@Superblox
Poof your lore has appeared! Sorry it took a little longer, I got a little sidetracked hahah
6.5kt, if you don't mind :) thanks! Remember to redo the formatting, it always disappears when you copy-paste it.
Come again next time and have a nice day!
~lore below~
The late afternoon sun beat down furiously on the Sundial Terrace, its unforgiving heat scorching the cracked marble floor. Sunlight pooled everywhere in small patches, searing warmth accompanied by brief respites of shadows. Through the vast expanses of grassland, a lone dragon roamed, hulking figure painfully obvious amongst the surroundings.
This was Swordbinder, a lone grey Guardian who lumbered around in the area. Sighing, he plonked himself down in a shady corner, panting heavily from the heat and wings brought over his head in an effort to try and shade himself from the burning weather. There are plenty of good spaces to start a clan. Like that dip behind the hill, which is well-sheltered from the elements and enemies. Or that place surrounded by cactus. That would be a good defense, but not so useful when it comes to airborne attacks. Well, I guess I could work out something. Now all that I need is the permission from the Lightweaver before I can start.
Musing about the possible ways to gain his deity’s approval, he was oblivious to the scene happening nearby. It was a tiny cowering hatchling, shaking in fear as it tried to fend off a horde of large crows viciously attacking it. “Help!” The piercing scream of the poor hatchling finally jolted Swordbinder out of his thoughts. Jumping to his claws, he swivelled his head around frantically in search of the source of the scream.
Then he caught sight of the hatchling, and with a mighty roar he leapt out of his resting spot, propelling himself into the air with a powerful jump and great flap of his wings. At first he was greatly overwhelmed by the sheer number of black crows crowding every inch of his vision and flapping there wings in his face, pecking and clawing at his tough Guardian hide. Then with a lash of one of his paws, his vision was momentarily cleared, and with several more huge swipes, he had gotten rid of the crows swarming around the baby Fae.
Or so he thought.
Suddenly there was a black blur diving at him, and with a startled cry he jerked out of the air, landing with a loud thud on the ground. Wincing in pain he rose again. With wings spread out protectively in front of the hatchling he let out a sonorous roar, and once again swiped at the crows. Black feathers fluttered everywhere as the furious flock of crows screeched their discontent and continued aiming their attacks at him.
Finally, after what seemed like forever, the last crow fell in a crumpled heap to the ground. Turning to the hatchling, he looked concernedly at it.
“Are you okay?” he asked. What he did not expect was for the hatchling to laugh. A blinding light enveloped the tiny hatchling, pulsating and glowing even brighter than the sun and the stars that shone brightest in the darkest night. Swordbinder had to turn away, eyes squeezed shut, for the light was not something his eyes could bear.
Swordbinder.
Swordbinder stiffened.
Could it be?
Slowly turning around, he glimpsed a pale yellow wing membrane, and immediately dropped his head to the ground. “M… my lady… how might this humble dragon serve you?” Swordbinder stammered, whole body pressed to the ground in reverence.
Rise, Swordbinder. The velvety voice rang through the clearing, and shakily Swordbinder straightened up. Your heroism will not go unnoticed, my child. I will grant you your desires. You may have your choice of land to begin your clan. As suddenly as she had come, the Lightweaver departed, a glittering cascade of golden sparkles trailing from her wingbeats. Awed by the sudden turn of events, Swordbinder stood there, unable to move, eyes fixed on the shrinking figure in the horizon.
————————————————————————————————————————
A lone Guardian stood, watching a draconic figure disappear into the setting sky, painted with vibrant hues of orange and red, blue and purple, yellow and pink.
Then he shook himself, and looked into the distant lands yonder. Straightening up, he spread his wings to fly, an imposing figure against the sky splashed with colour.
“I can’t just stand here and do nothing. There’s work to do. Come on, Swordbinder. You can do this.”
Poof your lore has appeared! Sorry it took a little longer, I got a little sidetracked hahah
6.5kt, if you don't mind :) thanks! Remember to redo the formatting, it always disappears when you copy-paste it.
Come again next time and have a nice day!
~lore below~
The late afternoon sun beat down furiously on the Sundial Terrace, its unforgiving heat scorching the cracked marble floor. Sunlight pooled everywhere in small patches, searing warmth accompanied by brief respites of shadows. Through the vast expanses of grassland, a lone dragon roamed, hulking figure painfully obvious amongst the surroundings.
This was Swordbinder, a lone grey Guardian who lumbered around in the area. Sighing, he plonked himself down in a shady corner, panting heavily from the heat and wings brought over his head in an effort to try and shade himself from the burning weather. There are plenty of good spaces to start a clan. Like that dip behind the hill, which is well-sheltered from the elements and enemies. Or that place surrounded by cactus. That would be a good defense, but not so useful when it comes to airborne attacks. Well, I guess I could work out something. Now all that I need is the permission from the Lightweaver before I can start.
Musing about the possible ways to gain his deity’s approval, he was oblivious to the scene happening nearby. It was a tiny cowering hatchling, shaking in fear as it tried to fend off a horde of large crows viciously attacking it. “Help!” The piercing scream of the poor hatchling finally jolted Swordbinder out of his thoughts. Jumping to his claws, he swivelled his head around frantically in search of the source of the scream.
Then he caught sight of the hatchling, and with a mighty roar he leapt out of his resting spot, propelling himself into the air with a powerful jump and great flap of his wings. At first he was greatly overwhelmed by the sheer number of black crows crowding every inch of his vision and flapping there wings in his face, pecking and clawing at his tough Guardian hide. Then with a lash of one of his paws, his vision was momentarily cleared, and with several more huge swipes, he had gotten rid of the crows swarming around the baby Fae.
Or so he thought.
Suddenly there was a black blur diving at him, and with a startled cry he jerked out of the air, landing with a loud thud on the ground. Wincing in pain he rose again. With wings spread out protectively in front of the hatchling he let out a sonorous roar, and once again swiped at the crows. Black feathers fluttered everywhere as the furious flock of crows screeched their discontent and continued aiming their attacks at him.
Finally, after what seemed like forever, the last crow fell in a crumpled heap to the ground. Turning to the hatchling, he looked concernedly at it.
“Are you okay?” he asked. What he did not expect was for the hatchling to laugh. A blinding light enveloped the tiny hatchling, pulsating and glowing even brighter than the sun and the stars that shone brightest in the darkest night. Swordbinder had to turn away, eyes squeezed shut, for the light was not something his eyes could bear.
Swordbinder.
Swordbinder stiffened.
Could it be?
Slowly turning around, he glimpsed a pale yellow wing membrane, and immediately dropped his head to the ground. “M… my lady… how might this humble dragon serve you?” Swordbinder stammered, whole body pressed to the ground in reverence.
Rise, Swordbinder. The velvety voice rang through the clearing, and shakily Swordbinder straightened up. Your heroism will not go unnoticed, my child. I will grant you your desires. You may have your choice of land to begin your clan. As suddenly as she had come, the Lightweaver departed, a glittering cascade of golden sparkles trailing from her wingbeats. Awed by the sudden turn of events, Swordbinder stood there, unable to move, eyes fixed on the shrinking figure in the horizon.
————————————————————————————————————————
A lone Guardian stood, watching a draconic figure disappear into the setting sky, painted with vibrant hues of orange and red, blue and purple, yellow and pink.
Then he shook himself, and looked into the distant lands yonder. Straightening up, he spread his wings to fly, an imposing figure against the sky splashed with colour.
“I can’t just stand here and do nothing. There’s work to do. Come on, Swordbinder. You can do this.”
Tirtouga | FR +16 | she/her
