Age: 14 (15 at impression)
Family: Mother Lityan, Father
Chaltyk, Older brother Yavis.
History: Renylde is one of the many IceLandic children that were born
in Lantessama after their parents impressed dragons. She grew up with a
lot of playmates and likes to be challenged. She takes after her father in
that she likes to tease other people.
Personality: Renylde wants to be the best at everything she does. If she's
interested in something, it almost takes over her life. She's thorough and
direct. If things don't interest her, she'll hardly pay attention to
Hobbies: Currently she's into braiding jewelry.
Skills: Renylde can focus really well. She's also creative and
Pets: Green Tinsel Firelizard Forest (from Isla
“It’s time” came
the telepathic call to any who would hear it.
Candidates, spectators and officials all hurried to the designated place
in the Drift. The drak mothers still had their wings screening their eggs
from view, and dozens of the hundred or more visible eggs were rocking
where they sat, the little dragons within working on the double to out and
find their One. Though not all of these would need to bond to survive.
Eggs hatched one after the other, the resulting hatchlings showcasing a
myriad of features, colours and patterns, though with the expected white
and snowflakes being the most abundant. Trying to follow the hatchlings
soon became impossible as they mixed with the novos.
The first egg cracked sharply, and bronze paws and muzzle poked out
of the creamy shell, the dragonet gasping in lungfuls of fresh air before
continuing to fight his way free of his ovoid cradle. Traditionalists were
thrilled to see a bronze hatch first, even a half-white one marked with
snowflakes. Strong first hatchling, strong clutch. It was how the
The second and third eggs split in such short order that it was hard to
tell which opened first. From one shell crept a long-bodied green with
long ears and the start of golden Hathian eye-shields around her eyes. As
she completed her escape form the shell, she stretched out her wing-arms,
all four of them, showing bubbly almost calico markings on the sails that
all but hid the tiny flurry flakes on the trailing edges.
The duowinged green hathian, one of the first three to hatch, had stopped
several times to rest during her inspection of the candidates. She needed
a certain kind of person for her bond, one who’d be her equal in the pack.
Anything else just wouldn’t do.
She got up and made her way towards the Icelanders, and stopped before one
of the girls. She reared up for a moment to look up at her chosen.
’Renylde, I am Biotahyt, and
I am hungry…’