The Legend of Spyro

Warriors of the Fallen

Chapter 08 Things can never last

While reorganization was the description we would give, in practice, it was more akin to remotivation. There were thousands of Awoken being helped by the Foxmen, and both sides were at their wit's end.

On one side were the Natural Magic users. Their most prominent food source was a combination of moss, mushrooms, and other low light crops supplemented by any magic dense meat they could hunt from the Giant's Forest. They were in a lull between growing seasons, so the refugee camp thankfully did not hurt them as much as it could have given it was sitting on their cultivation fields. Hunting was a different matter.

Hunting was dangerous, but even the smallest of prey from the great forest could feed several households. But by the time we had arrived, the village had cleared out the most accessible game that was close by. And the dark army, while not willing to venture very deep into the forest itself for fear unknown to us, they had managed to scare away the most plentiful of life with their own hunts. Hunts which could and did clear vast swaths of land as they marched.

For the dragons, very few knew how to hunt. Only a tiny handful had any experience, and even less had the motivation. They had been imprisoned for many, many years—some longer than they like to admit, even now after these many decades. Those who could at least try did so by doing what they could. Some, a minimal number not even far into the double digits, helped as pack carriers, others as willing to learn to scouts, but by and far of those who were ready, they acted as protection.

The Tribal Magic users, the foxmen, were best used for hunting or in combination with their fearsome boomerangs. They could, of course, fight; they are, after all, one of the small handful of tribes who managed to stay out of the Dark Armies Slave Camps. But they were best at quick fights, and had relied on their "Hidden Village in the Roots" and the magics protecting it for much of the various Dark Campaigns, which had endangered many others. So when they ventured outside the village, any interaction with the Dark Army could prove disastrous at the slightest provocation. So, knowing this, Harild (when he had arrived and found out) had gotten the most mobile, the most self-aware, the most adaptable, and in some cases the most "bored out of their skulls" to help out to make sure their new hosts got at least some help. (I also think it was so that he felt useful, not being able to go out and search for others himself; having arrived at the village with multiple sprained muscles from trying to fistfight numerous dark army patrols).

This little bit of help was the only thing that kept the proto-alliance going. It allowed the foxmen to say the teenagers who had been dropped on them were at least trying. And it proved a point of both motivation and hope for those teenagers that they were helpful. But as the time had gone on and the group had settled in, this feeling for both sides had started to wain.

The foxmen wanted more of the dragons to help. But the vast majority of the dragons were simply done. They had been running for weeks; they were tired, many had various injuries, and outside of self-preservation, no one knew what to do next. Years of living under the needle, the sword, and in those laps, self-determination outside of preservation had been lost. And that was the one thing, beyond all others, that was needed if we were to survive.

-The War of Renewal - The Fallen Perspective By Marshal "Stormrunner" Fabree, The Dark-Storm General; Chapter 11 - Reunion and our Reoginzation (beginning of the chapter)

It felt like it had been weeks, but in reality, it had only been a few days. A handful of days of being in this village. An insignificant number of nonstop days. The only strong point Spyro could give was that both he and Cynder were allowed to use an empty bedroom within the village itself instead of the many tents used by the other awakened. The couple had tried to deny it when Marshal had negotiated for it, but the wind user would hear none of it. To him, it was both a thanks for their help and a way of showing to the foxmen that while they were all dragons, they were not entirely one faction.

Spyro was uncertain how he felt about being called a different faction. And again, Marshal had explained it. He felt, very firmly, that the others were his responsibility, not just their safety but also their continued existence. He wanted the couple to feel like they could help, not be responsible for them. Marshal wanted Cynder and himself as valued allies and friends.

It took Cynder and Spyro a near hour of talking between them to make sense of this. But in the end, they understood. Marshal knew that if all else failed, they could take care of themselves. He did not want them to fealed tied down by these awakened they barely knew. He was giving them an open way out. A way out the two of them agreed they would never use. They would agree to be allies, but as Spyro had done for Cynder, they would help and be there for their new friend.

And so, every day, the couple had risen from their comfy bed (only the one bed, the first night had been awkward as they both had realized how comfortable and natural that had become) and set out to help. Their most immense contribution, as Marshal put it, was an example. Every day they walked amongst the others, helping in any way. Sometimes they were healers where Marshal could not; sometimes they were teachers when none knew how and others time still they were another hand, another voice offering their help. Three times in those days, the couple had worked with the foxmen in their hunt, offering much of what they gained to support the refugees.

Three times was all they had been able to offer; the hunts had not gone well. The nearby Dark Army had been getting closer. They could no longer hunt anywhere but the Giant's Forest. And Hunting the great beast of that forest was not for the faint of heart. Spyro having to wrestle a "Dragon Deer," which had been as big as the Time Crystal he had once formed within the Well of Souls, was more than evidence of how dangerous it could be to hunt under these foreboding trees.

And yet, the couple knew that as much as they did, Marshal tried more. Within a day, those who had been the most severely injured had already been healed by the wind user. The most "Glass Eyed," Those who seemed to teeter on the edge of being called the "Walking Dead," he had talked them back to awareness (some even going on to help others). Though the couple knew it was not entirely the case, he seemed to revitalize the refugees' prior relations, alliances, and agreements. Some of them started to group up and offer the foxmen their help. But above all, every night after many others had begun to nod off to sleep, the couple would watch him venture into the Giant's Forest alone. And every morning, he would come back with at least two creatures he had managed to hunt, and the day he had brought in what the foxmen had ah-voiced called an Alpha Dragon Deer had been a sight to behold. Marshal, patchwork gambeson covered, lightly armed, average-sized man that he was, carrying a Deer Spyro would forever swear was as large as the battering ram used against Warfang (it was not really that big, but at the time, it sure looked like it). The purple dragon knew that Marshal was still suffering from an overcharge of magic, and that was why it seemed like the older male was never sleeping, but at times he could not help but feel like the guy was trying too hard.

On this day, as Spyro exited the small hut, he turned to try and find the overachiever in question. He was surprised to see him sitting on a root at the edge of the village, nothing in his hands except a small cup of what was probably the morning's ration of porridge.

Firmly curious, the purple dragon went up to him.

Before he could ask, Marshal was forthcoming, "The herds have moved on, and I couldn't get to anything smaller. I counted three dreadwing patrols just inside and at least two mixed scouting groups trying to find the edge of the village's wards." A soft snort escaped before he continued, "They were way off, thankfully. I think my fighting with that Alpha the other day is still throwing them off."

Spyro was unsure if he should chuckle or sigh, so instead, he did nothing and took up a seat next to the older male. Once there, he turned his view to look over the many, many tents and their slowly raising occupants. He could just make out his partner near one of the fires handing out fresh porridge; she had been able to get up earlier than he had this day.

From his new vantage point, Spyro could see the condition of the camp. Despite many creatures' best efforts, it had not improved much since he had arrived. While they were not starving, it was a near thing. And to say nothing about the general hygiene, the better. The small stream the foxmen usually used had been reserved exclusively for drinking water. Even the foxes were struggling; the best they were doing were sand baths to at least try and keep what fur they had from getting downright filthy.

With a small sight, Spyro asked the vital question, "So, what's the plan?"

Marshal took a sip of his porridge before responding, "Right now. Right now, I'm not sure. I don't know much longer we can go before we start to call this a siege. The food reserves are stretched more than they have any right to; we can't survive a siege of any form."

Spyro hmed, then noticing that Cynder had seen him, he motioned for a small bowl for himself and for her to join them before responding to Marshal. "If we can't survive a siege, general expectation to escape. You've got them moving now, from what I hear from Claw, that's an improvement."

Claw was the foxmen's Warmaster and the current defacto leader of the Fox Tribe. It was with him that Marshal did any negotiations with and who Spyro tried his best to talk to at least once a day to make sure the foxmen were alright (and on a more personal note, smooth over any ruffled fur that might exist between them and Cynder. While her corrupted form had not fought directly against any foxmen, of that they were confident, that did not mean any action taken during that time had not hurt them in some manner). Claw was as very no-nonsense as one could get, but he was kind-hearted at his core. He wanted and felt it was the responsibility of the tribe to help those in need; he could not just kick the awakened out even with the danger of them being there was possing.

Marshal sighed in response to Spyro's statement, "You're right. The problem is, The problem is that I don't know if I can get them to. This is the first time, in many years, that we've felt...safe." Spyro raised an eyebrow; Marshal noticed and continued. "You know, and I know, we're not. By the Ancestors, even many of them know we're not. But right now, it's an illusion that we are that matters. Amongst the Core, we know, but outside of Harild, Georgia, Luanda, and maybe Carmeta, none of them want to force the others more than we are."

Spyro hmmed again as the thought. The Core Marshal was speaking of was the eight dragons Marshal relied on to coordinate the rest. Each one of them knew their element and had shown that amongst their elements, they could help others out of the various pitfalls contributed to their elements. Though a few creeped Spyro out, Stecra, the Audio user, being primary amongst them. How that female was able to stay such a high energy and chipper person, despite having had her vocule cords ripped out through her throat, the purple dragon would never know (Cynder was firm of the belief that it was more a just this side of dark-crazy personality than chipper, but if it was the female was good at masking it).

Of the others, Horhe of Fire was one good push from losing control of his "Volcanic Rage." Ironically Luanda of Ice and her ever-present Ice Armor'd self was never far to keep him in check.

Kean of Poison usually worked with the "Every Moving, Ever in Control" electric user that was Carmeta, the female able to get Kean to think things through with her need to understand before she proceeded with most things.

Georgia and Harild were almost the direct hands of Marshal, Harlid the defacto second of the group, and Georgia being effectively the third. Both were also what Marshal liked to call the "Strong Arm" of the Core as apparently; they had previously been Marshal's go-to for when they had needed raw magical strength. And according to Marshal, they were probably the most "all there" of the Core. This was saying a lot, given how often Georgia had to bring herself back from "Looking into the Shadows."

The odd one out had been Walf of Wind. To the couple, Walf looked like a stiff breeze would scatter him to the winds. And yet, the whole of the Core and Marshal, swore by him. Spyro did not know what Walf had done, and he rarely saw the wind user except when the rest of the Core was present, but according to the others, he had more than earned his place.

Marshal was not considered a part of the Core to the others. He Led the Core, but his leading was because he was a Light Bearer. This was something Spyro was still trying to wrap his brain around. The best he could gather was that many felt that Core existed to ease Marshal's burden with agreement from the Core. What all the responsibilities were, outside of the "The Memories of Those Lost and Spirit of the group" as Georgia had put the only time a remotely straight answer had been given, Spyro had no idea.

Spyro believed they could give the Chronicler a run for his gems with how these awakened managed to create metaphors, half-truths, and misdirections.

Spyro was broken from his thoughts when a small cup of porridge was put into his hands as Cynder took a seat next to him. He took his first sip of the warm substance as Cynder revealed she had heard the conversation on her way over. "Marshal, I know things are...tense, but if what the scouts keep reporting keeps up, we'll have no choice."

Marshal sighed, his hands grabbing his porridge tightly, "I know. I know. I, I just can't break away from this, though. For the first time in, for the first time in longer than I can speak of, it doesn't feel like the whole world is trying to kill us. It feels like," he leans back, his eyes closing as he lifts his face to the sky and a small amount of light able to break through the tree canopy. "For the first time, in years, almost feels like a decade for some of us; we feel like the ancestors haven't forsaken us. Like we can finally catch our breath."

The couple was silent; this was the most they had heard Marshal speak so warmly and unrestrained. They were both sure they had heard him do so before, but this seemed different to them.

Marshal chuckled lightly before he continued, "I guess that's part of the problem. We've finally been allowed to catch our breath. We're not waiting for the other shoe to drop. We're able to truly stop, to think, to take stock of...of everything." He opened his eyes, lowered his head, and looked back over the camp. "That's, that's the problem. With time to reflect comes time to grieve, but also time to regret. And in regretting, we become lost."

Cynder leaned forward to get a better look at Marshal and offer a comforting expression, "Maybe for a little bit. But not as much as before. I've seen it, Marshal. The longer you're here, the more they seem to...center themselves."

Marshal's forced chuckle was telling, "That's one of putting it." He sighed again. "More than likely, they're using it as an escape. I've always been the one they trusted to move forward in our darkest times. To move forward, remember, never forget, and give them a path onward. In body, and most especially in spirit."

Spyro had to ask, "But now? Now when they have the chance for themselves?"

Marshal nodded, "Now it should be different. But they don't know-how. They've, we've spent too long under that bastard's care. We're falling back on old habits," Another chuckle. "Myself included. That needs to end."

Cynder reached across Spyro to put a hand on Marshal's leg; Spyro put his hand on her's to offer support as she spoke, "And we'll be right here to help, Marshal. Whatever you need, even if it's a kick in the but. So, What's the plan?"

Marshal smiled and, with a slightly more cheerful voice, responded, "The plan? For now, Finish breakfast. After that, I think I'll, No. WE'll Call up the Core, Claw as well. I think it's a good idea to have all three of you start to not only provide more "advise" but also see if we can't get some of the more willing to follow your directions directly. If we can get even a slightly more organized setup going for everyone else, I think it will provide a good baseline."

Spyro smiled, "There you go. Who knows, maybe we can get this whole melancholy attitude turned around! It might be a gradual way of doing it, but it's worth a try!"

Marshal's smile was infectious. The three of them spent the rest of their time eating breakfast with a smile plastered on their face with hopes and ideas on the next step.

I may never have said it in such words, but I will forever be thankful for Spyro and Cynder. Not just for all they did before our escape. And not just for all they've done around the world. And not just for what the many parts they played in the War of Renewal. But primarily for all they did to help us, The Lost Generation, in our escape from The Devourer.

They have tried many times to downplay what they did. They like to say they played but a supporting role. But that can't be further from the truth. Ask any one of the Lost Generation, and we'll all say, "Without them, we would have been lost."

They did more than comfort the injured, provide a helping hand, or calm teacher.

They were a voice of a reason. An example of those who have walked in and through the fire, literally and figuratively, came out. They were a guide, an Awoken guide specifically, which could fill in gaps we never even knew we had. And above all, they were there.

From the moment I met them, they were acting. They refused to be on the sideline for anything, at any time.

And above all, they were the source of 'normalcy' we needed. This normalcy may not have been the same for most; some have said the life of the Legendary Couple had been anything but ordinary. But to us, to those that had not seen the world in all those years, they were like the sun. We had nothing else to base off of at the time. And even as years went by, this prevailing thought has still stuck with many of us.

It was their council that truly started our transition from refugees, from escaped test subjects (near slaves) into what we would be known as. It was their presence, their motivation, and their advice that allowed us all finally see the green fields of the future and the possibility of reaching it.

Sadly, while I will forever credit those two with the start, there was little we could do for the event that caused it. For the one singular event above all others, which changed us from escapies to warriors.

-The War of Renewal - The Fallen Perspective By Marshal "Stormrunner" Fabree, The Dark-Storm General; Chapter 11 - Reunion and our Reoginzation (End of Chapter)

Cynder had to fight to keep the smile off her face. It would be hard to explain why seeing so many of the Awakened Refugees gathered off to one of the sides of the overhang cave made her smile to most. Spyro would understand, Marshal might, Claw would probably think she was crazy, Georgia would probably take the thought somewhere close, and the rest of the Core would think her mad.

But to Cynder, seeing, while not all of the refugees, it was a great many of them, at this gathering was very much a good thing. It was day two of Marshal's new "organization idea." The day before had only been just this side of success. This day though, it looked like they would be able to get more into the whole idea. Everyone knew it would not solve their problems. But that was not the aim; the aim was to get people used to doing things again, little by little.

The most prominent advisory to this plan was how most were going about it. Many were doing it because they had been told to. Others because they needed something, anything to do. But most were doing it because they were scared, not of what would happen if they did not help. But they were frightened because of everything going on.

It had been noticed the day before that the reason not many had been initially all for this new plan was that they had started to slip back into the mindset they had before they had escaped the Dark Forces.

It had been ingrained in them to live with what little you were given. Do not get noticed or singled out under any circumstances. And above all, do not try to change what you know will not be changed.

Cynder took that so many had arrived as an indication that things were starting to change. That they were beginning to move forward into a new world. One She hoped and prayed would keep them.

The female half of the Legendary Couple noticed Marshal give Luanda a nod. This was the signal for her to start. Instead of everyone having to rely solely on Marshal for direction, the idea was to spread it around a bit more. Get everyone a little more used to the fact that they could do more things again.

Cynder watched as the Ice user stepped forward and started to address the crowd. She did not listen the worse and instead paid attention to the response.

She was a little saddened to notice that many were neutral or still very much just going through the motions. But this change-up in who was giving them an itinerary for the day looked to shake up most just enough to get their attention.

And then she heard it, the cry of uncertainty, "Why are we doing this?"

Cynder was uncertain of who said it; it was somewhere from within the crowd. But the source did not matter. What mattered was that it was enough to start discontent.

Luanda, and quickly a few others from the Core started to respond. But Cynder was not paying attention. Something, she could not figure out what, had begun to tickle at the edge of awareness.

As a small argument started to break out in front of her, Cynder tried to look around to figure what it was that was bugging her. Before she knew it, the argument had shifted from discontent to fear. Some had started to realize their situation or more likely one of the Core or Claw had pointed out the village was slowly being put to siege.

With a slight, almost insubstantial shift of the ground, Cynder's attention was drawn up. She saw nothing on the roof of the overhang cave. But what she did see was small rocks, pebbles really, shaking lose from above.

Cynder was alarmed. This land was geographically stable; the only way to make the earth move in such a manner was either throw magic or explosives. That could mean many things, but to Cynder, that finally caused her senses to become apparent. She knew why her awareness had been grabbed. Her subconscious senses had felt it before the rest of her had caught up.

She turned rapidly both to see where the build-up magic was coming from and to warn Marshal. But that had been unneeded. For before she could give a warning, Marshal was already in motion.

As Marshall gave a sudden cry of "Ready to arms!" Cynder noticed Marshall swing around, his arms reaching outwards, magic flying through the air. Marshal's apparent magical spell encountered something of equal force. A terrific explosion rang from the wall of the overhang cave, battering up against Marshal's counter. Two barriers of wind stopping each other cold.

As a second force of magic flung out from Marshal in rapid response, Cynder heard it; the cry of dying dreadwing.

She, like all others, reacted with shock. They had been found.

But already Marshal was ready, " Stand ready, stand firm! This is not the labs; this is not a test! We! Are! Free! Arm up! Ready yourselves! We fight, and we will live! Stand ready, stand firm! And show these bastards your true strength!"

Cynder almost did not see it, but she sure felt it. Something washed over everyone there. What once was a crowd about to panic had shifted. With Marshal's yell, every dragon around, they shifted their dominant foot back, and with a crack of magic, each one formed a weapon of their element.

This was no longer a crowd of beaten young; this was now a force of hardened fighters. But more importantly, they were reminded that they were an army of survivors and were no longer victims but self-made warriors. And they were not ready to give that up!

AN: I was profoundly struggling on how to start this one, but then the idea of using the book again came to mind. And thus, we get what is effectively a tiny part of the relevant chapter of that book. Fun fact, I actually had to brainstorm what the chapters of that book would be. We'll probably see some of the various chapters in different parts of the story, in no discernible order, as Spyro/Cynder learn things about what happened. Again, this means explaining more than what the couple is directly told, or is never spoken of in "polite company." If anyone is curious about specific parts, let me know. I'd be willing to expand some "chapters" or even try my hand at typing an entire chapter and posting it as a stand-alone chapter for the overall story instead of as excerpts like they are now.

In other news, a bit at the end was actually created before the rest of this chapter. I had some inspiration one night and used voice-to-text on my phone to get most of it down. I still had to change parts of it and figure out exactly how to get there, but I think it worked out.

I don't have much more to say on this one. As it stands, my muse has been jumping off cliffs for the last few months, so bad is it that I've been struggling to edit and post what I already had. I'll work through it at some point….hopefully.

Anyways, that's all I got for now. So until we meet again, Happy Reading.