Typed this all tonight, see what you think.

Rugal's black claw tapped a simple tune against the stone, occasionally sending a barely visible puff of dust from the cavern rocks. The thunder bashed the inside of the living space, continuing its violent rampage as it echoed off of the walls. The slightly inward tilt of the cave entrance was inviting in water, several thin tendrils sweeping around the three occupants. Rugal didn't cease tapping as the thin streams rolled it's appendages around him.

"Kreadra," he asked, continuing to look outside the entrance. "When is Hersor going to get here?" Kreadra was making a low, grumbling sound, along with the distinct cackling of teeth. Her scaleless body, already weak from age, could barely contain any heat, she relied on leather for her warmth, and she had recently used up her last ones to provide some fuel for her fire, now dying a loud, sizzling death because water was flooding the makeshift fireplace. Kreadra didn't respond. Artureus craned his neck over until his head was right beside her shaking one.

"I can get in front of the water if you need me to." he whispered quietly, as quietly as his deepening adolescent voice could manage. His voice had always carried too well, being quiet for him was difficult. Kreadra heard him, given his close proximity, and allowed him to come in front of her, and lie down, providing a lee from the waters chilling grasp. His body was large enough to protect her twice over, both a reflection of his growth, and of just how small Kreadra was becoming, and had always been.

Rugal looked back at them for the moment. "You two shouldn't be here." he told both of them. "Hersor and I are the only two who need to be involved, this isn't a storm you want to be flying around in."

Artureus put his words in Kreadra's ears. Her expression changed slowly, almost lazily, from confusion to recognition. In a weak voice, she told Artureus that she wasn't going to let Rugal get involved with some dangerous conspiracy, and that he could get himself hurt. She also added that, even at her ancient age, she still had the same self-confidence in her own ability to protect him as she had always had.

"Fine." Rugal replied, with enough volume that Artureus realized that relying the message to Kreadra was unnecessary. Arty's silver tinted snout shifted occasionally from observing the currents of rainwater as they fell around him, to disappearing in behind the back of his head as he looked at his charge. Kreadra was warming up, partially because Artureus' mostly black body was so close to her, close enough that she could rest her head on his side if she wanted to sleep. This was most likely behind the ceasing of her chattering, and the water was no longer sapping heat out of her claws, or her tail end.

"Rugal, am I part of this?" Artureus asked. He was looking directly at Rugal for the first time that night. During their meal, he had kept his focus on Kreadra, on making sure she ate her food properly, that she didn't take too large a bite, that when she cooked her meat well done, that she didn't burn it. Rugal never talked during meals, he never felt comfortable talking with the taste of blood in his mouth.

"Hersor didn't like it, but you're just as involved as any of us, just keep on writing those pretty speeches, at some point we'll let you get one." Artureus' eye ridges both skyrocketed at the prospect, but his face still said that he was anxious and unsure of himself. Not a surprise. Artureus was always then nervous, slightly paranoid sort.

"Which ones did he like the most, I need some prospective models for future works if you're going to use them for anything..." He suddenly went into one of his long rants "the first, the first I tried to work with a more populistic theme, feeding off of the whole 'Piracy isn't the greatest danger to your nests' theme, an appeal to fear generally gets people rilled up, but my favorite was the one I based off of Learwing's essay on secession and individual defense, I did the best I could to add my own touch to it while maintaining faith to the original material. Perhaps one could theoretically..."

Rugal sent him a fierce look to keep him quiet. Artureus had stopped looking at him, and was now staring at the water as it flowed around his front claw, mumbling to himself incoherently. Rugal often wondered if Artureus made himself impossible to understand during his rambling just to make people think there was more going on in his mind than there really was, but after listening to Arty's work, he was sure he genuinely understood and meant every word he said, at least it was more than an intellectual game to him. The fact that he was willing to take a personal risk in writing for them was enough to make that certain. Borgen wouldn't have any sympathy if he knew that he could gain something by revealing their legal status in the city.

"Anyone missing me?" A warm, gruff voice called from the entrance. A weak orange face was illuminated for a split second by a jagged scar of lightening. His long, thin Southern head stuck into the dimly lit den. He was a heavy creature by any measure, his gut hung below his chest, swinging lightly as he stepped down into their abode.

"You're late." Rugal said "The cooked venison is gone if that was what you're looking for."

The orange dragon, apparently Hersor, looked up at Rugal, who towered above him, indeed he towered above everyone. "A dragons' got to eat Rugal, why I ALWAYS eat before I go anywhere."

"That's why you were always slower than me when we were younger, you had stuffed yourself with God-knows-what beforehand."

"Rugal, please let's not bring up our respective childhoods around one another again, you know both were so traumatic."

Rugal suddenly felt his upper lip curl. Hersor made a grievous error in judgment.

"Why did you even call this meeting, friend, if all we were going to talk about is the unbearable suffering you endured as a hatchling?" Rugal said, pressing each word out of his clenched jaw.

Hersor at first thought it was a completely genuine question, but then he looked at Rugal, and a fearful grin covered his face.

"S-Sorry Rugal, just trying to lighten the mood, I guess we had better get down to business then." Thunder rumbled as he sat down. "Well, I've gotten a basic membership list together. A lot of old war buddies of yours..."

"I want names Hersor, I want to know in who's jaws my life is going to be resting."

"Well, Jardath has come back from his excursion to the North, visiting family. You remember him, tall head, big jaw, small guy though."

"All Northerns have tall, rounded jaws, and a small stature Hersor, it's one of their distinguishing traits."

"All but yourself Rugal."

"Indeed, I liked Jardath, he was a good soldier from what I remember, loyal, courageous fellow."

"He brought an entire gang along with him, all battle hardened Northerners, veterans of both the Northern Civil War and the Great War, they also were mercenaries for a time, Jardath has a list of operations they were involved in for your review, in case you saw anything you didn't like."

"Good, Northerner's are rough, hardy folks, abetting a insurrection shouldn't be too difficult for them."

"We've got most of the herders with us, they know what's in their best interest."

"So long as they contribute..."

"Don't worry, They've some commitments to fulfill."

"Anyone else?"

"Just a few groups of travelers, including one lead by a Westerner, at least I think he's a westerner, named "Hermes" rather strange fellow, has a daughter and a son, a family man. Served as a mercenary for a while before deciding that he needed to take some time for his daughter, help her get a mate, move into a city, Teratha was deemed the place for them by some friends of there's"

"How old is his daughter by chance."

"Rugal!" Artureus burst out.

"Don't worry Arty," Rugal replied "I was thinking about myself more than you, Northerner's aren't generally taken well to around here."

Artureus probably understood this well enough, he looked a bit like a Northerner himself. But he certainly had some western blood in him, the wideness of his head, placement of eyes, long wings, but he had the Northern density and heavy build. Probably an egg of a Northern invader during the Great War, his mother most likley ravaged after her mate was killed. She probably got a male to accompany her around. That's why when Rugal...

"Hey, buddy, you there?"

Rugal suddenly shook himself out of his stupor.

"Rugal, I know you haven't a nest of your own to watch over,"

"I have enough to fight and die for Hersor, don't patronize me."

Hersor paused for a moment, probably censoring his own comments.

"Um... sorry, but there's still the matter of weapons..."

"I thought you provided those from your suppliers."

"I'm a blacksmith, not a weapons merchant."

Rugal took several steps forward, his dark green eyes only a few feet from Hersor's small, beady ones.

"What do you think it will matter if we have a thousand allies on our side? I've fought wars, I saw the Allied Forces cut down armies of pirates three times their size because they had better armor and weapons."

"If you're refering to the battle for the Home Isles..."

"The entire damn war Hersor, the entire war whenever we openly faced the pirates, whenever they put us, inexperienced, badly led, against hardened criminals, we still managed to win, because we had a few good soldiers ourselves, and because our weapons were the best, and our tactics were the best thought out. If you plan to waste precious energy on supplying us with weapons for open combat, you better make sure that we're going to use them!"

"Look, the Allied Campaigns aren't the best example, we lost that war."

" And who the (considering inserting F-bomb here) HELL are 'we' Hersor, who the hell did I fight for? The Southern Confederation and Teratha, A group of business interests trying to protect their cartels... no. I fought for my family. Well, at least that's what I thought. Did you know how many trained soldiers were actually given to the Allied Generals by both sides to fix the problem? One-hundred each, out of at least two-thousand they had, ONE HUNDRED!!! Where did we get our weapons and armor? We bought them off merchants with plunder from pirate havens. Where did our leadership come from? Most of them got killed within the first year of the campaigns, people like ME had to take charge, volunteers, conscripts, whichever. I was fortunate enough to be a member of the former. We were betrayed, we had no support, we had no assistance, we had failed before the fighting even began. No matter how many victories we scored on the battlefield, they still hid, they still did business, they still killed us off, if slowly."

"And that's what we have to do to them." Hersor said, hesitantly.

"No," Rugal replied "Pirates had no code, nor did they have any objective goal beyond keeping us off their land. They could have gotten rid of us sooner, saved a bunch of lives, had they cooperated instead of having the Pirate Lords squabble amongst themselves, hesitant to sacrifice. We must be different. We can embrace the most dishonorable tactics, we can hide in the markets, in the hovels, in the skies, and hunt them down slowly, and silently. But I will NEVER go to the depths that I saw from them, from US! I'm not going back there again Hersor, mark my words. We will be unified, we will be ruthless, we will be cunning, and we will use some of the same tactics the pirates used, but I will not see my cause denigrated by my own side."

"Rugal," Artureus said "Why do you even use my speeches?"

"Because," Hersor cut in "He can't do it on payroll."

"I'm not paid." Artureus responded.

"You will be, and a decent amount to depending on what we see fit."

"So, what now?"

Rugal pulled his head back. "Now," he said "We wait out this storm. You might want to say inside for the night Hersor, unless Cera will be missing you."

"Cera is fine thank you very much," Hersor replied "She is taking good care of her brothers."

"If she needs any help, I can take a quick glide over," Artureus tried to get out.

"No, she is perfectly competent on her own."

Rugal made a strange, lopsided grin.

"Go find a place to sleep Hersor, Arty, leave Kreadra for a second and come with me."

You've got talent, Matty I'll give you that. I came here with the intention to mall this story... and I find it nearly impossible.

I can't wait for the next update. Great work!

*is flattered*

Well, I guess I deserved something (can't remember what I did, whether it was ripping something of WotGs or usurping his authority, or something similar) of a beat down.

You're free to tear me down on the level of personal behavior, thanks for leaving my (Dare I say?) art alone.