Dusk, the sun went down but the light stayed, fire consuming air and lighting a sky brighter than the sun that had left it. Roaring great dragons tore into the sky, cloudbursts ignited with a thousand small suns, to the thunderous applause of falling men and beast, caught in the blaze of change or redemption. Dragons, thousands of years old, each light extinguished was one more drop of sadness in this war. Yet they came ferocious and unrelenting, they would not stop, both sides not giving an inch. The Honor Guard of the King, or the shadows of men that should have known better.
Holding fast to the neck of one great reptile, Baranathon. Taran Vdonis, hooked his reigns, pulling a hard right, rubbing his mount on the neck, it craned its neck back, weary, the helmeted rider looked to the dragonhost in the sky. What should be a paradise below them, was a burning city, lost to the world, men and woman ran for any sign of cover to avoid the onslaught above. Carrying the dragonhost forward over the ruins, Taran called out to rally those who might waver, each dragonnamed a kingdom in his own right, a knight without colors, loyal only to the creature he rode. Today to defend all the continent against the night, shades of men who would drink the life from all around them, just to feel whole one more time before doing so again. They rode dragons, enslaved... fighting the Kings Dragonhost, his honor guard.
The rustling rushing of air.... Rooooaaaaaaaggggg a dragon slammed into his side, almost sending him out of his seat, claws smashing against Baranathon, he clung on.... barely. The sky spinning, out of control, he had to fight hard, Baranathon biting down to regain his own senses, while the beast nearby swooped in with its dead rider for the kill....
(Open to anyone, chance to get warmed up.)