Dragon Racing & Riddles (Faenrovon)

[Yasha Cadera]

It's time to get to know the Dragon. After the events which led to my election to the High Council, and the aftermath of events I need to make roots here. To be comfortable, and have a collection of understanding for the rest of the Council. Who do I come across first? @[member="Faenrovon The Radiant"]. That's right, I wanna get to know what makes a dragon tick. I'm in my Naboo Lifter today, a ship probably smaller than the dragon himself. Maybe the same size. Little more than a shuttle, it fits a pilot, copilot and five passengers. That's it. Painted bright yellow, it's flowing design hails from my home world and it's been my only mode of transport and my only home since I was twelve. I veer around the haunts of Faenrovon, scanning for the creature with my diagnostics systems and my mental acuity in the Force.

"Faenrovon, hey buddy, where are you? Got some time? I want to get to know you, care for a race?"

I'm zeroing in, flying low and calm, there being no weapons on the Lifter. "I know a good place for a snack."

 

[Isar du Vain]

Finding where Faenrovon the Radiant made his abode was not a hard task. The ground rumbled and then the Denizen rose into the skies, white wings unfurled. The 68 foot long, four ton dragon came level with the Naboo Lifter. Wing span alone made him seem impressively... huge. Fire snorted from his nostrils and an enormous yellow eye stared into the cockpit with a paralyzing gaze.

Faenrovon recognized the searching voice more by its aura than timbre; a presence that seemed to reverberate the tune of his heart back at him. But the soul of this young fleshling could not hope to understand the foreign and complex heartstrings of a 2,620 year old Dragon. Or so Faenrovon believed.

"Race? Victory makes me hungry, fleshling." Hissing laughter rumbled from the beast. "But no, you would make a poor morsel, mortal. Show me your snacks."

@[member="Anders Sivas"]

 

[Yasha Cadera]

"I am stringy and tasteless. Little more than a toothpick and I'd probably suck at that, too. Ooohohohoh, how hungry does defeat make you, eh? You never know! I might win! There's a slim but unlikely chance." That dragon is the largest heebie-jeebies I've seen in my entire life. There're fairy stories on Naboo about the sea monsters in the Gungan oceans, vast tracks of beasts tunnelled into our planet's watery core. I never believed those stories until the white wings of @[member="Faenrovon The Radiant"] unfurl before me. I believe in radiance now, it's before me and already I can tell this is going to be a fantastic day.

"Well, I brought a bag lunch, but yours is fresh! Let's go get it. Catch up if you can and by if you can I mean let's have fun eh? Dragons have that, right? Amusement? Teach me more about you." The offer's genuine. Veering from my haphazard heart, taking on a day of scaly fun felt like the right way to get on, and maybe by the end of it I'll understand the Omnomnomnivore a fair bit better. In so being, my mind and heart are open, for there is no clarity but an honest rapport both ways, and should the dragon wonder about the mutability of my brain, of the lack of common mental pattern, I'll be an open book.

Understanding is like spice. Food's dull without it…. gee hokey, that was a bad line. I've got to edit my brain better. I hit the accelerator and dip below the dragon, going straight for the open sky. Once I'm beyond his body, I barrel roll upward and set my yoke for a twisting, deep canyon of earth a few clicks off.

 

[Isar du Vain]

"It is hard to teach, when there is so much to learn, fleshling," rumbled Faenrovon, before curling his wings and diving through the clouds.

His massive white form shrieked toward the ground, wind whipping across his scales, before he unfurled his wings. They snapped open, the full weight of the air beneath and all around. He poofed through a cloud. Moisture clung to his body and dripped along his scales. Higher up his wings could not find purchase in the thin air. That would slow him. Here the air was thick and the currents powerful. He glided, relishing in the feel of the wind beneath his wings. Then he flapped his wings with atramentous strength and began a furious pursuit of the humming iron-flyer.

@[member="Anders Sivas"]

 

[Yasha Cadera]

"Gotta start at the beginning, hear it's the place." @[member="Faenrovon The Radiant"] is off and I yank the yoke hard left as the downwash of his fantastically powerful wings. It's either that or my little ship gets shoved into the ground by the ghastly shift in pressure. Watching the dragon veer through the cloud cover is a thing of beauty. An expression of particle manipulation physics and the status change of vapour to liquid sparkling across his scales is a piece of art, worth every second of lifespan to see. Wonder what it feels like, to feel a cloud pass over one's skin? The thoughts linger and I slam forward on the yoke, hitting off a mad pace toward the mountain ridge to our geographical North.

This low to the ground, my tiny ship is hitting pockets of shifting weather and gasses, I shove upward and hit the air above Faenrovon but not too far up as to not be seen. Weaving toward the mountains, I roll into first chasm and punch forward, letting out a yell of pure joy. "Woooooohooooo!! Nothing better than the freedom of flying, eh!?"

Ahead of us, past the mountain range and crevasses is a fertile and epic valley.

 

[Isar du Vain]

The iron-flyer passed quickly through the air. The white dragon growled, wing muscles strained to keep up with the mortal craft. A spark of annoyance kindled the embers of his hatred toward humanoids. They had such short lifespans, but built things of metal that did things even he could not. To know that at the height of his power he was only as strong as the weakest of their craft... Liquid fire rolled through his belly. Black smoke billowed from his mouth in thin tendrils.

Faenrovon dived into the chasm after @[member="Anders Sivas"]. Mentally, he grunted noncommittally in response to the fleshling's words. The mortal was trapped inside metal and wires. He did not know what it was to part the rain with his speed and feel it peel off his scales; to feel the roar of the wind as he cut it with his wings. Yet, to the hatchling it must feel like freedom from the ground, for he had no wings. The canyon walls rose to either side of Faenrovon and it felt as if he could simply stretch his wingtips out and touch the rocks. Then they burst forth and onto a stretch of snow-speckled mountains. Claws skimmed just above the ground. Faenrovon soared upward suddenly and unleashed a roar that sent the mountains trembling.

Even still, his wounded pridel ached as he looked up to glimpse the mortal flying circles around him. His kind could never have survived out here in the galaxy, when short-lives filled with brutal violence could wield such power.