griffinrider

Griffins in the World of Pahmoten are seen as the embodiment of Nature's fury. They're the thrill seekers, with little concern for life or limb. Those called to be griffin riders must accept this and see it within themselves, too. One would hear this song around campfires at rider meets, or sung on the wing when needing to pass the time. The Fall, referenced in the chorus, is when a griffin "chooses" its rider by making a bond with it and jumping off the nearest height, where their new mount will catch them on the way down.

Female Pahmoten griffins are generally the larger, more daring of the species. They lay eggs early due to short lifespans (since they seek out the most dangerous of storms and conditions), and an aerie is frequented mainly by males who care for the cubs. Females will lead aeries, but beyond that, there's no graded pecking order like there might be in a wolfpack.

As of the 17th Age, there are four subspecies, named for each of the seasons, and determined by a particular feature. Otherwise, there are no distinctions between colors, body type, habitats or nesting seasons, etc.

spring - cubs screech once they break out of the shell, sometimes heard for miles, and will scream for the next 2 months. After that, they hardly make any noises beyond chirping.
summer - incredibly skilled swimmers that can submerge under water for 15 minutes (I think?)
fall - their feathers have hardened somewhat that wind flowing through them mimics crackling leaves in a breeze
winter - they have constantly wandering eyes, which they can adjust to see through mists, fog, etc. and will turn milky white when doing so. Their bodies also maintain a higher internal temperature.

River Driver traditional Canadian logging folksong

Available for purchase on Bandcamp

I was but a little child when I first saw the sky.

After six years hard training, my home I realized:

But not some binding hovel of cedar, mud, or stone.

For I’m a griffin rider, and I call the sky my home.

chorus (after every verse)

I’ll fly when I am hungry, and it rains when I am dry,

My griffin’s ever-ready as days go by and by,

And if the Fall don’t kill me, the higher I must go,

For I’m a griffin rider, and I call the sky my home.

So many towns and villages will claim us with their gold

As escorts, scouts, or warriors; all titles we enfold.

Yet coin will never be the draw know any who have flown,

Know all the griffin riders who call the sky their home.

My griffin is my family, for whom I’d gladly die.

I raised it through the early years, all when it couldn’t fly,

And now I see it’s taught me how Fate is sealed and sewn,

For I’m a griffin rider, and I call the sky my home.

Each height a separate freedom as we come eye to eye.

Impossible to conquer, so I let out a cry

As we gain the heavens, whose mystery I condone,

For I’m a griffin rider, and I call the sky my home.

Swiftly darkening weather may call us up on high:

Lightning, snow, and twisters won’t make us question why

The fury wild within us can have no limits known,

Within the griffin riders, and who call the sky their home.

Nothing here can scare me, the least of all to die,

For spirits of the Fallen are with us when we fly.

They say, “The skies are silent” who think that flesh and bone

Make all the griffin riders who call the sky their home.

Griffin Rider