man in a suit shoved a microphone in front of him, "Mr. Sandalfas? Who do you think was responsible for this?" "What needs to be done so such an incident is not repeated?" a female reporter screeched in. Another reporter reached over the female reporter and barged his body in, "Do you think Heilisia is responsible? Will we going to war again?" "How much a factor was airport security in this terrorist attack?" At that moment, two familiar angry roars boomed through the air; even louder then the jet engines of the commercial plane. The media reporters scattered like sheep at the sight of Torch and Crysta. Torch nearly trampled over a poor hapless cameraman as he stormed forward, and covered Toran with a wing. Toran!! I was so worried about you, when I heard on the news your plane was under attack I feared the worst, you are not going out of my sight for the next month understand? "Don't worry Torch, I'm fine and nobody got hurt. Besides if you do that I won't be able to do my job properly" he responded, though grateful nonetheless that his faithful red friend was here nonetheless. Torch glared at him with those huge red eyes, rumbling. You really won't be able to do your job at all if you're dead!! replied Torch. "Yes, I see your point" Toran replied. The pair watched as the rest of the passengers boarded off the plane, to be hugged and embraced by their relieved friends and family. When the terrorist was brought out, Torch and Crysta shot their heads forward and hissed savagely. The terrorist buckled in fear. It was fortunate for him that the police quickly threw him of the back seat of the police car and sent him off. Nothing save for his ashes would have been left had he stayd a moment longer. "Perhaps it would be a good idea to head back to the council now. I don't see any way they'll not give funding to my anti-terrorist agenda now" said Toran. |
| Cadmare gathered what little belongings he had and walked off the plane unnoticed into the middle of the pack of passengers. A few of them spoke to express their thanks, but that was all. Seeing the press all around he ducked his head and blended into the middle of the pack as to escape their microphones. It wasn't too hard. Most of them were too busy flashing pictures of the dragoonlord, his wife and the two huge dragons they rode, one red and the other a pure flourescent crystal. They wouldn't have fussed with him anyhow. He left the scene and made it out of the airport without being stopped. Geez, after they nearly kill the leader, I'd have thought they'd have tightened up... thought Cadmare privately. For the moment, it was just as well. Cadmare never liked publicity, in his line of work it was better to stay in the shadows than blaze away at the tangos with AR's firing. Hiding was just something he was good at, and he had put it to good use here. He quickly called a taxi (ignoring the driver's yammerings about the recent attack at the airport) which took him to a park not too faraway from the airport. From there, he walked toward one of the larger lakes, and took a seat near the shoreline. He pulled out a silver ring from his pocket, the one he had proposed giving to his departed fiance, and gazed at it. After that last mission, he had planned on quitting the SWAT and marrying her, as he had just found a steady job as a staff officer for the army, where he'd have fought behind a typewriter rather than a sniper. Of course, after the debacle where his wife and comrades were killed, the offer had been rescinded, leaving him to wander the countryside. He put the ring back in his pocket, and thought about the conversation he had with the dragoonlord. Maybe he should take it, it would be better than just sitting here thinking about what happened, or having to just wander in general. Maybe joining that man's group would enable him to allow this type of things never to happen again. At least that was his dream, and he might even get to talk to the dragoonlord again and get a few things clear. But then again, what would happen if that same situation came up? Yet this time the terrorists were holding a hostage as a shield? He would not shoot an innocent ever. Still worse though, was to allow innocents to be shot at, but do nothing. Even so, Cadmare wasn't sure he was ready to fully embrace on what the job description offered. Every kid who grew up in the Weyrland knew that only a select few would ever serve the weyr, and fewer still would join the ranks of the dragoons. What better life than to fly on the back of a dragon and see the world? Or so said the propaganda pamphlets and the media at least. Cadmare had never really cared too much about the dragoons. Though they constantly stressed how they were bonded spiritually to their dragons, and that the beasts were wiser than any human alive, Cadmare figured it was just more of their religious bull-crap. Dragons were just merely a lavish means of transportation as far as he knew. As for the dragoons themselves, they were detached, bookish, arrogant; basically akin to a group of clergymen with archaic ideas unsuited to the modern world. He wondered what that small blue dragon he'd been visiting by the beach would think about all this. That he had been offered a job at the weyr by none other than the dragoonlord himself. Would he enjoy living at the weyr? At that moment, Cadmare noticed an audible flap pierce the air. A blue dragon was descending upon the lake. Cadmare was used to seeing them in the skies of the Weyrland, but he wasn't used to them coming at him. The dragon landed on the lakebed, tail wagging back and forth inside the lakebed, and curved it's neck to face Cadmare. Cadmare recoiled in surprise; it was the young dragon he had begun to visit recently. As those large blue eyes focused on him, something seemed different though... Cadmare!! a clear, penetrating voice spoke in his head. Since when did dragons talk? And how did that blue beast manage to find me here? he thought, more annoyed than apprehensive as he believed he would have been. The water dragon's large blue eyes sparkled, I can talk as much as I want Cadmare, I came because I felt you were in trouble and went to check on you like you did for me. And my name is Delgath, not that 'blue critter' like you used to call me understand? he whined. Cadmare threw his hands up in exasperation, though his true feeling was that of a combination of awe and panic. The dragon could not only talk, but read his thoughts. Had he not spent a couple of years with SWAT, he would have panicked. "Okay Delgath" he relented. Delgath settled his flippers on the lakebed and purred contently. Up until now, they had communicated with gestures and food, sort of like what trainers did with dolphins. He couldn't do that anymore, now that Cadmare was aware Delgath could speak, think and feel just as acutely as Cadmare could. That didn't mean it was any easier to reconcile creatures other than human beings possessed intelligence. He sighed and patted the young dragon's flank. He'd realized that the dragoonlord indeed had known what he was doing when he offered him the job. It was time to stop wandering, together he and Delgath would head toward the weyr, toward a new life. |
| The council session was perhaps the most boring few hours he had ever had to put up with. He was never allowed to speak once, while his grandfather Sifer doddered on and on about the dragoonlord's follies. It was driving him crazy. "Grandfather, if you're not going to let me speak in the council, so be it." Zane said confidently. "I know I will prove myself. I know I will be greater than you maybe. I will not put up with anymore of this bull crap from you anymore." The left side of his grandfather's mustache twitched. Had the dragoons still worn that old uniform, his epaulets would have shaken. "I will not tolerate such arrogance!!" I'm sounding too much like the dragoonlord for your comfort am I? Zane merely sniffed in defiance. Unlike his father, or his idiot brother Medina, he wouldn't end up as another one of those Sifer-placating parrots. There were already too many of those in the council. "Come on, lets get out of here" he told Thorn. Zane patted Thorn on his haunches and left off for his room. He sensed his grandfathers hatred for him linger as Thorn took him away from the council chamber toward the cave he shared with his brother. He entered his room and sat on his bed. No sooner had he done so, when he had a sense that he should go to the west wing to greet the dragoon leader. He told Thorn to come on and he took off to the west wing. There was a sizable crowd on hand, though grandfather wasn't one of them. They got there in time and stood nicely and the dragoonleader stepped down from his red dragon Torch. Unlike in the council, anyone of the weyr had access to this place. Camera bulbs were flashing his way, he always liked attention. He stood up onto a podium, placing the microphone to his lips. "Anyhow, for those of who were concerned that I might be pushing up daisies now, it doesn't look to be the case now does it?" he said almost mockingly. "But let us not forget that things could have ended up much differently. After the last war against Heilisia, many malcontents have been resorting to terrorism, and we've not been doing enough to stop them!! The fact remains is that the world is not as safe as we would otherwise wish to believe" He scanned the crowds eyes, daring someone to refute his claim. "What I propose is the creation of several task forces dedicated to stopping terrorism across the globe. This will be done with the cooperation of the leaders of other nations. One of these teams will be composed of dragoons and their dragons, which will accept only the best." Zane nodded with agreement, there was an opportunity to prove something of himself!! He wouldn't be sitting uselessly in the council, but be actually engaging the enemy themselves!! He reckoned he'd be able to handle guns, but then again, he wasn't the only dragoon with this talent. No, he'd have to work harder than everyone else if he wanted the chance. |
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