Windriders
High above the forested peaks of Nidus, the Windriders ride the shifting air. Feathered Hollowbone of the Hawken, High Eagle, and Bicardin blood patrol the sky’s edge, vigilant sentinels against Manastrife’s encroachment. The small and meek—Hollowbones of softer voices—find refuge beneath their wings. When Manastrife mages stalk through dark woodlands, twisting magic into might, the Windriders descend in silent flocks: talons, wind-songs, and defiance.
They aren’t simply warriors. They are guardians of hope. Their ceremonies drip with old magic, feathers dipped in ritual pigments, their songs layered with sorrow and resolve. They remember when the skies were theirs alone; they believe it can be so again. In every gullied ridge, every ruined creek where magic once ran freely, they decry the sorcery used as chains. And when they strike, they do so like the storm: unexpected, swift, leaving air trembling.
avian knight
horus
skyflyer