Creative Corner

2816

August 29, 2016 15:57:10

_____ _____ _____ _____ _____

it was only a matter of time before i did a Pinkerlocke, considering how much i like doing pokemon nuzlockes. the ~~Edgelord Supreme~~ main character was chosen for this for lore reasons, but the other four starting challengers were chosen by RNG from the permanent dergs in my lair who did not have any clan-related lore, or who weren’t part of my main coli gaggle. most of them were lv 1 at the beginning of this, with the exception of Stanley, who was lv 8.

i will be using the basic Pinkerlocke ruleset with a few exceptions. for lore reasons, Hemlock cannot die. there's little reason for him to ever not be on the team for a food drop task. until Day 11, i used the hardmode method; between then and Day 47, i used the midmode. after Day 47 i will compose the team however the heck i so choose. i will consider this Pinkerlocke failed if Hemlock is the only surviving participant, and complete when i get Hemlock to lv 25.

any familiars, battlestones or apparel i acquire as part of the challenge can only and will probably be used on the participants of this challenge. and since i'm not in the habit of using health pots in coli anyway, i will make it a rule; no more than one potion per streak. i can reload anytime, give my dergs any stones i want, etc.

as an added thought: hope to the Boss that we don't have a KO'd Hemlock and another imp dead in the coli.

_____ _____ _____ _____ _____

Meet the Challengers:

My name is Hemlock. Where I come from, who I was then, does not matter.

I work alone. It’s best for everyone this way. But, occasionally, I come upon a clan who needs my skills. This is one such clan. Such a pitiful group. I don't know why they left their old lair. Questions like that can be dangerous.

This one goes by the name of Stanley. He’s a competent fighter. Reminds me of an old enemy of mine. Let’s hope this one doesn’t make the same mistakes Jack did.

He styles himself the leader around here. More the fool he.

Mei. Found her - rather, she refused to leave me alone - at the Auctionhouse on Day 2. I shudder to think of the hellion this child will be when she grows up.

Kye, arrived on Day 17. Can't say I understand this one at all...

Xanmeer. Day 26. Kye seems to think ey's her... cenn... or something.

Doli, Day 41. Tiny little nuisance.

Antares, Day 42. It just never ends...

Serison, Day 50. Got some moxie, this one.

Cordierite and Belial, Day 54.

Nicholas and Theo, hatched Day 58.

_____ _____ _____ _____ _____

You look like you've seen a ghost.

The pretty-boy, Eri.

Died on Day 1. Inglorious, as death always is.

Wolfram. One of those quiet types.

Died on Day 3. I could have even started to like him.

Cerana. They all called her "Honeybee," or just "Honey." Died on Day 10.

Lexi. Arrived on Day 4. Did everything one emotionally scarred guardian can do to protect her Charges, Cerana and Mei. Died on Day 24.

Eirys. Arrived on Day 25, died Day 34. Another stray...

Jericho. Arrived Day 32, died Day 38. Strange kid.

Nephthys, hatched Day 34, died Day 47. A slip I don't intend to make again.

Tibah. Arrived Day 41, died Day 47. I could almost feel bad.

^{banners made by Kiaora}

Last edited on Oct 31, 2016 20:16:43 by peanutbutterjar

Prologue:

From atop one of the wind-hewn mesas littering the Shifting Expanse, I watched them. Four dragons. A nocturne, tundra, coatl, and a juvenile imperial. I watched them emerge from the dune-country near the Tsunami Flats and make a mad dash east, toward the Canyon. The traces of a small lair were present in the area, though they had hidden the lair well. Not a few leagues out of the dunes were the skeletal remains of an ancient lair, long abandoned. From my perch, I watched the dragons take shelter in the ruins of that abandoned lair.

I stood up and spread my wings to catch the arid wind, always laden with the smell of ozone here in the Expanse. Perhaps those dragons knew something about that place that I did not. Water was more precious than gold out here, even as close as it was to the Sea of a Thousand Currents. Was there a hidden spring in that old lair? I waited for a moment to judge the wind, then pushed off the mesa. My wings caught the dry air and carried me in a slow, graceful glide toward that decrepit lair.

The young imperial noticed me first. She wailed “Stanleeeyyyyyy!” until the nocturne emerged from the crumbling lair and stood protectively over her, wings mantled. His Icewarden-white eyes glared at me defiantly as I landed a respectful distance from the structure.

“Who are you? What do you want?” The nocturne demanded.

Many things, none of which this nocturne could grant me. But instead of answering him truthfully, I said, “Just directions to the nearest water source. A place to stay the night would also be appreciated.” My voice came through the mask hollow-sounding, a little gravelly, but still intelligible.

“Who are you?” repeated the nocturne.

“Hemlock. That’s the name I go by these days.”

The tundra emerged and stood behind the nocturne. He, too, studied me warily. It was not uncommon for travelers through the desert to cover themselves and especially their faces against the blowing sand and the merciless sun, but I will be the first to admit that I dress to intimidate as well as to protect myself.

“There’s a river that flows underground through this area,” the tundra told me at last. “This lair was abandoned when the cavern collapsed, but I can, and have, unblocked it. You can drink your fill from it.”

And so was I accepted into the tiny, nameless clan.

Over the next day, I learned their names. Stanley was the one to challenge me at first. Wolfram, the Earth-hatched tundra. Cerana, their little golden watcher. Eri, a coatl I met later, spent a lot of time preening his glossy red feathers. Curtly, Stanley informed me that they had just left their old clan “due to some conflicts of personality.” I asked no further questions, and they offered no further answers.

Stanley asked if I could fight. I told him, truthfully, that I knew little else. He grunted. A moment later, he said, “None of these others have fought before. Our old clan had a few skilled warriors, the rest of us didn’t need to know how. But we’re not there anymore. We need to hunt and fight.”

“Look no further,” I assured Stanley.

He looked satisfied for the first time since I'd met him.

peanutbutterjar

2816

August 29, 2016 20:13:04

Prologue:

From atop one of the wind-hewn mesas littering the Shifting Expanse, I watched them. Four dragons. A nocturne, tundra, coatl, and a juvenile imperial. I watched them emerge from the dune-country near the Tsunami Flats and make a mad dash east, toward the Canyon. The traces of a small lair were present in the area, though they had hidden the lair well. Not a few leagues out of the dunes were the skeletal remains of an ancient lair, long abandoned. From my perch, I watched the dragons take shelter in the ruins of that abandoned lair.

I stood up and spread my wings to catch the arid wind, always laden with the smell of ozone here in the Expanse. Perhaps those dragons knew something about that place that I did not. Water was more precious than gold out here, even as close as it was to the Sea of a Thousand Currents. Was there a hidden spring in that old lair? I waited for a moment to judge the wind, then pushed off the mesa. My wings caught the dry air and carried me in a slow, graceful glide toward that decrepit lair.

The young imperial noticed me first. She wailed “Stanleeeyyyyyy!” until the nocturne emerged from the crumbling lair and stood protectively over her, wings mantled. His Icewarden-white eyes glared at me defiantly as I landed a respectful distance from the structure.

“Who are you? What do you want?” The nocturne demanded.

Many things, none of which this nocturne could grant me. But instead of answering him truthfully, I said, “Just directions to the nearest water source. A place to stay the night would also be appreciated.” My voice came through the mask hollow-sounding, a little gravelly, but still intelligible.

“Who are you?” repeated the nocturne.

“Hemlock. That’s the name I go by these days.”

The tundra emerged and stood behind the nocturne. He, too, studied me warily. It was not uncommon for travelers through the desert to cover themselves and especially their faces against the blowing sand and the merciless sun, but I will be the first to admit that I dress to intimidate as well as to protect myself.

“There’s a river that flows underground through this area,” the tundra told me at last. “This lair was abandoned when the cavern collapsed, but I can, and have, unblocked it. You can drink your fill from it.”

And so was I accepted into the tiny, nameless clan.

Over the next day, I learned their names. Stanley was the one to challenge me at first. Wolfram, the Earth-hatched tundra. Cerana, their little golden watcher. Eri, a coatl I met later, spent a lot of time preening his glossy red feathers. Curtly, Stanley informed me that they had just left their old clan “due to some conflicts of personality.” I asked no further questions, and they offered no further answers.

Stanley asked if I could fight. I told him, truthfully, that I knew little else. He grunted. A moment later, he said, “None of these others have fought before. Our old clan had a few skilled warriors, the rest of us didn’t need to know how. But we’re not there anymore. We need to hunt and fight.”

“Look no further,” I assured Stanley.

He looked satisfied for the first time since I'd met him.

Last edited on Aug 29, 2016 21:18:12 by peanutbutterjar

[center][b]Day 1:[/b] [item=Berserker] [b]coin flip:[/b] heads _____ _____ _____ _____ _____[/center] It happened out of nowhere. We had just entered the game trails through the forest that Stanley called the Woodland Path. Behind me, I heard Eri make a strangled noise, and turned to see the coatl dangling a paw-length off the ground with a blooming strangler constricting around his neck. As soon as I turned to look, a second strangler dropped a loop of its sinuous length from the overhanging branches and tried to ensnare me the same way. Had I not been able to slip one foreleg between my throat and the strangler’s coils, it might have succeeded. Instead, I scored the serpentine beast’s flanks with my claws. It tried to slither away into the canopy, but I grabbed it and yanked the strangler to the ground. There, with no tree limbs to hang from, it was no match. When I looked up from the strangler’s limp and broken form, I saw Stanley land the killing blow to the first strangler. On the ground nearby was an unmoving pile of copper scales and feathers. How pathetic, I thought dispassionately as I approached the coatl. He never really had a chance. Stanley jumped between me and his clanmate’s body, mouth gaping open in a vicious hiss. I stopped. “What do you think I intend to do?” I grated at him, caught between irritation and amusement. More irritation, though, since an ephemeral red orb hovered over the dead coatl, and Stanley was barring my way to collect it. He didn’t see the Soul Orb, of course. I have not met another who does. But they are no illusion or hallucination. They occur when a sentient being dies an unnatural death, and contain the life the dead one can no longer use. When I collect them, they heal my wounds and restore my energy reserves. Dragons create stronger ones, though I have found that some beastclans make them, as well. I cannot say that I have not gone out of my way to make these orbs; not and be truthful. The nocturne stopped hissing at me, only to turn his back so he could close the mouth of the dead dragon. There were many things I could have said. “We don’t have time to weep disconsolately over the loss of one vain fool,” was the primary one. “I hope you can dig a good burial pit, because I certainly will not,” came in a close second. I decided to remain silent, instead. That seemed the prudent thing to do. After a moment, Stanley turned back toward me. “We need to keep going.” “Yes,” I agreed mildly. He stared at me, anger and grief in his eyes, but after a moment of glaring (pointlessly) into the visor of my mask, he snorted and brushed past me again, further down the trail. I remained only long enough to collect the Soul Orb before I followed him. [center]_____ _____ _____ _____ _____[/center] [i][sup]my reaction to a battlestone day 1: REALLY to the coinflip: ARE YOU F***ING KIDDING ME to the team pick: well Eri it was nice having you on the pinkerlocke team for five minutes. it actually only took one round in the woodland path. spent a few rounds in the training fields, but since Stan is higher levelled, he could one-shot the enemies and nothing got the chance to attack us. nor did the other two gain exp. in order to make this less obnoxious, i leveled Hemlock and Wolfram to 5, outside of the ‘locke required coli time. still observing the rules, ofc. (and panicking when Wolf went below 25% HP). don't be surprised if any or all of these posts get revised at some point. especially this post. the locke really went from 0 to 100 in no seconds flat, which left me with no basis for a good buildup or anything.[/i][/sup]

peanutbutterjar

2816

August 29, 2016 21:19:17

Day 1:

coin flip: heads
_____ _____ _____ _____ _____

It happened out of nowhere. We had just entered the game trails through the forest that Stanley called the Woodland Path. Behind me, I heard Eri make a strangled noise, and turned to see the coatl dangling a paw-length off the ground with a blooming strangler constricting around his neck. As soon as I turned to look, a second strangler dropped a loop of its sinuous length from the overhanging branches and tried to ensnare me the same way.

Had I not been able to slip one foreleg between my throat and the strangler’s coils, it might have succeeded. Instead, I scored the serpentine beast’s flanks with my claws. It tried to slither away into the canopy, but I grabbed it and yanked the strangler to the ground. There, with no tree limbs to hang from, it was no match.

When I looked up from the strangler’s limp and broken form, I saw Stanley land the killing blow to the first strangler. On the ground nearby was an unmoving pile of copper scales and feathers.

How pathetic, I thought dispassionately as I approached the coatl. He never really had a chance.

Stanley jumped between me and his clanmate’s body, mouth gaping open in a vicious hiss. I stopped. “What do you think I intend to do?” I grated at him, caught between irritation and amusement. More irritation, though, since an ephemeral red orb hovered over the dead coatl, and Stanley was barring my way to collect it.

He didn’t see the Soul Orb, of course. I have not met another who does. But they are no illusion or hallucination. They occur when a sentient being dies an unnatural death, and contain the life the dead one can no longer use. When I collect them, they heal my wounds and restore my energy reserves. Dragons create stronger ones, though I have found that some beastclans make them, as well. I cannot say that I have not gone out of my way to make these orbs; not and be truthful.

The nocturne stopped hissing at me, only to turn his back so he could close the mouth of the dead dragon.

There were many things I could have said. “We don’t have time to weep disconsolately over the loss of one vain fool,” was the primary one. “I hope you can dig a good burial pit, because I certainly will not,” came in a close second. I decided to remain silent, instead. That seemed the prudent thing to do.

After a moment, Stanley turned back toward me. “We need to keep going.”

“Yes,” I agreed mildly.

He stared at me, anger and grief in his eyes, but after a moment of glaring (pointlessly) into the visor of my mask, he snorted and brushed past me again, further down the trail. I remained only long enough to collect the Soul Orb before I followed him.

_____ _____ _____ _____ _____

^{my reaction to a battlestone day 1: REALLY

to the coinflip: ARE YOU F***ING KIDDING ME

to the team pick: well Eri it was nice having you on the pinkerlocke team for five minutes.

it actually only took one round in the woodland path. spent a few rounds in the training fields, but since Stan is higher levelled, he could one-shot the enemies and nothing got the chance to attack us. nor did the other two gain exp.

in order to make this less obnoxious, i leveled Hemlock and Wolfram to 5, outside of the ‘locke required coli time. still observing the rules, ofc. (and panicking when Wolf went below 25% HP).

don't be surprised if any or all of these posts get revised at some point. especially this post. the locke really went from 0 to 100 in no seconds flat, which left me with no basis for a good buildup or anything.}

Last edited on Sep 07, 2016 14:10:39 by peanutbutterjar

[center][b]Day 2:[/b] [item=Depin] _____ _____ _____ _____ _____[/center] The others moped. They spent far too much time moping, in my opinion. I was not foolish enough to say this out loud, but I know that Stanley picked up on my impatience with the ennui that overcame them all at the death of their comrade. “We haven’t been able to gather much food in a few days,” Wolfram finally said, shortly after Stanley flapped away from the lair in an aggrieved rage. “But we have plenty of money. They were generous enough with that, at least. Someone should go to the Auctionhouse and buy us some supplies.” “And by ‘someone,’” I replied, “You obviously mean me.” “Well, whoever doesn’t go needs to stay so Honey has someone to watch over her.” What he did not say, but that I perceived just fine anyway, was that he did not trust me alone with the girl. His assumption that I would harm a child in any fashion was, to put it mildly, insulting. I managed, by a feat of great self-control, not to respond to the implication in the tundra’s words. Instead, I said, “Fine. I will go.” He should be grateful I was willing to play nice. Wolfram disappeared into the private areas of the lair, into a storage chamber I had not entered. He returned in short order with a hefty pouch of coins, which he passed to me. “I guess get as much meat, plants and seafood as you can carry back here. We also need building material, but that stuff’s so bulky and heavy, and we don’t have a way to transport it right now. Maybe check the prices and delivery options, while you’re there.” “Any other errands to run?” I asked sarcastically. “Got some other shopping to do? Need a new outfit?” Wolfram looked me up and down and said, “Looks like you need that more than I do, buddy. Use your own money for it, though. We don’t have enough to spare to bring your wardrobe out of the Dark Ages.” And with that, he turned and went back into the lair. Yeah, like I had never heard [i]that[/i] joke before. Real clever, Fuzzball. In the interest of getting this tedious errand out of the way, I decided not to reply, and simply took off. [center]_____ _____ _____[/center] Once at the Auctionhouse, I was reminded why I try, at all costs, to avoid centers of population. It was crowded with dragons of all shapes and sizes, all screeching or whistling or bellowing at the tops of their lungs. A fae zipping by at breakneck speed got snarled in my wings, at one point; almost broke its neck and my wing. When I first entered the huge complex, I saw a small group of hatchling snappers huddled together, peering at the chaos with confused Shadow eyes. One of them noticed my attention and, instead of being intimidated as most tend to be, bumbled right over. “Which way is home?” she piped fearlessly. I stared down the beak of my mask at the hatchling. “That is a question to ask your parents, not a stranger,” I told her. Though I would never harm a child, I really had no desire to have anything to do with them. Their minds did not work properly, if at all. Always needy, always begging, whining… no. I had no interest in children. “Mama’s gone,” the hatchling informed me. “She said to go somewhere, but we don’t know what she meant, and now we can’t find her. So we’re gonna go home. Where is home?” I had to admire the determination showed by this little one. She knew what she wanted, by the gods, and she was going to get it done. But that did not mean I wanted to waste my time figuring out whether these hatchlings were just left behind by a negligent parent while they shopped, or if they were dropped off at the Auctionhouse to be sold, and lost their way. So I told her, “Find one of the dragons who wears a bright orange cap. They will tell you.” The Auctionhouse employees had a uniform with eye-searing orange piping and an orange cap, for instant recognizability. The staff here would sort out these hatchlings. Before the child could respond, I dove into the crowd and made for the food stalls. Buying the food was, thankfully, fairly uneventful. If I purchased more seafood than either plants or meat, it was because Cerana (I refused to use the inane nickname they gave her) also preferred it. It was not because I was already quite hungry, and there was a nice discount on my favorite yellow-frilled eels. Absolutely not. After evening out the ratio a little bit, I did Wolfram the favor of doing as he requested and looking around the section for building materials. What he expected me to find, I cannot say. The options were buying the raw materials, useless for building but significantly cheaper, or pay several times the price for the bits that were shaped or processed appropriately. It was all coatl to me, really. The one thing I did understand was that unless they had much more money than what he had given me for food, they would not be buying any building supplies from the auctions. At the very moment I had finished distributing the packs around my person for easy flight, a guardian decked out in the Auctionhouse staff’s retina-burning orange approached me. Perched on the crown of his skull was the red snapper hatchling from before. “Pardon me, ma’am,” the guardian rumbled, “But I believe I have found your child. You should be more careful; it’s easy to lose the little ones in this place.” For the first time in a very long time, I was tempted to yank the mask off. Later, I was glad that I was too nonplussed to follow my first impulse. But in the few moments I was dumbstruck, the snapper hopped off the guardian and landed (painfully) on my back. “Thank’oo mister!” she said happily to the guardian. The guardian left while I was still reigning in the urge to snap someone’s stupid neck so their Soul Orb could repair the damage this idiot child had done to my back. Carefully, I craned my head around to grab the snapper by the scruff of her neck. Forgetting, of course, that a snapper’s neck does not have a scruff to grab. And regretting every movement, which sent bolts of pain the length of my spine. “Get. Off,” I growled. “You gotta carry me home!” Rage turned everything a little red at the edges. “Get. Off. My. Back.” “Home!” She bounced up and down until I snapped, “Stop that!” Or, I meant to snap; it came out more as a whimper. Had she done something to a vertebra when she landed? Would I even be able to fly back like this? Obedient for once in her short life, the snapper went still. She trotted down the slope of my back until she was directly between my wingjoints, and deposited herself there with finality. “Us go home!” “I don’t know where your home is!” “So us go to you home!” “What happened to your siblings, anyway?” Maybe if I found where the rest had gone, I could drop her off with them. “They gettin’ sold.” “So why aren’t you with them?” “Don’t wanna,” she replied, forthrightly. “What did you tell that guardian, anyway?” Why did he call me ‘ma’am?’ “You long an’ furry like Mama. I told the big one that Mama is long’n’furry. He showed me lots of long’n’furry ones and when I saw you I said ‘I know that one!’ an’ he stopped. Guess he thought you was Mama, but that’s not right.” “No, it’s not,” I agreed. “Let’s go find the auction stall where they have your siblings so you can–” “NO!” She started to bounce again, and while she was not directly on the injured place anymore, it still hurt. I winced. “Us go home!” she chanted. “Us go home! Us go home!” “FINE!” I flapped my wings to take off directly from the ground; not the easiest thing, weighted down as I was, but I needed the stowaway to shut up and stop bouncing. Thankfully, once we were airborne, she settled right down. [center]_____ _____ _____[/center] Stanley was back when I returned to the lair. I ignored him, ignored them all, and went to the storage chamber to unload the food. The snapper hatchling stayed between my wings, humming contentedly to herself, as though this was all normal and fine. Behind me, I heard someone step partially into the room, though he (it was not Cerana) stayed in the door and did not speak immediately. "What are you looking at?" I growled over my shoulder. “You seem to have sprouted an extra head,” Wolfram commented. He sounded like he was going to start laughing at any second. I dug my claws into the floor. That's not something a smart dragon says to an imperial, but clearly this fuzzball didn't know. I felt a jostling, then the snapper said, “No, I only got one head. It’s this one!” “That’s your head, is it? What name do you call it?” “Mei. I’m Mei. Mama says it’s a good name.” “It is a very pretty name, Mei. Where’s your Mama?” I had to give it to him; Wolfram was good with kids. He kept his voice kind and warm and gentle. “Home probably. She took me an’ Morry and Han and Jenny to the auctions.” “I see. And how did you end up on Hemlock’s back?” “Hemlock?” I turned around in time to see Wolfram gesture to me. “Your valiant steed, Hemlock.” The twinkle in the tundra’s brown eyes made it that much more difficult to control my temper. “She conned one of the Auctionhouse staff into thinking I was her mother. He left before I could enlighten him otherwise, and she refused to get off my back. Probably cracked one of my vertebrae, landing on me,” I told him. “I wondered why you were limping,” he agreed. “Well, I guess we have another new addition to the lair.” [url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=26570554] [img]http://flightrising.com/rendern/350/265706/26570554_350.png[/img] [/url] [center]_____ _____ _____ _____ _____[/center] [i][sup]i deliberately set the AH to female dergs only, since Cera was the only other one. in the future, if there isn’t such an imbalance, i won’t do that. but it’ll be really difficult to fulfil the “breed ur dergs” condition if i only have one female with a long cooldown. tho thanks, Pinky, for making me replace a derg on day two i lost on day one. and one with a crappy energy stone, too. i will be giving her scratch at a later date, and bugger any unwritten rule about that. [b]edit:[/b] and ofc i immediately forgot about my "must quote Reaper" rule. fixed it!

peanutbutterjar

2816

August 30, 2016 09:30:32

Day 2:

_____ _____ _____ _____ _____

The others moped. They spent far too much time moping, in my opinion. I was not foolish enough to say this out loud, but I know that Stanley picked up on my impatience with the ennui that overcame them all at the death of their comrade.

“We haven’t been able to gather much food in a few days,” Wolfram finally said, shortly after Stanley flapped away from the lair in an aggrieved rage. “But we have plenty of money. They were generous enough with that, at least. Someone should go to the Auctionhouse and buy us some supplies.”

“And by ‘someone,’” I replied, “You obviously mean me.”

“Well, whoever doesn’t go needs to stay so Honey has someone to watch over her.” What he did not say, but that I perceived just fine anyway, was that he did not trust me alone with the girl.

His assumption that I would harm a child in any fashion was, to put it mildly, insulting. I managed, by a feat of great self-control, not to respond to the implication in the tundra’s words. Instead, I said, “Fine. I will go.” He should be grateful I was willing to play nice.

Wolfram disappeared into the private areas of the lair, into a storage chamber I had not entered. He returned in short order with a hefty pouch of coins, which he passed to me. “I guess get as much meat, plants and seafood as you can carry back here. We also need building material, but that stuff’s so bulky and heavy, and we don’t have a way to transport it right now. Maybe check the prices and delivery options, while you’re there.”

“Any other errands to run?” I asked sarcastically. “Got some other shopping to do? Need a new outfit?”

Wolfram looked me up and down and said, “Looks like you need that more than I do, buddy. Use your own money for it, though. We don’t have enough to spare to bring your wardrobe out of the Dark Ages.” And with that, he turned and went back into the lair.

Yeah, like I had never heard that joke before. Real clever, Fuzzball. In the interest of getting this tedious errand out of the way, I decided not to reply, and simply took off.

_____ _____ _____

Once at the Auctionhouse, I was reminded why I try, at all costs, to avoid centers of population. It was crowded with dragons of all shapes and sizes, all screeching or whistling or bellowing at the tops of their lungs. A fae zipping by at breakneck speed got snarled in my wings, at one point; almost broke its neck and my wing.

When I first entered the huge complex, I saw a small group of hatchling snappers huddled together, peering at the chaos with confused Shadow eyes. One of them noticed my attention and, instead of being intimidated as most tend to be, bumbled right over. “Which way is home?” she piped fearlessly.

I stared down the beak of my mask at the hatchling. “That is a question to ask your parents, not a stranger,” I told her. Though I would never harm a child, I really had no desire to have anything to do with them. Their minds did not work properly, if at all. Always needy, always begging, whining… no. I had no interest in children.

“Mama’s gone,” the hatchling informed me. “She said to go somewhere, but we don’t know what she meant, and now we can’t find her. So we’re gonna go home. Where is home?”

I had to admire the determination showed by this little one. She knew what she wanted, by the gods, and she was going to get it done. But that did not mean I wanted to waste my time figuring out whether these hatchlings were just left behind by a negligent parent while they shopped, or if they were dropped off at the Auctionhouse to be sold, and lost their way. So I told her, “Find one of the dragons who wears a bright orange cap. They will tell you.” The Auctionhouse employees had a uniform with eye-searing orange piping and an orange cap, for instant recognizability. The staff here would sort out these hatchlings. Before the child could respond, I dove into the crowd and made for the food stalls.

Buying the food was, thankfully, fairly uneventful. If I purchased more seafood than either plants or meat, it was because Cerana (I refused to use the inane nickname they gave her) also preferred it. It was not because I was already quite hungry, and there was a nice discount on my favorite yellow-frilled eels. Absolutely not.

After evening out the ratio a little bit, I did Wolfram the favor of doing as he requested and looking around the section for building materials. What he expected me to find, I cannot say. The options were buying the raw materials, useless for building but significantly cheaper, or pay several times the price for the bits that were shaped or processed appropriately. It was all coatl to me, really. The one thing I did understand was that unless they had much more money than what he had given me for food, they would not be buying any building supplies from the auctions.

At the very moment I had finished distributing the packs around my person for easy flight, a guardian decked out in the Auctionhouse staff’s retina-burning orange approached me. Perched on the crown of his skull was the red snapper hatchling from before.

“Pardon me, ma’am,” the guardian rumbled, “But I believe I have found your child. You should be more careful; it’s easy to lose the little ones in this place.”

For the first time in a very long time, I was tempted to yank the mask off. Later, I was glad that I was too nonplussed to follow my first impulse. But in the few moments I was dumbstruck, the snapper hopped off the guardian and landed (painfully) on my back. “Thank’oo mister!” she said happily to the guardian.

The guardian left while I was still reigning in the urge to snap someone’s stupid neck so their Soul Orb could repair the damage this idiot child had done to my back. Carefully, I craned my head around to grab the snapper by the scruff of her neck. Forgetting, of course, that a snapper’s neck does not have a scruff to grab. And regretting every movement, which sent bolts of pain the length of my spine.

“Get. Off,” I growled.

“You gotta carry me home!”

Rage turned everything a little red at the edges. “Get. Off. My. Back.”

“Home!” She bounced up and down until I snapped, “Stop that!” Or, I meant to snap; it came out more as a whimper. Had she done something to a vertebra when she landed? Would I even be able to fly back like this?

Obedient for once in her short life, the snapper went still. She trotted down the slope of my back until she was directly between my wingjoints, and deposited herself there with finality. “Us go home!”

“I don’t know where your home is!”

“So us go to you home!”

“What happened to your siblings, anyway?” Maybe if I found where the rest had gone, I could drop her off with them.

“They gettin’ sold.”

“So why aren’t you with them?”

“Don’t wanna,” she replied, forthrightly.

“What did you tell that guardian, anyway?” Why did he call me ‘ma’am?’

“You long an’ furry like Mama. I told the big one that Mama is long’n’furry. He showed me lots of long’n’furry ones and when I saw you I said ‘I know that one!’ an’ he stopped. Guess he thought you was Mama, but that’s not right.”

“No, it’s not,” I agreed. “Let’s go find the auction stall where they have your siblings so you can–”

“NO!” She started to bounce again, and while she was not directly on the injured place anymore, it still hurt. I winced.

“Us go home!” she chanted. “Us go home! Us go home!”

“FINE!” I flapped my wings to take off directly from the ground; not the easiest thing, weighted down as I was, but I needed the stowaway to shut up and stop bouncing. Thankfully, once we were airborne, she settled right down.

_____ _____ _____

Stanley was back when I returned to the lair. I ignored him, ignored them all, and went to the storage chamber to unload the food. The snapper hatchling stayed between my wings, humming contentedly to herself, as though this was all normal and fine. Behind me, I heard someone step partially into the room, though he (it was not Cerana) stayed in the door and did not speak immediately.

"What are you looking at?" I growled over my shoulder.

“You seem to have sprouted an extra head,” Wolfram commented. He sounded like he was going to start laughing at any second. I dug my claws into the floor. That's not something a smart dragon says to an imperial, but clearly this fuzzball didn't know.

I felt a jostling, then the snapper said, “No, I only got one head. It’s this one!”

“That’s your head, is it? What name do you call it?”

“Mei. I’m Mei. Mama says it’s a good name.”

“It is a very pretty name, Mei. Where’s your Mama?” I had to give it to him; Wolfram was good with kids. He kept his voice kind and warm and gentle.

“Home probably. She took me an’ Morry and Han and Jenny to the auctions.”

“I see. And how did you end up on Hemlock’s back?”

“Hemlock?”

I turned around in time to see Wolfram gesture to me. “Your valiant steed, Hemlock.” The twinkle in the tundra’s brown eyes made it that much more difficult to control my temper.

“She conned one of the Auctionhouse staff into thinking I was her mother. He left before I could enlighten him otherwise, and she refused to get off my back. Probably cracked one of my vertebrae, landing on me,” I told him.

“I wondered why you were limping,” he agreed. “Well, I guess we have another new addition to the lair.”

_____ _____ _____ _____ _____

^{i deliberately set the AH to female dergs only, since Cera was the only other one. in the future, if there isn’t such an imbalance, i won’t do that. but it’ll be really difficult to fulfil the “breed ur dergs” condition if i only have one female with a long cooldown.

tho thanks, Pinky, for making me replace a derg on day two i lost on day one. and one with a crappy energy stone, too. i will be giving her scratch at a later date, and bugger any unwritten rule about that.

edit: and ofc i immediately forgot about my "must quote Reaper" rule. fixed it!}

Last edited on Aug 31, 2016 21:17:55 by peanutbutterjar

[center] [b]Day 3:[/b] [item=Subterranean Termite] _____ _____ _____ _____ _____[/center] “Far be it from me to say what is and is not possible,” Wolfram said wearily, “but maybe it would be wiser for us to stay in the unburned part of the forest. The centaurs in this area are nasty.” “It’s faster this way,” Stanley asserted. “Prey can’t hide as well here. And you’ll never improve as a fighter unless you have a challenge.” I held my peace and continued to scan the smoldering horizon. The centaurs, as Wolfram had pointed out, roved in packs. Or did they call them herds? Either way, fighting several of them at a time, especially when their archers fired enchanted arrows, was challenging. Of course, Fearless Leader Stanley assured us that he’d been in this area enough before that he could handle whatever came our way. I wished him joy of those gashes a smoke gyre left on his flank. He was going to smell like burning scale for a while. “Are you holding up all right, Hemlock?” Wolfram asked. “You tell me, Doc,” I sneered. As a matter of fact, I was tired, and a centaur had done more than just graze me with its spear. I was able to get back up and use the damned creature’s Soul Orb to heal the wound; had I not been the way I am, I do not think that would have been the case. But neither of these two needed to know that. “Pardon me for my concern,” he replied sourly. The tundra stood up and shook his voluminous fur coat out. “Well, if we must hunt in this area, we might as well get on with it.” Without further comment, Stanley shoved off from the termite mound on which he had been perched and flapped onward. We followed in his wake. Playing lackey was not usually my preference, but having someone flying ahead of me to take the centaur’s arrows did. It was fortunate for Stanley’s ego that I was not interested in taking charge of this expedition, or this pathetic excuse for a clan. A flare of vile magic at seven o’clock made me immediately wingover to the right to dodge the magically-charged arrow. Wolfram, who had been flying in the other side of Stanley’s wake, did not react as quickly, and the arrow struck him at the base of the neck, just above the shoulder. He plummeted like a stone, keening in pain. Stanley swooped underneath the tundra to slow the fall; I ignored them and performed another wingover, this time in the direction the new volley of arrows originated. Two centaurs scattered out of my flight path, but not until they had loosed one more volley. Both arrows went wide of me, though I heard Stanley’s enraged shriek not far away. One centaur went down with a terrified whinny when I landed on its back. The other one turned at bay and fired another arrow at me, though I twisted to shield myself with the body of the first one. The living centaur dropped its bow and fled, then. Fled right into the waiting claws of Stanley, who shook his prey like a hainu until the equine creature stopped moving. The half-healed spear wound flared with pain as I stood up. Since most of the trees were burned to ash, it was easy enough to see a score of bodylengths away, to where Wolfram was an unmoving pile of gold and gray fur; a second arrow stuck up from his barrel. The red orb of his life force hovered above the body. This time, Stanley did not stop me from approaching to collect the Soul Orb. I made the pretense of closing Wolfram’s eyes to avoid questions I did not want to answer. “Think we have enough food to call it a day?” Stanley asked with a rough voice. “Yes.” I was not feeling up to continuing a dragon down, with my only backup distracted. [center]_____ _____ _____ _____ _____[/center] [i][sub]there was no need to RNG since i only had three adults to work with. and i swear to the Boss, the enemies took great delight in picking on Wolfram and no one else. and dodging his attacks. he got dodged two or three times in a row one fight. it was just not Wolf’s day. the round that killed him? both Hemlock and Stan finished that battle at full health. that was round ten, and i wasn't sure whether the normal protocol was okay with interrupting a food streak for a death, but i wasn't interested in sealing Stan's doom as well by continuing.

peanutbutterjar

2816

August 31, 2016 12:45:06

Day 3:

_____ _____ _____ _____ _____

“Far be it from me to say what is and is not possible,” Wolfram said wearily, “but maybe it would be wiser for us to stay in the unburned part of the forest. The centaurs in this area are nasty.”

“It’s faster this way,” Stanley asserted. “Prey can’t hide as well here. And you’ll never improve as a fighter unless you have a challenge.”

I held my peace and continued to scan the smoldering horizon. The centaurs, as Wolfram had pointed out, roved in packs. Or did they call them herds? Either way, fighting several of them at a time, especially when their archers fired enchanted arrows, was challenging. Of course, Fearless Leader Stanley assured us that he’d been in this area enough before that he could handle whatever came our way. I wished him joy of those gashes a smoke gyre left on his flank. He was going to smell like burning scale for a while.

“Are you holding up all right, Hemlock?” Wolfram asked.

“You tell me, Doc,” I sneered. As a matter of fact, I was tired, and a centaur had done more than just graze me with its spear. I was able to get back up and use the damned creature’s Soul Orb to heal the wound; had I not been the way I am, I do not think that would have been the case. But neither of these two needed to know that.

“Pardon me for my concern,” he replied sourly. The tundra stood up and shook his voluminous fur coat out. “Well, if we must hunt in this area, we might as well get on with it.”

Without further comment, Stanley shoved off from the termite mound on which he had been perched and flapped onward. We followed in his wake. Playing lackey was not usually my preference, but having someone flying ahead of me to take the centaur’s arrows did. It was fortunate for Stanley’s ego that I was not interested in taking charge of this expedition, or this pathetic excuse for a clan.

A flare of vile magic at seven o’clock made me immediately wingover to the right to dodge the magically-charged arrow. Wolfram, who had been flying in the other side of Stanley’s wake, did not react as quickly, and the arrow struck him at the base of the neck, just above the shoulder. He plummeted like a stone, keening in pain. Stanley swooped underneath the tundra to slow the fall; I ignored them and performed another wingover, this time in the direction the new volley of arrows originated. Two centaurs scattered out of my flight path, but not until they had loosed one more volley. Both arrows went wide of me, though I heard Stanley’s enraged shriek not far away.

One centaur went down with a terrified whinny when I landed on its back. The other one turned at bay and fired another arrow at me, though I twisted to shield myself with the body of the first one. The living centaur dropped its bow and fled, then. Fled right into the waiting claws of Stanley, who shook his prey like a hainu until the equine creature stopped moving.

The half-healed spear wound flared with pain as I stood up. Since most of the trees were burned to ash, it was easy enough to see a score of bodylengths away, to where Wolfram was an unmoving pile of gold and gray fur; a second arrow stuck up from his barrel. The red orb of his life force hovered above the body.

This time, Stanley did not stop me from approaching to collect the Soul Orb. I made the pretense of closing Wolfram’s eyes to avoid questions I did not want to answer.

“Think we have enough food to call it a day?” Stanley asked with a rough voice.

“Yes.” I was not feeling up to continuing a dragon down, with my only backup distracted.

_____ _____ _____ _____ _____

_{there was no need to RNG since i only had three adults to work with. and i swear to the Boss, the enemies took great delight in picking on Wolfram and no one else. and dodging his attacks. he got dodged two or three times in a row one fight. it was just not Wolf’s day. the round that killed him? both Hemlock and Stan finished that battle at full health. that was round ten, and i wasn't sure whether the normal protocol was okay with interrupting a food streak for a death, but i wasn't interested in sealing Stan's doom as well by continuing.}

Last edited on Aug 31, 2016 22:50:27 by peanutbutterjar

[center][b]Day 4:[/b] [item=Longneck Interloper] _____ _____ _____ _____ _____[/center] a little short on time today. will include the prose for this task in Day 5's entry. [url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=26522873] [img]http://flightrising.com/rendern/350/265229/26522873_350.png[/img] [/url] [center] _____ _____ _____ _____ _____[/center] [i][sup]dude really. i mean, it’s nice to replace dead dergs, but… really, Pinkerton? something odd to note – both Lexi and Mei have an imp as their dam. ooky spooky coincidence.[/sup][/i]

peanutbutterjar

2816

September 01, 2016 15:51:21

Day 4:

_____ _____ _____ _____ _____

a little short on time today. will include the prose for this task in Day 5's entry.

_____ _____ _____ _____ _____

^{dude really.

i mean, it’s nice to replace dead dergs, but… really, Pinkerton?

something odd to note – both Lexi and Mei have an imp as their dam. ooky spooky coincidence.}

Last edited on Sep 02, 2016 16:45:08 by peanutbutterjar

[center][b]Day 5:[/b] [item=Jeweled Octoflyer Beak] _____ _____ _____ _____ _____[/center] Mei and Cerana were arguing about the nutritional value of clay when I slid into the main chamber of the lair. Stanley lifted his head off his foreclaws and grunted, “I hope you saw something; that’s the only reason you should have left the sentry post.” I flexed my claws into the packed earth of the floor and told myself it would be counterproductive to respond the way I wanted to the nocturne’s attitude. Once I got my temper under control, I said simply, “Four dragons incoming. Didn’t see much detail from this distance. Gray tundra and brown nocturne; two black guardians. Might have been ridgebacks, for all I could tell. Thought you might want to know ahead of time, or would you have preferred I wait until they were close enough to see the color of their eyes?” Stanley ignored my tone and bolted upright. “Show me.” I returned to the lookout post with Stanley a pace behind. By the time we mounted the high point of the old lair, the four approaching dragons were clearer. I had been both right and wrong; there was a black guardian, as well as a black ridgeback. Both of them had bulky wooden crates attached by ropes to the kind of padded harness used by dragons who did not want their hides chafed raw by tough leather. “A relative of yours?” I asked. The nocturne had similar colors to the one standing next to me. “No,” Stanley replied in a way that told me he got the question a lot. “Those are from my old clan. I would assume they’re just flying through on the way to the Auctionhouse, but this is out of the way of their route.” “Signs point to them coming here, intentionally.” It was statement, not question or even suggestion. It would take a blind dragon not to notice that the group was flying toward us. The wind was bad for a direct path, but they rode with it in our direction anyway for as long as they could before turning against it. The two black dragons (the ridgeback had retina-burningly blue circuit markings) landed first with their cargo in the small patch we had cleared for a landing pad. The other two circled long enough for the larger dragons to fold their wings and start unhooking the crates, and then they landed on the path between the landing zone and the lair entrance. Stanley glided down to meet the group. I opted to stay where I was for the moment. “We had some surplus this month. Thought we’d share,” offered the female nocturne who was a stranger. Her body was a lighter shade than Stanley, though her wings and belly were a similarly rich dark red to mine. She stood with the bearing of a warrior. “Roy gave us a hard time about it, but he doesn’t get a say in our out-of-clan dealings anymore.” “How generous of you,” Stanley scoffed. He got that one from me, I think. “Give that prissy antlerhead my regards.” “I see you’ve taken in a stray of your own,” commented the tundra, quietly, glancing up at me for an instant. She looked unprepossessing, but had the aura of a mage that I could sense even from my perch. Which made her even more dangerous than the warrior, in my experience. “How are the others?” Stanley’s wings rustled in the way I had come to associate with a nocturne who is uncomfortable with the situation at hand. I had known younger ones, or those with less self-control, to instinctively withdraw into the shelter of their wings when in distress. “Honey is doing well enough, all things considered. She’d be better off with a clan able to provide for youngsters, but Roy already made it clear that he has no thought for hatchlings other than his own.” All the strangers but the guardian (who had approached with the ridgeback during the conversation) snorted in agreement. The guardian just looked uncomfortable. “Might as well get Wolf and Eri out here to help us get this stuff under shelter,” said the ridgeback to Stanley. “Perhaps the raptor effigy up there can help us too?” She raised her head so I could clearly catch her words. I told them, “Eri and Wolfram are dead.” It was clear to me that Stanley was loath to admit this to his old clanmates, and the niceties would go on forever unless someone broke the news. The ridgeback bristled (did any of them do anything else?) while the guardian gave a little keen of distress, and the mage and warrior snapped their eyes to me. Stanley cringed a bit. The tundra shifted her gaze to Stanley ask asked, still in the same quiet tones, “What happened?” “We were in the Coliseum. Low level venues, it shouldn’t have been a problem, but–” “But if your teammates were not prepared, even easy venues are made difficult,” The female nocturne said to him firmly. Speaking from experience, I thought. “Lacuna and I have had our share of near-death-experiences there, and the interns we train are at even higher risk than we are.” “So it’s just the three of you?” The tundra, who was apparently called Lacuna, asked. “Four, actually.” Stanley looked a little les chagrined now. “We had a snapper join us. Will we, nill we.” “Snappers,” the guardian offered in affectionate exasperation. “I’m sorry you had such tragedy, Stan. Do you need anything else from us? We brought food and some building materials. Wolfram… asked for them.” This one had a deep voice and a short beard, but something about the guardian’s bearing told me this one was female. “We’ll be fine,” he said sharply. “I appreciate the largesse, but you needn’t shower us with pity-gifts.” Cerana and Mei chose that moment to emerge from the lair. Mei still took every step at a bounce, as if she were a flighty skydancer rather than a snapper. Cerana was growing more into the sleek lines of an adult with every day. She certainly strode with authority and grace. “Did Gimpwing shoo you away too?” Cerana asked the other group acerbically. The ridgeback chuckled wickedly. “I’ll have to start using that name. Gimpwing.” “We brought more food for you, and some supplies to make this lair more like a home,” Lacuna told her. “About time. We got dripped on during that last cloudburst.” She shook, as if shedding water. A prim princess, was Cerana. Mei bounded forward until she could peer up at the new dragons. “Hi! I’m Mei!” “Hello, Mei,” the guardian and tundra greeted. The stranger-nocturne and the ridgeback both seemed fairly indifferent to the hatchling. While Lacuna the tundra stayed to speak to Mei, the guardian went with the ridgeback and both nocturnes to where the crates of freight sat. “Hemlock, mind helping us with this?” Stanley called over his shoulder. I restrained the urge to sigh. It was inevitable, really. So I dropped off the watchpoint and glided down to the group at the freight boxes. With the combined effort of four dragons, the crates, which had crude skids on the bottom surface, slid with relative ease toward the lair. Once we got both of them into a side chamber to be unpacked, the visitors (at least, the ones small enough to fit inside) got curious about the lair. Mei was eager to take them on a tour, which meant that Stanley led the group so Mei did not use the excuse to get into the half-finished chambers we had blocked off. We had already caught her once. That left me and Cerana waiting in the main part of the lair. She took up a perch as physically far away from me as she could, as usual. But, though she was looking down at the book she held open with one paw, she still spoke to me. “No one’s told you why we’re not with them anymore, did they?” I didn’t reply. She knew the answer was no, and she knew why, as well, I had to assume. I held my silence. “What have you put together?” she asked, looking at me now. “You’re not stupid, I know you’ve overheard things.” “There’s an imperial at that lair who doesn’t like having others around,” I told her curtly. “It’s not unusual or surprising. They mentioned he sired children; were they by a different breed, and any who were also imperial immediately sent away?” She nodded. “They didn’t look like they wanted to go. But that lair’s where all the dragons in the area who have applied to intern at the Tempest Spire go for training. Blud and Lacuna, the two who’re visiting, do some of it. They refused to train Viceroy’s kids. They made Ione do it. They don’t understand why he’s this way. They took me in to the lair without his knowledge and he pitched a fit. I heard them.” “And why are you suddenly telling me?” I asked. “Is that my signal to make myself scarce from here?” Cerana shuffled and looked down at her book. “I won’t make you leave if you have nowhere else to go,” she said, with more than a little defensiveness. “If you were hoping I’d go make myself unwelcome at that lair, you’re mistaken.” I chuckled. “Much though it would give me some satisfaction.” [i]Schadenfreude[/i] was definitely my style; I liked making people squirm. Especially other imperials who snobbishly reject any who do not fit into their carefully-selected clique. She sighed. “Too bad. One look at you and I think Viceroy would faint dead away,” she laughed. Then, realizing the implication of that statement, shut her mouth with a snap and looked down at her book. “He’s not a bad guy,” She muttered after several more minutes. “One of the ones who’s grumpy and mean to hide a soft side.” When she glanced sideways at me, I just remained as I was. “Not like you,” she snapped, hackles rising as she slammed the book shut. “You’re just snide and cold for no other reason than because you like hurting people.” I waited for a beat, then said, “And you think telling me things I already know will do what, exactly? Cure me of my bad attitude? Think some hidden font of happiness and joy will prevail over my inner darkness and make me a better person?” Scorn dripped from my tone. “Give me a break.” Cerana jumped to her feet, and I would have given her equal odds of taking a swipe at me or fleeing the room, except that a half-grown guardian bolted into the room and jumped between me and Cerana, wings mantled and hissing aggressively. The surprise of her sudden appearance, more than any hesitation about dealing with the implied threat, was what kept me in place. “Where did you come from?” I snarled at the intruder. There was little change in the guardian’s demeanor, though she did relax her stance a bit when I did not immediately attack. More the fool, she. What surprised me was that the guardian ducked her head protectively when Cerana tried to get around her violet-scaled bulk. She moved with Cerana, back and forth several steps, until the honey-colored imperial finally stopped to glare. “Cute,” I told them, drawing the guardian’s attention again. “Tell me where you came from and how you got here. Now.” “Don’t hurt her,” the guardian hissed. “Tell me–” I started to repeat myself, with more impatience, but before I got more than two words out, Stanley, Mei, and the two visitors returned. The violet guardian hissed again and backed herself and Cerana closer to the wall, ignoring the protests from Cerana. “Lexi!” exclaimed Lacuna. She loped toward the guardian, who rumbled a warning until the tundra stopped. “Lexi, how did you get here?” It did not look like the guardian, who was apparently named Lexi, was going to say anything. That was, until Mei bounced right up to her and said, “Hi! What’s your name?” While the guardian was distracted, Cerana jumped up onto the bigger dragon’s shoulders and grabbed the wingjoints in her front paws. The wings are a fairly fragile part of the body, especially the joints; damage those and a dragon’s primary means of transport are ruined. I had to give Cerana some credit for that stunt. It was a good way to subdue a larger dragon. But instead of subsiding, Lexi keened in alarm and began to shake. “You might want to let her go, Honeybee,” Lacuna said with some urgency. “She won’t hurt anyone on purpose.” When Cerana looked at her doubtfully, the guardian’s shivering became more violent and she went from keening to panting to not breathing at all. Cerana needed no further encouragement to jump away. The guardian huddled up until she was as small as possible, still struggling for breath. Mei, who had been scooped up by Lacuna, slipped free again and approached the distressed guardian. She bumped Lexi with her nose and said, “You don’t gotta cry. She didn’t mean to hurt you. Is gonna be okay. Okay? Don’t cry.” The little snapper continued to croon reassurances until Lexi relaxed and began to breathe normally again. The female nocturne, whose name I figured was Blud given Cerana’s earlier statement, came up to me with Stanley right behind her. “Lexi was with the last group of interns who came to our lair to be trained,” she explained. “But she’s too young. It must have been a mistake, because we’ve never taken in children from outclan for internships. I guess she snuck along behind us today; we were flying pretty slow. She’s…” A pause. “There’s no way to put it kindly. She’s been hurt, a lot, by someone she trusted. Practically had a panic attack when Roy looked at her funny.” “I’m not going back to the other lair,” announced Lexi. Her voice wavered from lack of air, not lack of intent. She stared directly at me and Stanley. “These two are my Charge. I must protect them.” She already had Mei cradled in her front paws, and as she spoke, she cupped her wing around Cerana. Stan sighed heavily. “Well, I guess that’s that. It’s a good thing you brought us building supplies. We’ll need to raise the ceilings and enlarge a few other chambers.” It was infuriating that Stanley just rolled over and accepted this sob story and subsequent dramatic declaration. In fact, everyone else did, too. Even Cerana, who had looked just as nonplussed as I was. Well, they could renovate the entire lair for her benefit themselves. I wanted no part in it. I’d just stick to sentry duty until this whole fiasco blew over.

peanutbutterjar

2816

September 02, 2016 17:08:17

Day 5:

_____ _____ _____ _____ _____

Mei and Cerana were arguing about the nutritional value of clay when I slid into the main chamber of the lair. Stanley lifted his head off his foreclaws and grunted, “I hope you saw something; that’s the only reason you should have left the sentry post.”

I flexed my claws into the packed earth of the floor and told myself it would be counterproductive to respond the way I wanted to the nocturne’s attitude. Once I got my temper under control, I said simply, “Four dragons incoming. Didn’t see much detail from this distance. Gray tundra and brown nocturne; two black guardians. Might have been ridgebacks, for all I could tell. Thought you might want to know ahead of time, or would you have preferred I wait until they were close enough to see the color of their eyes?”

Stanley ignored my tone and bolted upright. “Show me.”

I returned to the lookout post with Stanley a pace behind. By the time we mounted the high point of the old lair, the four approaching dragons were clearer. I had been both right and wrong; there was a black guardian, as well as a black ridgeback. Both of them had bulky wooden crates attached by ropes to the kind of padded harness used by dragons who did not want their hides chafed raw by tough leather.

“A relative of yours?” I asked. The nocturne had similar colors to the one standing next to me.

“No,” Stanley replied in a way that told me he got the question a lot. “Those are from my old clan. I would assume they’re just flying through on the way to the Auctionhouse, but this is out of the way of their route.”

“Signs point to them coming here, intentionally.” It was statement, not question or even suggestion. It would take a blind dragon not to notice that the group was flying toward us. The wind was bad for a direct path, but they rode with it in our direction anyway for as long as they could before turning against it.

The two black dragons (the ridgeback had retina-burningly blue circuit markings) landed first with their cargo in the small patch we had cleared for a landing pad. The other two circled long enough for the larger dragons to fold their wings and start unhooking the crates, and then they landed on the path between the landing zone and the lair entrance.

Stanley glided down to meet the group. I opted to stay where I was for the moment.

“We had some surplus this month. Thought we’d share,” offered the female nocturne who was a stranger. Her body was a lighter shade than Stanley, though her wings and belly were a similarly rich dark red to mine. She stood with the bearing of a warrior. “Roy gave us a hard time about it, but he doesn’t get a say in our out-of-clan dealings anymore.”

“How generous of you,” Stanley scoffed. He got that one from me, I think. “Give that prissy antlerhead my regards.”

“I see you’ve taken in a stray of your own,” commented the tundra, quietly, glancing up at me for an instant. She looked unprepossessing, but had the aura of a mage that I could sense even from my perch. Which made her even more dangerous than the warrior, in my experience. “How are the others?”

Stanley’s wings rustled in the way I had come to associate with a nocturne who is uncomfortable with the situation at hand. I had known younger ones, or those with less self-control, to instinctively withdraw into the shelter of their wings when in distress. “Honey is doing well enough, all things considered. She’d be better off with a clan able to provide for youngsters, but Roy already made it clear that he has no thought for hatchlings other than his own.”

All the strangers but the guardian (who had approached with the ridgeback during the conversation) snorted in agreement. The guardian just looked uncomfortable.

“Might as well get Wolf and Eri out here to help us get this stuff under shelter,” said the ridgeback to Stanley. “Perhaps the raptor effigy up there can help us too?” She raised her head so I could clearly catch her words.

I told them, “Eri and Wolfram are dead.” It was clear to me that Stanley was loath to admit this to his old clanmates, and the niceties would go on forever unless someone broke the news.

The ridgeback bristled (did any of them do anything else?) while the guardian gave a little keen of distress, and the mage and warrior snapped their eyes to me. Stanley cringed a bit. The tundra shifted her gaze to Stanley ask asked, still in the same quiet tones, “What happened?”

“We were in the Coliseum. Low level venues, it shouldn’t have been a problem, but–”

“But if your teammates were not prepared, even easy venues are made difficult,” The female nocturne said to him firmly. Speaking from experience, I thought. “Lacuna and I have had our share of near-death-experiences there, and the interns we train are at even higher risk than we are.”

“So it’s just the three of you?” The tundra, who was apparently called Lacuna, asked.

“Four, actually.” Stanley looked a little les chagrined now. “We had a snapper join us. Will we, nill we.”

“Snappers,” the guardian offered in affectionate exasperation. “I’m sorry you had such tragedy, Stan. Do you need anything else from us? We brought food and some building materials. Wolfram… asked for them.” This one had a deep voice and a short beard, but something about the guardian’s bearing told me this one was female.

“We’ll be fine,” he said sharply. “I appreciate the largesse, but you needn’t shower us with pity-gifts.”

Cerana and Mei chose that moment to emerge from the lair. Mei still took every step at a bounce, as if she were a flighty skydancer rather than a snapper. Cerana was growing more into the sleek lines of an adult with every day. She certainly strode with authority and grace.

“Did Gimpwing shoo you away too?” Cerana asked the other group acerbically.

The ridgeback chuckled wickedly. “I’ll have to start using that name. Gimpwing.”

“We brought more food for you, and some supplies to make this lair more like a home,” Lacuna told her.

“About time. We got dripped on during that last cloudburst.” She shook, as if shedding water. A prim princess, was Cerana.

Mei bounded forward until she could peer up at the new dragons. “Hi! I’m Mei!”

“Hello, Mei,” the guardian and tundra greeted. The stranger-nocturne and the ridgeback both seemed fairly indifferent to the hatchling. While Lacuna the tundra stayed to speak to Mei, the guardian went with the ridgeback and both nocturnes to where the crates of freight sat.

“Hemlock, mind helping us with this?” Stanley called over his shoulder.

I restrained the urge to sigh. It was inevitable, really. So I dropped off the watchpoint and glided down to the group at the freight boxes. With the combined effort of four dragons, the crates, which had crude skids on the bottom surface, slid with relative ease toward the lair.

Once we got both of them into a side chamber to be unpacked, the visitors (at least, the ones small enough to fit inside) got curious about the lair. Mei was eager to take them on a tour, which meant that Stanley led the group so Mei did not use the excuse to get into the half-finished chambers we had blocked off. We had already caught her once.

That left me and Cerana waiting in the main part of the lair. She took up a perch as physically far away from me as she could, as usual. But, though she was looking down at the book she held open with one paw, she still spoke to me.

“No one’s told you why we’re not with them anymore, did they?”

I didn’t reply. She knew the answer was no, and she knew why, as well, I had to assume. I held my silence.

“What have you put together?” she asked, looking at me now. “You’re not stupid, I know you’ve overheard things.”

“There’s an imperial at that lair who doesn’t like having others around,” I told her curtly. “It’s not unusual or surprising. They mentioned he sired children; were they by a different breed, and any who were also imperial immediately sent away?”

She nodded. “They didn’t look like they wanted to go. But that lair’s where all the dragons in the area who have applied to intern at the Tempest Spire go for training. Blud and Lacuna, the two who’re visiting, do some of it. They refused to train Viceroy’s kids. They made Ione do it. They don’t understand why he’s this way. They took me in to the lair without his knowledge and he pitched a fit. I heard them.”

“And why are you suddenly telling me?” I asked. “Is that my signal to make myself scarce from here?”

Cerana shuffled and looked down at her book. “I won’t make you leave if you have nowhere else to go,” she said, with more than a little defensiveness.

“If you were hoping I’d go make myself unwelcome at that lair, you’re mistaken.” I chuckled. “Much though it would give me some satisfaction.” Schadenfreude was definitely my style; I liked making people squirm. Especially other imperials who snobbishly reject any who do not fit into their carefully-selected clique.

She sighed. “Too bad. One look at you and I think Viceroy would faint dead away,” she laughed. Then, realizing the implication of that statement, shut her mouth with a snap and looked down at her book.

“He’s not a bad guy,” She muttered after several more minutes. “One of the ones who’s grumpy and mean to hide a soft side.” When she glanced sideways at me, I just remained as I was. “Not like you,” she snapped, hackles rising as she slammed the book shut. “You’re just snide and cold for no other reason than because you like hurting people.”

I waited for a beat, then said, “And you think telling me things I already know will do what, exactly? Cure me of my bad attitude? Think some hidden font of happiness and joy will prevail over my inner darkness and make me a better person?” Scorn dripped from my tone. “Give me a break.”

Cerana jumped to her feet, and I would have given her equal odds of taking a swipe at me or fleeing the room, except that a half-grown guardian bolted into the room and jumped between me and Cerana, wings mantled and hissing aggressively. The surprise of her sudden appearance, more than any hesitation about dealing with the implied threat, was what kept me in place.

“Where did you come from?” I snarled at the intruder.

There was little change in the guardian’s demeanor, though she did relax her stance a bit when I did not immediately attack. More the fool, she. What surprised me was that the guardian ducked her head protectively when Cerana tried to get around her violet-scaled bulk. She moved with Cerana, back and forth several steps, until the honey-colored imperial finally stopped to glare.

“Cute,” I told them, drawing the guardian’s attention again. “Tell me where you came from and how you got here. Now.”

“Don’t hurt her,” the guardian hissed.

“Tell me–” I started to repeat myself, with more impatience, but before I got more than two words out, Stanley, Mei, and the two visitors returned. The violet guardian hissed again and backed herself and Cerana closer to the wall, ignoring the protests from Cerana.

“Lexi!” exclaimed Lacuna. She loped toward the guardian, who rumbled a warning until the tundra stopped. “Lexi, how did you get here?”

It did not look like the guardian, who was apparently named Lexi, was going to say anything. That was, until Mei bounced right up to her and said, “Hi! What’s your name?” While the guardian was distracted, Cerana jumped up onto the bigger dragon’s shoulders and grabbed the wingjoints in her front paws. The wings are a fairly fragile part of the body, especially the joints; damage those and a dragon’s primary means of transport are ruined. I had to give Cerana some credit for that stunt. It was a good way to subdue a larger dragon. But instead of subsiding, Lexi keened in alarm and began to shake.

“You might want to let her go, Honeybee,” Lacuna said with some urgency. “She won’t hurt anyone on purpose.” When Cerana looked at her doubtfully, the guardian’s shivering became more violent and she went from keening to panting to not breathing at all.

Cerana needed no further encouragement to jump away. The guardian huddled up until she was as small as possible, still struggling for breath. Mei, who had been scooped up by Lacuna, slipped free again and approached the distressed guardian. She bumped Lexi with her nose and said, “You don’t gotta cry. She didn’t mean to hurt you. Is gonna be okay. Okay? Don’t cry.” The little snapper continued to croon reassurances until Lexi relaxed and began to breathe normally again.

The female nocturne, whose name I figured was Blud given Cerana’s earlier statement, came up to me with Stanley right behind her. “Lexi was with the last group of interns who came to our lair to be trained,” she explained. “But she’s too young. It must have been a mistake, because we’ve never taken in children from outclan for internships. I guess she snuck along behind us today; we were flying pretty slow. She’s…” A pause. “There’s no way to put it kindly. She’s been hurt, a lot, by someone she trusted. Practically had a panic attack when Roy looked at her funny.”

“I’m not going back to the other lair,” announced Lexi. Her voice wavered from lack of air, not lack of intent. She stared directly at me and Stanley. “These two are my Charge. I must protect them.” She already had Mei cradled in her front paws, and as she spoke, she cupped her wing around Cerana.

Stan sighed heavily. “Well, I guess that’s that. It’s a good thing you brought us building supplies. We’ll need to raise the ceilings and enlarge a few other chambers.”

It was infuriating that Stanley just rolled over and accepted this sob story and subsequent dramatic declaration. In fact, everyone else did, too. Even Cerana, who had looked just as nonplussed as I was.

Well, they could renovate the entire lair for her benefit themselves. I wanted no part in it. I’d just stick to sentry duty until this whole fiasco blew over.

Last edited on Sep 05, 2016 16:08:47 by peanutbutterjar

[center][b]Day 6:[/b] [item=Nightwing Bat] _____ _____ _____ _____ _____[/center] team; Stanley, Hemlock, Cerana completed 50 rounds stayed in the woodland path the whole time, due to the initial level difference between Stan and Honey. won't be writing any prose for this one, since it was fairly anticlimactic [s]and i'm still working on yesterday's task sob[/s]. Stan's not far from lv 9, Hemlock's 6 and Honey is now lv 5. she reached it at round 47, which is why i kept at it for the full 50. the first few were touchy, but once Honey hit 3 with stats, it got a lot less scary. by round 40 it was even pretty comfy; i tried an experiment in the scorched forest, but decided not to risk it this time.

peanutbutterjar

2816

September 03, 2016 15:36:09

Day 6:

_____ _____ _____ _____ _____

team; Stanley, Hemlock, Cerana
completed 50 rounds

stayed in the woodland path the whole time, due to the initial level difference between Stan and Honey. won't be writing any prose for this one, since it was fairly anticlimactic ~~and i'm still working on yesterday's task sob~~.

Stan's not far from lv 9, Hemlock's 6 and Honey is now lv 5. she reached it at round 47, which is why i kept at it for the full 50. the first few were touchy, but once Honey hit 3 with stats, it got a lot less scary. by round 40 it was even pretty comfy; i tried an experiment in the scorched forest, but decided not to risk it this time.

Last edited on Sep 03, 2016 19:12:35 by peanutbutterjar

[center][b]Day 7:[/b] [item=Amber] _____ _____ _____ _____ _____[/center] this is a material, not a trinket, but in honor of the new emotes that came out in Overwatch the other day, i will look as hard as i can for a gif of Reaper's because it's so delightful. in the meantime have his "this has gotta be my PotG shot" emote it gives the other team an easy target [img]https://66.media.tumblr.com/282ed9ec719352923ff673203dc45b3d/tumblr_o6y3gtiEqS1r7sijxo1_500.gif[/img]

peanutbutterjar

2816

September 04, 2016 15:57:43

Day 7:

_____ _____ _____ _____ _____

this is a material, not a trinket, but in honor of the new emotes that came out in Overwatch the other day, i will look as hard as i can for a gif of Reaper's because it's so delightful.

in the meantime have his "this has gotta be my PotG shot" emote
it gives the other team an easy target

Last edited on Sep 04, 2016 16:01:27 by peanutbutterjar

[center][b]Day 8:[/b] [item=Maroon Tail Wrap] _____ _____ _____ _____ _____[/center] well this was awful timing. the only rtb derg on the team is Stan. the girls won’t be ready for a few weeks. so we’ll just have to do the other option; regene someone. (un)luckily, i plan to regene Mei; skink/spinner/spines pearlcatcher. (for reference, she was a bar/toxin/underbelly snapper when i got her) i’m also recovering from a gem splurge for Hemlock’s outfit and the cat companions, as well as lots of derg buying for a subspecies breeding project. technically i have more than enough to completely regene her, but i’m also not (that) irresponsible, so she’ll just get the tert for now. [url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=26570554] [img]http://flightrising.com/rendern/350/265706/26570554_350.png[/img] [/url] enjoy your new look, Mei. clearly, no prose today. i have other stuff to do around these parts. see you for tomorrow! (i was expecting another battlestone. i’m always expecting another. or a familiar. gdi.)

peanutbutterjar