{{Okay, let's see this through.}} Dizzy seems much less upset, his wings are pulled in close to his body and his head is held high. You're ready to see what kind of magics these Kobolds are capable of... if any. You're really not sure what to expect from this group of juveniles, could these whelps really know anything at all? Guess you're about to find out, it looks like Blunt-snout the old, amethyst drake is waiting for you at the gate.
{{I see you have come around after your little... episode. Tell me, Dizzy-tail the Whelp-in-all-but-Name,}} Blunt eyes you as he addresses your companion with his sarcasm, {{What have you decided?}} Diz takes a moment to compose himself after being reminded of his outburst and proceeds to answer Blunt-snout.
{{It took much to convince me, but... I have decided to aid you in your little experiment, if for nothing more than morbid curiosity and because I no longer wish to be away from my mate.}} He says proudly, though you might have detected a bit excitement in his speech-thought at the prospect of being an instructor, even if it's only for Kobolds. Your boy, blue, sure is growing up.
Blunt-snout rumbles his acknowledgement of Dizzy, the elder drake looking somewhat pleased with the results. That sure is a rarity, if anything. {{Well then, follow me back to the training field and we shall get started with our test group}} The purple drake trotting off down the village, a spring in his gait you've -never- seen before. Hecate knows what you're in for now.
The three of you arrive at the teaching grounds in short order, a group of about forty... Koboldlings? Juveniles, you decide on, are arrayed in front of you. You can really appreciate the variety of colours that these little scale-kin come in now that you are seeing them all in the bright midday light. You see reds, blues, greens like yourself, golds, white-bellies, black-patches and many shades of each. Their eyes are just as colourful and rarely match their scales. They're quite lovely to look at, you find, and their large eyes make them look almost adorable. You also notice that every juvenile has distinct markings on either their wings, and muzzle in one way or another, you decide to inquire about this, {{Hey, Blunt-snout, what do their markings indicate? I know that many of the adults bear similar ones, though usually in greater quantity.}} You hear a satisfied rumble come from the large dragon, looks like you touched on a subject of particular interest to him. Uh-oh.
{{I don't want to go into too much detail...}} He lies, {{But only because it is a fairly elegant, if primitive, concept and it is easy to understand fairly quickly.}} Blunt continues as he nudges one of the little guys forward, {{As you can see, there are several markings upon their muzzle which indicate their caste and clan or, in laymen's terms, their social standing and their family. Before us, we have a mix of young from every social class, though you'll notice many of the juveniles are fairly low-born.}} He makes a broad gesture at the gathered Kolblings, {{However, this distinction matters very little when they are young and is primarily an advantage only when finding a mate, as the Kobolds with the most affluence tend to get the pick of ideal mates.}} You kind of have to wonder what counts as 'affluent' in a society of mud-huts and magically-gardened villages, but then, you really still don't know much about their culture, do you?
{{If you look down at their wings, you can see every Kobold here has the same markings, despite their house and birth-rights. That is because these marks indicate the position they hold in their society.}} Blunt-snout is really on a roll now, he is poking and prodding at the comparatively tiny juvenile in his grip to illustrate his point. You regret getting him started. {{Every juvenile here holds the same position: Student and Spell-Singer}} You nod your head getting the gist of what he's saying, {{These marks are quite permanent}} He answers a question you don't remember asking, {{Spell-singers will always be responsible for developing the forest and natural resources the Kobolds need to survive, while harvesting falls to another class of Kobold. It is in these younglings that magic seems most innate, though almost all these creatures have some magical ability.}} Blunt-snout keeps talking and you keep trying to listen... You're sure Diz is off snoozing in the long grass somewhere.
{{Ultimately, the older a Kobold is, the more markings they accrue and their standing in society may rise with their accolades. Then that brings me to general fashion and the donning of jewelry to attract mates...}} The elder dragon continues on like this for almost another hour before his 'brief' summary finally reaches its conclusion. You feel like you've learned a lot about the social ladder of the Kobolds, however you're pretty sure you can smell your brain frying... Is that burnt toast? Dizzy emerges from where he was taking his nap.
{{Hey guys, what'd I miss?}} He smiles in a half-daze looking at you. All you can do is sigh and lament not getting to sleep through that spiel too. You guess you did ask for it.
Now that you're all back on board with teaching the day's lessons, Blunt-snout divides the juveniles up in to three, roughly-equal groups, each of you taking one. The groups will rotate to new lessons every two hours and with Diz on flight training and Blunt on teaching the use of controlled magic through runes, it looks like you'll be overseeing about six hours of pure meditation. Joy. You suppose it could be worse, you could be attempting to teach these kids of a theoretically-flightless species of lizard how to fall... with grace... for all that time, though at this point you could call yourself a master of falling. You've got the scars to prove it. Maybe meditation drills aren't so bad after all, it'll certainly help you heal some of your newer wounds.
Nope.
Three and a half hours of sitting still and staring at these mini Kobolds is dealing a tremendous amount of pain to your back and your butt is sore and your scales itch and your tail has developed a slight twitch, you might be sitting on a nerve. And you're hungry, when was the last time you ate? You shift a bit more, feeling about as comfortable as the night you spent curled up in a gnarled, old tree on the edge of a cliff. Occasionally, you have to growl at one of the juveniles to stop them from fidgeting, it's really the only way you've been able to communicate with them, otherwise you might have been able to share some of your similar sentiments about sitting in one spot for hours on end. Despite all that though, you find your... 'classroom'... to be rather relaxing. You and your group are situated in the middle of the field of tall grasses, sitting in something akin to a crop circle that was flattened out most likely by Blunt-snout himself. The image of the old drake rolling himself around in the tall grass like a hatchling brings a small smile to your face as you chuckle inwardly. The grass below you does make an effective cushion if nothing else and the grass that surrounds you muffles any outside noise, leaving you with just your thought, your class and the sound of the wind.
Eventually, you're herding your last class of the day out of the grassy knoll. You're immediately greeted by Blunt-snout's imposingly formidable form, {{You did exceptionally well today, young Amber, I cannot tell you how difficult it is to keep this many younglings focused all at the same time while still instructing them on how to better there magics. I feel that sooner, rather than later, we will be on the cusp of a real breakthrough!}} You puff your chest out a little bit, a swell of pride at the elder drake's words. Soon enough, Dizzy has joined you with his last group, he looks exhausted. His wings are sagged and his muscles are corded from his six hours of near constant exertion. It looks like he survived, though, if only barely.
{{Flight-sergeant Dizzy-tail, reporting for debriefing cap'n...}} Diz says in his post-workout delirium. He slumps over, completely out of sorts as the little kobolds hop on top of him or run around to find their friends among the other groups. At least none of them seem any worse for wear. Blunt-snout nods looking impressed again.
{{And what surprises do our young charges have for us?}} The amethyst dragon inquires of Dizzy. Your kyanite friend recounts how the juveniles will almost certainly be unable to fly any time soon, no matter how you define it, but they -can- use their wings as effective wind-breaks and it would be unlikely that a fall from any height would be fatal to these creatures given enough time to train them in the proper technique. {{That is much better than I had hoped to hear}} commends Blunt-snout, {{If we can train them to fall with ease, then we can teach them to fly with their own magics. This will prove most equitable if and when we can bring other dragons into talks about folding our societies into one...}} He pauses a moment in thought before waving you both off. {{Excellent results from today, you may return to your stalls where you will find your dinner, the village hunters and huntresses have returned with their kills. You've been given the freshest of the animals as you are to be treated as honored guests. Enjoy.}}
Your stomach growls loudly, indicating your feral hunger. You haven't eaten in well over a day and the thought of a fresh, warm kill is getting making you feel flushed. You guess food -can- be almost as good as sex with your blood pumping the way it is at just the thought of eating. You're worried you might start sporting a hard-on. You turn to start your dash back to the stables when you are stopped once more by the large, purple dragon. {{Amber-fields}} He addresses you formally, {{I believe we had an agreement and that I must still hold up my end of the bargain. You got me another instructor for the Kobold whelps, so... are you ready to fly like a -real- dragon?}} You look up at your captor, turned mentor who used to be the boogieman of the wilds. You whine a little internally at the prospect of having to wait even a moment longer for your meal, but your desperately want to fly and Dizzy is going to be way too tired to teach you as well as the juveniles.
{{I'm more ready than I can say, teach me to fly!}} You belt out, some energy returning your body as your excitement builds and gives you a second wind. The next thing you know, you're standing at the edge of the tower on the far-side of the field, immediately regretting climbing up the rickety thing.
{{Remember the drills I just showed you, clear your mind, open your wings and feel the wind's direction. Use up-drafts to increase your altitude without flapping your wings and guide your body with your tail. None of your body should be tense or you might as well be tying rocks to your wings...} The drake below you continues to give you last minute pointers on form and when to glide versus providing yourself with manual thrust by flapping. It's a little overwhelming and you barely retain any of it. You try to keep in mind the maneuvers you will need to make in order to land safely. You only know how much more damage you can sustain before becoming permanently disabled. Once the points have concluded, you're left alone with your own thoughts again as you peak over the ledge. It's do or die, you figure. Though you'd rather do over die.
With a deep breath and a prayer in your heart, you launch yourself from the edge of the tower...