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The Emerald Rangers were a class above; haughty and strong, a terrifying balance of powerful Thaumaturgical spell-casting and surgical violence. Only the best Emeralds were capable of becoming Rangers, and the fallout rate for cadets was extreme. Rangers were required to achieve not only phenomenal Thauma control and physical combative ability but also to endure extremes of physical and mental pain and suffering in order to be given the crescent-shaped tattoos that adorned their forewings, the number of crescents denoting their Ranger rank. Other wing tattoos denoted formal commendations and awards for bravery, and needless to say, only the newest Ranger recruits were lacking in significant numbers of tattoos.
Like the now corrupt Hawker class, the Emerald Rangers did not reside in or near the Salix, instead living a day's flight east of the Salix, in the cold foothills of the Crest Mountains. The Rangers occupied a plain but near-impenetrable stone fortress called the Crest's Eye, fashioned with ancient Terra magics under a steep stream that rushed down the hillside, its clear and near-freezing waters cascading down many rapids and waterfalls, underneath one of which the fortress was located. From there they oversaw the protection of the Odonata and had direct command of the weaker and simpler Clubtail breed, who in turn spent half their days at the Salix functioning as glorified watchmen and the remainder serving at the Ranger fortress.
The Rangers were commanded themselves by Lord Commander Japhryis who alternated between his command post within the Crest's Eye and his place on the Salix Council. Japhryis was a skilled strategist, but a poor diplomat, and made no bones about his dislike for Council matters, preferring to problem solve with a sharpened tarsus rather than a barbed comment.
Since sunrise the Rangers had been strengthening fortifications at the Salix, and the air above the Odonata citadel gleamed with the armoured green carapaces of the patrols as they quartered back and forth across the immediate environs of the Odonata hub, turning their keen eyes outwards from the centre, watching and waiting for trouble. The atmosphere around the Salix hung thick with anticipation as Dax and Sylk alighted on the largest of the main branches amidst other Jraconi and Zygi going about their daily tasks. Dax and Sylk found their earlier spirit instantly quashed by the glares of the Rangers who stood guard before the dark entrance leading down into the Great Atrium.
The Ranger sentries towered over the young Jracon as they approached, Dax and Sylk meekly avoiding eye contact as was taught to be the norm, their lower position drummed into them from birth. Both sneaked quick admiring glances at the proud sentinels as they passed, their eyes moving over the gleaming armour, the sharp spurs carved from animal bone fitted over the front and middle tarsi. The spurs on the fore-tarsi were adapted to allow the Rangers to grip long curving Lansa spears, each nearly as long as Dax's full wingspan, that were sculpted from the woody flesh of the Ash tree using Planta thauma, and were standard issue for the warrior class.
Once past the cold stares from the Rangers, Dax and Sylk relaxed, their eyes adjusting to the relative gloom of the wide passageway before them. It quickly dawned on Dax that life here was continuing as usual, blind to the military presence that hung over the Salix. He saw Skimmer farmers hustling their Zyg farm hands along, many of whom were bowed under the weight of recent harvests being brought to market. Further along the entranceway, Dax spotted another orange Darter like him, a medico this time, ensconced in an alcove carved out of the passageway wall, selling medical supplies and administering to the numerous minor ailments and injuries of a thriving community. Street vendors, Zygs mostly, yelled to the undulating mass of pedestrians, vying for their attention and custom. Scribes scurried back and forth, clasping scrolls, parchment and writing tools, the fatigue on some of the faces that passed him caused him to think of his own cumbersome apprenticeship, and he realised with a start that the morning was almost half gone. Clinging desperately to his morning's freedom, willing the time to slow so he could enjoy the hum of life here, and thrill at the Vivo pumping all around him, Dax sped up, causing Sylk to call out, "Hey, wait up Dax!".
Dax half-spun impatiently, "Come on Sylk, let's get to the Atrium, I bet there will be plenty to see...". Without waiting for a reply, Dax was off into the cool air, skimming over the pedestrians crawling across the passageway floor, and dodging the airborne Odonata who, like him, had chosen the fastest route in or out of the Salix. Sylk shrugged, adjusted the sack full of his farm's supplies hanging from his thorax, and followed his friend down the large entranceway towards the Great Atrium.