Oathbreaker
A blue dragonborn observes the fate his goddess has decreed, and makes a choice.
"Rei."
The wind whipped past him, blowing with a ferocity that made him stagger forwards slightly. Magic always seemed to do that, he noted. Upon a particularly strong spell, or one that resulted in some bizarre effect, always seemed to whip up the world's fury. Like a dragon, lashing out with claws at some poor fool that managed to draw a drop of blood.
"Reiandyl."
Thankfully it had died down after the initial casting. He was lucky that the rest of Tandem had been far from the spell's origin...he could see bodies still falling limp from a few structures that still remained above water, their mangled forms indiscernible. The spell had been abrupt, unstoppable...and didn't care if it caught one of the city dwellers in its grasp or one of the invaders it had been cast to destroy.
"Rei, we all feel it too. We need to go. Now."
He snorted, feeling numb. It wasn't just the cold air or the dampness soaking into his scales through his armor and underclothes. He was tired...so, very tired. Part of him worried that even now, having outlasted the strongest of the wind, he would lose his footing and plummet to the dark waters below, the same as so many others. Their assault had failed, and miserably. Not that Tandem had helped, much.
"Rei!"
He felt Wrylarys grab his tail and yank on it, trying to pull him back to the rest of the small band of traitors. It slipped free, slick after the deluge. He lashed it away, keeping the limb out of her grip, but forced himself to finally look away from the wreckage. "Not...yet, Wry."
He reached up to his chin, untying the strap there and slipping it through the buckle on his neck guard. Claws unsheathed, snagging the sides of his faceplate and allowing him to tilt it up, and then forwards. It pulled free, the gilded mask lifting away and freeing his face to finally feel the wind and rain. "Take this...I know Taz was talking about salvaging some of our gear. It's not like She'll be happy to see us wearing them."
He sighed, the numbness in his body starting to be overtaken by an overwhelming sense of cold. His heart hurt, almost enough to make it hard to breathe. The masts he could see from here...there wasn't any way back home, that he knew of. And Aur would find out what they had done here. She always knew. It felt wrong to him, divesting himself of any colors. His nose felt...naked, exposed like this, without the paint or the mask or the plate upon it, shining brilliantly his god's glory.
He turned back to the churning, writhing thing below them. The sea had retaken most of the formerly spectacular city, dousing the flames that his kin had started. The coldness grew, making his stomach lurch and arms shake. Disgust, with his clan, with the army he had once looked so highly upon, with the god that had demanded such brutality, and with himself for following Her for so many years without even allowing himself to question things.
He was lucky, honestly. The blue and silver dragon sighed, grabbing the hilt of his sword and yanking it free from the ground. Their old symbol, the Tandem dragon, still lasted on its hilt, the three-claw pattern of wings and a tail making him smile. His clanmates and friends...they hadn't all died here, hadn't all succumbed to Aur's decree of conquest, and they hadn't all been swept up in the bloody fervor that had ransacked the city's streets and civilians. Tazhazar had, as always, rallied them together, kept them safe from the worst of it. He let a faint bit of pride flare up again, banishing much of the cold feeling that still permeated him. His clan, his family, his friends, all now free from what had been a destiny of bloodshed. He raised the weapon, offering a salute to the drowning city and army below.
The wind whipped again, a ray of golden sunlight parting through the clouds like the golden dragoness's eye had finally noticed what had happened to so many of her kin. He let the light pass over him, sword remaining at its downwards angle, mourning the fallen it now witnessed. "I reject that my life is bound to yours, Aur. I will survive as I must, through charm or retreat or confusion. I am yours, no longer."
The golden light that the weapon gave off with pulsed once, and then faded. Faint cracks appeared along its blade, and the metal beneath seeming to age with frightening speed. His arm remained steady, eyes turned back to the waters as the last few dragonborn he could see finally slipped below the waters with terrified screams, and then were silenced. The weapon crumbled, falling to the ground and scattering. A weight on his consciousness lifted, and he took a deep breath, finally turning to walk up the steep incline to meet what remained of his clanmates.
I've been wanting to work on Reiandyl's backstory as of late, as his many non-canon versions for the different RPs I've played him in have made who he is...fuzzy to me, I suppose. Wanted to try my hand at writing something more serious, and hopefully not too edgy, to try and flesh him out a bit more. Please enjoy, and if you have any advice on writing structure or diction choices, feel free to let me know! Life's all about learning, after all.
Artwork is by the amazing drawing_sofa on FA, go check her out and see the rest of her amazing gallery!