@demonicsoull Ayo how do we feel about a Mel AU. As a treat.
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Avians have always been a war-inclined species. It is their flesh, their blood, their glory. They fight with spears and the ferocity of a thousand summer suns. Their only goal was complete proof of strength - the want to show that they were the only ones worthy of sentience.
And after centuries of massacring every civilization but their own, they had finally grown quiet.
Then the humans came. They mingled. For once, the avians did not attack the strange species from strange lands. "Look," said the avians, who pointed to their most trusted General. "we have wingless Kin, too. You are like us." and a hesitant peace came between them.
The humans were not to kill avians, and vice versa.
The longer the peace lasted, the more species came to settle in the avian's hills. The elders were, to put the matter lightly, unimpressed. It was not the avians' way to allow such connection. What had come of their Kin? Their pride? Their very reason for existence? The elders pushed for a War - one much like the olden days, where bloodshed became the only triumph and heads were counted as trophies in the thousands.
And the greatest General the avians had entrusted - the very General who was faster, sleeker, who trained longer than any young solider - the General who lacked the very essence of an avian: their wings - this General said the very thing no avian warrior had in a millenia.
Mel stood before the council of his Kin and put down his spear with a heavy thud. "No."
"But- but they've taken over! The youngest among us attend trainings with these wingless bipeds, does the idea not disgrace you?" one of the elders shrieked, their rumpled wings beating against open air. Murmurs of agreement came from the council. The younger watchers in the trees above were silent.
Mel scowled at the elder. "You forget who you are talking to," he said dryly, "am I a disgrace for being without wings?"
Quiet murmurs met his ears, but no one argued. They couldn't.
He took a breath and kicked his spear to the side. It skittered across the wooden stage and fell still at the edge. "My rank is worthless without wartime. A General only serves to lead their troop into battle, and I refuse to do so."
"Unless the council strips me of my role and replaces me, we will not discuss this matter again."
