Altum

LORE

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Illukas inhaled, savoring the flavor of the sea on his tongue. The guardian leaned down to softly tug on the thick twine of his nets, and felt the waves, warmed by the quietly rising sun, lap against his talons. The ocean was quiet this morning, though he'd become accustomed to the silence since his god vanished, as discomforting as it was. But otherwise, it was a gorgeous dawn, and there was no reason to tarnish it with the memory. Luko wouldn't appreciate him picking open old wounds.
A sudden splash broke the serene quiet, and without needing to look up, Illukas knew who it was. "Speak of the devil," he chuckled under his breath. He had long gotten used to his charge's independence, and it no longer bothered him as much. The guardian understood- he, too, preferred to spend much of his time alone. However, when the maren's cheerful greeting didn't immediately reach his ears, he found himself glancing up from where the sound had originated. "Luko?" he asked, craning his neck. A webbed hand broke the surface, splashing about wildly, before the familiar face of his charge appeared through the waves.
"Ilu!" Luko shouted. "Come- there's something-" Alarm and fear shot through him, and he was about to shout back when he saw something large- too large for him to properly hold- cradled in the struggling maren's arms. A bedraggled, soaked, furred lump. It wasn't moving.
Illukas immediately threw himself into the water, waves surging up around him. He quickly reached Luko and took the bundle- tiny compared to his bulk- into his arms. Small claws and a dull muzzle bumped listlessly against his talons. He couldn't tell what it was, but the stunted wings immediately brought one thing to mind- "Hatchling," his charge gasped, finally free of the heavy bundle. "I didn't- I don't know what to do, it's not breathing, it might not be-"
"Alive," he murmured, pressing his forehead and the bright emblem against the chest of the hatchling. Something weakly pulsed against the magic hovering above his skull. He desperately curled the bundle into his claws. "He needs to get to the outpost."

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Morning in the outposts were always fast-paced- couriers organizing their packages, mercenaries and escorts preparing for their journeys, the scents of food and drink wafting from merchant stands and dens. The forges were just beginning to start up work, and all Dairon wanted was a good meal before getting to work.
She shuffled her broad talons on the stone circle with a yawn, the delicious scent of roasted goat floating tantalizingly in the air. The grey guardian huffed out smoke with an impatient sigh and wrapped her tail around her hind talons. The vendor handed a chunk of meat to the dragon in front of her, exchanging a few gold coins before they walked away. The forgemaster let herself grin in anticipation as she stepped up to the stall. Before she could say anything, shouts of surprise broke out behind her, and she turned, startled.
A sandy-colored guardian hurtled into the courtyard, chest heaving as he panted. Something dark blue and sopping wet was clutched against his chest. His expression, normally solemn and composed, was almost frantic. "Illukas?" she called, bewildered. Not only did he rarely show up, only ever to bring in the fish that he'd caught each week, but he hardly even spoke to others, much less leave the stream he swam up on. The two had only spoken a few times, but he'd seemed independent and quiet, never shaken or surprised in the slightest.
He stumbled, though gripped the bundle even more carefully. "It needs help," he responded, breathless, and she rushed to his side. Dairon pulled the bedraggled mess of fur from his claws and drew in a sharp, horrified breath as she recognized its shape. Composing herself, she nodded wordlessly to him.
"Come."
Tynith hummed as he set aside his heavy tools, scratching at the close-shorn fur on his neck. Somewhere above him, Vesta hummed along to a similar tune, and he chuckled as the bogsneak sorted delicately through her jewelry pliers and golden wire. Before he could light up the forge embers, the thud of the door crashing open startled him, making him drop the tools. An exhausted, pale guardian- who he could only guess was Illukas- and the Forgemaster, carrying a small, wet bundle. He leapt to his feet, but Dairon interrupted him before he could speak. "Vesta!" she shouted. "Get Zessi, tell her it's an emergency. Tynith, help me keep him warm." The bogsneak, startled, quickly rushed off as Tynith jumped to the guardian's side. He hastily inspected the bundle handed to him, heart racing, as the vents roared to life along her sides. It looked too much like a tundra hatchling... too much like his siblings.
She tugged the bundle back as Illukas watched anxiously, the fur beginning to dry and soften as it neared the intense heat radiating from her armor. A few seconds later, the black-and-gold bogsneak rushed back into the forge with the purple coatl right behind her. Zessi quickly inspected the freshly dry bundle, eyes narrowing as she pulled herbs from her satchel and began humming, cyan runes floating around her talons. "Did you remove the water from his chest?" she demanded without turning away from her work. Illukas nodded in response, and she hummed thoughtfully.
A few seconds later, light flashed from her talons, and the bundle heaved suddenly, air drawing quickly- as if forced- into its lungs. Dairon sighed in relief, and Zessi nodded, seemingly satisfied. "You made sure to get him dry as quick as possible, no?" she queried, and the two guardians nodded. "Good. He was almost dead. Keep him warm." Using one small talon, she brushed some of the fur away from his muzzle, and withdrew suddenly, shocked. Curious, Tynith leaned in, but Zessi pushed him away fervently. "Get the Stormseer," she muttered. "Now."
Disappointed, he began to step out the door, but threw one last glance towards the bundle as Illukas remained his composure, only to hear Dairon let out a shocked gasp. He attempted to lean back to get a better look, and immediately regretted it.
That was no tundra.

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A young beast raised among modern dragonkind by a kind young blacksmith trying his best to figure out how to be a dad to a creature nobody could identify or even understand. Despite the relative civilization he was raised in, the instincts of his kind were strong, and strange- discarding decorations, clothing, or any sort of attachment to material possessions, though he had an extremely strong desire for companionship and a strong pack mentality, almost sheepdog-like in his overprotective nature and habitual herding of his smaller clanmates. He was shy, yet always eager to help, and often simply ran errands for those staying in the Outpost- carrying heavy objects, hunting for them, watching over their homes and possessions whenever they left.
But he was always lonely. The only two dragons like him weren't him- too small, too-big wings, too soft and forgetful. He could remember nothing before being rescued from the ocean- no memories of parents, of homelands, of anything beyond the Outpost.
Until somebody brought a huntress home.

aka my poor boy discovers that there are others like him and is very excited!! but she is very unimpressed. he proceeds to spend almost all of his time trying to befriend her and get her to open up. it takes a while, predictably