This is just FYI so you have some idea what's happening with my Daere post...

Barb
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Khazeen
(in the Nomadlands, somewhere south of Cleft - just after the attack on Triss)

     The Lord of the Nomadlands was fuming when his errant dragon finally
teleported back to where he and his minions were waiting.  Still drained from
the effort of forcing the unruly beast to heed his repeated orders to return,
he was still so angry that it took all of his willpower to refrain from
walking up and cuffing him across the muzzle as soon as he landed.  He would
have in any case, but knew that this was not the time to sow doubts in his
Nomad followers with the sight of one god striking another.

     *Fool* he snapped, his calm outward appearance masking his anger.  *Can't
I turn my back on you for even a moment without you running wild?*

     Shamir hissed, glaring sullenly at his rider.  <Sshe wass sso
beautiful...sshe wass almosst mine...!>

     Brushing aside his dragon's surly response, Khazeen quickly made the
dragon give him detailed images of what had happened.  Now he saw what Shamir
had seen and experienced...and realized at once that the pearl-colored female
he had so brutally assaulted was no wilder, but a joined dragon.  And the
beautiful blue saddle he'd ripped off of her marked her as a dragon that
someone cared a great deal about...in short, a Cleft Warren dragon!  Khazeen
cursed silently as he continued to review the images.

     Damn!  The great imbecile had encountered not one, but *three* warren
dragons, whose riders now knew that there was something very dangerous on the
loose almost on the doorstep of Cleft Warren.  The place where the encounter
had taken place was not within telepathy range of the warren, but he knew that
all too soon the word would get back there...and the warren might well be put
on full alert!

     And that wasn't the only problem, he realized.  Shamir's ever-present
lust was again at the boiling point because of his failure to satisfy himself
on the female he'd captured...and that meant that his equal capacity for
sudden fits of rage would not be far behind.  From long experience, Khazeen
knew that the dragon would become more and more frustrated and unruly with
every passing hour, until he reached the point where he'd be all but
uncontrollable until he could find some outlet for it.

     There was no choice, he realized.  He couldn't wait until the early
predawn hours as he'd originally planned.  He had to strike now, or this great
opportunity would be lost!

     He wasted not a moment in calling the four Nomads over and directing them
in how to attach the special harness to Shamir.  When they were done, the
dragon's flanks from neck to tail were hidden by rows of padded leather sacks.
Then, once the Nomads had mounted the two wilders who waited nearby, the
entire group of dragons took to the air and teleported.

     The spot Khazeen had chosen was in a deep gully several miles south of
the warren...just close enough that Khazeen could listen in on the dragon-to-
dragon communications that Shamir himself couldn't hear.  That way, he'd know
if the element of surprise had been lost...and whether he needed to send his
wilders in to stage the diversion he'd planned - an attack on the Nomad
encampments that sat just below the warren itself.

     Once the dragons were all down, Khazeen dismounted and called the Nomads
over to him.  "From this point there is no going back," he told them.  "Are
you ready?"

     Feysal stood stiffly at attention.  "We serve Khazeen - to the death!" he
cried, raising his fist for emphasis.  The other three Nomads quickly followed
suit.

     Khazeen nodded in satisfaction, gesturing for the Nomads to take their
places.  One by one, they scrambled up onto the waiting Shamir.  "The gods
look down upon you," he told them.  "And in times to come, when the elders of
the tribes across this land tell their stories over their campfires, your
names will be spoken with reverence!  They will tell how, among all the
peoples of all the tribes, you four were the first to strike a blow to free
the Nomadlands!"  This sounded theatric even to him, but to the Nomads it was
no joke.  Their determination to succeed tonight showed in their eyes.

     *And you....* Khazeen said to his dragon, *make sure you keep our link
fully open so that I may direct you!  You know your part - make sure you do
it!*

     <I sshall,> Shamir grumbled, spreading his wings for takeoff.

     *Then go!* Khazeen commanded, stepping back as Shamir sprang aloft.  The
black dragon was quickly lost to view in the darkened sky, only the *pop* of
displaced air marking the instant he teleported.

* * * * * * * *
Kellie
(Dining hall, Cleft Warren)

     She paced back and forth, so frustrated and worried that she didn't even
notice when Turner set the glass of wine down for her.  After a moment, the
smith reached out and put a brawny arm around her, using the other to pick up
the glass and hand it to her.

     "Drink this," he told her.  "It may not help, but..."

     She shook her head, pushing the glass away.  "Damn it, I should be *out*
there!" she told him.  "I shouldn't be just standing here...!"

     Turner enfolded her in his arms.  "He may be all right, Kellie!" he
whispered softly to her.  "You said yourself that Andahar's dragon thought he
might have sensed Triss out there.  If he's right, they'll find Trevor...you
know Farr'in wouldn't leave a stone unturned!"

     Kellie nodded miserably, laying her head against Turner's broad chest.
"I know...but damn it, he's *my* son!  I can't lose him again, Turner....not
when I was so close to getting him back...not when we were so close to being a
family again..."

     Suddenly, her eyes took on that look of resolve that Turner knew only too
well.  She gently pulled away from him and straightened herself up.  "I'm
going out to look for him!" she said.

     "Kellie, you can't!" Turner protested.  "Cynthia thinks its too dangerous
out there...and I believe her!  I can't lose you too!  Let Farr'in and Andahar
find him!  They're looking for him right now!"

     "No," she said.  "He's my son, and I have to do this - Cynthia has to
understand that!"

     Turner shook his head.  "I guess I do too...even if I don't much like it.
Okay...when do *we* go?"

     "As soon as we talk to Cynthia," she told him, then directed a thought at
Varie.  *Varie, ask Syren if her rider is still in the hatching cavern.*

     <Yes, Kellie,> Varie said, her thoughts despondent.  She had always been
Trevor's special friend since he'd been a child...and she'd loved Trissana as
if the pearl dragon had been her own hatchling.  Their disappearance had hit
her very hard.  <Syren says her rider is with her.>

     *Thanks, love!* she said.  *We'll be flying soon, so be ready!*  She
looked at Turner.  "Let's go talk to Cynthia," she said.

     Turner nodded, clearly not liking this but knowing she wouldn't change
her mind.  He took her hand in his own, and they set off for the hatching
cavern.

* * * * * * * *
Shamir
(Cleft Warren)

     As silent as the wind, the huge black dragon appeared in the sky a short
distance above the plateau, just across the Great Cleft from the upper green
of the warren.  This, his rider had instructed him, would be the best place to
come in unobserved.  Concealed by darkness, the great black knew that the
watchdragons would be unlikely to notice his presence.  He'd learned, through
years of experience, that other dragons tended to depend on their telepathy to
inform them when others of their kind were nearby.  But his own lack of
functioning telepathy, aside from the link to his rider, made him invisible to
their mental probings...and on a dark, moonless night such as this, he could
blend in and virtually come and go as he pleased.  Had he not stepped on an
unnoticed branch earlier, he'd have been upon that luscious female before she
could have even attempted to resist him...

     As instructed, Shamir quickly landed at the edge of the Great Cleft, from
which he could overlook the warren.  His sharp eyes quickly swept across the
cliff face.

     *There!* his rider cried exultantly in his mind.  *That large cave
opening at the base of the cliffside....that has to lead into the hatching
cavern!*

     Shamir agreed, but his mind wasn't truly on what he was doing right now.
All he could think of was how his prey had escaped him earlier...all he could
think about was sating the lust their meeting had ignited in him!  Perhaps he
could find another one to play with before he left here...or even a male big
enough to offer him a decent battle!  *Anything* to work off his frustration!

     *Listen to me, fool!!* Khazeen thundered in his mind.  *Do as I say!
Complete your task, and I will allow you to do as you like later!  Right now,
there is no time!*

     Shamir growled softly, but complied.  His rider, however irritating he
could be at times, was the only thing that Shamir truly loved...

     *Now go!* Khazeen ordered.  Shamir leaped from the cliff and glided on
silent wings down into the yawning canyon, alighting near the entrance his
rider had pointed out.  He quickly bent his neck around and hissed softly to
the puny humans who rode him, the signal for which they had waited.  As he
crouched down before the opening, they undid their straps and clambered down
to the ground.

     With the four Nomads following behind, Shamir folded his wings tightly to
his back and bounded forward - into the heart of Cleft Warren!

NRPG: 

Just a short one to get things rolling!  I've still got more to write with
Trevor and Renata, and some tags to pick up...I hope to get that post out
within a couple of days.

Submitted by:

John

Kellie & Varie, Cleft Warren
Khazeen & Shamir, Jhezrael