Iano

'Well, Iano used to be a tundra. While hunting one day I found a trail of shedded hair that had blown downwind. I found him at the end of the trail, scratching himself on every tree in the forest nearby to get the fur off.' ~Frailmoss, Iano's first mate, Daughter to Talek and Faelyn Always a lost and wandering soul, Iano never truly found himself until years later, after he finally returned home to Ash Haven. To Breed with Ilya Breeding Range

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The Blacktalon Battalion

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It all starts with a stolen egg. A glittering, purplish shell with clear arcane descent, pulsed brightly next to several tiny brown eggs in a feather-lined Raptorik nest. The avian mother knew better than to bring a full-grown dragon here, especially next to her young, but the thought of leaving any egg to rot alone, it simply tugged at her heartstrings. She covered the incubation nest well, insulating them to make sure they hatched safely while she went about her warrior duties.

Not long after, the dragon hatched alongside the tiny, squeaking avians. A furry little thing, the tundra tumbled out in a mess of downy feathers and fluff. Despite it's brightly-colored eggshell, the arcane child was dull and brown, a fitting nestmate for the equally dull-feathered blacktalons. The mother blacktalon gave a sigh of relief, 'A tundra! What luck! It'll be much easier to sway them at the sight of an herbivore...'

After some time, however, the blacktalon elders grew weary of the draconic nuisance simply named Iano. He was nearly twice the size of most of their people, taking up too much room in main gathering places, and he could hardly communicate with their clicking bird-speech, so much of their culture was lost on him. As an herbivore, he had little drive to fight, and only sought a peaceful coexistence with his avian family, but they shunned him for his lack of strength and unwarrior-like demeanor.

The elders held a council regarding the young dragon, under the light of a full moon. With the tundra surrounded, each of the elders perched atop a bony spire as the rest of the flock looked on from the sidelines. They used simple speech so Iano could follow. The flock leader stood, with a harsh command, "Iano, leave tonight!" The dragon's eyes grew wide, looking to the wilderness beyond the safety of the Blacktalon camp, stomping lightly at the ground, "Not safe! Home here!" The elders fluffed their feathers threateningly, and the leader crowed again, "No home. Go!"

Iano shakily stood his ground, unsure of what was going on. He knew they didn't like him much, but this was a total shock. He looked desperately to his adoptive mother, the kind blacktalon who raised him. With permission, she stepped forward to speak, sadness in her clicks and caws, "Iano. Many bones," she gestured to her spear, armor, and various decor, "Dragon bones." She made a striking blow at an old dragon skull that lay on the ground, piercing it with a loud crack, and several blacktalon jeered and cawed at the display. As they calmed down again, she turned to Iano, anger and sadness burned in her amber eyes as she took up her spear again and threw it at the ground by Iano's feet, "GO!"

With a fearful jump, Iano scrambled away from the blacktalon group, the sounds of their shrill, threatening cries made his fur stand on end. Some of the blacktalon flew far above, mocking him as he scrambled through the desert brush, until his feet could no longer carry him into the night.

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The Star-Guided Wanderer

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For years he wandered alone across Sornieth, avoiding most beings, consumed by his fear of rejection and more intensely, his fear of being attacked. He traveled mainly by starlight, as the soft twinkling glow in the distance gave him tiny glimmer of hope. He knew there was a home for him somewhere far away, but now, he realized, he had no idea what to look for in a home, or a family. His days were full of skittish over-reactions as birds sprang from twigs, or rabbits hopped quickly from their burrows, while his nights were full of a deep loneliness as he trudged ever onward. What he sought, he did not know.

Eventually, he found himself along the warm, bamboo-forested border between wind and fire territories. A billowing storm lingered on the horizon, and yet, the calm, shallow riverbeds enticed him to stay. He waded into the sparkling streams and cooled his weary feet, padding along until he found a quiet grove to settle in and dry his fur. Although the area was totally unfamiliar, a wave of comfort washed over him and he lay his head on his paws. The sun warmed gently his fur, and the bubbling of the stream distracted his weary mind, a soft breeze caressed the grass in a hushed whisper, and the tundra drifted into a wonderful, peaceful sleep.

When he awoke, Iano began instinctively piecing together a nest like the ones he grew up in. It didn't look very pretty, but, it felt comforting anyway, and it gave him something to do. As the days passed, he began to enjoy the taste of the local plant-life, and his coat began to shed and thin out (of course, he happily added this to his nest). He learned to swim, and even began following the local beasts around to see how they lived, something he'd never really had an interest in before. It was... quite peaceful.

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An Introduction to Dragon Life

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During one of his particularly bad days of shedding, Iano found himself scratching his back on every tree in the area, and nothing quite did the trick. There was just that one spot on the ridge of his back that couldn't quite be satisfied, and the furry massacre certainly proved it. This is when a little armored fae showed up, her green wings helping camouflage her as she watched him curiously from the trees.

Eventually, she grew tired of the spectacle of a tundra making a fool of himself, and called out to him. Iano snapped to attention, all his fears suddenly rushing back, as the panic set in. He was trapped. The little nook where he'd set up his nest left him cornered! He gasped for air, and clicked and cawed fearfully toward the fae, "Stay back! No fight!" She tilted her head, wiggling her frills bemusedly, "How funny. You almost sound like one of those Talonfolk. Almost!"

She fluttered gently down to the ground before him, warily sitting several paces away from the beast should he choose to lash out. Clearly they had a communication barrier. She tapped a claw on her chin, then gestured off to the grass nearby. Iano dared not take his eyes off the little fae, until he heard a shuffling in the grass, and his eyes momentarily flicked over to see some kind of living plant slithering toward the fae. She seemed calm, and kept her tiny hand out until the slithering thing moved close enough to rest its head upon her hand. She gave it a gentle pat before they maneuvered about and the fae was comfortably sat atop it's head, and the thing froze in place, like a wooden perch.

Iano was shocked. This beast was...friendly? How strange!

His fur began to lie flat as he finally caught his breath. He hadn't interacted with anyone outside his avian family before, and still recalled the blacktalon greetings and gestures as if it were yesterday. He clicked and cawed a bit, with some familiar wing and claw gestures he thought might translate, but she gave no sign of understanding. He huffed and sat in his nest, tail flicking in frustration. The fae flew over to a flowering bush, and removed some of its branches, gently twisting them into two matching- albeit differently-sized- flower crowns. The fae adorned one on her head, then cautiously approached the tundra with the other, a simple gesture of kindness. With his large paws, he carefully took the pretty crown and placed it on his fluffy brow, a grin suddenly appearing on his face. He hadn't felt this giddy in years.

And with that, a friendship was born.

Iano and Frailmoss slowly grew to understand one another, despite their lack of verbal communication, and she began to slowly teach him anything she could about social rules and other dragons. Eventually she was forced to ask him the hardest question: Would he come home with her to Ash Haven? Yet another shock for the poor tundra. He thought they were happy here together, but, he supposed he wasn't that surprised. She had taught him, after all, that not all dragons are loners like him. It was a tough decision to leave the little home he'd made, but he hoped it would be for the better.

His nerves were completely wrecked at the thought of returning home with the little fae. What if it was all a lie? Would they ever accept him? What if they drove him out too?
Those thoughts were quickly dismissed, as it turned out that Frailmoss had been keeping contact with her family the entire time she'd been staying with Iano. They were all rather excited to meet the bird-raised tundra, and thoroughly enjoyed his unique quirks. He joined the hatchlings's lessons to learn the proper language of dragons, and began to study the daily lives of the dragons around him so he could fit in. They even found he was quick to learn about building structures, so he took that up as his job within the encampment. He was very resourceful with natural materials, and never wasted anything, helping to improve the encampment's usage of materials immensely, and many were grateful for his input.

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Wanderlust and Regrets

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"I never knew my family," Iano spoke somberly to his remaining children, Monarch and Tigerlily. He'd had many clutches of eggs with his mate Frailmoss by now, but most of their hatchlings had gone to explore the world once they were old enough, much to the dismay of the aging tundra. Monarch and Tigerlily had both decided to stay for the sake of their father, but he still seemed as hollow as ever these days. Monarch placed a paw on his dad's shoulder, "At least you've still got us, right Dad?"

"I suppose so..." Iano sighed and looked away, his arcane gaze dulling with age, "I wonder what ever happened to that blacktalon group that raised me? Do you think they'd recognize me?" Tigerlily and Frailmoss gave each other a look of 'Not this again' behind Iano's back, as they continued to clean up from the day's work. Monarch huffed, and stomped off, "Well if you wonder about it so much, why don't you just go and ask them yourself, since we're clearly not good enough!" Frailmoss dropped everything she was doing, and snapped at her son, and arguments ensued.


Beyond the bickering of his family, Iano silently pondered to himself, perhaps it was time to revisit the Talonfolk one more time, to put his mind to rest once and for all. Some peace of mind, and a bit of closure. Perhaps it'd be good for him. He'd made up his mind. He would start his trek to revisit the Blacktalon Battalion first thing in the morning.

The trek was long and arduous, but he had convinced himself it was a necessary pain in order to finally put the past behind him, and he'd insisted on going alone. He had to know- wanted to see- what had become of that terrible, bloodthirsty group he'd called a family for so long. He took the trek in unequal parts of walking and gliding on crosswinds, but his wings were never as strong as he would've liked, as the avians had never truly allowed him to fly alongside them. He'd been too scared to learn to fly on his own back then, so his wings were severely underdeveloped, and always suffered when he flew too much.

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A Rude Awakening

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Just as he was cresting an all-too-familiar hill towards the direction of the camp he once knew, the back of his head was met with a terrible THUD-! An ambush! His body crumpled with the sudden shock to the skull, and in his wavering vision, he saw the blacktalons descending around him with ropes and shackles. They stripped him of any tools and meals he'd brought along, and forced him into the camp as a prisoner. Everything was a bit blurry, and he realized his Talonfolk speech was very rusty. Compounded with the continuous ringing in his ears, he realized it was increasingly difficult to follow their snappy orders, and they continued to berate and tease him for his return. They picked and pecked at his pale tan hide and scorned him for being weak.
And then, from the chaos, a dragon appeared. Iano was hopeful filled with momentary delight, until he truly saw the scraggly dragon for what he was.

A severely scarred nocturne, adorned with the pelt of a felid beast, slunk forward with a sneer on his maw, "This is he? The one who fled?" he sniffed at Iano's pelt, jumping back in repulsion, "Pathetic! He is nothing." The blacktalon all cawed and jeered in agreement, but the nocturne gave a swift flash of his wing, "Silence! I will destroy this worthless beast, just as I promised, and renew him into nothing more than a fighting beast!" Iano had no idea what was truly going on here, but he didn't like the sound of it.

The birds yanked playfully at Iano's binds, excitedly awaiting orders. After a few heartbeats, the nocturne leapt at Iano, flashing his claws before he struck. Something glistened off the clawtips of the nocturne's gloves, just before they sank deep into Iano's flesh. A searing pain hit him like a ton of bricks. In waves it pulsed from the wounds, all the way from his maw, down his sides, shooting through his limbs, and finally to his paws. Had he been poisoned? Was this the end?

The pounding in his ears became unbearably loud, and he found there was nothing he could do but struggle instinctively against the binds, as the Talonfolk added more ropes to his limbs. Suddenly, as if a fire had been lit in his belly, he roared in retaliation, "I will NOT die here!" Iano reared up, but as he did so, the pain hit him again, harder this time, something seriously was going on. His paws hit the ground, but he felt his body morphing, changing, and the pain was unlike anything he'd ever felt. Before he'd had a chance to react beyond blind panic and being frozen in place from the sheer pain, he felt the binds being swapped around. It almost felt as if they were dressing him? He struggled to open his eyes through the pain, and caught one final glimpse of the nocturne before the Talonfolk bound his eyes with a cloth, and a helmet was placed upon his head. The armor he wore was heavy, tightly bound, and quite painful, and on top of the already terrible experience of whatever happened to his body, he felt himself finally collapse and pass out.

When he awoke, he realized he was still painfully bound, armored, and blindfolded. He leaned down to attempt to remove the helm, but quickly found he could do nothing about his predicament. His limbs were strangely disproportionate to what he expected, and nothing felt right. He could not reach the helm's binds. In fact, he couldn't reach much of anything. They had armored him in such a way, he could not undo his own armor. He was trapped. Suddenly, a weight landed on his back, and something tugged at his maw and helm. His head lurched to follow the pulling sensation, and in that snap of motion he realized what had happened: They'd pulled on reins. He was a battle mount.

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~To Be Continued~

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