Ballad

From the peak of the mountain, scarlet trailed downwards, staining the snow with the colour of death. the wind of the Cloudscrape Crags whipped through Ballad as ice pelted his thick scales. He stared down at the light draining from the eyes of his companion and his claws tightened around the white and gold dragon's throat. His gleaming, white irises were full of shock and newfound disdain. A guttural cough from the back of his throat and he was dead. Under his talons, the warmth of the dragon faded quickly. For a moment, Ballad's heart twisted and anguish echoed through his bones and then, it was gone, suppressed and locked away in a place he would never open. Through the howling white of the storm, he envisioned the empty white tundra below, hiding dragons beneath their secret hollows and havens. Ballad could hear wings disappearing into the whirling flurries of ice and wondered if he had done the right thing.

The dragon whom had escaped was deadly. A shadow dragon intent on chaos, a dragon with a fair price over her head and crime weighing down her shoulders. Ballad had let her go. He had been ready to annihilate her evils, to kill what remained of a dragon in her and yet he had not. It had not been trickery or foolery as the flight of shadow was known to be; his kind did not fall for that, trained against it among other things. He descended from a line of great warriors, a tribe of honour and trained fighting. They were respected and strong. Ballad was a warrior himself and a very well esteemed one. No, it was not that. She had told him a story.

Afterwards, she had painfully offered herself forwards, honourably, Ballad had thought, but he released her for the elements to decide her fate. He stared down at his claws again, reminding himself of the corpse underneath his feet. He shouldered the noble imperial onto his back, muscles rippling and flew through the storm to the pinprick of light shining at the summit of the highest mountain. The storm ripped around him but it did not affect him for the storms were no challenge to the Warriors of Kori.


Ballad's brother was dead. The silent whispers of the tribe filled Ballad's ears. It was frowned upon to murmur secretly among groups so the dragons refrained from uttering their judgement out loud but he could hear them anyways from the way they glanced at him to their hastened pace. They knew what he had done. There was no hiding from Kori the deeds of dragons. Ballad did not lower his head in shame. It was not the way of the tribe. Whatever the chieftain had to say, he would take it with honour and dignity.

He had defiled the Code of Honour. He still could not fully comprehend what the scarlet snow beneath his claws had meant. He had murdered his brother. He had murdered an honourable dragon who was noble and pure. He had murdered a pure dragon. It was not the way of the tribe, nor should be of any dragon. It had been the only way to secure the shadow dragon in a hopeful safety but it did not cease her lethality. He entered the chieftain's cove, slumping Barado, his brother onto the rock floor in front of his chieftain. A trail of blood smeared the ground, his claws crimson. Judgement would come.


Everything he had ever known was gone. His brother. His tribe. His snow and storms. His honour and reputation. Even his dreams and aspirations. Everything that he called home. Everything that he called to recognize. All that remained were the carefully honed skills of a trained warrior and those came in no use apart from the art of survival. Without a code to follow, intellect and reason within the definition of morality, without a direction, his skills were useless.

The air felt warm against his skin, the sun scorching his heavy scales. He had become accustomed to the raw storms of the Cloudscrape Crags and the biting cold of the Southern Ice Field so the humid air of the remainder of Sornieth remained empty and still, lifeless even. The constant howl of wind and pelting of ice was replaced by a kind of silence, as if the earth was holding its breath.

In response to breaking the code of honour, the chieftain had been furious. Ballad knew the thoughts of every dragon were of disbelief and muted horror. He banked forwards into the swirling drifts of the Windswept Plateau, pondering the previous events in his mind. His brother's lifeless eyes had stared at him throughout the conversation but he would not let guilt take him. Every title and ounce of respect had been revoked and Ballad was forced to leave. The Tribe of Kori was everything to Ballad and it had been ripped away from him. He was his own dragon now with nothing left to lose and no where to go.
"Thank you. You have defended this clan so strongly and yet you barely know us at all. You are an honourable dragon."

"Do not call me that." Ballad dipped his head towards the seafoam guardian in front of him. She looked taken aback for a moment.

"But you put your life in front of our own! You chased away the two dragons who are sure not to return. Learn to take a compliment! I cannot thank you enough!" The dragon exclaimed, shifting from talon to talon. A dark blue guardian with navy stripes nodded in agreement beside her.

"I accept your praise but I am no honourable dragon. Do not speak of that word to me, ever."

"But, you are honourable! You--"

"No." Silence followed and the dark blue dragon nudged the female guardian.

"I'm sorry." She said quietly, clearly confused but the matter was over and Ballad allowed her to continue, knowing that was as satisfied as he could get, "Anyways, would you, ahem, want to, perhaps, stay with us for a little longer? If it causes you trouble do not worry about it but as a thank you, we would love to feast in your ho-- victory." She finished awkwardly, turning to the dragon beside her who shrugged complacently.

"Ballad."

"What?"

"My name is Ballad. I shall stay for an amount of time."

"Great! That's wonderful!" The seafoam guardian brightened up.

"Riptide. My mate's name is Auklet. Welcome to... our haven." The dark blue dragon spoke for the first time. Ballad nodded. Perhaps he would stay here for a while.
"Okay, okay, I think I've got it this time." A young dragon flipped a spear in her front claws, the dull green of her skin blending into the foliage behind her. She thrusted herself forwards, running forwards agilely on her strong back legs. She lifted herself off the ground, hickory wings beating hard, before diving into the shallow water and returning spinning in a graceful circle with the spear flying lethally in all directions. She landed on her feet, balancing herself perfectly before turning back towards Ballad.

"How was that?" She asked anxiously, fiddling the spear between her two front claws.

"Fairly good, we can work on your agility tomorrow, Aster." He rumbled in reply, setting her spear down carefully as she fidgeted.

"Really?" Aster's eyes widened.

"You're getting quite good actually."

"You know so much about fighting! Where did you get all of it? You're so good at it and graceful and strong, just look at you! Razor sharp senses... I want to be like that someday. Good practice is what it takes!"

"And nobility." Ballad replied idly.

"What?"

"Nothing." He said, realizing he had quoted the Code of Kori.

"Oh, come on. I mean, I know you trained in the mountains. You were a great warrior! You've mentioned vague things about it between conversations and training sessions and whatnot. That's all that everybody knows but... why did you come here?" Aster ventured out. She searched his eyes, knowing he'd refuse to reveal anything but something was always there in the back of his mind. She could see the thoughts haunting him that he preferred to ignore.

"I did something terrible, Aster. I can't go back. You may think that I'm honorable, but I am not. If you knew what I did, you would lose all respect for me too. Perhaps you wouldn't, perhaps you'd simply look at me differently, but in the eyes of my tribe, my home, I am nothing. I am the dirt beneath your claws, scum of the earth."

"No." She said fiercly, "You say you aren't honourable, and maybe you're not, not in your terms anyways, but you are honest and loyal and always try your very best no matter who someone is or what they've done and if that's not honourable, I don't know what is." She said firmly, "the past is the past. You can't change it but you can change yourself. 'Honourable' means something different for you than everybody else." Se continued before Ballad could interrupt.

"Aster. I murdered a dragon. An innocent dragon. My..." He hesitated for a moment, "my own brother." He let the shock pass over her face. it had occurred to him that if he was to take this position with the dignity he had promised himself he had to be truthful. He couldn't pretend he was a good dragon. Aster knew him best and he couldn't lie to her. Not any longer.

"On... on purpose?" She asked.

"Yes. I... I let a murderer go free. In place, I killed my own brother." His voice returned to a deep rumble. This new home he had created could not be home without the truth.

"But you're still a good dragon." Aster told him, looking back up into his eyes and suddenly understanding the flicker of doubt and suffering she occasionally saw.

"My mother told me that some scars never fade. It's not until you learn that, while they're still a part of who you are, the scars themselves don't matter. They don't hurt you anymore and your old self is just a mark on your skin. If it heals right, all it does is make you stronger. It may have been painful then but that doesn't mean that you still have to be in pain today. It doesn't mean you still have to be hurt by something that you no longer are." She quoted, gazing into the distance as she remembered her mother's words, "I guess that scar is pretty big, it tore apart your honour. It's still healing but you've only become stronger and it shouldn't bother you. Not anymore. Not when it's just something from the past and a mark on your skin."

"Wow, when did you get so wise?" Ballad joked, swiping at her head. She ducked, ready for his move, "I see your training has paid off for something." He paused, sighing, "Thanks."

"For what?"

"For your spiel." He answered, staring at something beyond the air around him.

"Aw, it was nothing." Aster scuffed the ground with her back feet.

"No, it really was something." Ballad said, "I guess I really underestimated you."

"Is that a compliment or...?" Aster trailed off, looking at him suspiciously.

"It was a, thank you for your words." Ballad answered. He thought of the Warriors of Kori. He ached to return to the snowy landscapes and stormy rocks, other warriors living in harmony together. Perhaps, it was time he let go of his home. Perhaps, it was time to forge a new home. he stared around at the sandy banks and limestone walls of Tsunami Flats. Home, he thought. The clan was young and new and the land was old. It was a new culture but perhaps he could get used to it. Perhaps it was time to leave his scars behind. Aster needed training and other dragons might want to learn these abilities as well. He turned back to Aster, who had begun rehearsing her movement once again. The Ballad his name carried would be one of old traditions and new cultures, the mourning was over, it was time to start anew.
Ballad now serves as a warrior within the clan. He trains those who wish to learn to fight. He is respected by many in the clan, though they don't say so due to his touchiness on the subject, and, because of his little speech to those within the clan (he is not known for his charismatic small talk), many dragons are often intimidated by his large figure. Hatchlings and young dragons look up to him as their own role model.

No one is able to get in the way of his fighting, being tried and trained by the Warriors of Kori, who are but a myth of a tribe living high in the mountains of the Cloudscrape Crags. Primarily, he uses a built up strength and the shifting of weight within his tactics of battle but he knows how to use agility to his advantage if is so needed and is excellent at finding the strengths of other dragons in their own battle techniques.

He is still haunted about the night, and is constantly doubting himself about whether he made the right decision or not between his grief and morality but finds it dishonourable and undignified to show this side of himself so he presents a strong and independent character that inspires self-confidence in other dragons. At the same time though, he is happy to be in the clan and realizes that this is home now, and has made the decision that it will be his place of loyalty until his life has been lay down in full.

~Lore Written by HauntedWhale (#259516)