#griffons!

[himluv]

DA Review Series: Last Flight

<<< Previous Review: DAI Short Stories

I've hit the stretch of the DA tie-in media list that's mostly graphic novels, so rate of review posts will hopefully pick up over the next few weeks.

Title: Last Flight Author: Liane Merciel Publication Year: 2014 In-World Year: ~9:42 Dragon and 5:12-24 Exalted Verdict: Look. I knew where this book was going before I ever opened it and before I saw any Veilguard footage. I've been around this fandom too long not to have been spoiled. That said, Isseya's story and Valya's discovery made me tear up. I really loved this book and think it's definitely worth picking up before Veilguard comes out. I hope we get to see some familiar faces.

Last Flight takes place in two timelines, the present (9:42 Dragon) and the past (5:12-24 Exalted). It tells the story of Grey Warden Isseya, an elf mage and sister of Warden Garahel, Hero of the Fourth Blight. Notably, this was the age griffons went extinct in Thedas.

In the present, another elf mage named Valya has journeyed to the safety of Weisshaupt in the wake of the Mage-Templar war. While there she finds Isseya's journal, which details the gruesome years of the Fourth Blight, how close they Wardens came to failing to destroy the Archdemon, and the true cost of their victory.

Isseya, who has been forgotten to time, was a Blood Mage. It was her desperate spell that allowed the griffons to undertake the Joining and become even more ferocious and formidable warriors against the Darkspawn.

It also consumed them all with a contagious version of the taint that drove the griffons mad. In her waning days, late in her Calling, Isseya was able to save the last clutch of griffon eggs and hide them away for a later generation of Wardens to find. After all she'd been through, all she'd been ordered to do, she didn't trust the Wardens of her time to act in the griffons' best interest.

Valya, after months of residing with the Wardens, but still not permitted to undertake the Joining, isn't sure the order is deserving of the griffons. But, against all hope, she leads a small group to Isseya's hiding spot. And thanks to the mage's powerful magic, the eggs are still there 400 years later. Safe and whole and ready to hatch.

Last Flight is the only Dragon Age novel written by a non-Bioware author. I think that actually made the story a bit more accessible. During Isseya's chapters I felt like the reader didn't need to know much about DA games to be invested in Isseya's story or the plight of the griffons. Valya's chapters were more subtle and my knowledge of Inquisition really helped understand the tensions happening across Thedas and within Weisshaupt Fortress.

Ultimately, I found Last Flight to be a really solid Dragon Age book, and even a decent fantasy novel. I was always going to like this one, because, well... Griffons! But now that we've seen a little bit of Veilguard and Davrin and Assan, I am SO EXCITED and glad I read this book!

[sayonaramidnight]

‘Does the story have griffons in it?’ 'Maker's mercy, it's like talking to a child!' ‘So does it have griffons in it or not?‘

[isabelaexplainsitall]

All In

"Hawke!!" I screamed, the words vanishing from my lips in a rush of wind and smoke.

She was gone. Icy jagged panic grasped my innards, just behind my belly, and squeezed.

"Hawke!!" I shrieked again, looking at the empty saddle behind me as if it were somehow an illusion and that if I looked hard enough, she'd reappear.

Feathers rumbled, snapping me out of it. He reoriented and suddenly dove, forcing me to look forward as we evaded a volley of blackened missiles from the assembled hurlock archers still left standing. Dead and dying darkspawn littered the landscape, some still smoking and burning from the massive explosion that had ripped through the air. As the panic subsided, the aching pain from the burns on my arms and legs returned. I ignored it.

"Come on, Hawke. Where are you?" I muttered to myself, tilting the saddlehorn to command the griffon to circle again. The remaining darkspawn prepared to loose another flight of bolts at us. Feathers saw it coming and I could feel his coiled muscles tense as he prepared to change direction again.

As I felt the familiar twist of aerial movement, I saw something move in my peripheral vision.

"Hawke?" I called, even though the wind swallowed my words as soon as I uttered them.

It was not Hawke. An enormous grey ogre lifted itself from the rubble of collapsed rock and lyrium. Chunks of glowing red crystalline mineral jutted out from the monstrous creature's back and arms, oddly reminiscent of the strange golem that I met with the Hero of Ferelden so many years ago. However, the ogre was no stone construct; black blood oozed and bubbled from the punctures in its skin and muscle. I stared out of horrified fascination. The lyrium shards were glowing, as if absorbing the darkspawn's blood from the menace. The monster's eyes began glowing red, and pink froth dribbled out of its mouth as it roared. It swung its mighty bleeding arms back and forth to free itself from the rubble, and then suddenly stopped.

The ogre sniffed the air, once, twice, then turned.

My heart dropped into my belly. I saw her - splayed out, one leg bent at an impossible angle, but beginning to shake off her daze. The ogre had smelled her, and was beginning to move in her direction. 

Shit. SHIT.

We had never tried to fight an ogre before. They were the only creatures large enough that would give Feathers pause, and previous encounters with the boulders that they could throw instilled a healthy respect for their kind in both mount and rider. In all of our brushes with death on the wing, the ogres were always the foes we had to mind the most.

"Think, Isabela. Think!" I commanded, frantically looking for something, anything, I could do.

Feathers screamed as he twisted in the air again, barely avoiding another set of bolts fired by the hurlock archers. As he contorted in the air, I saw it. The remnants of one of the large lyrium outcroppings, a single remaining spire of rock and crystal, stood upright just in front of Hawke along the ogre's path.

She had sat up and begun trying her best to delay the creature. The monstrosity lumbered toward her inexorably as she tried hurling magical ice, then fire at it. The magic seemed to melt right off the beast, absorbed by the glowing lyrium embedded in its flesh.

That spire was my only shot at this.

I muttered a silent prayer to Andraste, the Maker, the Elven gods, the void, and anyone else who might be listening, then a command to Feathers to bring me up alongside the outcropping.

I had to time it just right. 

I drew my blade and began cutting the leather straps that secured me to the saddle.

"Three... two... one..." I counted down, before hurling myself bodily off of the griffon and at the spire. For a brief moment, I felt weightless as I hurtled through the air like the clumsiest dark-skinned human missile in history. I struck the thin, jutting shard of lyrium with my shoulder full on, and I heard a crack.

The outcropping tilted, then gave way.. with me on it. I drew my second blade and tried to aim it as best I could as I fell directly onto the frothing ogre below.

White hot pain exploded behind my eyes as I drove the crude missile into the beast. I felt bones crack and flesh give way as I landed on those massive shoulders, and the pain in my arm reminded me that not all of the tearing or cracking sounds came from the darkspawn. I hit the earth and rolled to a stop, almost certainly picking up bruises and a cracked rib or two along the way. I struggled to rise, but could only manage to look up to see my handiwork.

In the distance, I could see a large, feathery shape shredding a group of humanoids with his mighty claws, but my eyes were fixed on the ogre itself, looming over the fallen Hawke. The enormous shard of lyrium had impaled the creature, entering from the top of its back and portruding out from just above its belly. More black blood oozed from the wound, trickling down the part jutting out of the creature. Time felt like it slowed to a crawl. The ogre began to raise its arms, balling its enormous hands into fists, preparing to give Hawke the killing blow.

I tried to yell, to scream, to do something, but my body refused to comply. I still struggled, refusing to let it end this way.

Thankfully, so did Hawke.

Seized upon some form of inspiration, she recited something and pointed. Not at the ogre itself, but at the enormous lyrium shard sticking out of the creature's chest. I suddenly recognized the spell - it was the same one she had used to detonate the large lyrium growths and collapse the tunnels.

Then the world went white.

I could vaguely feel things, but could not see. As the ringing in my ears from the roar of the explosion faded, I could hear strange noises. Wet, fleshy plopping noises, the sort you expect in a butcher shop. Something heavy and moist fell from the sky and landed on my back. I groped for it, still unable to see, and my fingers felt sticky, moist, and warm flesh. I blinked, but all I could see were vague shapes.

I thought I heard a voice, but I couldn't make out the words. I felt tired, though. So very tired... I wanted to rest, and the pain was beginning to fade from the rest of my body. I let them go, sank down to sleep. The last thing I remember was the feeling of enormous hands on my waist, and a yanking sensation. Then I knew nothing more.

When I awoke, I was in a small feather bed. My chest and belly were wrapped in bandages, and my left arm was splinted and tied, and the smell immediately gave my location away.

I was in the stables. Someone had dragged my bed to the stables. I opened my eyes and sat up. The first thing I noticed was Hawke, sleeping gently in a wooden chair with her head on her folded arms, leaning over onto my bed. Her left leg was also splinted and bandaged, and she looked like she was exhausted. The second thing I noticed was the enormous griffon that was coiled protectively around the other sides of the bed, rumbling softly as it snored.

In almost any other situation, I would have let her sleep. But I had to know what happened. I touched Hawke's cheek gently with my unbandaged hand and she stirred. As she cracked those ice-blue eyes open, a warm smile spread over her face.

"Good morning," she said, rising from the bed.

"What happened?" I asked, as I began to feel all of the various aches and pains from all over my body blend into a symphony of discomfort.

"Before or after you rode a shard of lyrium the size of a dwarf into an ogre?" she asked impishly.

"After," I chuckled, then groaned.

"It hurts when I anything," I complained.

"I detonated it," she replied matter-of-factly.

"Oh, is that all?" I asked.

"Well, there may have been some matter of exploded ogre chunks falling from the sky. And then a huge, smelly griffon may have come to save both of our hides from the remaining darkspawn and dragged us back to the citadel. And that same enormous, stinky creature may also have smashed through several doors and squeezed into areas that a griffon has no business entering in order to stay by your side while the healers worked on you," she said.

"Mm-hmm," I murmured, sinking back into the bed.

"But... I can say with some certainty that you've saved the day, Captain Isabela," she concluded, then kissed me tenderly on the lips.

"Hawke," I began after she broke the kiss.

"Yes?" she asked.

"It's Admiral now," I said as I drifted back to sleep.

Previous       Epilogue

[isabelaexplainsitall]

Gambler's Luck

I could feel Feathers' muscles rippling beneath my legs as he pumped his wings and carried us into the air like a shot from Bianca. I could feel Hawke press herself against my back as the now-familiar pressure of air began to buffet our bodies. The cloudless sky stretched out before us, an expanse of boundless blue that belied the certain danger we were about to face. For scant moments, we had only the sky and each other.

Normally, I'd have my eyes squinting in order to keep the air from irritating them, but Wallace and Erin had done good work - the glass goggles they had crafted for me successfully let me open my eyes at high speeds without discomfort or pain. There was the ongoing issue of fogging up occasionally, but it was significantly better than nothing.

Hawke tapped my shoulder from behind as we continued to climb.

The Champion of Kirkwall and interim Warden Commander looked adorable in her matching goggles. It had taken two additional practice flights with the goggles on before the brilliant tactician and fantastic lay had managed to open her eyes and view the battlefield, but she was never the sort to let anything stop her for long. I don't think she quite enjoys flying, but she does feel the excitement. One day, when there aren't huge numbers of vicious killers out for our blood, I'll take her up for fun.

I pulled on the saddlehorn and Feathers began banking toward the templar encampment. I gave the mighty griffon a quick squeeze with my legs to remind him of the danger, and he gave a low rumble in reply. He had already begun accumulating battle scars from the skirmishes with the darkspawn and the templars - cuts from arrows, piercings from spears, and even burns from bolts of arcane energy. He needed the battle experience, however - the old tales were full of skilled griffon riders controlling their mounts in aerial combat, but that sort of fine control was just beyond me. Feathers could turn his head in any direction like an owl, and the reaction time for me to direct and him to respond would always be significantly slower than him seeing danger and reacting appropriately. I learned early that letting him keep us alive was far more important than making him listen. There could be situations someday that might require him to go against his survival instinct, but I prayed it wouldn't be any time soon.

Feathers took it all in stride as the healers helped him through it each time. The magic had been effective, but many of the scars still remained. Despite the smell, he wasn't a stupid animal. He soon realized that the pain was temporary as long as he made it home, and his fighting spirit was stronger than most pirates I've sailed with.

We flew toward the first target, the cavernous opening nearest Weisshaupt into the deep roads. The red lyrium growths had grown from rock-like outcroppings to bulbous, pulsating mounds. The darkspawn were absent, probably underground to avoid the sun or out on the hunt, but it was the smaller of the two areas that Hawke had planned to close. A quick, low swoop was enough, and the largest of the lyrium deposits dangling over the entrance exploded in a burst of foul orange flame. Even flying in the air, we felt the tremors of the explosion as the stone began to collapse in on itself.

As we climbed away from the cave-in, Hawke tapped me again and pointed. I followed her extended finger to the site of the explosion. The earth around the area was burning, even the bare stone itself had somehow caught fire. Thick, oily smoke rose from the stones as inky black oozed from the cracks. Still, our job was done - the first of the two entrances to the deep roads had been sealed.

The second was teeming with darkspawn. It was, by far, the larger of the two openings - the original plan had been three lyrium charges underground, but two had been too close and had opened a single, enormous cavern to the darkspawn hordes. Hurlocks and genlocks swarmed like ants at the blackened barricades of the remaining red templars, and the exhausted defenders desperately tried to rally and push back the oncoming assailants. The darkspawn, we had discovered, still remembered the griffons somehow, and the instant we were spotted, a group of crossbow-wielding hurlocks took position under the command of a rotting emissary. As we approached, they loosed a volley of bolts.

Feathers was prepared and took evasive action, bobbing, weaving, and making it difficult to predict his flight path. We had dealt with the archers before - they were generally not quick enough to pick up on the right flight path, but even broken clocks are right twice a day. I tensed, expecting the emissary to begin slinging magical fire at us as they had done before, but it held back. Hawke gestured and I heard an explosion near the site. Enormous chunks of rock began to fall, but the only reaction from the darkspawn were those caught within the blast. Those nearby were pulled in by the collapsing rock, staining the burning rocks with their black blood as they were crushed as the jagged boulders came to rest. The entrance was nearly sealed, we only needed to attack the final lyrium deposits and it would be done.

It was then that the emissary released the magic it had been building. As if spilling out of a hidden giant's pocket in the sky, a mass of dark stormcloud billowed out of emptiness, bringing with it rain, lightning, and thunder. The emissary was quickly joined by a second and a third, each creature lifting its gnarled hands to the heavens to channel more of its power into the storm. The wind picked up and black, oily rain began to fall from the cloud bank, spattering everything in sight. It began to get on my skin, my clothes, Hawke and Feathers. Wherever it touched, the foul liquid leeched the heat right out of my body. The mighty griffon was getting the worst of it - it seemed to be pulling his energy right out. 

"JUST ONE MORE," bellowed Hawke from behind me, and I urged our brave mount on. He gave a steely rumble and pushed through the downpour toward the target. Feathers dodged another flight of crossbow bolts, followed by jagged bolts of arcane lightning as he approached the largest outcropping of lyrium. To his credit, he did not waver or show any fear; the mighty beast was firm in his resolve. Hawke placed one hand on the small of my back as we entered range, grasping onto my harness as she aimed and released the magic.

The resulting explosion was larger than anything we had anticipated. The lyrium detonated with the sound of ten thunderclaps, but it did not stop with just the rock. The earth shook as the cave collapsed in on itself, but the resulting rush of foul flame ignited the falling rain. Suddenly, the entire sky lit up like ten thousand suns as I was blinded by the sudden rush of light and heat from all sides.

White-hot pain exploded on my body from everywhere at once as I desperately clung to Feathers for dear life. I couldn't tell if we were falling or not - the entire world had gone topsy-turvy and I couldn't tell which way was up. I held on to the saddlehorns, gritting my teeth and trying to shake off the light-blindness. A moment later, the conflagration was gone and the clouds began to dissipate. Feathers managed to level out and stabilize, though the poor creature's breathing was ragged and felt weak between my knees. Had the emissaries been burned to cinders by the enormous fireball? I quickly tried to reorient, to take stock of what had just happened, but my goggles had fogged up and I could only see the small droplets of water distorting everything in my vision.

Even though every nerve in my body was screaming in pain, I bit down and pulled them off of my eyes. The rushing air immediately assaulted by eyes, but I paid it no attention. The entrance to the deep roads had been sealed.

"We did it!" I yelled at the top of my lungs, but something didn't feel right. The sense of familiar weight behind me was missing, and I had a horrible realization. I turned, looking behind me to see my worst fears confirmed.

Hawke's saddle was empty. She was nowhere to be seen.

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[isabelaexplainsitall]

Closing the Deal

I finished belting the leather straps to my corset harness, giving each a tug to make sure it was secure. The enormous griffin shifted beneath me, most likely feeling much like I did. While I was no longer a stranger to flight, each time I had gone up into the sky had filled me with equal parts anticipation and nerves. 

The sensation of flight was both thrilling and frightening. The feeling of the wind in my face and the raw speed rivaled that of the worst storm at sea, but it all hinged on the trust I had to put into the loyal yet still animalistic beast that I called Feathers. Each time I went up, I prayed that Feathers both remembered and obeyed the training and practice we had undertaken for the past weeks, both to communicate and to fight. Combat practice especially had been difficult - the mighty creature refused to fight the wardens and would only toy with them, so all of his battle training had been with the shrinking presence of the red templars, and the ever-increasing darkspawn numbers.

The battle between the lyrium-addled soldiers and the blight-infested darkspawn had been brutal. The darkspawn were relentless, bubbling up from the earth like insects and attacking at all times of day. The templars were disciplined and well-equipped, but for every darkspawn they slew another rose to take its place. The fighting had raged for days, with many of the templars finally succumbing to the exhaustion that did not touch the darkspawn. The red templars had withdrawn to a defensive perimeter, taking shifts to sleep and recover, but their numbers were diminishing and the lines were the verge of collapse.

The red lyrium outcroppings had swollen to enormous size, feeding and growing on all of the blood shed on the battlefield. The jutting mineral veins near the fallen darkspawn had turned a dull, pulsing crimson, while the lyrium near the dead and dying templars had adopted a crystalline structure that glowed like fire rubies. Deras, one of the surviving dwarven wardens, complained that he could faintly hear the corrupting song of the red lyrium from inside Weisshaupt. He said it was like a tune that he found himself subconsciously humming.

I reached down and clasped Hawke's outstretched hand. Her metal gauntlets felt cool against my palms, but her grip was as firm as ever as she slid onto the second saddle behind me.

"Today's the day," she said as she reached for her securing straps.

"You're sure you're up for this, sweet thing?" I asked as I gave Feathers a good scratch along his neck. The monstrous beastie softly warbled in response.

"If we wait any longer, there will be far too many darkspawn to control. We have to do it now, while there are still enough templars to thin out the remaining darkspawn."

I turned in my seat, leaning back to look at her. She had that look on her face, the one where her jaw was set and she was concentrating to keep every last tactical detail straight. It was the same look I had seen when she led us out from being trapped under a thousand tons of rock in the Vimmark mountains, and the same look when she single-handedly defeated the Arishok to save a certain undeserving pirate that I happen to know quite well.

I lowered my new goggles from my forehead to my eyes, leaned back, and kissed her. It was soft, gentle, and undemanding... something that left me feeling uncharacteristically sweet. Her eyes widened in surprise, and she looked at me.

"What was that for?" she asked, spots of color blooming on her cheeks.

"Luck," I replied, turning back into position and urging Feathers on.

I didn't have to look to know that the look of supreme concentration had returned, but that she also had a small smile on her face as we launched into the cloudless sky.

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[isabelaexplainsitall]

First Flight

I gave a happy, contented sigh and laid back against the pillow.

"Keep that up and I'll have to think about forgiving you," I said, stretching.

A creamy arm pulled its way out from under the covers and was quickly followed by a shaggy mop of dark hair. She quickly found the crook in my arm and got into a comfortable position, pressing her body to mine.

"And here I thought that my apology was quite heartfelt," she said.

"I certainly felt something," I said with a smirk.

"You promised to tell me what it was like," she replied, giving my waist a squeeze.

"I already told you. And Valya. And Erin, and Wallace, and all the others," I groaned.

"You told us what happened. I want to know what it was like."

I thought for a bit.

"Well, I'm fairly sure it was his first flight too," I said, recounting.

"It was windy... very windy. If I can ever get over that nausea-induced terror, I'll need a set of goggles or something."

"Not a helmet?"

I shook my head.

"I don't know how the old wardens did it, but I know I'll need that peripheral vision. Dodging arrows and mage fire is a lot easier when you can see it coming, sweet thing."

She squeezed again.

"Tell me," she said.

"I'll make it worth your while if you do," she added, kissing my shoulder.

"It's a rush," I said, recalling. 

"There's really no other way to describe it. One moment you're on the ground, and, suddenly, you feel like you've just started climbing the biggest wave on the ocean in the middle of a hurricane."

I closed my eyes, remembering the pull of the earth on each part of my body as Feathers took to the sky. I remembered the leather straps that anchored me to his body digging into my sides and back and the wind on my skin.

"It's the rapid changes, though. One moment it feels like you're the heaviest thing in the world as you ascend, and the next you feel absolutely weightless, like you're at the top of the wave. And then the beastie dives and everything goes to shit," I grumbled.

Hawke chuckled.

"They could hear you screaming all the way from the basements," she murmured.

"It's not funny!"

She shrugged.

"I would have thought that the great sailor and pirate would love the freedom that flying brings."

"It's different with a ship. I can control the ship - every little movement, from the speed to the turn, is under my control. But when I was in the air with Feathers, it was more just holding on for dear life. I'm not the one controlling him. I'm asking him to please not get us both killed."

"I've heard that griffons and their riders build a rapport, and work together as a team."

I snorted.

"He does seem to listen to you. He looked a bit contrite while you were scolding him after you landed."

"It isn't all bad," I conceded.

"Oh?"

"Aside from the saddle soreness, the chafing, the bitter cold, the wind in my eyes, and the feeling that I'd left my stomach behind on the ground... Once we got up there a bit and he remembered to take direction, there were a few moments it was almost... nice."

She looked at me expectantly.

"I got a chance to see the sky, to really see it up close. We got to play among the clouds and chase that horizon, however briefly. For a moment, I felt the freedom of being out on the sea again, and I missed that."

"I wish I could see it," she murmured into my shoulder.

"Don't worry, sweet thing. You will," I said, patting her on the head.

"What?"

"There's no way I'm going to be able to control Feathers and drop lyrium explosives on those red outcroppings," I said. "And there's no one else I trust who's smart enough to know which lyrium deposits to explode."

"But..." she began.

"And after last time, there's no way I'm letting you out of my sight if I can help it."

She sighed in defeat.

"I'm never going to live that down, am I?" she asked.

"Down is just where I like you," I said, lifting the blankets again.

She raised an eyebrow, but the smile never left her face as she ducked her head back beneath the covers.

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[isabelaexplainsitall]

Like riding a horse!

Day 1

I started my riding training today. We're mostly playing by ear, since we have no training equipment or knowledge, but the threat of impending doom is a fairly reasonable motivation.

Feathers likes me, but that didn't mean he was about to let me get on his back. He spent the entire first day in the courtyard thinking it was an elaborate game, nipping, nuzzling, and coiling around me. When I finally managed to get my legs over him, he just did a little shimmy-slither and the next thing I knew, I was ankles up and tits down in the dirt. A moment later, I had several hundred pounds of animal flesh pressing itself down on me.

You owe me so much for this, Hawke. If I really wanted to spend my time trying to wrangle an enormous, smelly, sweaty, wiggly animal, I'd have gone to the Blooming Rose.

Day 3

I must admit, I am feeling... somewhat better today. Feathers hasn't been that much more cooperative, but at least I've got Hawke to myself at night again. That does take the edge off, and it's a relief to know she's missed me as much if not more than I've missed her. Ass. Her ass, I mean. I missed her ass. Of course.

Valya and Wallace, along with Erin - Square-jaw Greeneyes - have managed to cobble together a saddle, or something like it. I think they must have repurposed an old leftover from the stables. Wallace nearly lost an eye when they tried to put it on... I had to be there, holding his head, keeping him calm, and petting the stinky beastie while they slipped the thing onto him. They didn't draw it tight enough, though. Sure enough, one little shimmy-slither and Feathers slipped right out of it. They managed to get it to stay on after the third attempt.

Griffons, unlike the tales, are really not like bears or lions. They're far more sinewy, and long. They've got extremely strong and sharp limbs, but their bodies aren't anywhere near as wide or solid as a horse's. Imagine the thickest, smelliest snake you can imagine, but with wings, legs, and a beak. 

Day 6

Placing the saddle in front of the wings is a terrible idea. I managed to get onto Feathers' back today, and he was so excited that he did a little hop, and I just went flying, landing tits-first on top of Hawke. Normally I wouldn't complain, but the speed and collapse of the landing has left bruises up and down my chest and belly. I've got a nasty welt on my left breast from Hawke's gorget. She'll pay for that tonight.

We managed to get Feathers calm enough to place the saddle behind his wings. Hopefully he'll get used to it soon.

Day 7

Have you ever seen a griffon try to scratch its back with a saddle tied about its middle? I think he's knocked over several wagons and a small house.

Day 10

I've managed to stay on his back for a good ten minutes today. Remember what I said about scratching his back on small buildings? That desire apparently applies while I am still on it.

Day 12

I've found a hole in Hawke's cunning plan. Saddle soreness must be a demon curse. The more Feathers becomes accustomed to my weight and presence, the longer I need to spend sitting on an affectionate and smelly beastie. I'm starting to get calluses in places that are typically only seen after buying me a drink first. Thankfully, my boots protect my legs from the worst of it, and Hawke is there in the evenings with a bucket of hot water and a sponge.

Day 15

We've run into another problem. There's no way that Feathers will accept or even use a bridle - his beak is strong enough to bite through ogre bones! That apparently extends to biting right through the steel bit that Erin has spent the past three days smithing. Valya has taken some of the other mages and begun researching griffon training methods. Thankfully, Feathers is also apparently quite intelligent. He's as smart as Hawke's mabari, and smells about as nice. I think I'm going to give him a bath.

Day 16

You know how some animals puff up when they get wet? Imagine that, but a horse-sized bird. Feathers did not take to the bath particularly well. That said, at least the smell has improved.

Day 18

I think we've finally done it. I'm able to give Feathers some basic commands via touch... a slight pull on the sides to indicate left or right, and gripping with the heels or the knees to indicate speeding up or down, and he mostly listens. I've managed to ride him around the entire stables on a circuit today. The wardens want to celebrate tonight. 

Hawke says that we'll try our first flight tomorrow. Erin and Wallace have constructed some sort of harness to attach me to the saddle to keep me from falling off. 

Shit, I am going to need more liquor for this.

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