“I am.” Caden spoke honestly. Though his eyes remained trained on the depths ahead of them, there was a hard set to his jaw. His grip upon his sword tightened. The subtle shift to his wings made it apparent that he was uncomfortable. Once the twins expressed their readiness to delve into the deeper reaches of the Warrens, he nodded, letting out a heavy breath before stepping forward.
“It is to teach us humility. To teach us how to fight in close quarters with the disadvantage of restriction from flight.” He spoke matter-of-factly. It was a well known tactic among the training of the Sky Guard. As much as the Avialae were taught to use their ability to fly to their advantage, they were also taught how to fight while grounded. Their wings were mighty but they were also a vulnerability. If broken, it was painful and could leave them open to assault from the dark creatures that sometimes swarmed up from the deeper reaches of the Warrens. A grounded Avialae was a dead Avialae, at least that was the thought behind taking down their wings.
“I cannot say that anyone has. I want a family of my own one day but I am still young. With time to spare.” He managed a smile, which had the effect of easing some of the tension around his shoulders. With a deep breath, he pushed forward leading their little party into the depths of the First Deep of the Warrens. They walked past a group of aspirants fighting a small mob of shamblers. Caden watched the group for a moment, tension clearly in his jaw as his hand reached up for his sword. When it was clear that the group was fairing well against the creatures, he pressed on at a more steady pace.
Deeper into the Warrens, they continued. They passed yet another group of aspirants that was in the midst of battling a more ferocious looking creature. One of the young Avialae cried out in pain, distress clear in his voice. Caden tensed, his wings flaring as he stopped to look clearly at the situation unfolding ahead of them. They stood on the upper ledge of a rocky pathway. Below them was an open platform that looked like it once might have served as the grand staircase for some marvelous structure. Such was the nature of the Buried Empire. Two Avialae warriors were fighting against what looked to be a larger amalgamation of flesh and crooked bone. One of the young warriors was sliding away from the creature, his leg impaled by a bone spike.
Caden looked from Kala to Kaus.
“I...I cannot leave him.” That was the only warning that Caden gave before he was vaulting over the ledge, spreading his wings and gliding down to join the other warriors in their fight.
The choice was now in the hands of Kaus and Kala. By the traditions of the Warren March, it was expected that each warrior hold their own, to be able to fight and defend themselves or perish to the horrors of the Warrens. It was a practice that had fostered in the Avialae the reputation for being such fierce and formidable combatants. The survivors of the Warren March were those who could hold their own against terrifying odds. But what was lost in the face of such a tradition? What was gained?
The path ahead remained clear of monsters with only the horrifying creature and the, now, three Avialae facing off against it.
“It is to teach us humility. To teach us how to fight in close quarters with the disadvantage of restriction from flight.” He spoke matter-of-factly. It was a well known tactic among the training of the Sky Guard. As much as the Avialae were taught to use their ability to fly to their advantage, they were also taught how to fight while grounded. Their wings were mighty but they were also a vulnerability. If broken, it was painful and could leave them open to assault from the dark creatures that sometimes swarmed up from the deeper reaches of the Warrens. A grounded Avialae was a dead Avialae, at least that was the thought behind taking down their wings.
“I cannot say that anyone has. I want a family of my own one day but I am still young. With time to spare.” He managed a smile, which had the effect of easing some of the tension around his shoulders. With a deep breath, he pushed forward leading their little party into the depths of the First Deep of the Warrens. They walked past a group of aspirants fighting a small mob of shamblers. Caden watched the group for a moment, tension clearly in his jaw as his hand reached up for his sword. When it was clear that the group was fairing well against the creatures, he pressed on at a more steady pace.
Deeper into the Warrens, they continued. They passed yet another group of aspirants that was in the midst of battling a more ferocious looking creature. One of the young Avialae cried out in pain, distress clear in his voice. Caden tensed, his wings flaring as he stopped to look clearly at the situation unfolding ahead of them. They stood on the upper ledge of a rocky pathway. Below them was an open platform that looked like it once might have served as the grand staircase for some marvelous structure. Such was the nature of the Buried Empire. Two Avialae warriors were fighting against what looked to be a larger amalgamation of flesh and crooked bone. One of the young warriors was sliding away from the creature, his leg impaled by a bone spike.
Caden looked from Kala to Kaus.
“I...I cannot leave him.” That was the only warning that Caden gave before he was vaulting over the ledge, spreading his wings and gliding down to join the other warriors in their fight.
The choice was now in the hands of Kaus and Kala. By the traditions of the Warren March, it was expected that each warrior hold their own, to be able to fight and defend themselves or perish to the horrors of the Warrens. It was a practice that had fostered in the Avialae the reputation for being such fierce and formidable combatants. The survivors of the Warren March were those who could hold their own against terrifying odds. But what was lost in the face of such a tradition? What was gained?
The path ahead remained clear of monsters with only the horrifying creature and the, now, three Avialae facing off against it.