1. Rules, Key, Inventory
2. Dramatis Draconae
3. Summary & Log List
4. Ping List & Extras
art courtesy of @bladesfire <3
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TOPIC | [mini-nuzlocke] Anathema
[center][img]http://i.imgur.com/nwhJqjq.png[/img][/center]
[center][IMG]http://i.imgur.com/22wfF4M.png[/IMG][color=black][size=2]
1. Rules, Key, Inventory
2. Dramatis Draconae
3. Summary & Log List
4. Ping List & Extras
[right][size=2]art courtesy of @bladesfire <3[/size][/right]
[/color][/size][/center]
1. Rules, Key, Inventory
2. Dramatis Draconae
3. Summary & Log List
4. Ping List & Extras
rules — last update: 27MAY
key—last update 27MAY
Because I'm essentially chronicling two different clans, you will find that I have chosen to COLOR CODE my entries, all the better to keep track of events in different places. There will undoubtedly be fewer posts from THE CATACOMBS in dark red than there will be from ANATHEMA, the clan that is out looking for sanctuary. Basic black will be for OMNIPOTENT EXPOSITION, INVENTORY UPDATES & OTHER JUNK
To further keep things straight, I'll put icons of the dragons involved at the top of each vignette section, and keep a full list of current survivors in the current status section.
inventory — last update 27MAY
items go here, 5x5 grid
I'm playing with a modification of the baby rules for stupid babies. Because I am essentially running two separate clans through this, certain rules will apply only to Anathema dragons, not the established group that ostensibly remains in the Plaguelands, sick and gross but probably still perfectly capable. Unless the story takes that somewhere else.
2. No scattering dragons of Anathema.
3. You can't give a dragon a primary gene until level 10, can't give them a secondary gene until level 15, and can't give them a tertiary gene until level 20.
4. For every egg you find, whether in the coliseum or by scavenging, you may purchase one breed change for any dragon.
5. You cannot gather food, you must grind for it in the coli.
6. If a dragon faints in the coli, it's dead. Exalt.
7. "Dead" dragons may be moved to the rear of my lair and removed from the story, but not exalted. I'm emotionally attached to pixels. So sue me.
2. 1-49, the hatchling died. Exalt.
3. 50-100, hatchling survives.
General
1. No buying dragons until 3 have been leveled to 25. Optionally, 1 unhatched egg may be purchased per month.2. No scattering dragons of Anathema.
3. You can't give a dragon a primary gene until level 10, can't give them a secondary gene until level 15, and can't give them a tertiary gene until level 20.
4. For every egg you find, whether in the coliseum or by scavenging, you may purchase one breed change for any dragon.
5. You cannot gather food, you must grind for it in the coli.
6. If a dragon faints in the coli, it's dead. Exalt.
7. "Dead" dragons may be moved to the rear of my lair and removed from the story, but not exalted. I'm emotionally attached to pixels. So sue me.
Nests
1. For every hatchling, roll 1d100.2. 1-49, the hatchling died. Exalt.
3. 50-100, hatchling survives.
key—last update 27MAY
Because I'm essentially chronicling two different clans, you will find that I have chosen to COLOR CODE my entries, all the better to keep track of events in different places. There will undoubtedly be fewer posts from THE CATACOMBS in dark red than there will be from ANATHEMA, the clan that is out looking for sanctuary. Basic black will be for OMNIPOTENT EXPOSITION, INVENTORY UPDATES & OTHER JUNK
To further keep things straight, I'll put icons of the dragons involved at the top of each vignette section, and keep a full list of current survivors in the current status section.
inventory — last update 27MAY
items go here, 5x5 grid
rules — last update: 27MAY
key—last update 27MAY
Because I'm essentially chronicling two different clans, you will find that I have chosen to COLOR CODE my entries, all the better to keep track of events in different places. There will undoubtedly be fewer posts from THE CATACOMBS in dark red than there will be from ANATHEMA, the clan that is out looking for sanctuary. Basic black will be for OMNIPOTENT EXPOSITION, INVENTORY UPDATES & OTHER JUNK
To further keep things straight, I'll put icons of the dragons involved at the top of each vignette section, and keep a full list of current survivors in the current status section.
inventory — last update 27MAY
items go here, 5x5 grid
I'm playing with a modification of the baby rules for stupid babies. Because I am essentially running two separate clans through this, certain rules will apply only to Anathema dragons, not the established group that ostensibly remains in the Plaguelands, sick and gross but probably still perfectly capable. Unless the story takes that somewhere else.
2. No scattering dragons of Anathema.
3. You can't give a dragon a primary gene until level 10, can't give them a secondary gene until level 15, and can't give them a tertiary gene until level 20.
4. For every egg you find, whether in the coliseum or by scavenging, you may purchase one breed change for any dragon.
5. You cannot gather food, you must grind for it in the coli.
6. If a dragon faints in the coli, it's dead. Exalt.
7. "Dead" dragons may be moved to the rear of my lair and removed from the story, but not exalted. I'm emotionally attached to pixels. So sue me.
2. 1-49, the hatchling died. Exalt.
3. 50-100, hatchling survives.
General
1. No buying dragons until 3 have been leveled to 25. Optionally, 1 unhatched egg may be purchased per month.2. No scattering dragons of Anathema.
3. You can't give a dragon a primary gene until level 10, can't give them a secondary gene until level 15, and can't give them a tertiary gene until level 20.
4. For every egg you find, whether in the coliseum or by scavenging, you may purchase one breed change for any dragon.
5. You cannot gather food, you must grind for it in the coli.
6. If a dragon faints in the coli, it's dead. Exalt.
7. "Dead" dragons may be moved to the rear of my lair and removed from the story, but not exalted. I'm emotionally attached to pixels. So sue me.
Nests
1. For every hatchling, roll 1d100.2. 1-49, the hatchling died. Exalt.
3. 50-100, hatchling survives.
key—last update 27MAY
Because I'm essentially chronicling two different clans, you will find that I have chosen to COLOR CODE my entries, all the better to keep track of events in different places. There will undoubtedly be fewer posts from THE CATACOMBS in dark red than there will be from ANATHEMA, the clan that is out looking for sanctuary. Basic black will be for OMNIPOTENT EXPOSITION, INVENTORY UPDATES & OTHER JUNK
To further keep things straight, I'll put icons of the dragons involved at the top of each vignette section, and keep a full list of current survivors in the current status section.
inventory — last update 27MAY
items go here, 5x5 grid
summary— recent events
dramatis draconae — current survivors
TBD
dramatis draconae — current survivors
TBD
summary— recent events
dramatis draconae — current survivors
TBD
dramatis draconae — current survivors
TBD
[color=black][b]prelude — [i]incipit[/i]
[center][img]http://flightrising.com/rendern/portraits/4998/499763p.png[/img][img]http://www1.flightrising.com/rendern/portraits/7394/739397p.png[/img][img]http://www1.flightrising.com/rendern/portraits/11939/1193869p.png[/img][/center]
[indent][size=2][color=black]Those who are dead would tell you it began with the rotclaw. When we found it, Hemlock thought it was a blessing. [i]Look how glorious,[/i] she'd rasped, old and sick, her wings rustling like parchment left in the sun. Even as I watched, flakes of dried blood, of flesh and scale, fell and floated like snow to the ground. I remember snow, vaguely; I haven't seen it in ages, and sometimes I think I miss it. I miss it less when I see pieces fall so gently earthward from the sickly monstrosities that have become Hemlock's wings. [i]A gift,[/i] she crooned, sounding so gentle that I saw several of our number recoil in horror, though later they could not recount exactly [i]why[/i] this unnerved them so.
Even Alcyone curled against me at once, nestling her sharp head beneath my chin, her bright eyes closed ever tight. "Did you feel that?" she whispered, the sound a vibration through her skull to mine; if she'd said it louder, we'd be dead. "Did you [i]hear[/i] it, Argo?" I nodded very slightly, and felt her shudder. Her time in my tutelage hadn't been for naught, and she was as attuned to the changes in Hemlock's psyche as I was.
And something in her had snapped, that day.
It was Rjinxil, days later, who came to me. "You felt it," was not a question, his steps gentle around the tables and equipment in our darkened corners. "She will ruin us all now, I am certain."
"Don't touch that." Alcyone's voice was lighter, sweeter, but no less forceful than my own might have been, had I been able to find it. As was often the case, when I opened my mouth now incoherencies babbled forth. She was at my side in a moment, baring teeth to warn Rjinxil off a mortar & pestle in which something was still moving, by my discerning gaze. He demurely withdrew, and she looked cautiously at me before delivering, "What would you have us do about it?"
A shrug. "I would have you put her to rest, with your potions and tricks—" a reflexive hiss of reaction from my assistant, her crest of feathers spreading, "—[i]but[/i] I know that is out of the question. We would as surely die without her, and her pet plague has already begun to spread. Hiral has fallen to it. He won't die." It didn't sound a lucky thing.
"And again," Alcyone snapped, impatient now, her temperance already spent. "Tell me what you would have us do about it, or [i]leave[/i]."
Rjinxil made a quiet clicking in the back of his throat, no doubt wholly aware of the energy building in my companion's muscles, the tension, and the capacity for violence it promised. I would have dismissed her, yes, but my words—they are always so cunning in their evasion when they must meet with my voice. Hard to get. Coy. I needed her. Just when it seemed she might actually spring on him—she would love to crush that mask of his between her fangs—he spoke.
"Someone leaves. You know it is too late for us." His nose lifted to the sky, nostrils flaring as he tried to detect something, and when he came back it was not surprising. "You already have it, no doubt from soothing her ills. We will live here. We will die here. The spirits are clear in this." Alcyone scoffed. "It is foolish for all of us to die so senselessly. Of our number, I count three who are not sick; one of them can take the child somewhere....else."
"What [i]child[/i]?" snapped Alcyone, shrill. "We have not had [i]children[/i] for years now. We are all—" she choked on the word. She'd wanted more children so badly, but every single nest had died; it was no comfort to her that they served the Plaguebringer now. Why would it be? We served her, too, and look where we were now. Where we remain.
"There are, in fact, three," the other wildclaw delivered evenly, and Alcyone could not prevent her sharp intake of breath. "[i]No[/i]," she whispered. "[i]Get out.[/i]" I put my nose to hers to soothe her. She stilled but for a low tremor of anxiety through her skin. Rjinxil continued,
Rjinxil did not get out. Instead, he continued, ever calm, so quiet that in order to hear his words we must fall silent. "Larkspur found them. She shares your sense of the matter, Alcyone. She wants them safe, but she already has one of those parasites growing in her." Again, he saw fit to mention, "She won't die," with a certain wryness that I couldn't place; the implication was that we would never die, I think, and wouldn't that be a shame.
We sat in silence for a moment, Alcyone's breathing ragged. [i]Children[/i], I could all but hear her thinking. She could have another, or at least another attempt. "We can't send them," she said suddenly. "We have to continue here."
"Yes." My voice sounded thin, like a piece of mouldy string. It had no vibrato, was disused, but there it was. Alcyone's triumphant expression was short-lived though. My voice was found—always temporary—and my words danced with it, elated. I continued. "[i]We[/i] stay. But we will hatch no more into this. Not now, Alcyone. They can't survive."
Her vocalization was not words, but a keening sadness that rattled the vials with such deliberate speed I thought they might shatter. She turned away. "Send them, then," she spat. "They will die out there alone, too. Hemlock will kill us—[i]you[/i]—if she finds out. I'll have no part of it. I —" She choked her words off even as sadness crept into it, stalking away. I could not follow her. Rjinxil watched this all dispassionately. It was not until she was gone entirely, the clicking sound of her foreclaw a rhythmic memory, that he spoke.
"I already have a volunteer. They'll leave tonight."
[/size][/color]
prelude — incipit
Those who are dead would tell you it began with the rotclaw. When we found it, Hemlock thought it was a blessing. Look how glorious, she'd rasped, old and sick, her wings rustling like parchment left in the sun. Even as I watched, flakes of dried blood, of flesh and scale, fell and floated like snow to the ground. I remember snow, vaguely; I haven't seen it in ages, and sometimes I think I miss it. I miss it less when I see pieces fall so gently earthward from the sickly monstrosities that have become Hemlock's wings. A gift, she crooned, sounding so gentle that I saw several of our number recoil in horror, though later they could not recount exactly why this unnerved them so.
Even Alcyone curled against me at once, nestling her sharp head beneath my chin, her bright eyes closed ever tight. "Did you feel that?" she whispered, the sound a vibration through her skull to mine; if she'd said it louder, we'd be dead. "Did you hear it, Argo?" I nodded very slightly, and felt her shudder. Her time in my tutelage hadn't been for naught, and she was as attuned to the changes in Hemlock's psyche as I was.
And something in her had snapped, that day.
It was Rjinxil, days later, who came to me. "You felt it," was not a question, his steps gentle around the tables and equipment in our darkened corners. "She will ruin us all now, I am certain."
"Don't touch that." Alcyone's voice was lighter, sweeter, but no less forceful than my own might have been, had I been able to find it. As was often the case, when I opened my mouth now incoherencies babbled forth. She was at my side in a moment, baring teeth to warn Rjinxil off a mortar & pestle in which something was still moving, by my discerning gaze. He demurely withdrew, and she looked cautiously at me before delivering, "What would you have us do about it?"
A shrug. "I would have you put her to rest, with your potions and tricks—" a reflexive hiss of reaction from my assistant, her crest of feathers spreading, "—but I know that is out of the question. We would as surely die without her, and her pet plague has already begun to spread. Hiral has fallen to it. He won't die." It didn't sound a lucky thing.
"And again," Alcyone snapped, impatient now, her temperance already spent. "Tell me what you would have us do about it, or leave."
Rjinxil made a quiet clicking in the back of his throat, no doubt wholly aware of the energy building in my companion's muscles, the tension, and the capacity for violence it promised. I would have dismissed her, yes, but my words—they are always so cunning in their evasion when they must meet with my voice. Hard to get. Coy. I needed her. Just when it seemed she might actually spring on him—she would love to crush that mask of his between her fangs—he spoke.
"Someone leaves. You know it is too late for us." His nose lifted to the sky, nostrils flaring as he tried to detect something, and when he came back it was not surprising. "You already have it, no doubt from soothing her ills. We will live here. We will die here. The spirits are clear in this." Alcyone scoffed. "It is foolish for all of us to die so senselessly. Of our number, I count three who are not sick; one of them can take the child somewhere....else."
"What child?" snapped Alcyone, shrill. "We have not had children for years now. We are all—" she choked on the word. She'd wanted more children so badly, but every single nest had died; it was no comfort to her that they served the Plaguebringer now. Why would it be? We served her, too, and look where we were now. Where we remain.
"There are, in fact, three," the other wildclaw delivered evenly, and Alcyone could not prevent her sharp intake of breath. "No," she whispered. "Get out." I put my nose to hers to soothe her. She stilled but for a low tremor of anxiety through her skin. Rjinxil continued,
Rjinxil did not get out. Instead, he continued, ever calm, so quiet that in order to hear his words we must fall silent. "Larkspur found them. She shares your sense of the matter, Alcyone. She wants them safe, but she already has one of those parasites growing in her." Again, he saw fit to mention, "She won't die," with a certain wryness that I couldn't place; the implication was that we would never die, I think, and wouldn't that be a shame.
We sat in silence for a moment, Alcyone's breathing ragged. Children, I could all but hear her thinking. She could have another, or at least another attempt. "We can't send them," she said suddenly. "We have to continue here."
"Yes." My voice sounded thin, like a piece of mouldy string. It had no vibrato, was disused, but there it was. Alcyone's triumphant expression was short-lived though. My voice was found—always temporary—and my words danced with it, elated. I continued. "We stay. But we will hatch no more into this. Not now, Alcyone. They can't survive."
Her vocalization was not words, but a keening sadness that rattled the vials with such deliberate speed I thought they might shatter. She turned away. "Send them, then," she spat. "They will die out there alone, too. Hemlock will kill us—you—if she finds out. I'll have no part of it. I —" She choked her words off even as sadness crept into it, stalking away. I could not follow her. Rjinxil watched this all dispassionately. It was not until she was gone entirely, the clicking sound of her foreclaw a rhythmic memory, that he spoke.
"I already have a volunteer. They'll leave tonight."
Even Alcyone curled against me at once, nestling her sharp head beneath my chin, her bright eyes closed ever tight. "Did you feel that?" she whispered, the sound a vibration through her skull to mine; if she'd said it louder, we'd be dead. "Did you hear it, Argo?" I nodded very slightly, and felt her shudder. Her time in my tutelage hadn't been for naught, and she was as attuned to the changes in Hemlock's psyche as I was.
And something in her had snapped, that day.
It was Rjinxil, days later, who came to me. "You felt it," was not a question, his steps gentle around the tables and equipment in our darkened corners. "She will ruin us all now, I am certain."
"Don't touch that." Alcyone's voice was lighter, sweeter, but no less forceful than my own might have been, had I been able to find it. As was often the case, when I opened my mouth now incoherencies babbled forth. She was at my side in a moment, baring teeth to warn Rjinxil off a mortar & pestle in which something was still moving, by my discerning gaze. He demurely withdrew, and she looked cautiously at me before delivering, "What would you have us do about it?"
A shrug. "I would have you put her to rest, with your potions and tricks—" a reflexive hiss of reaction from my assistant, her crest of feathers spreading, "—but I know that is out of the question. We would as surely die without her, and her pet plague has already begun to spread. Hiral has fallen to it. He won't die." It didn't sound a lucky thing.
"And again," Alcyone snapped, impatient now, her temperance already spent. "Tell me what you would have us do about it, or leave."
Rjinxil made a quiet clicking in the back of his throat, no doubt wholly aware of the energy building in my companion's muscles, the tension, and the capacity for violence it promised. I would have dismissed her, yes, but my words—they are always so cunning in their evasion when they must meet with my voice. Hard to get. Coy. I needed her. Just when it seemed she might actually spring on him—she would love to crush that mask of his between her fangs—he spoke.
"Someone leaves. You know it is too late for us." His nose lifted to the sky, nostrils flaring as he tried to detect something, and when he came back it was not surprising. "You already have it, no doubt from soothing her ills. We will live here. We will die here. The spirits are clear in this." Alcyone scoffed. "It is foolish for all of us to die so senselessly. Of our number, I count three who are not sick; one of them can take the child somewhere....else."
"What child?" snapped Alcyone, shrill. "We have not had children for years now. We are all—" she choked on the word. She'd wanted more children so badly, but every single nest had died; it was no comfort to her that they served the Plaguebringer now. Why would it be? We served her, too, and look where we were now. Where we remain.
"There are, in fact, three," the other wildclaw delivered evenly, and Alcyone could not prevent her sharp intake of breath. "No," she whispered. "Get out." I put my nose to hers to soothe her. She stilled but for a low tremor of anxiety through her skin. Rjinxil continued,
Rjinxil did not get out. Instead, he continued, ever calm, so quiet that in order to hear his words we must fall silent. "Larkspur found them. She shares your sense of the matter, Alcyone. She wants them safe, but she already has one of those parasites growing in her." Again, he saw fit to mention, "She won't die," with a certain wryness that I couldn't place; the implication was that we would never die, I think, and wouldn't that be a shame.
We sat in silence for a moment, Alcyone's breathing ragged. Children, I could all but hear her thinking. She could have another, or at least another attempt. "We can't send them," she said suddenly. "We have to continue here."
"Yes." My voice sounded thin, like a piece of mouldy string. It had no vibrato, was disused, but there it was. Alcyone's triumphant expression was short-lived though. My voice was found—always temporary—and my words danced with it, elated. I continued. "We stay. But we will hatch no more into this. Not now, Alcyone. They can't survive."
Her vocalization was not words, but a keening sadness that rattled the vials with such deliberate speed I thought they might shatter. She turned away. "Send them, then," she spat. "They will die out there alone, too. Hemlock will kill us—you—if she finds out. I'll have no part of it. I —" She choked her words off even as sadness crept into it, stalking away. I could not follow her. Rjinxil watched this all dispassionately. It was not until she was gone entirely, the clicking sound of her foreclaw a rhythmic memory, that he spoke.
"I already have a volunteer. They'll leave tonight."
audience — ping list
If you'd like to be added to the ping list, please just let me know! I am more than happy to do so. If you'd like to be removed, I will be sad (as will the survivors, who are enduring these struggles for you, personally) but the same rule applies. And thank you!
audience — ping list
If you'd like to be added to the ping list, please just let me know! I am more than happy to do so. If you'd like to be removed, I will be sad (as will the survivors, who are enduring these struggles for you, personally) but the same rule applies. And thank you!
@gunslinger Place me on your ping list, please. :) Also, who did the art for this? The pieces are pretty dang cool.
@gunslinger Place me on your ping list, please. :) Also, who did the art for this? The pieces are pretty dang cool.
@upstart
!!! Oh hai!
Actually, my friend @bladesfire did it for me. She just joined the site and was doing some test pieces to get a portfolio up.
!!! Oh hai!
Actually, my friend @bladesfire did it for me. She just joined the site and was doing some test pieces to get a portfolio up.
@upstart
!!! Oh hai!
Actually, my friend @bladesfire did it for me. She just joined the site and was doing some test pieces to get a portfolio up.
!!! Oh hai!
Actually, my friend @bladesfire did it for me. She just joined the site and was doing some test pieces to get a portfolio up.