Wynn looked onward without passion as the Dragonriders 
teleported to the threatened city.  Wraiths had returned.  Almost 
obscured into legend, now they were again frightfully real.  And here he 
sat alone.
 
        The Warren was eerily quiet with the two dragon wings gone to 
defend Ralengarde.  Only a couple of dragons were left, the Queen, and 
an injured red dragon, of who's Wynn did not know.  Or care really.  
Wynn had shown so much promise when he was found amongst the landbound, 
only thirteen years of age then.  Six years had passed, and still he had 
remained amongst the unchosen.  And now he grew older, and less likely 
to be chosen to bond.  It seemed to him that promises were made, but 
were not kept.  Irrational, he knew, no one could promise such a thing 
as Bonding.  A dragon's will was it's own, and would not be influenced 
or coerced into choosing anyone but the one they were meant for.
 
        But now there were younger Searchlings at the Warren, and he was 
nearing ever closer to the age where no dragon would choose him.  He 
hadn't even been chosen to attend this year's hatching.  He knew that he 
would no be selected again.  His time had come and past.
 
        Wynn had spent the last couple of years learning the art of the 
sword.  More to hide his hatred over being left unbonding year after 
year than out of any real interest.  However, as time passed, he came to 
understand the sword, to feel the power within the blade, as much as the 
danger the same blade held.
 
        He was lost now.  He could not return home, the shame he could 
not hope to survive.  And to stay here, constantly reminded of his 
failure, seemed impossible.  He had tried to make friends amongst the 
other Searchlings, but as they became bond to their dragons, they slowly 
drifted apart.  He slowly grew apart from the other Searchling, assuming 
more duties and chores with keeping the Warren viable.  The old 
weaponmaster, Kershod, was the only one who he went to.  The only one he 
could think of to talk to, when he felt the need to speak.  Kershod, so 
much like his father before he was Found.  The weaponmaster would be 
heartbroken if Wynn left the warren.  Wynn guessed that he was much the 
older man's son, adopted years after the death of his own son almost ten 
years ago.
 
        He sat down heavily onto a boulder, his eyes turning from the 
sky to the Warren that surrounded him.  The few that remained busied 
themselves, restocking the coal reserves, and preparing for wounded 
dragons and their riders.  He soon noticed a younger girl making her way 
down one of the few paths to the Warren.  Evelle, he thought her name 
was, dressed in her golds and browns.  He turned her eyes from her.  No 
need to further depress himself.  With the hatching almost upon them, he 
was sure that she was first amongst the Searchlings to be chosen.  Her 
family were almost all Dragonriders themselves, so he had heard, it 
seemed impossible for her not to be chosen.
 
        "Wynn!"  A voice called, gaining the lad's attention.  He saw 
Nessir waving to him.  "We could use a hand, boy.  If the attack lasts 
long enough, those dragons will be needing more coal!"  The brawny man's 
bare arms were blackened with soot, and rippled as he clenched a large 
shovel in his massive hands.
 
        Wynn dragged himself up and nodded.  It was to be a long day.

NRPG: Hi all!  Really looking forward to playing with you all here ... 
I'm just all ecstatic over this, being able to play a dragon and 
everything!  And yes, Judi, another angst ridden character for me to have 
fun with :)
 
Wynn, currently sigless, aka
Chris Ackney
yu121874@yorku.ca