Cave Dragons
Mercurion's dragons were closer to nature during the first hundred years of their existence than they have been since. Seeing no need to take on bipedal form, they fluttered unseen from world to world, succumbing to their other great passion—the unquenchable thirst for new sensations. They would return home to share their impressions with their brothers, only to fly back out in all directions shortly after.
The dragons lived as "hunter-gatherers," as they jokingly put it. They hunted for life of any kind beyond the borders of Naeria (they especially liked lunching in the hills of Horned Schamp), and like true magpies, they collected piles and piles of all sorts of shiny trinkets as souvenirs of the places they'd visited. A little later, when their favorite hunting grounds became deserted by the prey (these days shampp, with or without horns, can be found only in the Abyss), the dragons switched to raising cattle. They began breeding various beasts right in the catacombs under the Fangs.
The children of the Lord of Wind resided in large caves. The floors were lined with different varieties of Lurrijan moss, which looked and functioned like giant carpets, boasting bright patterns and "hair" the length of your arm from elbow to wrist. They were regaled by singing toads brought in from the Fragrant Marshes, which the dragons kept in silver cages and cared for in every way (although, if the singers began hitting the wrong notes with consistency, they were immediately feasted on). This rather austere way of life remained unshakeable for centuries...
All the same, there came a point in the dragons' lives when things began to change. The ancient serpents were inclined to admire scenery, architecture, epic celebrations and battles. All of these they observed from above, remote and detached. However, that did not suffice for the subsequent generations. The young dragons wanted to discover the foreign world from within, in all its glorious detail.
After enlightenment came compassion, first and foremost for those creatures who were being persecuted for freethinking.
Whoever the first dragon was to think of using the Fangs as a shelter for freethinkers, his name has been lost to history. Just the same, for the next few years he and his brothers took in hundreds of creatures and blocked the way to Dragon Fangs for anyone wishing to pursue them.
The guests' presence made the Fangs unusually comfy and cozy for the dragons. Many of them realized for the first time that these two cliffs were in fact their home, and not some sort of cold, stale inn to fly to when you need to lick your wounds and swap tall tales with random acquaintances. They began to spend more time in bipedal form, as they were fond of visiting non-dragon friends. Some even furnished their small caverns with decor collected during their travels after their new friends' homes. Still, for a while these rooms were more like warehouses than habitable quarters.
For a while...
The Wings of Sunset Era
A fellow merchant quarreling with the Wings of Sunset
would be like a bird cutting off its own wings.
Haaz Farmidar,
Owner of The Rat Hole tavern and shop
Many Enhiargeans come to find out "what horror" their world really is when a clerk from WoS, our largest transport company, hands them a neat purple envelope with a letter informing them that service will no longer be available for the foreseeable future. No more portals. Your boat and buggy are your best friends. Before this, Wings' clients regarded Enhiarg as a kind of apartment with a multitude of rooms, with the ability to move from one room to another being generally overpriced.
Volumes could be written about the formation of this organization, but let's try and suffice with the cliff notes version. Once upon a time, long ago, there lived a kind dragon from a good bloodline by the name of Elarvyon. He wouldn't even eat ungodly off-key Lurrijan toads, as he full well could have. Rather, he took them back to their home swamps and let them go free. Such a kind, noble heart! When he began to sing of his travels, everyone around him fell silent. Not a single scale would creak, not one tail would scrape against a stone... And yet, the noble dragon was foolish enough to get involved with that shameless ignominy of the dragon race—Sydelarin an Villaor!
This scaly lady had been very different from the rest of her kind since childhood. As opposed to her peers, who longed to escape parental guidance as soon as they could, she constantly requested that attention be paid to her most magnificent self. "What, you mean to say I'm not as interesting as these snoring towers of yours?" she asked of her father in envy once, as he was excitedly describing the sight to her mother. The old dragon was at a loss. Of course the towers were more interesting! It was the first he'd heard of them. His daughter, on the other hand, was always around...
That attitude offended Sydelarin. She was never bored with herself. While her winged comrades were discovering faraway worlds, Sydelarin was discovering herself. She could stare at her reflection for hours in the cave's mirrored wall, even though there was nothing new or interesting in her appearance (like the special type of rust that eats dragons' scales, the "life" of which—on his own paw!—Sydelarin's brother monitored for three whole days and nights!). But there was something unusual in her self-admiration, although she did not at first understand what.
Some historians, especially those from the sect... we mean, from the movement known as "Back to the Caves!" regard this moment in Sydelarin's biography as somehow shameful. They forget what thoughts this admiration led to. Sydelarin was the first dragon to pay heed to her own self—first to her external appearance, then to her internal world. She was the first to allow herself to wonder whether it was really her heart's desire to spend an entire eternity gliding over life—watching it but not living it, recounting intensely and with great enthusiasm other creatures' ways, hobbies, projects, passions, triumphs and defeats, but if prompted to say something about herself, have nothing to offer but confused silence. In short, one fine day Sydelarin declared, "I want to live my life, to know who I am, what it means to be me, what I want in life and what I'm capable of." She resolved to find what she loved to do best of all, something that would give her life meaning and make her happy.
She stayed true to her word. The whimsical Lady an Villaor rented half a duplex from one of the "rescued" creatures and started spending all her time in bipedal form, taking on non-dragons' way of life, as she'd rightly understood that these creatures generally achieved a much greater level of self-actualization than her own tribe. Sydelarin tried her hand in a multitude of pursuits, from cultivating a meaty breed of ampus to painting scales, until one day she offered to help her beloved (and like-minded) Elarvyon in transporting several rebels they'd rescued to Lar'aert'aemori.
No sooner had she taken a dip in the messy, vibrant, engrossing luxury of life in Lar'aert'aemori than she decided she'd found what she had been seeking. Her goal in life became attending as many balls, fancy dinner parties, exhibits and fashion shows as possible. As for self-expression, getting dolled up in a new dress or showing off her mastery of an ancient dance was more than enough for her. But Lady an Villaor's role in the life of Dragon Fangs did not end there.
It was she who helped Elarvyon discover the wonders of non-dragon life. In studying this new world, he understood pretty quickly how badly "the wingless" needed what he and his kind could easily provide. Elarvyon saw how ridiculously expensive it was for his artist friends to buy rare materials imported from other worlds for their work. He was appalled to see botched sorcerers creating unstable portals that occasionally caused the demise of not only cargo, but those accompanying it as well...
Thus, Wings of Sunset was born. Founded by the winged out of genuine sympathy for the wingless, the organization quickly undercut the inflated prices for spacial displacement. Elarvyon and Sydelarin (who handled marketing and public relations) had to deal with enraged competitors and even fight off several attacks on their office, but they persevered, and what's more, with each passing year more and more of Mercurion's children joined Wings. Working for Wings of Sunset became the main source of income for the residents of Dragon Fangs. Branches sprang up all over Enhiarg, and very soon beyond its borders as well. Comparably safe and affordable portal transport was established, and for those who wanted a taste of something a bit more exotic, there was the option to ride on a dragon's back, which was soon in high demand from clients from all regions and walks of life. After a while Elarvyon expanded the enterprise, adding to transport services the manufacture of botomless bags and all kinds of levitation devices—from racing boards to anti-gravity column-beds.
It goes without saying that Elarvyon, formerly said to be a "poor dear, bewitched by the beautiful yet loopy broad," became a national hero back on the home front. His fame reached even non-dragon lands. One of the main reasons for his notoriety was that a large portion of the profit from WS went to charity.
However, they couldn't avoid some unpleasant events, too. One of Elarvyon's closest associates, Kettaron, went rogue and executed several contracts in the name of the company which violated the organization's regulations (they say there was even one for transporting slaves!), thus eliciting the wrath of the Dragon Fangs Council and even the Lord of Wind himself.
What prompted Kettaron to commit such acts? Perhaps they were the logical result of his twisted philosophy. After all, there's a reason many were quoted as saying about him, "He understands freedom, first of all, as freedom from one's conscience." Kettaron became indignant on more than one occasion at Elarvyon's brutally strict honesty and transparency standards in conducting business, and these demands extended to his clients as well. But there's another version of this tale—that Kettaron wanted to discredit and destroy Elarvyon's work, because at one time the beautiful Sydelarin had preferred him to Elarvyon.
No matter the reason behind his actions, there was no excuse for them. At first the Council showed mercy and simply banished him. But Kettaron didn't know when to stop and committed yet another crime, a crime too heinous to publicize here, for which he was sentenced to an unprecedented punishment—he was stripped of the ability to fly. No longer could he lift himself off the ground and into the air by force of will. What's more, the dragons branded him in their own way—they cut off Kettaron's wings. None of the forms he took on, no matter how many times he changed his body, were winged.
The criminal endured this terrible punishment with unexpected stoicism. He departed from Dragon Fangs unbroken. He later swiped one of his crumpled wings and wore it as a cape from then on. In honor of this eternal reminder of the pain and humiliation he'd endured, he called his awful creation "the Broken Wing."