Greetings, ladies and gentlemen, dragons and hatchlings, and welcome to the revamped Drop of Ink writing shop! Here you shall find writers of the Mayfly clan ready to help you write your stories and biographies down for the records, so that anyone who visits your den may be able to learn about your clan members without necessarily bothering them! What are you waiting for? Hurry in, hurry in!
What can you get here?
Bios (or lore, or whatever youngsters these days call it) for your dragons, as well as stories involving your clan and longer commishes (for example, if you need someone to write for your raffle, I'm 100% okay with that). If you want writing that does not involve your dragons, that's fine too!
What are the rules?
Yes, rules. Rules are important indeed! There would be no order without rules now, would there? Some rules, then:
Huh, okay, so what kind of stories and bios do you offer?
For the moment, I offer four kinds of lore/bio, plus stories and longer projects.
Interactive - 10kt
A quirky introduction, an interactive bio is a piece of varying length told directly by the dragon to the reader.
Short (200-300 words ca.) - 20kt
Written from the traditional third-person POV, unless explicitly requested, a short usually focuses on the history of the dragon and a piece of their uniqueness.
Medium (500 words ca.) - 40kt
Similar to a short in narrative, the medium bio usually differs by length and depth of personality exposition.
Long (1000 words ca.) - 90kt
Pretty much like a Short or Medium, just extra long. No examples here, feel free to be the first!
Stories
Stories work a little different. You ask me for a length, describe what you want me to write in as much or as little detail as you want (although at least a brief description would be nice, to avoid disappointing you), then we figure out the details together. I send a first draft to be checked by you, along with how much the story would come to cost in the end, rinse and repeat however many times might be necessary. When you give your check of approval, I edit it a last time and ta-daa, your story gets delivered!
As an example, here's a bit of an old thing, that won Overall Favorite Entry in the 2015 Greenkeepers Gathering Writing Contest.
So I want a story, now what?
Simply ping me, tell me what you want and you get put in the list! Tell me whether you want lore or a bio if it's for a dragon - I define that difference as lore being 'Hey Nims, I have no ideas, go crazy' and bio being 'I'd like them to be like this and to have this bit of history'.
Just a few more facts:
...You do have discounts, right?
I do! I'm working a little on them, so they may vary but right now:
- 15% Discount to newbies from last registration window (January)
- 10% Discount to a Flight celebrating their holiday (None atm)
- 5% Discount to dominant Flight (Plague!)
- 5% Discount to newbies from the reg window before last (December)
Tell me which ones you are eligible for when you place your order - some of them stack, others don't.
Will that be all? I'm late, I should've been procrastinating by doing something else five minutes ago
Yes, dearies, we're done here. Get your commishes rolling in, promise I don't bite!
What can you get here?
Bios (or lore, or whatever youngsters these days call it) for your dragons, as well as stories involving your clan and longer commishes (for example, if you need someone to write for your raffle, I'm 100% okay with that). If you want writing that does not involve your dragons, that's fine too!
What are the rules?
Yes, rules. Rules are important indeed! There would be no order without rules now, would there? Some rules, then:
- No more than two dragons per person at a time!
- Credit me! This is important. If you're not crediting me, I'll ask you to put the bio down, or a credit up. Giving the rightful merit to an author not only is important out of respect for whoever did the work, but is also a good way to get people to check them out if they really like their work.
- Please understand that I may not be able to immediately get started on your request, and the writing won't take five minutes to get done. Give me a few days to finish.
- I take up to four commission slots at a time.
Huh, okay, so what kind of stories and bios do you offer?
For the moment, I offer four kinds of lore/bio, plus stories and longer projects.
Interactive - 10kt
A quirky introduction, an interactive bio is a piece of varying length told directly by the dragon to the reader.
TheTigersDen's Kokoro wrote:
Greetings, visitor! I hope you find our humble abode welcoming - ah, careful, don't trip over the roots! ...Ouchie. Sorry about that, we really need to do some maintenance in here. Yeah, I know, we look scary right? Don't mind those grouches standing guard, they're actually sweet. Most of the time, that is.
Oh, our tigers like you. That is quite good. Silly me, I almost forgot to introduce myself! My name is Kokoro, I'm one of the clan's scouts! That's right - you need to know something about someplace, I can tell you about it. I wasn't born into the clan, but I've been here since I was a little thing. I was always such a clumsy and curious child, see, I kept getting lost in the woods because I wanted to explore them, and getting lost in these woods can be quite dangerous. I'm not sure I have quite outgrown that, to be perfectly honest, I think I may have just come to get to know the area a little better.
Something else about me? Ah, yes, I also organize our parties. Well, I help. I love spending time together, with a few pretty lights and some good food. You really can't ask for more from life than to have a good time with your friends and family, can you? I think the night is the best for that, don't you agree? But ah, I may be a little biased, I'm always away during the daytime. Look at the hour, it's so late! I really have to leave - until next time, and be careful with those roots!
Oh, our tigers like you. That is quite good. Silly me, I almost forgot to introduce myself! My name is Kokoro, I'm one of the clan's scouts! That's right - you need to know something about someplace, I can tell you about it. I wasn't born into the clan, but I've been here since I was a little thing. I was always such a clumsy and curious child, see, I kept getting lost in the woods because I wanted to explore them, and getting lost in these woods can be quite dangerous. I'm not sure I have quite outgrown that, to be perfectly honest, I think I may have just come to get to know the area a little better.
Something else about me? Ah, yes, I also organize our parties. Well, I help. I love spending time together, with a few pretty lights and some good food. You really can't ask for more from life than to have a good time with your friends and family, can you? I think the night is the best for that, don't you agree? But ah, I may be a little biased, I'm always away during the daytime. Look at the hour, it's so late! I really have to leave - until next time, and be careful with those roots!
Short (200-300 words ca.) - 20kt
Written from the traditional third-person POV, unless explicitly requested, a short usually focuses on the history of the dragon and a piece of their uniqueness.
Icecubes' Firewing wrote:
Firewing had belonged to the fire since she was a hatchling.
Of course, she couldn't have known that, in the depths of the Leviathan Trench. She swam around, just like any other hatchling, ate, grew, played. Until one day, she swam to the surface with her siblings, and she saw the distant flames.
They were small, but she couldn't have missed them. Firewing instinctively knew their warmth and their power. When it was time to return home, it was too late for her. She knew she was in the wrong place. Even her wings were a testimony to that - she had been born for the fire.
She didn't wait long to run away, trying to reach the flames and live where she belonged. She never did. She ran out of food, was attacked in her sleep. A simple hatchling couldn't survive the depths of the Sea of a Thousand Currents on her own. Seeking refuge in a cavern, she was found and taken in by a Tundra. The blue dragon's smile was the last thing Firewing saw before she lost consciousness.
Since then, Firewing has repayed the kindness of the clan and its matriarch by acting as their scout and hoard guardian (and if some materials disappear, the clan can be sure new weapons will be forged out of them). She was surprised to see everyone accepting her for what she was, a soul who belonged to the fire, and helping her get as close as she could to her true self. One day, she will reach the flames and be what she was always meant to be; for the moment, though, she will enjoy the company of her new family.
Of course, she couldn't have known that, in the depths of the Leviathan Trench. She swam around, just like any other hatchling, ate, grew, played. Until one day, she swam to the surface with her siblings, and she saw the distant flames.
They were small, but she couldn't have missed them. Firewing instinctively knew their warmth and their power. When it was time to return home, it was too late for her. She knew she was in the wrong place. Even her wings were a testimony to that - she had been born for the fire.
She didn't wait long to run away, trying to reach the flames and live where she belonged. She never did. She ran out of food, was attacked in her sleep. A simple hatchling couldn't survive the depths of the Sea of a Thousand Currents on her own. Seeking refuge in a cavern, she was found and taken in by a Tundra. The blue dragon's smile was the last thing Firewing saw before she lost consciousness.
Since then, Firewing has repayed the kindness of the clan and its matriarch by acting as their scout and hoard guardian (and if some materials disappear, the clan can be sure new weapons will be forged out of them). She was surprised to see everyone accepting her for what she was, a soul who belonged to the fire, and helping her get as close as she could to her true self. One day, she will reach the flames and be what she was always meant to be; for the moment, though, she will enjoy the company of her new family.
Medium (500 words ca.) - 40kt
Similar to a short in narrative, the medium bio usually differs by length and depth of personality exposition.
GoldenEggy's Madrigal wrote:
"Madrigal?"
"Yes, dearest?"
"Do you really think the Lightweaver can protect us from the Darkness?"
The High Priest smiled. "I do, indeed." He watched the other dragon nod hesitantly.
Many had the misconception that being a priest meant that one had to surround themselves with faithful people who also dedicated their lives to their deity. Madrigal thought the 'many' were wrong.
His mission was to bring Light. Or more exactly, it was to bring peace. Whether that was by celebrating cult or simply being a friendly shoulder to cry on and a warm smile to come back home to, it did not matter in the slightest.
"Madrigal, Madrigal!" the hatchlings screamed, fumbling on their precarious feet towards him.
"What is it? What did you do now?" he grinned, tail brushing the children in greeting.
"Madrigal, why are you eyes so blue?"
"Why are they not like ours?"
He grinned at their curiosity and let his wings flare behind him.
"It's because I am a powerful mage, and I will smite you if you don't behave!"
He chuckled as the little ones shrieked and ran away laughing.
He had been born under the realm of the Stormcatcher, and still worshipped him as the one whose power had brought life to his egg and whose magic had made him strong and gave him food. But he was residing in the land of the Lady of Light. She was the one who would keep them all safe. And she was the one who had to bring Light to repel the Darkness that some members of the clan had been affected from.
Whether they had accepted it gladly or had been violated by it was not his business. He would only try to help them, however they chose to be helped.
"Child." he murmured, eyes glazing over the Skydancer's beautiful white plumage and the blood tarnishing it. It wasn't his own, but it was just as if it was.
"I'm fine." the dragon growled, shaking his wings. A few droplets that were not dry yet flew off, staining both their clothes.
"I know you are."
Sometimes, just sometimes, it all became too much. He was a priest, a being of light and faith. He wasn't fit to live amidst assassins. Sometimes the darkness hurt him directly, and he wanted nothing more than to hide and spend his time with the thinkers and the blessed minds of their clan, not the corrupted souls of assassins.
But then he berated himself, because he hadn't chosen a life devoid of hardship, he had chosen one of service. Whether it brought him delight or pain, and usually it was both, he would take it, and fulfill his role to his best.
"Nyeh-nyeh, Madrigal is slow!"
"And fat!"
"And what?!" the Spiral shrieked, his long body spinning in indignation as he chased after the hatchlings. The little ones shrieked and accelerated, but they soon found themselves wrapped in the high priest's long tail. Madrigal bit a grin back when the group of children screamed and tightened his grip just the slightest bit.
"I'll show you who's fat, runts!"
But all in all, Madrigal was a dragon before being a priest, and loved his clan. Loved the hatchlings, loved the philosophers, loved the assassins, who thought he would never accept them, too. And whenever someone stared at him after he cracked a joke or he was found sleeping with a hatchling in a pile of broken toys, he would only wiggle his eyebrows and invite them to the day's cult.
He was quite sure there had to be someone else who found it as funny as he did.
"Yes, dearest?"
"Do you really think the Lightweaver can protect us from the Darkness?"
The High Priest smiled. "I do, indeed." He watched the other dragon nod hesitantly.
Many had the misconception that being a priest meant that one had to surround themselves with faithful people who also dedicated their lives to their deity. Madrigal thought the 'many' were wrong.
His mission was to bring Light. Or more exactly, it was to bring peace. Whether that was by celebrating cult or simply being a friendly shoulder to cry on and a warm smile to come back home to, it did not matter in the slightest.
"Madrigal, Madrigal!" the hatchlings screamed, fumbling on their precarious feet towards him.
"What is it? What did you do now?" he grinned, tail brushing the children in greeting.
"Madrigal, why are you eyes so blue?"
"Why are they not like ours?"
He grinned at their curiosity and let his wings flare behind him.
"It's because I am a powerful mage, and I will smite you if you don't behave!"
He chuckled as the little ones shrieked and ran away laughing.
He had been born under the realm of the Stormcatcher, and still worshipped him as the one whose power had brought life to his egg and whose magic had made him strong and gave him food. But he was residing in the land of the Lady of Light. She was the one who would keep them all safe. And she was the one who had to bring Light to repel the Darkness that some members of the clan had been affected from.
Whether they had accepted it gladly or had been violated by it was not his business. He would only try to help them, however they chose to be helped.
"Child." he murmured, eyes glazing over the Skydancer's beautiful white plumage and the blood tarnishing it. It wasn't his own, but it was just as if it was.
"I'm fine." the dragon growled, shaking his wings. A few droplets that were not dry yet flew off, staining both their clothes.
"I know you are."
Sometimes, just sometimes, it all became too much. He was a priest, a being of light and faith. He wasn't fit to live amidst assassins. Sometimes the darkness hurt him directly, and he wanted nothing more than to hide and spend his time with the thinkers and the blessed minds of their clan, not the corrupted souls of assassins.
But then he berated himself, because he hadn't chosen a life devoid of hardship, he had chosen one of service. Whether it brought him delight or pain, and usually it was both, he would take it, and fulfill his role to his best.
"Nyeh-nyeh, Madrigal is slow!"
"And fat!"
"And what?!" the Spiral shrieked, his long body spinning in indignation as he chased after the hatchlings. The little ones shrieked and accelerated, but they soon found themselves wrapped in the high priest's long tail. Madrigal bit a grin back when the group of children screamed and tightened his grip just the slightest bit.
"I'll show you who's fat, runts!"
But all in all, Madrigal was a dragon before being a priest, and loved his clan. Loved the hatchlings, loved the philosophers, loved the assassins, who thought he would never accept them, too. And whenever someone stared at him after he cracked a joke or he was found sleeping with a hatchling in a pile of broken toys, he would only wiggle his eyebrows and invite them to the day's cult.
He was quite sure there had to be someone else who found it as funny as he did.
Long (1000 words ca.) - 90kt
Pretty much like a Short or Medium, just extra long. No examples here, feel free to be the first!
Stories
Stories work a little different. You ask me for a length, describe what you want me to write in as much or as little detail as you want (although at least a brief description would be nice, to avoid disappointing you), then we figure out the details together. I send a first draft to be checked by you, along with how much the story would come to cost in the end, rinse and repeat however many times might be necessary. When you give your check of approval, I edit it a last time and ta-daa, your story gets delivered!
As an example, here's a bit of an old thing, that won Overall Favorite Entry in the 2015 Greenkeepers Gathering Writing Contest.
The Call wrote:
Bark was restless.
He always felt restless, yes. But lately, the call had been too urgent. The stinging in his chest, the uneasiness in his feet, that told him to run.
Mother is waiting.
Run.
Yet he stood still in his cage, waiting. Waiting for what, he didn't know. He pushed his instincts back, suppressed them.
The Beastclans controlled the woods and going in was not permitted. The war had been lost.
They couldn't run in the woods anymore.
Bark's feet were itching, his chest heavy. He flapped his wings nervously, trying to shake off the urge to run away. The Call had to be ignored.
How?
The cage was open. He ignored the reason. Maybe it was to lead him to his death. Maybe the Beastclan members just needed a ride. So little time had passed since their victory, and they were still eager to humiliate their enemy.
But the cage was open, and the Call was too strong.
Bark ran. He could feel the wind blowing in his face, the leaves crunch under his claws. The earth was breathing. The earth was alive.
For the first time in what had been too long to remember, he grinned in victory. And ran.
But his run abruptly stopped when an arrow pierced his leg.
"They've been restless lately."
"Yes... These ones particularly."
"The ones with the green eyes?"
"And the ones who stand on their legs, yes."
"Make sure they don't run again."
It was the hissing tongue of the Serthis. Bark briefly wondered when it was that he had come to understand it. He raised his head to look at the ones who were speaking, and realized he was in chains.
His feet started itching even more. His chest was about to burst.
"Hey, beast." One of the Serthis hissed, clanging coming from his right. Bark forced his head to turn around to face his captor.
"You tried to run away, eh? Did you really think no one has ever tried that trick?"
The Serthis' fingers curled around the bars, and he got closer to Bark.
"You really thought we wouldn't stop you?"
No. But he couldn't speak, and even if he could, he would never say it. He hissed and glared at the Serthis, but the Beast just laughed at him.
"Ah, but we have something in mind for you."
The night was calling to him. He could hear the crickets singing, the wind howling, the leaves rustling. It was the Call, and he just wanted to obey.
Mother was waiting.
He would die tomorrow, he knew it. But he couldn't resist the Call.
The cage was open once again, and this time Bark knew what for. But this time, he was prepared. As soon as the chains binding his neck and feet were off, he bit the hand of his captor, and ran.
Arrows hit him again. He felt his muscles scream in pain and try to give in, but he realized it was only one leg. The other one hadn't been injured. So he kept running.
No matter how much time had passed, he would never forget his woods. He knew where to go. He knew where he could take flight, and then run. He knew the path the Call was leading him to.
Another arrow pierced him, this time on the back. He missed a step, but he kept running, faster than before. His legs weren't giving in, and that was all that counted.
The Call was there, seeking him. He listened, and ran.
He missed another step, and almost tripped. The Beasts were almost catching up. How slow was he being? Where had all the speed of a Wildclaw warrior gone? He was being chased by snakes, and he was losing.
His leg twitched violently, and he almost fell once more.
Oh.
Poisoned arrows.
Weapons of a coward. And they would not stop him.
He ran faster. He could feel it now. The life of the forest.
The Earth was alive. And it was on his side. It was screaming at him to run.
The Wind, the Wind was blowing his enemies back.
The Sky above was inviting him to fly.
And he ran.
He reached the precipice, and jumped down, opening his wings. They were clipped, yes, but they were still wings. He knew that the Call had led him there for a reason, and even as he spiraled down, unable to stop his fall, he didn't worry. He realized that was the purpose of the Call.
The Serthis behind would only see a dragon flying to his freedom.
He used to listen to a song. When the fires and the stars were the only thing that gave light to the darkness, some would sing a song. A war chant, a prayer to the Gladekeeper, a battlecry and a ballad at the same time. He didn't know why, but as he lay bleeding in the dirt, that song came back to him. The words had long been forgotten, but the melody was still there, and he hummed it.
The pain was fading away. Soon there would be nothing left. The Call was getting weaker.
Had he reached his destination?
He closed his eyes and hummed just a bit stronger, until he felt his bones vibrating with the tune.
The Sun was rising. The Earth was waking up.
A bird chirped to his melody. He couldn't raise his head to look at it, but he knew it was nearby.
He let his eyes close shut, and drifted to sleep.
"Hello, my child."
He always felt restless, yes. But lately, the call had been too urgent. The stinging in his chest, the uneasiness in his feet, that told him to run.
Mother is waiting.
Run.
Yet he stood still in his cage, waiting. Waiting for what, he didn't know. He pushed his instincts back, suppressed them.
The Beastclans controlled the woods and going in was not permitted. The war had been lost.
They couldn't run in the woods anymore.
Bark's feet were itching, his chest heavy. He flapped his wings nervously, trying to shake off the urge to run away. The Call had to be ignored.
How?
The cage was open. He ignored the reason. Maybe it was to lead him to his death. Maybe the Beastclan members just needed a ride. So little time had passed since their victory, and they were still eager to humiliate their enemy.
But the cage was open, and the Call was too strong.
Bark ran. He could feel the wind blowing in his face, the leaves crunch under his claws. The earth was breathing. The earth was alive.
For the first time in what had been too long to remember, he grinned in victory. And ran.
But his run abruptly stopped when an arrow pierced his leg.
"They've been restless lately."
"Yes... These ones particularly."
"The ones with the green eyes?"
"And the ones who stand on their legs, yes."
"Make sure they don't run again."
It was the hissing tongue of the Serthis. Bark briefly wondered when it was that he had come to understand it. He raised his head to look at the ones who were speaking, and realized he was in chains.
His feet started itching even more. His chest was about to burst.
"Hey, beast." One of the Serthis hissed, clanging coming from his right. Bark forced his head to turn around to face his captor.
"You tried to run away, eh? Did you really think no one has ever tried that trick?"
The Serthis' fingers curled around the bars, and he got closer to Bark.
"You really thought we wouldn't stop you?"
No. But he couldn't speak, and even if he could, he would never say it. He hissed and glared at the Serthis, but the Beast just laughed at him.
"Ah, but we have something in mind for you."
The night was calling to him. He could hear the crickets singing, the wind howling, the leaves rustling. It was the Call, and he just wanted to obey.
Mother was waiting.
He would die tomorrow, he knew it. But he couldn't resist the Call.
The cage was open once again, and this time Bark knew what for. But this time, he was prepared. As soon as the chains binding his neck and feet were off, he bit the hand of his captor, and ran.
Arrows hit him again. He felt his muscles scream in pain and try to give in, but he realized it was only one leg. The other one hadn't been injured. So he kept running.
No matter how much time had passed, he would never forget his woods. He knew where to go. He knew where he could take flight, and then run. He knew the path the Call was leading him to.
Another arrow pierced him, this time on the back. He missed a step, but he kept running, faster than before. His legs weren't giving in, and that was all that counted.
The Call was there, seeking him. He listened, and ran.
He missed another step, and almost tripped. The Beasts were almost catching up. How slow was he being? Where had all the speed of a Wildclaw warrior gone? He was being chased by snakes, and he was losing.
His leg twitched violently, and he almost fell once more.
Oh.
Poisoned arrows.
Weapons of a coward. And they would not stop him.
He ran faster. He could feel it now. The life of the forest.
The Earth was alive. And it was on his side. It was screaming at him to run.
The Wind, the Wind was blowing his enemies back.
The Sky above was inviting him to fly.
And he ran.
He reached the precipice, and jumped down, opening his wings. They were clipped, yes, but they were still wings. He knew that the Call had led him there for a reason, and even as he spiraled down, unable to stop his fall, he didn't worry. He realized that was the purpose of the Call.
The Serthis behind would only see a dragon flying to his freedom.
He used to listen to a song. When the fires and the stars were the only thing that gave light to the darkness, some would sing a song. A war chant, a prayer to the Gladekeeper, a battlecry and a ballad at the same time. He didn't know why, but as he lay bleeding in the dirt, that song came back to him. The words had long been forgotten, but the melody was still there, and he hummed it.
The pain was fading away. Soon there would be nothing left. The Call was getting weaker.
Had he reached his destination?
He closed his eyes and hummed just a bit stronger, until he felt his bones vibrating with the tune.
The Sun was rising. The Earth was waking up.
A bird chirped to his melody. He couldn't raise his head to look at it, but he knew it was nearby.
He let his eyes close shut, and drifted to sleep.
"Hello, my child."
So I want a story, now what?
Simply ping me, tell me what you want and you get put in the list! Tell me whether you want lore or a bio if it's for a dragon - I define that difference as lore being 'Hey Nims, I have no ideas, go crazy' and bio being 'I'd like them to be like this and to have this bit of history'.
Just a few more facts:
- Gems are accepted at the current rate (which is 1:850). Mixed payments are also fine
- I'll eventually make a wishlist so you can do item payments or something
- Festival currency is also accepted - rate to be estabilished soon.
...You do have discounts, right?
I do! I'm working a little on them, so they may vary but right now:
- 15% Discount to newbies from last registration window (January)
- 10% Discount to a Flight celebrating their holiday (None atm)
- 5% Discount to dominant Flight (Plague!)
- 5% Discount to newbies from the reg window before last (December)
Tell me which ones you are eligible for when you place your order - some of them stack, others don't.
Will that be all? I'm late, I should've been procrastinating by doing something else five minutes ago
Yes, dearies, we're done here. Get your commishes rolling in, promise I don't bite!
Wishlist | They/Them or Xe/Zir | Please ping me!
