Art Sales

2149

October 14, 2017 10:06:17

I'm subbed to the thread, no need to ping me!

Hello! Come come, sit here with me. I am Ra, theologist and librarian for the Outclan. I quite love hearing the stories of others, but I love writing just the same. I have decided to put these two passions together and I'm now writing biographies for any dragon who's a willing participant! I'll even make a copy for you to have, so long as you pay a small fee. Ink isn't cheap, you know.

Yep! I'm biting the bullet and making a loreshop. My pricing will be flexible, meaning varying on length and amount of info I have to jam pack into it, but you can expect it to cost between 15-50k treasure, or the gem equivalent. All you'll have to do is fill out the form, give me a while, and pay once it's all finished! I'll also offer free reviews or revisions to lore you've already had done, whether it be by me, you, or whoever!

My gem:treasure ratio is 1:1000!

What you need to provide:

Dragon Image!
Name!
Roughly how long, in paragraphs, you want your lore to be! (include at least a minimum for me please)
Any extra tidbits you want worked into the lore! This includes any relationships to other dragons in your lair, non-canon size, why they have a certain familiar, etc.

Ooh, discounts!

10% Off for those who joined in most recent welcome week!
10% Off for repeat customers!
20% Off for windies!

Note: only two discounts will stack, if you fit multiple criteria. Tell me if you fit these criteria as well, or I most likely will not realize and therefore not give you the discount. Thanks!

Last edited on Nov 22, 2017 03:44:54 by Reanimated

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Reanimated

2149

October 14, 2017 10:06:41

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Last edited on Nov 30, 2017 05:36:32 by Reanimated

[center][size=6]Examples of My Writing[/size][/center] [center][url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=28218670] [center][img]http://flightrising.com/rendern/350/282187/28218670_350.png[/img] [/url][/center] [font=georgia][size=3] Death loves to play games with his victims. Sometimes he follows them and poisons those they love just to watch them suffer. Sometimes he makes them so miserable that they give in to him. This time, he’s made them unknowingly worship them. He was born from the earth under the World Pillar, where the Arcanist’s energy merged with that of the Shade during the Second Age. He was reclusive, but he was kind to the new budding forms of life that he ever encountered. He didn’t know of his tainted heritage. But the deities could feel the presence of the Shade still on the land, and for hundreds of years, searched for the source of the dark energies. The Earthshaker was the one to find him. He struck down Reanimated, known to himself as Soulpeace at the time, in a matter of seconds. For the second time in the history of Sornieth, a deity had killed another. Soulpeace became a spirit, nothing but an unpleasant memory in the deities’ minds. But Soulpeace was still very unrestful. His spirit was angry at the deities for killing him unjustly. Even though he had the Shade’s magic within him, he was made of the dirt of Sornieth and the magic of the Arcanist. He waited in limbo, lacking enough power to bring himself back for thousands of years. All he could do during that time was thing about what the deities had done to him, and why they had hated him just because of who he was. Dragonkind was thriving when Soulpeace felt powerful enough to return to a live form. He zeroed in on a recently dead imperial somewhere in the Gladekeeper’s land and went into it, thus binding him to life in a physical form. Surprisingly, he could still go to an incorporeal form at will, so he went back into the spiritual plane and pondered what to do now that he was back. As he was considering launching a coup against the deities, a pair of tundras with vicious, wolflike faces approached him. He was confused, what were mortal dragons doing here? They told him of their thirst for power and of their home clan, just waiting to be brainwashed into believing just about anything. Soulpeace was surprised at these power tripping dragons, but he knew that he felt the same way as them. He agreed to the tundras’ plan of taking over the clan but only if he was given another vessel he could live through in the clan, so his image would remain a secret. The two brought him to a recently deceased pearlcatcher and asked if it would suit him. He said it would. Excited to see if his powers weren’t diminished any, he tied the pearlcatcher’s soul to his own and bound the body to his life. The pearlcatcher, Sunstone, was made immortal by his actions. When Soulpeace’s new vessel rose, he asked for the name of the one who returned him to the world. He paused, suddenly not fond of his current name. He felt like he could not be referred to as his old self. Suddenly it hit him. Soulpeace grinned more wickedly than he ever had before. “I am Reanimated, your new God. Follow me, and you shall receive power you could never imagine were it not for me.” Mortals, stay away. Death now walks among the living.[/center] [center][url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=24165099] [img]http://flightrising.com/rendern/350/241651/24165099_350.png[/img] [/url][/center] [center][font=georgia][size=3]The mother of the Dust Devils Clan was never intended to endure such hardship. The gods forgot to give her a good life when she was namelessly placed on the face of Sornieth by the Windsinger. She met Moonwash when she was young, barely an adult and without the experience of knowing what a Charge was. Moon was a bit older, and had met a guardian before, who told him what having a charge was like. She, in her foolishness, began to convince herself that Moon was her charge. She feel hopelessly in love with him. Together, the two started a clan. A playful little bunch of dragons on an island far away from talk of Dominance and battling for power. He met another clan there, one who had travelled from Ice in search of a better life. The dragons in the Glacies Ventus clan were friendly and sociable, always up for a nice chitchat or a word of advice. She even saw her daughter, Juniper, fall in love with a guardian from the other clan. When Glacies Ventus was destroyed, the Dust Devils fell into disarray. Only Bloodlust’s level headedness kept the bunch from descending into complete chaos. Moonwash began making weekly, then daily visits to the Graveyard. It was curious, Bloodlust thought, but she was much too busy tending to the clan to investigate her husband’s escapades. She shoved the thought into the back of her mind and focused on her clan above her husband. As the clan began to split apart with the coming and going with the Dead Wind and the arrival of Reanimated, she had to make a choice. She knew that Reanimated was not someone to be trusted, but could she really turn away from her husband like that? She left the island for a few days to clear her head. As she flew above the Reedcleft Ascent, she spotted a Guardian, diligently guarding what appeared to be a small chunk of the World Pillar. She gently spiraled down to the other guardian, who was a deep green and looked very aged. The guardian asked her what she was doing flying alone over mostly unpopulated territory. She spoke of her plight with Moonwash. The Guardian, Fern was her name, rested a talon on Bloodlust’s shoulder. “Dearie, if you can even consider leaving him, then he is not your Charge. Follow your heart from now on, not him.” Fern spoke gently and softly to Bloodlust. Her head hung down as she pondered what Fern told her. “How will you know what your charge really is, then?” Bloodlust asked her. Fern smiled. “You’ll know. I promise.” Bloodlust returned home feeling freed of Moon’s awful ways and more sure of herself than ever. She spent more time with the dragons around her and learned to love each and every one of them. She was in the middle of a friendly conversation with Epilobium, a long time resident of the clan, when she realized. Her clan was her Charge.[center] [center][url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=32182057] [img]http://flightrising.com/rendern/350/321821/32182057_350.png[/img] [/url][/center] [center][font=georgia][size=3]The Scarred Wasteland is a place of disease, crime, and skeletons of those too weak to survive the harsh landscape. But also within the Plaguemother’s domain lies a clan of noble warriors who dedicate themselves to the protection of those too weak to traverse the infected land alone. This is where Syndicate was hatched, under her parents’ watchful and calculating eyes. Her red eyes met theirs with the same intense stare. She knew instantly that she was not going to think of them as her parents. Her clutchmates began to break out of their shells around her, but she ignored them. Her parents, no, competition, watched as they began helplessly growling for food, crawling over one another. Syndicate climbed over the edge of the nest and landed roughly on her stomach. She shook her head and stood on shaky legs, determined to prove herself stronger than her siblings. Her competitive spirit trailed her as she grew up. Her siblings all tried to outpace her, but she was much too ambitious. She wanted to be able to look at her parents the way they looked at her when she hatched. When their training was to be specialized, Syndicate was apprenticed to a Guardian with zero patience for those who complained. The two got along quite nicely as she trained with him in the arts of the paladin. She gained much needed muscle mass quickly and could bear the heavy armor and weapons easily. She graduated to his level of skill more quickly than ever recorded in the history of the clan. She seamlessly slid into clan life, joining patrols into the Wasteland to look for travelers that had gotten lost. But watching her clanmates fight with lances, bows, or even their bare talons made her realize how little about combat she really knew. She went to the Mentors, the group who exclusively trained other dragons, and begged them to teach her every style of fighting they knew of. They agreed, though all of them doubted her ability to handle such rigorous and plentiful training. But she was easily able to shoulder the extra training, waking earlier and going to sleep later than all her clanmates. Her family loathed her for her ability to outpace any who tried to run with her rapid training, especially her parents. They tried to sabotage her by stealing her compass that allowed her to navigate the Wasteland, or hiding her weapons in serthis dens. In response, she learned to navigate by the sun and stars and drove away all malevolent beastlclans in a five mile radius of the clan’s camp. When her training was completed, she challenged the long standing leaders of the clan for their position. Those leaders were her parents. They laughed in her face and told her to leave while she had her dignity. Syndicate growled at them low in her throat as she drew six throwing knives, three in each talon. In two swift motions, she threw the knives into the chests of the Competition. They were greatly wounded, but not enough to kill them. She retrieved her knives from their bodies and then leaned over them, her face unrepenting. “Declare me Battlemaster.” She commanded. The two, quite unable to protest, did as they were told. Syndicate then appointed the strongest and wisest dragon as leader, and left the Scarred Wasteland, uninterested in being around her family any longer. Wishing to be around life and not disease, she found a seemingly unpopulated cave on an island in the Windswept Plateau to set up a new clan, built around being able to protect oneself rather than leaving those who were weak unable to defend themselves. Unbeknownst to her, she had stumbled upon the home of the fledgeling Outclan. Willing to work with what she was given, she joined the group and began training the denizens of the cave in self defense and basic battle strategy.[center]

Reanimated

2149

October 14, 2017 10:06:48

Examples of My Writing

Death loves to play games with his victims. Sometimes he follows them and poisons those they love just to watch them suffer. Sometimes he makes them so miserable that they give in to him. This time, he’s made them unknowingly worship them.

He was born from the earth under the World Pillar, where the Arcanist’s energy merged with that of the Shade during the Second Age. He was reclusive, but he was kind to the new budding forms of life that he ever encountered. He didn’t know of his tainted heritage. But the deities could feel the presence of the Shade still on the land, and for hundreds of years, searched for the source of the dark energies.

The Earthshaker was the one to find him. He struck down Reanimated, known to himself as Soulpeace at the time, in a matter of seconds. For the second time in the history of Sornieth, a deity had killed another. Soulpeace became a spirit, nothing but an unpleasant memory in the deities’ minds.

But Soulpeace was still very unrestful. His spirit was angry at the deities for killing him unjustly. Even though he had the Shade’s magic within him, he was made of the dirt of Sornieth and the magic of the Arcanist. He waited in limbo, lacking enough power to bring himself back for thousands of years. All he could do during that time was thing about what the deities had done to him, and why they had hated him just because of who he was.

Dragonkind was thriving when Soulpeace felt powerful enough to return to a live form. He zeroed in on a recently dead imperial somewhere in the Gladekeeper’s land and went into it, thus binding him to life in a physical form. Surprisingly, he could still go to an incorporeal form at will, so he went back into the spiritual plane and pondered what to do now that he was back. As he was considering launching a coup against the deities, a pair of tundras with vicious, wolflike faces approached him. He was confused, what were mortal dragons doing here?

They told him of their thirst for power and of their home clan, just waiting to be brainwashed into believing just about anything. Soulpeace was surprised at these power tripping dragons, but he knew that he felt the same way as them. He agreed to the tundras’ plan of taking over the clan but only if he was given another vessel he could live through in the clan, so his image would remain a secret. The two brought him to a recently deceased pearlcatcher and asked if it would suit him. He said it would.

Excited to see if his powers weren’t diminished any, he tied the pearlcatcher’s soul to his own and bound the body to his life. The pearlcatcher, Sunstone, was made immortal by his actions. When Soulpeace’s new vessel rose, he asked for the name of the one who returned him to the world. He paused, suddenly not fond of his current name. He felt like he could not be referred to as his old self. Suddenly it hit him. Soulpeace grinned more wickedly than he ever had before.

“I am Reanimated, your new God. Follow me, and you shall receive power you could never imagine were it not for me.”

Mortals, stay away. Death now walks among the living.

The mother of the Dust Devils Clan was never intended to endure such hardship. The gods forgot to give her a good life when she was namelessly placed on the face of Sornieth by the Windsinger. She met Moonwash when she was young, barely an adult and without the experience of knowing what a Charge was. Moon was a bit older, and had met a guardian before, who told him what having a charge was like. She, in her foolishness, began to convince herself that Moon was her charge. She feel hopelessly in love with him.

Together, the two started a clan. A playful little bunch of dragons on an island far away from talk of Dominance and battling for power. He met another clan there, one who had travelled from Ice in search of a better life. The dragons in the Glacies Ventus clan were friendly and sociable, always up for a nice chitchat or a word of advice. She even saw her daughter, Juniper, fall in love with a guardian from the other clan.

When Glacies Ventus was destroyed, the Dust Devils fell into disarray. Only Bloodlust’s level headedness kept the bunch from descending into complete chaos. Moonwash began making weekly, then daily visits to the Graveyard. It was curious, Bloodlust thought, but she was much too busy tending to the clan to investigate her husband’s escapades. She shoved the thought into the back of her mind and focused on her clan above her husband.

As the clan began to split apart with the coming and going with the Dead Wind and the arrival of Reanimated, she had to make a choice. She knew that Reanimated was not someone to be trusted, but could she really turn away from her husband like that? She left the island for a few days to clear her head. As she flew above the Reedcleft Ascent, she spotted a Guardian, diligently guarding what appeared to be a small chunk of the World Pillar. She gently spiraled down to the other guardian, who was a deep green and looked very aged. The guardian asked her what she was doing flying alone over mostly unpopulated territory. She spoke of her plight with Moonwash. The Guardian, Fern was her name, rested a talon on Bloodlust’s shoulder.

“Dearie, if you can even consider leaving him, then he is not your Charge. Follow your heart from now on, not him.” Fern spoke gently and softly to Bloodlust. Her head hung down as she pondered what Fern told her.

“How will you know what your charge really is, then?” Bloodlust asked her. Fern smiled. “You’ll know. I promise.”

Bloodlust returned home feeling freed of Moon’s awful ways and more sure of herself than ever. She spent more time with the dragons around her and learned to love each and every one of them. She was in the middle of a friendly conversation with Epilobium, a long time resident of the clan, when she realized.

Her clan was her Charge.

The Scarred Wasteland is a place of disease, crime, and skeletons of those too weak to survive the harsh landscape. But also within the Plaguemother’s domain lies a clan of noble warriors who dedicate themselves to the protection of those too weak to traverse the infected land alone.

This is where Syndicate was hatched, under her parents’ watchful and calculating eyes. Her red eyes met theirs with the same intense stare. She knew instantly that she was not going to think of them as her parents. Her clutchmates began to break out of their shells around her, but she ignored them. Her parents, no, competition, watched as they began helplessly growling for food, crawling over one another.

Syndicate climbed over the edge of the nest and landed roughly on her stomach. She shook her head and stood on shaky legs, determined to prove herself stronger than her siblings.

Her competitive spirit trailed her as she grew up. Her siblings all tried to outpace her, but she was much too ambitious. She wanted to be able to look at her parents the way they looked at her when she hatched. When their training was to be specialized, Syndicate was apprenticed to a Guardian with zero patience for those who complained. The two got along quite nicely as she trained with him in the arts of the paladin. She gained much needed muscle mass quickly and could bear the heavy armor and weapons easily. She graduated to his level of skill more quickly than ever recorded in the history of the clan.

She seamlessly slid into clan life, joining patrols into the Wasteland to look for travelers that had gotten lost. But watching her clanmates fight with lances, bows, or even their bare talons made her realize how little about combat she really knew. She went to the Mentors, the group who exclusively trained other dragons, and begged them to teach her every style of fighting they knew of. They agreed, though all of them doubted her ability to handle such rigorous and plentiful training.

But she was easily able to shoulder the extra training, waking earlier and going to sleep later than all her clanmates. Her family loathed her for her ability to outpace any who tried to run with her rapid training, especially her parents. They tried to sabotage her by stealing her compass that allowed her to navigate the Wasteland, or hiding her weapons in serthis dens. In response, she learned to navigate by the sun and stars and drove away all malevolent beastlclans in a five mile radius of the clan’s camp.

When her training was completed, she challenged the long standing leaders of the clan for their position. Those leaders were her parents. They laughed in her face and told her to leave while she had her dignity. Syndicate growled at them low in her throat as she drew six throwing knives, three in each talon. In two swift motions, she threw the knives into the chests of the Competition. They were greatly wounded, but not enough to kill them. She retrieved her knives from their bodies and then leaned over them, her face unrepenting.

“Declare me Battlemaster.” She commanded. The two, quite unable to protest, did as they were told. Syndicate then appointed the strongest and wisest dragon as leader, and left the Scarred Wasteland, uninterested in being around her family any longer.

Wishing to be around life and not disease, she found a seemingly unpopulated cave on an island in the Windswept Plateau to set up a new clan, built around being able to protect oneself rather than leaving those who were weak unable to defend themselves. Unbeknownst to her, she had stumbled upon the home of the fledgeling Outclan. Willing to work with what she was given, she joined the group and began training the denizens of the cave in self defense and basic battle strategy.

Last edited on Oct 14, 2017 10:18:44 by Reanimated

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