Wooded Glen

Deep within the dark tangled woods, there sat a large company encamped about the trees. Their leader was the fifth Jahan, banished of Mystenia and cursed king.

Pacing between the trees, Jahan murmured into the dark, speaking his plans in whispers for fault. A large scaly head breathed tendrils of smoke behind him.
"I send you seek out she who rules my land." he murmured to the dragon. "She will be fair of skin and hair. She I wish spared death by flame. The others slay by smoke and ash." As an afterthought he remembered the child.
"And the waif, she will have the royal standard on her horse. Bring her as well."

A hiss of steam erupted from the fire beast's thick nostrils as it crawled away into the wood. The dull beating of heavy wings echoed through the shadows as it leapt into the sky.

Jahan had heard through his spies that his aunt was coming to Almyst by the highway and therefore his plans had to well.

The heavy landing of the furious dragon echoed through the forest, shaking the trees to their very roots. Squeals and groans of fiery loathing erupted in the shape of flames to scorch, to blaze the leafy innocents. The wood was ablaze with the dragon sire's fury.

Jahan stood outside of his tent, worried as his lead dragon rent the wood in his despair. Perhaps, he pondered... it would have been best if he had kept the death of the young dragon until when there were the enemy to kill. A furious dragon was not something he enjoyed viewing. It demonstrated how even the greatest of creatures could be brought down by the simple thread of grief.

And by the least likely of people. He had not expected his aunt to be able to dispatch a dragon. The young dragon, Dalit, had been greatly prized by the dragon sire, who had been his proud father. Inigo, had, unlike many other dragons, raised the youngling from its egg, along with his mate, Etoile.

Unlike her mate, Etoile sat grimly near the tent. She was much smaller than her mate, but the potent wraith within her red eyes was as fierce. It was well known that female dragons, due to their rarity, fought with greater ferocity than their more abundant fellows.
"Shall he recover to lead the Ignas to Alrania?" Jahan asked, crossing his arms over his chest. If Inigo was not able to lead the other eight fell beasts, the king would have to turn this position of sire to Etzel. It would not be a decision chosen lightly, do to Etzel's inability to follow orders. He was more independent than Inigo, not seeing Jahan as any more than a small mortal.

"He will lead us, my lord." Etoile bowed, her brown head dipping to touch the ground. The only earth dragon in his forces, Etoile was a rare pearl. Her smaller body allowed her to be hidden within the shadows of the others, while her loud bellows could create rivets in the earth as wide as canyons. He had no need to seige a city with Etoile... the walls fell before his feet.

Of course, if all else failed, there was always little Elod. Only five years old, the baby dragon did little besides stumble through the wood beside his fellow dragons. Still, he was a chaos dragon, the last of his breed. The terrible power harnessed within the stumbling creature was enough to level all of Alrania if used properly.

"Who slew our son?" Etoile asked. Jahan smiled. Ah, women scorned or angered. Hell's wraith had no fury like a dragon mother.
"King Oberon's mother. She who is the youngest daughter of my grandfather. The slayer of my kin's wife."

Etoile smiled, revealing even dagger like teeth. "Has she thoughts for her son?" Jahan nodded.
"What mother of a king dislikes the child?" he replied. And indeed, from his spies, he knew Oberon was indeed well loved by his mother.

"Eevastasa turned Genevieve... you shall weep as I have. Your sons shall you lose." Etoile swore, moving her reptilian body forward to bolster her mate.