It's not stealing if nobody wants it... (open)

[Pan Wildchild]

"Gillyweed! Gillyweed! Look at this! And THIS!" Pan was excited, this much was obvious. He was dashing between small scaly creatures, crouching down to look at different individuals of this little herd of terrible terrors. The dog-sized beasts were staring at him curiously, making whuffling yips and warily glancing at each other. But it wasn't Pan they were worried about, oh no- the boy was hardly a threat. He was practically a wild thing himself! No, the little dragons were more alert toward the boys' traveling companion, who had taken a perch in one of the many trees in the Berk forest. With his unique coat and camouflaging abilities, they had lost sight of gillyweed in the midst of the foliage. As was a good thing.... Griffins weren't exactly supposed to be hanging around so close to the dragon village. "They are 'tiny terrors' or something. Too small to ride, but big enough to be kept as pets." Gillyweed rumbled, his voice rough and gravelly, but still sounding just as elegant as always. As if surprised by a second voice they couldn't see, the mass of terrible terrors wiggled their heads around simultaneously, once more trying to see the hidden beast. Not that they would catch a glimpse if Gillyweed didn't want them to.... he had a talent for such things. An ability unique to his breed.

"Gil, do you think I could....?" The young man grinned as if he knew the griffin could predict what he was going to say. He was surprised by a churr of a laugh, and a light mumbling of 'the keeper of wild things'. Gil thought he was joking. As if the griffin figured out that his young charge was serious, he clicked his beak softly and stared down on his rider with apologetic eyes. "Sorry wild one, I don't think the Dragon people would appreciate someone not of their kind owning one of their pets." Pan shrugged quietly, and settled for leaning back against a tree and lightly petting the scaly bodies of the tribe of small dragons who climbed up onto his lap and settled around his body. He had figured taking one wouldn't be a good idea- even if it was such a tiny and out-of-the-picture dragon, he knew someone would probably notice. Not that it would matter to the resident swamp-dweller of Curr... nobody cared what he did as far as his life went. He could own a 'red death' and nobody in the village of Curr would bat an eye... unless he ran it through their houses. Amused by the mental image of such a thing, the man chuckled and continued stroking the small dragons, listening to the forests sounds and enjoying the cool air that circulated the shadowy area.

[Fulgora Horrorcrow]

Currs. She didn’t like the sound of them and didn’t like the way they worked. She’d never admit that the way they enslaved their Griffins bothered her. No. She didn’t say that out loud, but Morthalium knew. Morthalium seemed to be the only one who knew Fulgora was slowly warming up to dragons. He put up with her slight abuse and harsh words because he knew that somewhere she cared about him, and would probably protect him, even though he was to protect her. While Berk didn’t want a war, they got it, and Fulgora was on edge. Hiccup thought the chickens had wicked attacks. But lightning was nothing Fulgora was afraid of, Lightning was just a jolt to the system. If she could handle third degree burns, then a little shock to her system wasn’t going to really do her any harm, at least not the first time around. But she made it a task not to get hit twice. She didn’t need everyone fussin over her. That was just how one Viking felt. Stoick also thought they should be careful.

One hand was nestled around a spine and the other was keeping her hair from flapping in her face. Legs on either side of the dragon’s neck. Saddle? Who needed a bloody saddle, not Fulgora. She toughed it out bareback. She and Morthalium were practicing evasive maneuvers in the sky. Seeing as Fulgora was more of a ground fighter and if the ground wasn’t where any of the fighting was, she had to practice in the air. Though her fear of falling off the creature was causing the spine to cut through the fabric of her fingerless gloves, no doubt she would rather lose her fingers than fall. Morthalium wouldn’t let her drop, but Fulgora wasn’t taking any chances. Every barrel roll resulted in Fulgora lowering herself closer to Morthalium’s body. Morthalium turned his head momentarily to check on her only to be scolded, ”Eyes forward.” she growled. But suddenly Morthalium stopped, eyes fixed on the forest bellow. ”What?” she called over the beating of the wings. Morthalium opened his mouth and snapped the teeth together making a clicking noise. Fulgora narrowed her eyes, ”Bring’er down.” and the creature turned on a dime diving down, deep into the foliage, she saw it. A chicken.

Trying to appear as intimidating as possible. Morthalium raised his head when he landed only a few feet away, raising his head with a low growl at the sight of the bird. Fulgora put a hand around Mort’s neck and swung around the ground in front of the large dragon, not even holding a candle to the creature’s height. ”Now you don’ look like you belong here, now don’t ya.” and her without her axe? He could only be so lucky. Mort took one step forward, hovering protectively over Fulgora. He was only being judgmental because Fulgora was squared on these people being evil, and if they hurt her, that’d only prove her point.

[Pan Wildchild]

A jolt. The moment scaled wings broke into the tree cover, he felt the forest become more alert. Bird song died down as a larger dragon than the terrible terrors who were still curled around his young charge burst through the growth from above, rider accompanying it. Pan, as awake and wary as ever, remained stone still. It seemed the dragon rider- a villager from Burk, no doubt- had merely spotted Gillyweed. Which was quite a hard thing to do, with his coloration.. But never mind that. Patting the small scaled creatures thoughtfully, Pan turned slightly for a glance to the newly-appearing pair.The viking womans' eyes seemed to be focused on his companion, a fact Pan decidedly took advantage of by sliding the sleeping dragons off of his lap and scaling the tree to cling protectively to his griffin... another hard thing to do, for the mass of the beast took up nearly the entire tree. And it was a rather large tree at that. Silent in the face of other humans, the boy merely gazed mutely down at the dragon rider, tangling his fingers in the thick pelt of his Sweagriff. The whipcord-like appendages of the beast flitted their feather tips over to hover protectively around the boys shoulders, much like the dragon seem to be hovering over his owner.

Pan had the thought of pushing the peacock-like plumage away, but he settled for leaving it as is- Gillyweed was simply being protective of him, a stranger, in this particular forest. He tugged lightly on the creatures fur as if in thanks, and Gil nodded briefly at him before turning piercing eyes on the scaled and skinned duo before them. Though it was a difficult thing for a griffin to growl, he managed to produce a lion-like rumble of annoyance to go along with his speech. Gillyweed was not intent on starting a fight- though he would happily finish one- so he reigned in his words, settling for something that sounded slightly more... polite. "Who are you to tell me I don't belong? We have existed far longer than any human has." He shifted as he spoke, kneading the tree with talon-esque claws, shaving the bark from the tree by accident. While his griffin was being the careful one, Pans attention was all focused on morthalium. He had been told of spinebacks by Gil, who had vast knowledge of 'the enemy', but he had never had the delight in seeing one before. He was curious about their rather fragile-looking spines and what exactly they did, and was more than curious about whether or not the viking woman would let him pet the dragon... Though he assumed that would be a humongous 'no' judging by the way the lady had questioned Gillyweeds presence with such hostility.

[Sorry it took so long, we've been hosting back-to-back sweet sixteens. x.x]

[Fulgora Horrorcrow]

Morthalium moved forward, practically over the girl, which only got a scowl from Fulgora as she lowered her head to avoid her helmet getting knocked off by the creature who was pressing forward to do the diplomatic work for Fulgora. She didn’t speak the ancient language that the two of them did. Morthalium looked toward the creature. ”She means you are trespassing upon our territory.” she creature, ”Which is generally not our territory since it is outside the terms of our arrangement, but she has a way with words.” Morthalium turned his head to Fulgora and the girl’s lips turned into a low growl. Not too pleased that she was being left out of the conversation. She didn’t like her dragon taking the affairs into his own hand even though he seemed to play the game more than she did. He’d been around longer than a lot of things. ”It is not wise to be wandering close to Berk borders amist a war.” the Dragon complied. ”Mort.” she said with a low rumble. The Dragon turned his attention to her as she stepped away from the protection of the metallic blue scales and took a wide step around to the side of the creature. ”She thinks you’re on your own, keep your human hidden.” Morthalium advised and he let out a low growl.

Fulgora’s attention was diverted, her eyes fixing on the dragon for a moment before it turned back to the Griffin. ”It ain’t wild, don try and tell me that.” she muttered. ”Cowardice won’t get ya no where. Drop the act, get’own here.” the woman made a rough gesture to the leaves. She looked at Morthalium and the dragon lowered it’s head. ”She thinks you are a spy, be cautious.” the Dragon moved around so that he could stand behind Fulgora again, ”She won’t leave. But she may not hurt you if you have valid reason for being here. But I will not allow spies in my home either.” Mort muttered lowly, nudging Fulgora and standing behind her proudly.