Eragor wakes like he has every day since he had been taken in by the church to begin his training as one of the elite Skyriders of Tyr at the age of five.  He had shown extreme reasoning skills and a strong sense of justice as well as the physical strength and endurance to enforce it should he be trained to do so, so the Skyriders of Tyr took him from his family to do just that.  Now eighteen, he had finished his training two years ago and was a full rider, though he had not gotten the chance to do anything more than patrol the immediate area and sort out a few local disputes between the tribes at the base of the mountain.  He would have his chance though; every now and again there were events that called for more than just the routine protocols and judging petty arguments.

Rolling out of bed, he goes immediately to the floor and into an indian style position and prays to Tyr, the god of justice.  After about half an hour, Eragor rises from his position and dons his studded leather armor with the hammer and scales in the foreground and a spread winged griffon in the background.  He was still low in the ranks of Tyr's skyriders, a simple initiate, the lowest level above a trainee.  As such, Eragor was not afforded the better armor by the church, he must earn his rank to be given better quality skyrider armor or earn better armor in some other way outside of the order.  It didn't bother him though; he had worn heavier armor in training so he knew how to fight in it, and much preferred the lighter stuff, as Strike didn't have to carry as much.

Once his equipment is all well in place, Eragor walks outside to greet the morning sun rising in front of him to the east.  It was a beautiful day with clear skies, and Eragor could hear Strike on the cliff above and behind him moving about.  The griffon and he had been brought together during his sixth year in training when Strike was just a fledgling.  He was as small as a medium sized dog and for two years after followed along with Eragor through the air and on the ground, still to small for the young boy to ride him.  Strike was an adolescent now, and much bigger than Eragor, nine foot long and almost five at the shoulder.  He lived in one of the many caves in the cliff face above the initiate barracks near the peak of the mountain and was now emerging as he did every morning at the same time Eragor did.  Eragor didn't need to hear him to know he was there.  Strike rose and went to sleep when Eragor did and they spent every moment of their lives together except when Eragor was indoors.  They knew each other inside and out.  That was why Eragor had no doubts when he charged at the steep cliff twenty feet in front of him, let loose a loud whistle and dove off into the air, hundreds of feet above the jagged rocks below him.  He spread his arms like a bird as he plummeted through the air with his eyes closed, enjoying the cold bite of the morning wind racing across his face and through his long black locks.  And after a few seconds, he felt the feathers beneath his arms and the mass of his large friend pressing against his body as he plummeted to meet him.  Opening his eyes, Eragor smiled at the back of Strike's head and grabbed onto the saddle, situating himself in place.  Just as he got a good hold, the griffon sharply leveled off a mere 20 feet above the rocks below and then quickly began to gain altitude, doing barrel rolls and summersaults in mid air with Eragor clutching his feathery mane.

Soon they leveled off a few hundred feet above the peaks of the Duskars and circled.  Eragor soaked in the morning light, looking north to the plains the south to the dense forests.  Some odd stories had been coming from down that way recently, talking of an evil presence growing.  The trinity was that way, and had usually handled such things, which meant the skyriders usually had little reason to head that way.  They patrolled the northern plains and the east and west light forests mostly, leaving the mages to do their work.  But these reports had been starting to give those in command cause to start worrying,  Because of this, Eragor's orders today were to fly down that way and see what was to be seen, help those in need if he was able.  He would be taking a younger initiate just out of training with him in case he needed to send word back to the order but could not return himself.  And here he came now, Rolgash and his griffon Melandor.

Rolgash was larger than Eragor, as was Melandor larger than Strike.  In the air, he and Strike were more able, Strike being the quicker and more maneuverable griffon.  The ground was a different story.  Eragor was small, but strong for his size, though he lacked the usual speed and quickness that came with it.  He could hold his own in one on one battle against most, but not like some of the other paladins in the order such as Rolgash, who had the strength of an ox and the speed of a hawk.  He lacked in intelligence though, which was needed to rise in the ranks.  Rolgash would probably linger in the lower ranks for most of his life while the outlook for Eragor was that he had the potential to be a mid-ranked officer or higher with a  little luck.

After a few quick greetings, he and Rolgash headed south.  After hunting down a a few deer for breakfast, they were off again.  One of them would stay high to be able to see far away and the other would fly low to be able to see detail on the ground.  Most of the day was eventless as they moved, though the terrain got darker and darker as they traveled, the wild life more scarce until there was none.  At about four o'clock, Rolgash sited it while flying high and brought Melandor down low to get Eragor's attention before going back up high with Eragor following.  He pointed south, where the towers of the trinity were just coming into sight on the horizon.... But only two stood.  As Eragor was about to motion to meet on the ground, a huge gout of flame could be seen even from this far.  There was only one thing that could make a flame that large and that long, lighting up the skies like it did.  Eragor motioned to meet on the ground in a small clearing ahead.  They wouldn't be able to talk over the biting winds in the air.

When they were both on the ground, Eragor nudged Strike toward the other rider and mount.  "Rolgash, that was a dragon, there's no other possibility.  You saw one tower was missing... The trinity is in trouble.  Go back and warn the order of what we have seen.  I will go ahead to see how bad it is and return if I can, though my help will most likely be needed and I will have to stay."

Rolgash nodded.  "Be careful Eragor, don't be brash."  Eragor just smiled at Rolgash's knowing comment as the other rider tapped Melandor's sides with his heels and the griffon leapt into the air, flying north.  The two of them wouldn't make it back home tonight, it would be at least noon two days ahead before anyone else from the order made it to Elmshade, and that was if they sent help right away, if at all.  The more likely case would be that they would send more scouts and assess the situation before committing.

Eragor leaned over and spoke to strike.  "We fly into danger, fly true and may the wind be with us."  With that, Strike leapt into the air and the two of them headed toward the south keeping their eyes on Elmshade.  A few minutes later, another tower blinked out of sight as if it had never been there, and Eragor willed Strike to fly faster.