We have a runner.

I don't do this often. But this is basically how i approach painting, gone digital. It also takes a long long long long time and i don't hve the time to do it often. BUT. I love lucky, and i love damu, and I wanted to do this, and to spoil people, so. 

There will also be a story.

This is an AU for damarus's story, so it's not canon. However, it is canon for the other two characters i included. I'm gonna call this, for damu, dragon-toleration training. Because there's a dragon on his bum. and that's a little scary.

Damu belongs to luckdown, who is awesome, and so is damu.

This should be worth +6.5 according to the VP system.

The massacre had been chaos.

One moment, everything had been peaceful. The sun had not yet risen on the dragons' ledges and the riders were still asleep, and only the kitchen staff were up and about, preparing food for the next morning. Nobody had noticed creeping shadows in the gloom of the bowl. Nobody had noticed until those creeping shadows had infiltrated caverns set high on the walls of the caldera, and those set on the ground: then, a sharp horn had rent the air, and everything had turned to chaos. Violent, bloody chaos. 

The dragons, taken by surprise, did not have time to organize themselves. Many were killed immediately when the horn had sounded, and others had rushed to the defense, only to rush into spears and the vicious, huge arrows launched by rolling mechanical crossbows. Others died when their riders were killed. In moments, the dragon population had been decimated, with over half murdered before they could even grasp that they were being attacked. It did not get better from there.

Some did survive, among them the youngest queenrider to join the ranks of the leaders: Nays. She moved on impulse, bond forging literally as she reacted to the screams of the attack: rushing to meet the mind tying itself to hers. How they managed to avoid blades and fangs was guesswork to her-- most of the fighters were focusing their attention on the sky, but not all of them. She managed to stay low and dark, and the wet hide of her baby dragon hid them well enough. At least, it hid them well enough to grab a war mount as it staggered by, a gleaming pale stallion. It's bridle had been slashed, but the horse himself was unharmed-- his rider was not so lucky. Tied to the saddle, the soldier was falling bonelessly to the side. Nays ducked out of the way, trying to avoid his eyes, but as the horse trotted closer, she realized that was unneeded-- the man was dead. Seized by a sudden idea, Nays ran forward, drawing her dagged and slashing the girth of the saddle. Soldier and saddle fell to the side. The stallion raised his head at her, eyes rolling in confusion. He wanted to be there as little as she did. 

Nays wasted no time. Fueled by adrenaline, she managed to flounder atop the horse's back, heaving her hatchling dragonet up behind her. "Hold on." She said to Justith, who wrapped her tail around the horse's neck. Nays barely had time to do as she'd told her dragon to, before Damarus-- the stallion-- was charging forward. These warhorses were trained to not fear the scent of dragons, but that training went right out the window the moment a dragon was on their back. Even a baby dragon had claws.

Nobody noticed their passage, embroiled as they were in fighting, and Nays had enough trouble clinging on for dear life. She did not fight Damarus or try to slow him down: the stallion could go wherever he wanted, as long as it was Far Away From There, and hopefully to safety.

WC: 522, +2.

Story is adapted from RP events in the history of the human char.