The wyvern army’s arrival was handled cautiously at first, but once the people of Drak’ir saw the inherent resemblance in them, they proudly hailed them as kin. The festivities went long into the night, and many a dragon and wyvern alike had partaken of too much food and drink. Alcohol, or as the elves called it, Spir’Win, had become an incredibly popular drink among dragonkin in the years since the alliance of the three races had formed. The food and drink masters of Liz’okar had even come up with a few brews themselves, and once the magicians of Salaron infused it with a bit of magic, it was distributed to all the capital cities. Elves found it tolerable, and no dwarf would turn it away, but King Tholin had once remarked that it was far too fizzy to be considered a ‘hard drink’. It was this drink that dragon and wyvern had the night the two races first met. The next morning, the dragons found their brethren from the south had horrendous aching in their skulls, something that dragons had never had. The younger races had also made a claim to having head pains after a night of drinking as well, and the dragons knew then that the wyverns would be a welcome addition to the alliance. The dragons were all but hated for not feeling the effects of drinking the next day, and called this phenomenon strange. Many felt a headache was a sign that the night had been fun, and were offended when the dragons suffered no ill effects. Tyran had promised to look into why this occurred when they weren’t in a time of war.
By midday, the army of wyverns, as well as Drak’ir’s promised contribution to the draconic force at the Dravaldar site took flight from the valley-city, and headed towards the center of their allied empire. While Tyran led his family, and his swelled forces, towards Dravaldar, they met up with Sarion’s group from Sintaron, and once more the dragons and wyverns met for the first time. A few arguments broke out between Drak’ir citizens and Sintaron citizens, but Alaron quickly settled them with logic, and talk of a good greater than themselves. When they arrived together at Dravaldar, Commander Skor’jon was already waiting with an honor guard assembled, and five sets of the finest dragon armor anyone had ever seen, the most glorious of which was for the king. His helmet bore wings upon the side of it, and a dragon’s head on the front. Two golden jewels glittered where the eyes had been carved. It was the helm worthy of a king of the sky, fashioned by the men of the earth as a sign of goodwill between their races. Once the royals, and leaders had been covered sufficiently, the wyverns met the warriors of Draco’gar, and were shocked by their clear military power. They became a bit unnerved, and mentioned many times that they were glad they were allies. Skor’jon grinned at his soldier’s intimidating appearance, and the effect it was having. Before the wyverns became too skittish however, the commander declared that all present would be drinking heavily, and offered Dar’al a pint of the finest, and hardest, brew they had in the newly finished keep of Dravaldar. Despite the aftereffects they knew they would suffer, the wyverns heartily agreed, and were quite intoxicated when the dwarven back-up forces arrived. They joined in the merrymaking without invitation, and quickly grew to like the wyverns. Their odd speech made quite the entertaining show. The elven rangers were the last to arrive, with King Lorian at their head. They respectfully declined to join the merrymaking, and retired to the elven wing of the new keep.
The next morning, with two of the four leaders bearing splitting headaches, the first war meeting of Dravaldar was held. It was mercifully short, and to the point, yet it still lasted until mid-day. Once it was finished, Alaron all but ran from the chamber, and immediately stretched his wings once he was out. It was enormous, by dwarven standards, yet still smallish for dragons. Tyran emerged behind his son, and stood beside him. He too stretched his wings, and immediately humbled Alaron when they were revealed to be twice the size of his own. With his pride slightly hurt by the knowing grin on his father’s face, the prince went to check on his mate. She had laid three eggs the week before, a normal sized clutch, and had nearly killed Tyran when he had them moved to be frozen. In a time of war, the dragons froze their eggs in a magically and physically impenetrable vault, with only a single, but ancient guardian to watch them. The guardian was unknown to all, but was rumored to be the size of a mountain. Only the king, and his immediate successor should some ill befall him knew the way to the ancient vault. Although the prince had assured his mate their offspring would be unharmed and unchanged by the vault’s effects, she had still been quite distraught, and a distraught dragon was a distracted dragon. Distracted dragons did not live long against volleys of arrows. Chiding himself for sounding like Zoran, he hurried to the dragon’s wing of the keep. When he arrived in his chamber, a square cave, he frowned at the sight of his partner. She lay on the newly made nest unhappily, and met his gaze. Fear and anger were in her eyes, yet so were tears. The prince moved to lie beside her, and the two stayed that way for a long while.
Alaria, who had also laid a clutch of three eggs, had accepted the freezing process better than Illia. Zoran had worried at first, but the confidence in the vault’s protection made his fears evaporate. Outfitted in her new silver plated armor, Alaria flew around the city, dodging rising spires for fun. Once she was reprimanded for nearly crashing into one of the newer homes in the elven district, she helped the laborers build, as many other dragons had. The work sped up considerably since the dwarves didn’t have to move materials anymore, and the dragons that carried the thousand ton loads in pairs were soon done. Alaria gazed at the sky, and realized it was only mid-day. Now assured that the builders had plenty of material to work with, she checked on the other districts, and saw that the dwarves also had been helped by dragon and wyvern alike. The wyvern’s quarter had been drawn up as soon as they met the architects. Their district would be the largest, and would also be able to house any more additional allies that might be gained in the future. The three dominant races had quarters to themselves simply because they were the closest. When the princess reached her people’s district, she gaped. An enormous, magic-made mountain chain had been magically raised from the flat area surrounding the south part of the new city. Magicians from Salaron and a few elves worked hard here, and insisted that the mountains would be able to hold thousands of dragons at one time. It was far from complete though. After seeing she would be of no help to the magicians, she headed towards the keep to find her mother. She noticed a glint of red on the upper levels that held the walkways to the council chamber, and saw her brother, clearly deep in thought, heading for his private room. She angled upwards, and flew towards the higher levels when a horn blew on the eastern wall. Another horn blew from the northern wall as well. Additional elves and dwarves were coming. Curious as to who else would be arriving now that all the leaders had arrived, Alaria ascended to the top of the central keep, and perched carefully, clinging to the top. What she saw coming from both the east and the north made her jaw drop. She let out a loud roar, which echoed through the city, and the allied races within rushed for their weapons and armor.