#trt gaboon

[the-ringalan-tribes]

2000 years ago...

“So that’s settled, then.” Gaboon grumbled, looking around the circle at the NightWing messengers. “One hybrid goes insane, and the rest of us suffer.”

“Easy for you to say. He forced his father to disembowel himself.” Stareater, the larger of the two NightWings said. “You weren’t there.”

“Of course he wasn’t,” a seemingly disembodied voice said. Gaboon shuddered as a rush of heat hit his scales, and then Outcast seemed to pop into existence. How she kept doing that, Gaboon wasn’t sure- she wasn’t even part RainWing. “He was here, in hiding. Like the rest of us hybrids you want to wipe out.” She paused, glowering fiercely at the NightWings. “I offered him and his sister support. They both declined for tribe loyalty- him on her behalf, really. You’re doing a great job of convincing us we should die, by the way. Very charming.”

The other Nightwing, Patience, glared back. “Darkstalker has left us with no choice. He was thrice-moon born, and proved to be evil, acting on his own to rule the continent. You, you’re thrice-moon born, out here with a whole army of hybrids-“

“With scales that will burn you to ashes.” Outcast piped up. “Though I’m sure you’ll note that my hybrids are less than a satisfactory adversary for you high and mighty NightWings. They were ostracized, or threatened with death for existing. I took them in.”

“You’re conspiring. You and all of your hybrids are to disband, or be killed.” Stareater said, puffing out his chest. “You’ll go to whichever tribe has the lightest punishment for your treason- For you, Outcast, I suggest you come to us NightWings. We’ll at least look past the firescales when we sentence you to death.” He glanced past her at Gaboon. “You, the RainWings may be better.”

Gaboon shivered, despite the heat rolling off of Outcast’s scales.

Outcast snarled at the NightWings. “Absolutely not. Now get out, before I burn both of your snouts off.”

Patience stiffened. “You’re threatening NightWing ambassadors, you know. That’s a good way to start a war.”

Outcast inched forward, forcing the NightWings back. “Bring your armies then. Have fun scaring the scales off of the IceWings.”

Gaboon gasped. “Outcast, you can’t-“

She turned to him, leveling a glare that made him want to burst into flames. “Gaboon, ready a scroll, and go get Delta. I feel a headache coming on.” Then she turned to the dragons before them. “Go on, leave.”

“You’ll be sorry, Outcast.” Patience said.

“We’ll see.” Outcast muttered, slinking back into her tent. 

The NightWings huffed and flew away. Gaboon thought about following them, but then remembered that ‘I have a headache’ was Outcast-code for ‘I’m about to spout a prophecy, get ready’. Gaboon ran off to find his blank scribe scroll, wondering the whole way what Outcast had planned. She full-well knew what the NightWings had planned; after all, she was a mind-reader. The perks of being born under three moons, presumably.

Delta glanced up when Gaboon poked his head into her tent. He didn’t have to say anything- the mute MudWing-SeaWing was always called when Outcast had a prophecy to deliver. Part of her prophecy process was to grab the nearest dragon’s talons, with disastrous consequences if the nearest dragon didn’t have fireproof scales. Gaboon himself had burn scars around his wrists where she’d briefly grabbed him to warn him that their last camp in the mountains would be destroyed by a landslide.

Outcast was at the back of her tent when Gaboon returned, sitting stiffly with her back to him. Gaboon sat off to the side, and Delta positioned herself in front of her. “Whenever you’re ready.” Gaboon said softly.

Outcast turned, her normally clear blue eyes having gone white with power. She took Delta’s wrists in her talons, the heat of her scales intensifying.

“Dragon of ice and dragon of night,

Stalker of darkness entombed from the light,

A terrible fear, a horrible sight,

Of dragons of two wings tonight.

Of talons of power and fire and ice,

Of venom or paying a terrible price,

Of two-winged dragons torn out of two homes,

Abandoned in darkness and flying alone,

Follow your wingbeats, follow your heart,

A scrap of a torn wing creates a new start,

A powerful castaway saved from the dark,

And armies of night have lost their mark.

Of night sky and fire, hope lifts up in flight,

For every lost wing tonight.”

Her words hung heavy in the air for a moment, and then she let go of Delta and placed her talons on the ground. “I think that’s the longest prophecy I’ve ever spoken.” She said, standing and turning to pace. “The real question is, how do I get fifty dragons mobile in five minutes?” She glanced at Delta. “Yes, Delta, you may start rounding them up.”

Delta nodded and left, her deep blue-green scales shimmering in the moonlight outside.

Gaboon squinted at the prophecy, writing small annotations on the margins. That first part, it definitely meant hybrids were being looked down on due to Darkstalker, even if he was dead now… the wording didn’t feel permanent, though. “Care to share what you saw, or am I to sit here and speculate for eternity?”

Outcast flicked her tail at him. “No, that last one isn’t right.”

Gaboon scratched out a line between ’stalker of darkness entombed from the light’ and ‘a powerful castaway saved from the dark’, and the accompanying speculation: ‘Darkstalker comes back and saves us?’

Outcast lifted her head up, looking southeast. “That way. There’s an island that’s absolutely perfect for us, far enough away that the NightWings won’t be able to follow. It’s closer an entirely new continent, than Pyrrhia. Oh, the dragons!” Outcast gasped. “They’ll protect us, Gaboon!”

Gaboon jotted this down in the margins. “‘A powerful castaway saved from the dark’?”

Outcast stopped pacing, her wings drooping. “That, I’m a little fuzzy on. We’ll get there eventually, though!”

“Hmm…” Gaboon said. This was a lot to process at once. “Okay, so, we’re going to fly out to a new continent and set up camp on one of their islands?

“Exactly!” Outcast exclaimed.

“I’ll gather the others.” Gaboon said, tucking the prophecy scroll between his wing and his shoulder.

“Please do.” Outcast said. “Tell them to bring only the important things. We have a few days of flight ahead of us and can’t be weighed down by the unimportant. Leave the tents, bring the scrolls…” Outcast started, curling her claws. “If the NightWings are investigating here, that gives us a head start.”

“On it, your majesty.” Gaboon said.

“I told you, don’t call me that.” She said, absentmindedly scratching at the ground.

“Sorry.” Gaboon said. “You’re just… very good at it.”

Outcast waved him off with her wing. “I suppose.”

Gaboon stood then, and flew off to the rest of the camp. They had a long flight ahead of them, after all.

[the-ringalan-tribes]

2000 years ago... (3)

Outcast checked her mental list of requests. On the northeast point of the island, she and Gaboon sat in waiting.

Joining them was Delta, and a SeaWing Animus named Bluering. Bluering was a bit older than the rest, maybe ten, and a little immature, but Outcast wished for all the help she could get with these new dragons.

Gaboon had the prophecy scroll ready to show the diplomats, and was rehearsing his interpretation in his head. Delta was an onlooker, able to step in and hold Outcast back if she lost her temper (if there was a future with war involved, she wanted to make it the least possible one). And Bluering... had hidden his thoughts from Outcast. She eagerly awaited the day she would get a vision that explained his behavior.

As the sun set, Outcast saw the shapes of several dragons flying in a formation toward them. “Back up.” She said. “They came prepared.”

The group did so, Gaboon watching carefully. They were close to a forest, and Outcast’s firescales were unfortunately still very hot. Bluering had offered to take them away, but Outcast refused (and later, when he secretly gave her a necklace that did take them away, she immediately destroyed it and promised to burn him if he tried again).

The strange dragons landed. The most were a colorful group of short, stout dragons with black spots, in the ranges of red, yellow, blue, and white. The two black and white dragons were obviously in charge, though the tallest only came up to Outcast’s chin. She wore a simple ring with a diamond on it, a necklace with a small glass tree charm, and was covered in pale green stripes. They were all rehearsing plans in their mind, aside from their leader, who was composing her welcoming statement. The other black and white dragon was rehearsing a plan if things went south: red dragons were to build some kind of temporary shelter, the blue were to jump in and heal, and the yellow were taking stock of the plants nearby to start attacking.

The other three dragons were tall, pale white or gray, and seemed to shimmer like mirages as they studied Outcast Their minds felt like looking into a bowl of diamond under the sun in the Sand Kingdom on Pyrrhia: very, very shiny. The largest of them looked up at the sky, then flicked her wings at her guards. All at once something about them shifted, and they looked... lighter. Bigger. They seemed to be glowing, really.

“We come in peace.” Outcast held up a talon. Some of the group were sizing her up. “I warn you now, I was born with too much fire.”

“Firescales.” The leader of the glowing dragons said. “If we touch you, we’ll be burned, correct?”

Outcast nodded. “You’ve seen dragons like me before.”

“Not quite in build,” said the black and white dragons’ leader, “but some Ringalan dragons can be born with too much fire, as you are.” She paused, then bowed. “I am Queen Oak, of the HueWings.”

So the nearest continent was called Ringala. Outcast tucked away that piece of information for later.

“Queen Iris, of the MirrorWings.” The glowing dragon said.

Outcast bowed. “Outcast. I’m acting as Queen here. These here are my trusted companions, Gaboon and Delta.”

Bluering cleared his throat.

“And Bluering, my animus.” Outcast added.

Queen Oak tilted her head. ‘Animus’ seemed to be a new term to her, and the gathered dragons. “You lot, leave.” She waved off her escorts. Iris’s escorts retreated, as well. “May we ask what business you have on this island?”

Gaboon stepped forward, holding the prophecy scroll. “This, your majesties. Outcast here prophesied that this island was our refuge from the dragons of our own continent.”

The two queens took the scroll, studying it. “You’ve made translation notes here.” Queen Iris said. “Who is this… Darkstalker?”

A shudder went through Outcast’s gathered dragons. “He was a hybrid dragon born under all three moons- in his home tribe, this gives dragons powers beyond belief. He recently became mad with this power and tried to ascend to the throne.”

“He wasn’t successful.” Iris said, reading the notes. “It never would have worked, anyway. A dragon king, what a ridiculous idea!”

“He forced his own father to disembowel himself, nearly assassinated the reigning queen, and then… vanished.” Gaboon said. “The dragons on our home continent now see thrice-moon-born dragons, and hybrids, as dangerous lunatics.”

“You’ve noted that here…” Queen Oak said, pointing at the margin of the page. “And this sends you here because-“

“I’m a thrice-moon-born hybrid.” Outcast said. “The NightWings wanted me destroyed, and accused me of having an army.”

Both queens took an odd half-step back, shock rolling through their minds. “You… do you have-“ Queen Iris started.

“Not all of his powers, no.” Outcast said. “I inherited two things from my parents that he never did; firescales, and morals.”

Gaboon chortled into his talons, trying to disguise it as a cough. Bluering leaned forward, coming around her side. “Yes, quite correct!” He exclaimed. “Darkstalker’s powers didn’t drive him to the brink of insanity- no, it was his lack of morals! If you let us live here, peacefully, we can assure you that we’ll all live like Outcast and-“

“That is enough, Bluering.” Outcast said. “Though, I do suppose there is a note of truth, there. In any case, we just want to peacefully exist here- perhaps learn of the tribes on your continent, and some food and building materials to set up a proper society.”

“A peaceful society.” Gaboon said. “Where dragons don’t have to watch their step so tightly, in case all available eyes see their failures as a failing of everyone like them.”

Bluering sighed dreamily. “We want to make our own rules!” Outcast tried to ignore how he was staring at her when he said that.

Outcast nodded. “We would, of course, be functioning as a new tribe. Gaboon’s been outlining our system since we got here. Of course, we’re working on a name, and I suppose I will be filling the role of the tribe Queen, after all.” 

Gaboon grinned from his side- after all the times she’d yelled at her dragons for referring to her as such, she was royalty now. “She FINALLY accepted the title last night.” 

Queen Oak nodded. “We’ll spread word to all corners of Ringala. And perhaps, when the TempWings are done warring over their next queen, you can come meet the others.”

Both Queen Oak and Queen Iris wilted under the weight of this sentence. The war was a brutal one- the tribe was genetically split and were battling it out over their next queen. Whoever won, the other half the tribe would likely be ignored. It was a terrible system… unless…

“No.” Outcast said. “Take me to the TempWings. Gaboon and Delta can follow.”

Iris seemed confused, and slightly suspicious. “Why?”

Outcast flared her wings out. “To stop the war, of course! Listen, we just came from a war-torn continent. Arguably, the situation is different, but this one has a very simple solution.”

Bluering leaned forward. “Ooh, are we gonna enchant someone?”

Outcast turned and glared at him. “Absolutely not. You’re going to stay here.”

Bluering made a pouting face.

“If I find out you followed us, I’ll burn your tail off.” She added. “Now, to the TempWings?”

“If you’re so sure about this, Outcast.” Gaboon said.

“I am sure.” Outcast said.

“Then come on.” Queen Oak said. “The sooner we stop this war, the better.”