Wrath Of The Beast

A Choice of Gryphons

"You're set to be a lousy hunter if you sleep all day." 

"Is that so?" Dragomir groaned as he lifted his hood. "Well maybe I should just be a professional sleeper, let you do all the hunting." 

"Aye, that'll be great. Dragomir the indolent! Greatest at taking the rest when he should be working." 

"Not now uncle. It's too early for that kind of talk." He grits his teeth, holding back simmering tired anger.

"Oh is it now? I assume it's also too early for breakfast as well." 

He tossed an obsidian apple onto the boy's stomach. The cart they were in shook and rattled, as they moved across the stones. As Dragomir bit into the apple, he could taste the sweet, almost honey-like flavor, with the waxy skin as an afterthought. He looked outside the window at the expansive forest, the sounds of birds chirping were intermingled with wyverns and drakes waking from the previous night's slumber, with the occasional distant roar. The deep greens and darkness were being pierced from above as if the Gods themselves were sending light down from above to form a beautiful picture just for him. As if. He appreciated the views but was too damn tired to think about them for long. 

"How much longer until we arrive?"

"What am I now, your steward? You should know. We're less than an hour away."

"In this thicket? I thought regulations said that the forest needed to be cleared away  from the castle walls?" He questioned 

" Someone probably got lazy, besides, this makes the journey more interesting. I've never seen this much rolling green." 

He looked at the old man across from him. His hair had gone, but his beard was white, skin dark as tree bark, but wrinkly as cowhide leather. His uncle hadn't been the most pleasant companion these few thousand kilometers, but he was a family in a strange land. He shared more resemblance with his grandmother, whereas Dragomir's father looked more like their father, with the golden hair and singular crimson eye. The sun was unkind to one's skin and aged the body up, as was clear with his uncle, who was only sixty, yet looked to be in his late seventh or early eighth decade. Thinking about it now he hopefully wouldn't have to deal with such an issue, living away from the Commonwealth. Here in the north, his skin wouldn't turn to leather as quickly, and he'd stick out, being an Asori was something of a difference in the Sunset Empire. A horn blared midst of his thought, and he stuck his head out the window. Dragonsbane. The castle's walls were fifty meters high, and navy blue with a three-meter moat dug around it. The defenses were state of the art with ballistae, machicolations, and arrow slits. All upon a gradual hill which was cleared in all directions of trees and used as farmland. The castle walls had to have encompassed an area equal to about two or three kilometers. Its main keep was, as was the rest of the castle, Militant. On it was some form of a trebuchet, and artillery launchers. Not to mention its size, it was a grand beast in its own right. The coin this castle took to build alone had to have been tremendous. 

As the caravan pulled over the bridge to the castle, each of the three wagons was stopped and inspected within the gatehouse before being allowed to enter the first bailey-courtyard. When Dragomir and his wagon were inspected he could see the men on the walls, holding their bows and stones ready for anyone to try something stupid. He stepped out and without a word, was searched and provided their papers to the Castelan. After a few moments, he was given leave to enter the castle. 

Inside the walls, the other two wagons were escorted through another of the gatehouses, he remembered seeing one carrying barrels of blasting powder, and other base supplies. The other was boarded up and quiet. A small creature landed on the final wagon as it was hauled inside. It had a beak, colorful feathers, and most noticeable, fur. It was a mummer's Gryphon, a cat-sized beast that he knew as a nuisance back home. They always stole their fish catches. When he turned he saw the other thirty-five people who'd make up his class. Of note, a girl, dark-haired and shorter than himself, arm wrestling with a red-haired brawny Aranan. He'd heard the tales of the man's people. Raiding and pillaging along the coasts and northern territories of the Commonwealth. His family lived on the interior border and had never even seen one of the Sunset Raiders, as they were called. Keeping an open mind, and a watchful eye, he'd be cautious around that one.