Creative Corner

[center][size=7][b]Oakrest Hatchery Lore Compilation[/b][/size][/center] [quote=2016-02-24] [right][i][url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/baz/1766234/1#post_1766234]Source[/url][/i][/right] [img]http://discalced.net/FR/FR-oakresthatchery/logo1.png[/img] [center]Sunlight boils onto the bare earth of Dragonhome. Water and wells are hard to find. Hunting is best done in the frigid night. This wilderness is no easy place to carve a living. Because of this, the clans here are spare. Trade happens, but rarely. The clans flourish and die by their own merits. Treasure hunters are known to venture into Dragonhome, looking for gems and veins of ore. Artists arrive to embellish maps and carve the mighty stones that litter the earth. It seems almost tranquil beneath the brutal sun. Then another rockslide claims the life of the unwary. Nights are freezing. Shelter can be found. Strongholds and citadels dot the ravines, and a nest can sometimes be found in nomad camps. But even these are not guaranteed safe. For deep within the earth lie the bones of the Old Ones - dragons and beasts that came before, rites and sigils scrawled by necromancers, ancient bones stirred awake by epochs-old curses and only just now brought to the light of day. The dead are restless, and we live above them [img]http://discalced.net/FR/FR-oakresthatchery/leaf_50b.png[/img][/center][/quote] [quote=2017-01-29] [right][i][url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/baz/1766234/87#post_25317911]Source[/url][/i][/right] It was dawn when Shula set out to tend the bees. It was two dusks later by the time Blackshore found her. By then, it was too late. Hurriedly, the imperials of Oakrest were called - Shearwater from the shores, Meadowtouch from his reclusive valley, and Calque, Jupiter, and Camille from the tunnels and surrounding ruins. Four of them lifted their fallen clanmate as the fifth flew ahead to scout for a proper resting place. Brightwork looked on, his heart breaking to not say a final goodbye while his love still drew breath. He watched until there was no more to see. Blackshore stood beside him as the stars drew into view against the velvet night. And he wept - bitterly and openly, keening into the night - as the Guardian of the Stones stood watch. In three days' time, the imperials returned with a tuft of rust-red scales to be interred in Shula's honor. Sangue accepted them with the gravity of his station. By then, Brightwork's final nest had hatched - five eggs that should have been raised with his mate. Five little hatchlings who reminded him all too much of her. He grew quieter, almost silent for how many things he wanted to say but couldn't. When he tried to speak, the words were broken, the sentences cracked asunder. His own cousins tried their best to comfort him in his grief, but as none had taken a mate, none could know what pain he had. Clarion offered, sometimes, to take the children under her wing. She argued that Brightwork had so much healing to do, certainly a nest of five would be too much for him. But as much as it hurt to be near them, Brightwork could not bear to be parted from them, as it felt like losing Shula all over again. He did everything he could for them, teaching them stitches and dye processes, tailoring and fit, and everything there was to know about his craft. And he tried so much to be there for them, even as his own heart was breaking, knowing they would go the way all his children had gone - out into the world to make their marks. They would fly off without him. And he would, again, be alone.[/quote] [quote=2017-01-30] [right][i][url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/baz/1766234/91#post_25349901]Source[/url][/i][/right] The sun's journey has no meaning in the tunnels. Attacks begin day or night in the deep earth blackness. It is joked that the Hunters forget what the sun looks like, and so they are afforded some modicum of rest on regular schedules. There are enough of them now that they can afford to be generous. Merryn, Kaiera, and Revenir have had two days of rest - enough that they still feel a little cagey. Enough that they're not sure they want to brave the sunlight. Enough that they're not sure they want to return to the tunnels, except that dead monsters is how they earn their keep. They're mercenaries, but they're still professionals. They're here to work. So when the nervous murmurs worming through the clan finally reach their ears, the three of them realize they're nervous, too. This kind of uncertainty doesn't visit Oakrest often. Then, the bells begin. As the sign to evacuate floods the tunnels of the Citadel, Merryn, Kaiera, and Rev hurry towards the gates to Cairnstone, only to find them sealed. Old Copperlight, his merry face drawn to a stern line, shakes his head just once. "You can stay and fight what breaks the barrier if you like," he says to the three of them. "But the worst is within, and I will not give it an easy meal."[/quote] [quote=2017-01-31] [right][i][url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/baz/1766234/91#post_25366678]Source[/url][/i][/right] The preserves were thickening nicely on the fire. Clarion crooned excitedly over the plump potash peaches simmering in the sticky liquid. This would definitely be a sunbeam during the fallow times! She smelled him enter her kitchen, amid the heady scents of spices and fruits. She quirked an ear towards him. "What do you need, Shadow?" Her mate, all secrets as always, didn't draw nearer. "Clari, they're going to evacuate." "We've evacuated before. It's no thing to me." His tone spoke of the depths of his irritation. "Clari, this is different. I don't know how bad it is, but it's bad. The Hunters have been talking about this for months. I need you to be ready to go." She turned her back on the peaches. He did actually look worried, and Clarion quirked an eyebrow at him. "When?" "Today, if you can manage." She glanced back at the peaches, the promise of cheer during winter. "Shadow, I'm canning. I--" "There will be other seasons," he hissed. "I talked to Jay. I've secured passage. I can get you out safely. And you know she's been itching to leave, she just doesn't know how." Clarion frowned deeply. "And you?" The look of guilt across his face spoke more than the lie in his words. "I'll follow close behind," he said. She narrowed her eyes at him. "You will do your damnedest," she breathed. "I will not leave and not know whether you may follow." "I can't promise," he said. "But I will do my damnedest." He met her eye and nodded firmly. "Jay will meet you at the Western Gate in an hour." He disappeared back into the corridor. "Shadow!" she called after him. And for just a moment, she heard his gentle footsteps halt. "Be safe." When his footsteps disappeared down the stone corridor once more, Clarion turned back to her peaches. There was no saving them. She could let them burn, or she could let them rot. She stared at them mournfully for a long time. Then she snuffed the flames with earth.[/quote] [quote=2017-02-09] [right][i][url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/baz/1766234/98#post_25523206]Source[/url][/i][/right] In the last week, Agrippa had seen all manner of trouble at the gates to Cairnstone. Troubling spirits and foul energies had rallied the Hunters and the Stonetouched to the enormous carved doors in an effort to keep the Citadel safe. The other Hunters had been recalled, but Torch, Ink, Drusilla, and Hodges were still deep inside the tombs. All anyone could do was hope they'd make it safely back to the Citadel before things got real bad in there. Every morning, Butternut or Copperlight came by the tombs to see how things were holding up. And every morning, Agrippa gave the report - bad, but not real bad. They'd seen worse before. And in the evenings, one of the other Hunters took over the watchdog post so Agrippa could get some sleep and spend some time with his mate, Camille, and attend to their nest of three. It was an exhausting set of days, but Agrippa wouldn't trade it - not when he looked in Camille's eyes and saw the softness, and not when he looked over their children together and saw all of their potentials. He was on watch again when the rumbling started. Curious, as he had always been, he looked inside the doorway to Cairnstone and saw the phantasmal wyrm rearing and breaching up from the stonework and into the air before slamming back down, howling and shrieking. Ahead of it, just barely, was Torch - the embers of his enchantments practically dead, with Ink slung over his shoulder and Drusilla leaping ahead towards the doors. The runemaker quickly arrived at the Citadel side of the doorway, her claws making quick work with what ink she had remaining. Meanwhile, Torch expertly dodged the clumsy attacks of the half-bone, half-dust wyrm that slammed again and again into the earth. Agrippa watched Drusilla for a long moment, then remembered his duties and rang the evacuation bell. Better safe than sorry. The Hunters hurried to the gates, each one of them watching in horror as the wyrm finally got a lucky hit on Torch, and both he and Ink went sprawling. Sterling pushed forward, as if to cross the line into Cairnstone, but Sixten held him back. "Don't," he said. "Dru needs to finish the wall. For all our sakes." The tension soaked into the group. All of these brave, talented individuals, and none of them could fight that thing. They watched together in agonized silence as Torch scurried to put his own body as a shield between Ink's limp form and the towering wyrm. It was then that Copperlight arrived, massive and steady as the earth he stood on. He looked over the situation, took inventory, then asked the question no one had dared ask. "Where's Hodges?" Drusilla's claws went still for a long moment as she tried to keep her tears inside. Then, knowing the work was still more important than any of them, she scrawled more runes to cover the lintel. She couldn't or wouldn't speak. Paige looked at Sterling first, then Sixten. "My body will disrupt the runes," she said, "but will my magic?" Sixten stared her down, then looked up to Drusilla. "What do you think, Dru? Can we let a little light pass over your work?" Her breath came out as a shudder, but she nodded. "I'll leave space," she said. Paige nodded to Sterling, and the rest of the hunters gave them space as they mounted an attack on the wyrm. Bolt after bolt of blinding sunlight seared through the darkness, and the wyrm turned on them at last. "Let's go, Torch!" Agrippa shouted. And the snapper quickly snatched up his fallen comrade and bolted towards the doorway. He raced beneath the thrashing wyrm, and as he crossed the threshold, Drusilla sealed the last rune around the lintel. A wall of pale red errupted, and Copperlight turned to Agrippa. "Close them," he said. Then, "The rest of you, to your stations. We defend our civilians first, our comrades second. The oaks still stand strong, and so too shall we." The others dispersed, and Agrippa stared at the enormous doors, closed for the first time in his memory. From within, the horrible shrieks of the wyrm and the distant thud of its impacts on the stones were still audible through the heavy stone doors. Agrippa stared at it in fear, then slowly backed away. A thought struck him, horrible and distressing, and his frills snapped back in revulsion. "Camille," he hissed. His beautiful mate, one of the few imperials in Oakrest's citadel - if something like this got a hold of her, then there was nothing even the most talented Hunters could do against an emperor. He hurried towards the docks, as it was the only place he knew she might be found.[/quote] [quote=2017-02-10] [right][i][url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/baz/1766234/98#post_25556052]Source[/url][/i][/right] The tunnels of Oakrest had been sealed for weeks before Rikuto and Kariz even knew about it. Both had returned to the Citadel to discover all the terraces blockaded. Blackshore directed them to the terraced orchards, and there they met Bordeaux, the ancient founder of the clan. "It has been a long road, friends," he said softly, his wizened voice reedy with pain as it often was. "So much horizon still stretches out before us. I will stay here with my oaks, to protect them as I have sworn to do." "You're being foolish," Kariz said sharply, her blue eyes narrowing at the old guardian. "Where there are trees, there is water. Where there is water, there is life." "Easier said than known for certain," Bordeaux countered. "But a kindly thought at any rate. I will stay here with Blackshore and the others and wait and see. But you, I know, are young and like to wander the sands." He turned to Rikuto, and smiled at him. "And you have a great many to lead to the Pillar." Rikuto bowed his head. "I know my place of service," he said. "Oakrest is no longer the Citadel it once was. It is but a thin husk, set upon and devoured from within. We will not know its fate for many years, perhaps. But your jobs, your livelihoods, they depend on a stable base. I will not deny my blessing if you decide to leave." They watched the guardian retreat back to the trees, then turned to look at each other, then the distant land behind them. Rikuto brushed his fingers down Kariz's feathers and smiled over at her. "The horizon is so broad," he said. "But I know a path that's safe to travel." She touched her nose to his cheek and smiled. "Lead on, my love," she said. "I'm not afraid."[/quote] [quote=2017-02-13] [right][i][url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/baz/1766234/100#post_25607477]Source[/url][/i][/right] Javor watched the eggs carefully from among the trees. They weren't even his trees - just some wild desert oaks, badly tended and of inferior wood. He was minding a few saplings, seeing if he could get them to grow more vigorously while they camped here, waiting for an all-clear that would possibly never come. But Tala didn't seem to mind assisting Bordeaux in the daily tasks of their dwindling population, and Javor was not keen to leave the safety and routine of the desert oaks, even if they weren't his oaks. So, they had lain a nest. Someone may have suggested it was foolhardy to bring children into the world where there was no guarantee of their safety, but Javor would have - eventually - been able to point out that there were absolutely no guarantees at any point in life. It was a long incubation, and Javor watched as Tala tried to find a suitable cavern nearby to serve as a darkroom for her photography. But just as he had no wood to carve, Tala had no room for her photos. In desperation, Javor had taken to knocking rocks together in hopes of creating a rudimentary carpentry set, just in case they would be here for a while. He hoped it wouldn't come to that - actually dreaded it a lot - but he wouldn't be caught unprepared. A lot of other evacuees probably thought he was just being weird again. It was too exhausting to try to explain himself, so he let himself fall into the rhythm of stone on stone, attempting to create a shape that would serve as an ideal implement to shape wood. And as he sat beside the eggs, serving as guard and sometimes watching the way the clear blue firmament filtered between the light-hungry leaves of the trees, he hoped that these four little eggs would find the world not too hostile. There was no great surprise when the eggs hatched this time. Javor and Tala watched the little coatls toddle through the trees, climbing and exploring. And Javor smiled, for though the words might never come to his lips, he hoped to show them all that he loved them just as they were.[/quote] [quote=2017-02-28] [right][i][url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/baz/1766234/104#post_25906513]Source[/url][/i][/right] The strangers arrived all at once. The Oakrest dragons woke one morning and there they all were, sudden as frost. Scores of tents and scads of dragons suddenly populated the canyon beneath the Western Terrace, well within view of the refugees hidden among the wild oaks on a nearby mesa. "They look like raiders," Radomir said, squinting into the bright desert air. "Haven't had a problem with raiders in, well, ever!" Bordeaux replied, also squinting and seeing far less. Just then, Blackshore's enormous tawny form descended from the sky. "They're digging," she said. "Looks like they're trying to find some mine shafts somewhere." Bordeaux turned a grave face towards her, and Blackshore shrugged indifferently. "It may provide our clan a means out." "It may provide a lot of things a means out," Thorns hissed. She was curled beneath an oak nearby and decidedly not squinting into the sun. "By the sounds of it, things you lot don't want to escape." "We have no way to stop them," Bordeaux said, the exhaustion evident on his voice to any who thought to hear. "We are but few. Look how many are there." "We'll have to hope they don't notice us," Blackshore said. "I've heard rumors of lots like this before." Radomir turned to look up at her. "I'll keep an eye on them," he said, "if you'll be the muscle." Her crooked mouth curled into a smile. "Seems fair," she said. "It's been a while since I had to call down stones. Let me know when I'm needed."[/quote] [quote=2017-03-06] [right][i][url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/baz/1766234/106#post_26011278]Source[/url][/i][/right] "Behold, my young heirs!" Amador crowed before the crowd of his gathered followers. From within the crowd, Kindra scoffed quietly to herself. Those three beautiful hatchlings - those were her daughters. Some part of her felt she should be honored that the Captain would adopt her children, but she knew to him she was less than nothing. Beside him, her mate, her children's father, Tanwar lounged like a sunbathing cat. Through half-lidded eyes, he drank in the fanfare, and Kindra cursed herself for believing he would ever want to leave. Once, once they had something worth fighting for. Once they had a chance together, even if this whole debacle of a raiding party fell apart. As the cheers rose for Kindra's daughters, now Amador's princesses, she turned away. She could watch no more without the bile rising in her throat.[/quote] [quote=2017-03-28] [right][i][url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/baz/1766234/110#post_26399775]Source[/url][/i][/right] They had been here for some time. Long enough for there to have been nests of Earth children. Long enough for them to have taken soundings of the stones and know that something precious lay within these cliffs. Amador's own children oversaw the excavation, at least at first. A small tunnel was dug into the cliff face, and the Captain's eldest son, Silas, was acting foreman at the time. The younger siblings were engaged in their own tasks, but near enough to come running when they heard their brother's screams. The air grew cold like winter, and for a moment the sun seemed to blacken in the sky. Then, Silas fell silent, and his siblings began to keen. Later it was decided that restless spirits were the cause. No other beast could be found that may have mangled Silas' body so, and the young prince was cremated with full rights of a War Leader while the rest of the Horde looked on. The fight was gone from the eyes of his surviving siblings, and they left soon after.[/quote] [quote=2017-03-29] [right][i][url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/baz/1766234/111#post_26416561]Source[/url][/i][/right] Before they met the dancer, Sassafras and Amund endured days of questioning and torment from the foul-breathed Captain of the Bleachbone Horde. Sassy was exhausted to the point of weeping, and nearby Amund looked hollowed and spent. They had not meant to be caught in the open, and they did not have the answers to the questions the Captain demanded. But the dancer was a welcome change. They - Nibiru made it very clear their pronoun was they - had drawn the eye of everyone in the encampment, even Sassy and Amund from within the makeshift prison. Their movements wriggled and blazed through the camp, and it was clear that while they performed, Amador had eyes for none other. Afterwards, wrapped in a dark blanket against the chill of night, Nibiru quietly praised their efforts and brought them food and water before being chased away. For a week, Nibiru followed the same pattern - an astonishing performance, and a quiet visit to these strange prisoners. Sassy followed Amund's lead and listened but did not volunteer. Then, for a time, the dancer did not perform. The evening was filled with a brooding silence, and during the days, the Captain's questioning was harsher than before. When they did return, Nibiru favored their right leg, as if it were tender in some way. Dark marks showed on their throat and face, even in the dimness of night. They did not dance for some time, but they sat beside the prison, recounting the places they had seen razed by the Horde. Sassy could not keep silent after that. No matter Amund's chill detachment, Sassy reached out to the dancer and told them what she could about her own life. The two spoke of their ambitions and their dreams, and it became quite clear that neither belonged to the Horde. Nibiru returned to dancing soon after. And for a time, they did not visit the prison except to silently deliver much-needed water to the pair. But as their strength returned, so did their boldness. And one night, Nibiru came to them with a key and unlocked the prison door and their manacles as well. They would not say where they had acquired the key, but they led the way passed the sleepy guards and pointed the way towards the north. "There's a guardian there," they said. "I would not be surprised if they once lived in this canyon. I'd head there if I were you." "Blackshore, perhaps?" Amund mused, for who did not know the massive Guardian of the Stones? "You can come with us," Sassy suggested to the dancer. But Nibiru only smiled, their claws clicking at the gouges in their pearl. "Not tonight," they said. "What about tomorrow?" Amund asked. "They'll know we're gone. You'll be in danger." The dancer's smile turned deadly. "It is not my key," they said. "I will speak well of you," Sassafrass insisted. "And if you decide to flee, seek us out. Your charity--" "I have no virtues left," the dancer said, turning away from them. "While I pretend I am the flame, perhaps I am only the wood." And without another word, they walked back towards the Horde. Amund and Sassafras stole out into the night, and it was nearly dawn before they were hailed from high above. There, Radomir had spied them from among a stand of wild oaks. And after they told their tales, old Bordeaux nodded and stared out across the canyons to the old terraces of the citadel. "I am pleased," he said, "to hear how well and how long you have thrived beneath the earth. I am pleased to hear my family yet lives. Rest, friends, and take time among us if that is your wish."[/quote] [quote=2017-04-04] [right][i][url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/baz/1766234/112#post_26528099]Source[/url][/i][/right] For months they toiled beneath the blistering sun and the frigid moon. For months they dug warrens into the side of cliff faces. For months, there was no success. The Captain was not pleased. And neither, truly, was Tanwar. He watched the Horde grow complacent in their stagnation, watched the children up and leave instead of smashing themselves against the stones in an effort to prove themselves worthy. And he watched Amador's eager moods turn sour time and again. Sometimes it was the dancer, Nibiru, that drew his ire. Sometimes it was an underling. And every now and again it was Tanwar himself. Afterwards he found himself sharpening knives in his tents at noon. Make it worse that his youngest daughter was taken not as a princess but as little better than a slave, trained to please the eye and mind and slated to be sold. Something had to give. He knew Amador was here for something, but until he knew what it was, he had to let the Captain live. Just a little longer, he kept telling himself. Just a little more. When the time was right, then the Captain would fall, and Tanwar would receive his freedom and the power he deserved.[/quote] [quote=2017-04-05] [right][i][url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/baz/1766234/114#post_26543305]Source[/url][/i][/right] It was a shame, Mirage thought bitterly as she watched her children with the trainers. They were good enough to make good soldiers, but they were nothing special. They would not learn to make sand storms or even dust devils like their father, and they would not have the fleetness of foot to make good couriers. And while their bright and eager faces were pleasant enough, she knew that if they remained they would be taken into the service to dig for Amador. And they would be broken by the mountains, as so many were right now. She turned from her children to the row of soldiers, each selected for some slight or another. Each waiting his or her turn amid the stones and wrathful spirits they disturbed with each clawful of earth removed. But the Captain drove them ever onward, and Mirage doubted he would be satisfied until they were all dead or he found his prize, whichever was first. She turned back to her children and frowned. Forced labor was an unfortunate fate for them, but she didn't know how to save them. She would ask Maelor, but he had a tendency to make scenes. And she couldn't leave; her absence would be noted swiftly, and she would be punished for abandoning her duties. She watched her daughter stirke out and attack the trainer, dealing a good blow, but not good enough. Mirage would say kind words to them tonight - encouraging and strengthening words - but she knew that those words would not be enough to save her little ones.[/quote] [quote=2017-04-22] [right][i][url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/baz/1766234/116#post_26860588]Source[/url][/i][/right] Blackness was something to which they had all grown accustomed. Still, Copperlight insisted on as many glowstones and torches as could be spared whenever they gathered. Eldritch had playfully studded the ceiling of one of the meeting chambers with glowstones that looked like stars. He'd even gone out of his way to attempt accuracy of placement, which was more than Copperlight ever would have asked. Copper looked out across his gathered friends and family. They had lived so long under siege. They were thin, stretched against stresses and pains from the beast far below. But they looked to him, now. Even Grandmother looked to him. Chandra had left him in charge as she and Butternut headed deep into the tunnels, each trusting their talents as a Stonetouched to lead them to the Pillar and, hopefully, some help. They had watched the two disappear into the blackness, then sealed the way behind them. The beasts that welled up from below were waning in power, but Copperlight knew that meant nothing about the strength of the Withered King below. It just granted them time enough to collect their strength. And what strength could there be? Mighty Torch was worn down, often leaning against Setara. Ink had never fully recovered from the first brush against the lich below, her gait given to stumbling. And Sangue looked at him like perhaps death itself was something seductive and welcome. So Copper had taken to insisting on light when they gathered. He had taken to insisting they carry it where they could, if only for morale. The heat of the flame, the comfort of small beads of light not completely unlike tiny suns was all he could do for them. And he would do anything for them. They had earned his respect, if nothing else. But he longed to see the expanses and the mesas beyond the caverns. He longed to see Dragonhome again. He listened to their reports on the integrity of the Citadel. He listened to their reports on the horrors they had fought. He hated his heart for no longer feeling the depth of pain for them that he had once felt. And when they were finished, he nodded. "Well done, friends," he said softly. Eldritch flickered beside him, ready and attentive should he express a single need. But he only smiled at his aide, then turned back to the Hunters. "I see no way forward beyond turning the fight back to the beast below," he said softly. "We don't have the resources to go delving again," Torch said. His usually gruff voice was soft, exhausted. So many of them seemed pale versions of themselves like this. It had been so long. Too long. Copper turned to Bo, who was given to visions at times. "What do you think?" he asked. The guardian shook his head softly. "We can't fight the King," he said. "Not without help." "Is help coming?" Drusilla asked. "I want to think Chandra will return, but..." That 'but' hung. They all knew what the others thought: if they reached the outside, who would say if they could return? After all, Amund and Sassafras had been missing for months, their bodies never found. "Help will come," Setara said, her warm voice still bristling with emotion. It had been her constant vigilance that had kept them safest for so long. Her sensitive nature had tipped them off to so many weak spots in their defenses. "Though not the help we wait for." "What does that mean?" Paige asked. Setara shook her head. "It's all I know," she said. /// Above the canyon filled with war tents, Oliana paused. Beside her, Virlomi drew a deep breath. "You're alright?" he asked. "As long as we don't have to deal with that lot," she answered. "But I can feel them far below. There's no way down? No way in?" Virlomi shook his head. "I have been looking," he said. "I found no entrance nearby. And without earth magic..." She smiled. "We'll have to do our best," she said. Virlomi's deep voice began the drone, and he fell into pace behind Oliana as she started building the paths to walk, the seals to bind the dead below them. In time, her voice took up the melody, filling the skies above Dragonhome with sweet, haunting prayers for peace. /// It was the singing that first caught Radomir's ear. Always fond of music, it was a melody unlike any he had heard before. He hurried to the edge of the wood, and there, distant on the bluffs above the West Terraces, two figures traced a winding path full of sweeping turns. And when they turned just so, a voice reached his ears. He watched them throughout the day. And in the evening, when Blackshore returned from her rounds, he drew her attention to them. "Catch me," she breathed, "they're Sealwalkers." She seemed oddly pleased, and she walked away without another word. Radomir watched them until they were hidden by night, but the voice was still audible throughout the evening. And in the morning, he could still find them, wandering and singing. And some of the stones sealing the West Terrace entrance had crumbled. When he showed Bordeaux, the old dragon smiled. "Let us hope," he said, "that the way opens fully."[/quote] [quote=2017-04-24] [right][i][url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/baz/1766234/118#post_26900877]Source[/url][/i][/right] Time lost meaning below. Chandra had always known that. Beside her, Butternut carried the glowstones, filling the tunnels with at least some light. They had ran when they were first out of Oakrest. But now, they followed the whispers in the tunnels with dogged patience. Too fast, and they lost the threads. Too slow and ... well. There were worse things than being lost beneath Dragonhome. Now and again, they found fissures and cracks that opened to the blue sky, but they were too narrow for either of them to pass through. It was good to see the sun, but Chandra worried over hatchlings that might fall in and tumble, breaking their bodies on the way. She sealed the fissures behind them. Once, they heard chanting. Butternut steered them far away from the source, which stank of blood and fear. Chandra wept. Butternut circled back, and in time the chanting stopped. The blood and fear remained, echoed back with more. When the guardian returned, she looked down at Chandra, almost daring her to say anything. "Good," Chandra said at last. "I have not the strength, but I am pleased that you did." They were gone a long time. Even though time lost meaning, Chandra knew it had been much longer than she had intended the journey to take. Much longer than she remembered the journey taking. But they were following the whispers of pilgrims. They were following the tunnels and trails of those who sought the Pillar. For surely at the Pillar if nowhere else, they would find help - priests to cleanse their home, or warriors to fight the Withered King below. Anything, really, would have been better than more stones. Along the way, Butternut got it in her head that they should mark the tunnels in some way. Chandra pointed out that many beastclans took refuge beneath the Shattered Plain just as dragons did. But Butternut wouldn't let it go. She cited the number of others who must have been lost along the way. Eventually, Chandra was swayed to her side. "If we can save our people, then I will take your side on this," she said. But it was still a long time before they stumbled from the stones. There was no light, and for a time Chandra stared at the open expanse before them, certain they were only in a large chamber filled with quartz. But no. "Look!" Butternut hissed. There, against the deep blackness, a silhouette thrust itself towards the heavens. Chandra's breath caught in her throat, and she fell to her knees. Beside her, Butternut did the same. Then, they hurried towards the Pillar. /// On the third day, Bordeaux went to see those who sang the Old Tongue. He waited, and he watched. Above and from afar, Radomir and Blackshore both kept an eye on the horde below. He did not expect them to acknowledge him while they worked. Instead, he waited respectfully and gave this pair of snappers space enough to work. Their prayers lasted for hours, well into the night. Then with a great crack of stone, the wards fell open. "Thank you," he said, and the male of the pair dipped his head in acknowledgement. "Allow us to share what we can with you as a show of thanks." The snappers stared at him, then one spoke the Old Language, words that Bordeaux had not needed in a long, long time. Words that his grandfather had spoken, and none since. "We have what we need from the Earth," the snapper said. "Though your thanks are not unheard." With a glance between them, the pair wandered away, chanting prayers and songs well into the distance. Bordeaux returned to the camp among the oaks. There, the excited refugees were discussing whether that was the tunnels opening, whether their friends and families were safe. "Someone has to go," Tala said, turning to Bordeaux, who smiled despite the pain in his wings from the flight across the mesas. They all looked to one another, fear and worry spreading from one to another to a third. Blackshore shook her head when one asked her. "If it is still haunted," she said, "I will be no more able to solve it than Javor." Amund stepped forward at last. "I will," he said. "I have been there before. I am not afraid." They watched through the night as Amund disappeared into the West Terrace entrance and did not return. They watched well into morning, some dozing while others remained awake. Then, Javor's startled yelp of joy roused the others, and they all saw the dirty, withered husks of their clanmates emerge. There were fewer than they had counted on, and it was Eldritch who read the report to Bordeaux of what had become of so many of their comrades. "Lastly," the coatl said, "Butternut and Chandra." And that was too much. Bordeaux lashed the earth with his claws, sending spears of stone thrusting through the surface. "Grandfather, peace," Copperlight begged, and for a moment, Bordeaux considered turning his impotence and rage to his own scion. But the earnestness in his younger's face gave him pause, and he looked away in shame. "They have gone to the Pillar," Eldritch said. "We had hoped they would have returned by now." Bordeaux was silent for a long time, then returned to his pain and his trees. /// It was more than a week before they saw the silhouettes in the sky. But there, the looming shadow of Butternut accompanied the smaller shape of Chandra as the two landed above the West Terrace Entrance amid a flurry of shots from the canyon floor below. Blackshore greeted them, circling around to avoid the canyon floor. She led them back to the trees, and to the others. Bordeaux wept to see his family again, and the air was filled with bittersweet celebration - they were reunited, but their home was still overrun in more ways than they had thought. As Radomir kept an eye on the goings-on below and Copperlight schemed with Torch and Blackshore to retake the canyon and the Citadel, life resumed a hint of normalcy. Until Chandra revealed the eggs she had lain with Bordeaux at last. The younger dragons all shared uncomfortable looks of dismay and confusion. And the aged tundra was compelled to explain. "My friends," she said, "it was never that I couldn't. It was that we chose not to. But at the Pillar, we were greeted by my children, and I realized how much I missed the little ones. Who knows where they will end up, but we are glad to have them here again. It is a good tiding." And as they looked upon the eggs, they all agreed. No matter what happened, it was a good tiding indeed.[/quote] [quote=2017-04-27] [right][i][url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/baz/1766234/122#post_26952113]Source[/url][/i][/right] It was dusk when the Captain arrived at the nests. Kindra stopped speaking abruptly before he could draw into earshot, and Tanwar could only be grateful. "I mean it," she hissed. "I will not stay again." "He's so close," Tanwar replied. "We. We are so close." Kindra cursed, then dared to meet the Captain's eye as he surveyed the nest of eggs before them. "A good nest, my love," the Captain drawled, and Tanwar leaned into his caress. It was a calculated move, and a peek at Kindra showed she had lost her patience entirely. But she would come back. She always came back. The Captain dismissed her then, and Tanwar watched her draw back into the crowd of onlookers who had gathered to watch the 'Captain's' nest hatch. "I hope they are again as beautiful as you, my dear," the Captain breathed into Tanwar's ear. Tanwar played at flattered. As the sun sank among the mesas, Tanwar asked of the tunnels. "How much more digging do you think we will need?" he asked. "We've been here a long time." "When we find it, we will know," the Captain replied, running claws through Tanwar's feathers. And as the last of the day's glow filled the horizon, the first of three eggs split. Tanwar gazed upon his children with pride, even as the Captain claimed them as his own. The crowd cheered, and only too late did Tanwar realize that Kindra was not among them. He wondered if she had truly gone. And for a moment, his heart became ice. /// Amador watched his children with great delight. But as they grew older, he took them aside with a smile and told them that they must dig towards the heart of the mountain. "There," he told them, "a great treasure lies, ready for us to take it! And every great treasure in this land should be ours, should it not?" He was delighted to see how eagerly they took to digging. Earth dragons were made for such work, it seemed. And every day, one of the surveyors among the Horde would return, ensuring him that the tunnels were on-point, perfectly dug to efficiently reach the heart of this pile of rubble. He could not wait to reach the heart of this mountain. There, it was said, the crown of a great king could be found, and those who would dare take it would rule eternal. Amador dared to take it. He dared to rule eternal. And with Damask on one side and Tanwar on another, their family would be unstoppable! One morning, Amador lounged watching Nibiru practice for their evening's dance when a great howling noise filled the canyon and a vicious wind whipped through the tents. It tore open the panels to Amador's tent and toppled others into the blacksmith's fire. And just as suddenly, it was gone. Amador hurried to see what had happened, and strongly suspected he would have to take Maelor to task for recklessly ruining his morning. But it was Damask that pulled to his side, and Amador stopped immediately. "It was the tunnels," she said, her voice low and soft. "Your children," she said, "were inside." Amador rushed towards the mouth of the tunnel, and there he met Heilin, who carried the young royals on his back. The younger two seemed unscathed, but the eldest... Her dull hide seemed to have lost its shine, and her clay-brown eyes looked vacant and dim. He turned from them, and he raised his voice for the healers immediately. /// Tanwar watched as Balsam peered over his daughter, his nimble and steady hands mending what could be mended. Beside him, the Captain drew an arm around him, held him close. It was strangely comforting, despite Tanwar's best intentions. It had been hours since they found her. And it had been hours since they saw Sandalwood, who had taken five minutes looking at the girl before she disappeared behind a curtain that stank of menthol. At last, the bogsneak returned, a small cup in hand. After a nod from Balsam, Sandalwood cradled the hatchling's head with her claw and poured a liquid down her throat. "I fear," she said, "she may not be the same after. I have seen this only once before, but I know it sure as I know my own flesh. We're in the neighborhood of Cairnstone, so it makes sense, and I am sorry I didn't see it before." "What happened?" the Captain demanded. "Spirits, Captain. Whatever you've touched upon has roused some nasty old blighted souls. I can fix a brew to save others, but there's little you can do for one so late after the attack. I'll do my best for her, but I must tell you - whatever you're after in this mountain, it had best be worth it." The Captain rested his chin on Tanwar's shoulder and looked down at the hatchling, who was starting to stir at last. "It is," he said. There was no doubt in his voice.[/quote] [quote=2017-04-29] [right][i][url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/baz/1766234/126#post_26986548]Source[/url][/i][/right] It took a long time for Nibiru to trust. There was no holding pattern for fire. Fire burned, and it consumed, and sometimes it lay in wait for the perfect circumstances to rage again. But it didn't trust. Nibiru, who was fire in their heart, trusted life as fire - this part may burn, but that part would only bend or char. There were things they could depend on, which was not the same thing. They could depend on the sun rising and setting. They could depend on their bound wings carrying no breeze. They could depend on hot meals when they behaved, no meals when they did not. And Nibiru could depend on Amador's callous disregard for others. They hated him. They hated him more deeply than they had ever known a reason to hate. It was not only what he had done to others. It was what he had done to Nibiru that was the root. It may have been a long time ago, before the others joined the Horde. It was not long enough ago for Nibiru to forget. Now, Nibiru pretended he was not there. They danced instead for Damask or Kennen or Falx. They danced for the others. And if the Captain took notice, they carefully spat in his face just enough to draw amusement from the onlookers, but not enough to draw Amador's ire. Usually. Things had been fine for a while. They were not perfect. Nothing was perfect. Bound wings and canny guards kept Nibiru where they were, even as their heart flickered candlelight at the thoughts of elsewhere, elsewhen, elsebody. But then the Captain moved them to this godless canyon and told the others to dig. And when he came to watch them dance or called for their entertainment among the rabble's feasts, Nibiru saw the change in his eyes. They had not thought he could be worse. They were wrong. They watched him send children he claimed as his own into the black tunnels while above a singer canted clear as the sky. They listened outside his tent as he spoke softly to his mates of the treasures he longed to find within the hills. They knew the bloodlust may abate for now, but they worried what would happen if the treasure was not there. It was outside the Captain's tent that one of the guards caught them eavesdropping. And it was so easy to play the woman and let him chide her and return her to her tent, clapping the irons around her ankles until morning. Later, they were surprised when the guard returned, so Nibiru played the man, distant and aloof and coarse. And to their dismay, when he returned a third time, they realized this poor fool was smitten. The fool's name was Vaan. He was friendly and kind, and he'd signed on to the Horde for adventure and excitement that couldn't be found among the scholars of his home. And though Nibiru didn't understand if they loved him or not, sometimes their heart raced just to see him smile. And at night, they danced for him. /// Perhaps it was foolish. Perhaps trusting Vaan, letting him close was wrong. But it had been so long since Nibiru felt like there was a purpose to their existence beyond dancing. And it was only to feel the stretch of muscles that they danced every night. There was no feeling to their life beyond pain, and these small, comfortable aches were better than the big ones that came if they faltered. But it wasn't pain they felt around Vaan. It was warmth, a glow like at the edge of the hearth. A glow fire gave that filled a whole room slowly and steadily. When they were alone, they could admit they were afraid of it. It turned their stomach and made them want to be ill. When they were with him, they only wanted more. They were afraid to lose it. They weren't certain how the thought had come up, who had suggested it or why, but someone had mentioned a nest. Nibiru thought of the young dancer Amador had them train, one of Tanwar's children. There was much poison there, between Amador and Tanwar and the rest of the Horde, but Nibiru did their best to shield young Munya from it. And while there was no paternal bond between them and Munya, Nibiru had enjoyed the young dancer's company. Had relished in teaching her the arts to which they were devoted. Nibiru and Vaan dug the nest together outside the usual patrols. They found a sunny spot, sheltered from the wind, and rimmed it with round stones and filled it with soft sand. And for a week, they visited together before a pair of eggs could fill it. They marveled over their children, so fragile and full of promise. And they marveled over Vaan's touch, his eagerness and his tenderness. They marveled over the warmth. And they realized: they were only sick with the thought of losing it. For their own fire was not enough to drive off the cold that cloaked them. /// Things got worse after Tanwar's children were attacked in the tunnels. Nibiru watched, impotent, as the Captain ordered digging to start again, regardless of how many earth dragons were among them. All of them dug, bending their backs and breaking their bones. All except Amador's elite. And Nibiru. They thought, constantly, of their two unborn children. They worried that if Amador found them, they too would be forced to dig. They knew there was no hope to raise them as their own, only that they would be snatched up and worked until they died. At night, they wept in Vaan's arms, glad for the way he put his fingers through their hair. Glad for the way he didn't judge their fears. Glad for the way he listened, though neither of them could find a way to solve it. In the days, Nibiru practiced and Amador watched. He took lunch in the tent while they bent and twisted, pretending he wasn't there. They thought of perfecting each leap, each pattern of footwork, moving only and exactly as they had planned to move. As he slurped, though, it became harder to concentrate, and at length they paused to catch their breath. "You're killing us," they told him frankly. "You're killing them. We'll all die here. Whatever was in the tunnels after the children, it will surely come after us as well." The Captain leered at them, and they let their heart be fire, let their mind go blank of the rage that filled them when he looked that way. They were afraid, but they would not let him see their fear. He laughed, then sucked the sauces from his fingers. "I didn't know you were a comedian when the others weren't about," he said. "I thought you only threw water in my face to get a laugh from the rabble." He cast about. "I see no rabble here. Watch your tongue." He picked up a goblet and chased his food with drink, then gestured towards them. "Well?" he asked. "I came to see you dance. So dance." Nibiru stared at him for another moment, letting it draw to tension before they turned away. They leapt and writhed, and they tried not to look at the Captain as he slurped and sucked and chortled. They succeeded only by thinking of the knife that took his eye and how it would feel to whet it once again. Then, the Captain was finished his lunch, and he called for the servants to clear it. As they busied themselves with clearing the remains of the small feast, Amador drew close to Nibiru and hooked his clawed ring beneath their jaw. He stank of myrrh. "I would behave if I were you. Those eggs of yours are due to hatch, aren't they? Any day now? I would hate for something to happen to them." Nibiru felt a sharp pain in their chest. How did he know? The inferno swelled within them. "Of course," they said, their stomach filling with stones, but doing everything they could to keep their voice still. "Why would I do anything but?" "No mention of this 'killing' tonight, hmm?" "No," they agreed. They thought of the whetstone again. They thought of his blood. "Good." He patted them on the cheek, then turned to leave. And as he was nearly at the door, they called his name coyly. He turned, and they tried to look vulnerable. "With Tanwar in such a foul mood," they said, "perhaps you'd like other company tonight? It is his turn, isn't it?" Amador looked them over for a long moment, appraising. Then, he laughed. "I didn't know you knew a joke to tickle even me," he said. "Do not think me as stupid as your guard." He tapped his stricken eye, then let the curtain fall behind him. /// They had taken the knife from the smith. It wasn't truly a knife, but it was sharp and had a bound handle, and it would certainly cut and kill. Neither Falx nor Nibiru said a word during the exchange. Nibiru kept it on their person, lest the Captain change his mind about their offer. At night, during revelry, they danced. Vaan was gone from the crowd, but that was not unusual. Several times, Nibiru danced for the Captain, but he would turn and exchange a laugh with Tanwar to ignore them. They tried to keep their wits about them, even though they were afraid. Their children filled their mind. Rage and grief and fear swelled again and again into their chest. They tried to concentrate on dancing. After the evening's feasts, when only the guards prowled the camp, Nibiru slipped away. They had made it to the Captain's tent before, and they did so again. The soft susurration of Tanwar and Amador within gave them pause. They had hoped they had waited long enough they were asleep. A miscalculation. For a moment, they hesitated. They had counted only on Amador's life. But Tanwar was no better than the Captain, and his arrogance would not be missed. Especially now that Kindra was gone. Nibiru cut the tent a new flap, softly and quickly, and stepped inside. Their heart hammered in their chest, the knife in their hand. The pair was silent, then the sudden sound of movement before them let them know they had been found. "Guards!" Tanwar yelped, and Nibiru brought fire to their hands. They flung it at Tanwar, then lunged towards the Captain, knife low and ready to kill. Though Nibiru had always been quicker, the Captain had always been stronger. Nibiru found they had only one chance, and they plunged the blade deep into his belly before he backhanded them across the tent. Nibiru brought fire to the silk, letting it burn with acrid smoke, before they bolted from the enclosure the same way they had arrived. They ran through the camp, flickering flame in their wake. Let the soldiers wonder if they should give chase or save the camp. It bought them time. It bought them enough time. They reached the nest, vainly trying to free their weakened wings so they could fly free with their children. Their was neither time nor strength, so they would have to climb. Below, the guards were widening the search, and Nibiru knew it was only time before they would be found and their eggs either broken or left to hatch as slaves. They gathered the pair in a sack they had left here earlier, then started away. Only to stop when Vaan called their name. They turned, shaking. He was alone. And he drew them close - Nibiru and their eggs. They imagined they could feel the heartbeats within. "Why?" he asked. Nibiru shook their head. "There isn't time." They drew away. "We're leaving," they said, their voice breaking. "Come with us." He looked back at the small inferno, even now being brought under control. "If he catches any of us, he'll kill us," Nibiru insisted. "But I have served well," Vaan said. He sounded almost proud, the fool. "I trust him to see through this." "You trust a viper not to kill you," they spat. "I know someone who might save us. We have to move quickly." Vaan shook his head. "Be safe," he told them, turning away. "I'll tell them you went the other way." Nibiru felt the warmth in their heart go cold. "Please," they said, their voice breaking, their fingers wringing through the sack that held their children. He looked back. In the dark, it was impossible to read his face. Nibiru hoped it was regret. Or bravery. "I'll do what I can." And he headed down the mountain to rejoin the search. Nibiru glanced to the canyon below and saw there wasn't time to argue. They scrabbled up the cliffs, their eggs clutched close. As they reached the lip of the cliff, they hoped the guards would lose the pursuit before Nibiru found the place the big guardian patrolled and the Horde dared not approach. [/quote] [quote=2017-05-03] [right][i][url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/baz/1766234/128#post_27060245]Source[/url][/i][/right] The tunnels, they said, were completed. Falx watched dispassionately as the young and eager soldiers pressed towards the entrance, hoping to be among those the Captain took with him as he entered the mountain. Just weeks ago, this whole camp was in flames. The dancer didn't burn hot enough. Falx felt a cold lump settle in her gut when the Captain chose Heilin, her mate. She turned back to her forge, trying to drown out the memories of the spirit attacks during the excavation, one beat of her hammer at a time. /// Kennen walked ahead, his ears straining to hear even a shift in the earth above their heads. Behind him, Amador and his retinue followed at a moderate pace. The Captain was in no rush, which was good since Kennen was getting paid for completion. If he'd been paid by the hour, he got the feeling the Captain would be rushing him along. Glowstones had been placed by the diggers as they progressed into the heart of the mountain. They made Kennen's life easier, since he didn't have to light the path for anyone else. But he wouldn't need the light for himself. He'd always been able to walk in darkness. He drew deep breaths as he led the way through the tunnels, keeping his nose tuned for the scent of rotting blood that usually signaled necromancers. But, for a long time, there was nothing. Just hewn stone and carved ceilings. Kennen actually was starting to distrust the tunnels more than he had been when the tunnel opened suddenly into another path. He signaled for the retinue behind him to wait, and he hurried ahead to check it out. Of all the odd things, he found the dried husks of what seemed to be thick ropy vines scattered across the floor. But he couldn't begin to guess why they were here, so deep buried beneath the mountain. There were a few signs of a fight, but nothing smelled wrong, and nothing looked wrong. Kennen hurried back to the others and told them what he had found. "Was there a throne?" the Captain asked. Kennen thought back to the room, then nodded. "Some kind of chair, at the very least. There seemed to be something on it, though, so I could be mistaken." The Captain smiled. "This is the place," he said. Kennen wasn't sure where the Captain had gotten his information, but as one Shadow dragon assaying another, he wasn't about to ask. Instead, he led the way through to the chamber, warning the others over the husks of vines as they passed them. He waited near the door as the Captain stepped into the chamber. One of the retinue dragons cast light and filled the room with a warm glow. There were a few toppled braziers ringing the room, and in the center of the room was a low dais, which looked to hold what used to be a chair. Seated on the dais was a withered husk of a dragon, half mummified, with teeth like knives. Beneath its massive feet, bone meal powdered the floor. For a moment, it seemed nothing more than a curio - a strange tableau ensconced beneath the mountains of Dragonhome. Then Kennen saw its weight shift. The Captain was already approaching as Kennen hurried forward, shouting at him to stop. But as he ran, Kennen felt his muscles lock up, and he landed on his face amid the dust. His ears rang with words he knew and didn't know, and he could tell a bargain was being made. "Stop!" he screamed, struggling to get to his feet. "What are you doing?" '... and fill the cisterns with their blood...' the strange voice instructed as Amador reached for the crown atop the mummified creature's head. When his claws placed it upon his own head, the world filled with a clap like thunder, an Kennen's fingers clawed at his ears to stop the noise. They came away bloodied. But the thunder broke whatever had sealed their movement. And as the Captain turned a frenzied look upon the retinue and the fiend on the dais looked on with satisfaction, Kennen surged to his feet. The others were confused, disorganized, and not expecting their Captain to turn against them. When he reached for the first and used his clawed ring to kill him, Kennen knew there was bigger trouble than they'd expected when they hired him. For when the lifeblood of that young soldier hit the ground, it hit with a sound like boiling oil - popping and cracking - and Kennen knew blood magic was in the works. A glance at the creature on the dais showed a little more structure every moment more blood was shed in the room. Kennen knew to stop that thing, he would have to stop the Captain. He rushed the bogsneak, but as he did, an enormous snapper threw himself between them. "Not the Captain!" the snapper wailed, and Kennen tried to dance around him while two more soldiers were left in bloodied heaps upon the floor. Kennen juked and danced, but the snapper astoundingly kept up with him. He was considering beating him soundly just to get around him when the decision was made for him. The snapper looked so surprised when his own blood join the others'. Kennen regretted his loss, but turned towards the Captain, putting himself between him and the remaining entourage. The crown, he assumed, was the key. If he could remove the crown, perhaps he could stop the murder. He lunged towards the Captain. And he was surprised by the otherworldly strength with which he struck Kennen hard enough to send him tail-over-teakettle into a wall. Kennen heard something crunch, and breathing was much harder. The Captain turned his frenzy towards Kennen, and though he was grounded, the wildclaw put up a fight for which his teachers would have been proud. '... leave him for me ...' the strange voice said, fading in and out as if it were a mirage. '... there are many others upon which to feast ... soak the ground in their blood ... and grow stronger ...' For a moment, Kennen thought the Captain would land the finishing strike. Then, he turned and ran from the chamber. Kennen's labored breath left his lungs in relief. Then the creature's low laughter filled the room. '... to grow stronger...' it said, lumbering slowly towards Kennen's prone form. '... I, too, must feast...' Kennen watched the mummified creature descend towards him, and he drew the deepest breath he could manage with his busted ribs. Another time, he thought, and faded into the shadows like dusk into night. /// Hours had passed outside the tunnels, and Falx's hammer had been retired in favor of her pliers. She busied herself, watching the tunnel entrance from the corner of her eye and she pried scales from a scaleback pelt. She saw the Captain stumble out into daylight. She noticed he was covered in blood, his long tongue lolling out. Then, quick as a blink, he lunged towards one of the rabble, his teeth sinking deep into her supple neck. She screamed, fought, then died. Falx divined quickly what had happened to her mate. She put down her pliers and took up her hammer. As she hurried towards her nest and the hatchlings within, she was careful to keep an eye on the Captain. She hated it for sinking into her heart, but she knew - two of her children would survive if they could fly free, even if the tundling snapper who looked so much like Heilin might not.[/quote]

[center][size=7][b]Oakrest Hatchery Lore Compilation (Part Two)[/b][/size][/center] [quote=2017-05-08] [right][i][url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/baz/1766234/133#post_27132300]Source[/url][/i][/right] As the Captain rampaged, it fell to his elite to stop him. Tanwar, cunning and quick, had stumbled into Damask, forthright and brave. And they were joined soon by Radiance, who stared at the thing her blood brother had become, foaming and bloody and screaming as it broke the bones of those the Captain had once led. Radiance pushed her mate, Giera, behind them. "There were children. Find the children, and keep them safe." Giera swallowed hard, the Horde's books clutched tightly to her chest, before she ran off to find the mewling hatchlings of Damask and Amador's last nest. "We stand or die," Damask growled, and though he did not seem convinced, Tanwar nodded with the others. They charged together. They were not unfamiliar with fighting. They had been raised up through the ranks of the Horde over many years. Bloodshed had been their bottle and their whetstone. Still, the beast that had once led them was stronger now, and it did not recognize them as its kin. Damask and Radiance fought with sharpened steel, dodging and weaving between the Captain's massive legs. Meanwhile, Tanwar flew upwards, waiting for the time to strike. And as the thing that had been the Captain reached his jaws towards the earth, Tanwar drove steel into its back for the killing blow. It fell slack beneath his claws, and an awkward, relieved laugh came spilling forth from Tanwar's lips. Then, beneath him, the beast roared to life and struck a claw towards Damask. She fell with a startled expression, and died. "The crown!" Radiance hissed. "Remove the crown! He didn't have one before!" Tanwar looked down at his bloodied claws, then knocked the crown free from the beast's head. The beast still lunged towards Radiance, its tongue lolling awkwardly from its mouth as it howled. Tanwar tried to fly free of him, but the beast lurched upwards suddenly and grabbed Tanwar's foot in its mouth. He screamed - partly from pain, partly from terror. Whatever treasure Amador had sought beneath the earth, if this was the result of it, Tanwar knew he didn't want it. He kicked what was once the Captain as hard as he could, turning its face to a bloody mess with his toe claws. The beast reached up, raking its claws at Tanwar. His screams turned to sobs, and he kicked harder, even as his flesh was cut bone-deep. Radiance, meanwhile, grabbed the crown and stomped on it. It shattered beneath her weight, and the thing that had once been the Captain went still. She pulled Tanwar free of the beast's reach, and he coughed and shook with the horrors of death. They watched the beast's remains for a long time. Eventually, Tanwar craned his neck towards Radiance. She was flecked with blood and ichor, and she was weeping silently. "I have done badly by my mate and my family," he croaked. "You have," she agreed. "We've all done poorly. I should have stopped this madness before it started." "You didn't know. None of us knew." "The women knew," Radiance said. "We guessed where we were headed. We heard rumors of what was there. The women talked. We should have stopped him. Everything we had is like chaff." Tanwar didn't answer, except with a rattling breath. "I'm dead," he said. "Leave me." Radiance nodded, then walked away. It was not the way of the Horde to coddle the dying. The carrion birds would be here soon enough, and Tanwar would taste the same as any other. She found Giera, huddled beside two hatchlings. "Alright?" she asked, and Giera nodded. "We have a long walk to the nearest settlement," she said, glancing down at the two hatchlings as Giera lifted them onto Radiance's shoulders. "We've walked longer," Giera said. "Do you think, perhaps, they'll recognize us?" Radiance looked back over her shoulder, then mustered a smile for her mate. "If they do, we made our bed long ago. We've come by our fates honestly." And together, they did as the Horde had done for years. They left their place of carnage and bloodshed behind without a thought. And they disappeared again into the deserts of Dragonhome.[/quote] [quote=2017-05-09] [right][i][url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/baz/1766234/135#post_27157928]Source[/url][/i][/right] In the canyon, Sangue had his work cut out for him. He had had the dead lain out in massive rows along the canyon floor, his feet grinding the dried blood into the sand as he walked between his Charges, each of them, and matched missing pieces with them all. Grisly work, some pieces merely flung, others half-devoured. But Sangue needed to be sure they had as much of everyone as possible before they began internment. Especially in Oakrest. Especially now. The dancer was invaluable at providing names. They knew everyone that had been in the canyon, and they spoke of most of them with a cold dispassion as they walked beside Sangue and could positively identify so many of the dead. It was a luxury that Sangue hadn't expected. He committed the dancer's tales to memory as they spoke them. He tried not to watch their deadened expression as they clutch their pearl to their chest and recited a litany of names. Sangue hated the bloodshed. He hated that so many had died on this soil in so many years. These had not been good times for Oakrest. Many had fled, but many had met their ends within the Citadel when it was sealed. Sangue had never expected so many among his Charges. Eventually, Copperlight called him over with a jerk of his head. Butternut joined them, and Setara came close behind. "We have a problem," Setara said, staring at the tunnel this pirate horde had bored into the base of one of their mountains. Copper followed her gaze, the dream-like look of the Stonetouched settling on his face. "The beast came from there," he said. "The beast is still within," Setara said. "We are not safe on the canyon floor. He'll pull the dead to their feet if we let him." Sangue looked back to his Charges in horror. He would defend them as he could, but he knew he was no Hunter. His heart broke for all of them. Copperlight blinked his eyes clear, then turned to his cousin. "Butternut, get the Hunters. We need this sorted as soon as we can." When she was gone, Sangue turned to him. "Copper," he said quietly, looking back to the dead. Copper rested his forehead on Sangue's shoulder for a moment. "Don't worry, cousin," he said. "You kept them safe within the Citadel as the beast gave chase. You will not lose them now." /// They had drawn straws. Too many in the fray and someone was likely to be hit by friendly fire. Torch insisted on three to enter, three to stand ready to seal the tunnels again. Beside him, Paige gathered light into the shapes of crows while Sterling tipped his claws with silver. The last of Shula's fire enchantments, carefully squirreled away all this time, rested in the earrings Ink had pinned to Torch's ears as they prepared. The three of them said their farewells, knowing full well they may not return. Then, they headed in. Behind them Sixten, Drusilla, and Butternut stood at the entrance, starting to fill the rocks around it with runes so they could be ready to seal the corridor at a moment's notice. Inside, Paige's crows and Torch's flames lit the black while Sterling ranged ahead. The way was easy to follow - old blood served as rank signposts. Every corpse they found, they made sure to quiet - silver and flame and a few runes besides - just in case the Withered King could raise them. Torch didn't doubt he could. To be that old, he was either cursed or undead himself, and either way he had had more than enough lifetimes to learn necromancy. For a moment, he thought of Hodges, and he wanted to be ill. Not even a body to recover. Not even a proper funeral. Then, they were at the entrance to the chamber where they had fought the Withered King before. It had been a long time since Torch had felt his heart in his throat like this. He looked between Paige and Sterling, and he thought of last time, when their mates had been the ones beside him. He thought of last time, when they had had a fourth among them. He thought of last time, when they failed. "Not today," he grumbled out loud, needing to hear it with his own ears. "We all go home today." Sterling looked at him with his sister's impish smile. "Technically," he said, "we already are home." "Then let's show this thing the door," Paige said, flicking her light-crafted murder to wreathe her body. They crushed withered vines beneath their feet, testament to their last fight in this room. Paige's crows flew in to light the area, and the three went very still when they realized the Withered King wasn't there. "Check the bodies," Torch said quickly, and they spread out to ensure the corpses were quieted. But what Torch saw made him pause. The dead were not cleanly killed, but clearly devoured. They all had missing ribs, and they all were missing their hearts. "Sterling," Torch whispered. "Already sealing them," Sterling answered, quickly marking the bodies with runes to ensure they remained bound. Without hearts, there was no way to ensure they could successfully quiet them. Paige hurried to work beside him, assisting as best she could, while Torch kept an eye on the doorways. '... was hoping you'd return...' Torch knew that voice. He looked around, but saw nothing. Then, upwards, he saw the thing they had fought before, watching them from the ceiling. It was clothed in more flesh, and its shape seemed less extreme. But Torch recognized the thing for what it was. "Up top!" Paige hollered, and the three of them scattered. Paige sent crows towards their foe, and it laughed until one struck it. Then it screamed, and it fell. When it landed, it was in a plume of black dust, spreading then coalescing again into its regular shape. It didn't wait. It lunged towards Paige with blinding speed. She shrieked and retreated even as Sterling shot another burst of blinding light towards its back. The light ate through its form, punching through like heavy rain on sand. But the black dust filled the spot, and it turned a hungry grin on Sterling instead. That was when Torch charged. He remembered how badly things had gone trying to keep their distance before. He closed the gap and reared up on his hind legs, burning some of the enchantment in the earrings to fill his claws with flame as he dropped like stone on the Withered King's back. He crashed through, landing on the floor and leaving smoking footprints behind. The thing laughed, its body fading back to flesh from the black dust. 'I remember you,' it crowed. 'So alive. So warm. I'll feast well upon your soul.' It twisted suddenly, its jaws at Torch's throat, and threw its weight against him. Torch rolled, exposing his belly but bringing up his feet as well. They went down with a crash, the Withered King raking claws against Torch's flesh. He used more of the enchantment, and the gems on his chest grew fire-hot. Then, Paige's crows crashed into its face again, and it once more became dust. Sterling and Paige helped Torch to his feet, and the two of them drew back as Torch stood his ground. "No," he said. "Remember last time." They had heard the story of the dark blast that had struck Hodges. They knew what their fates may be. "We can't fight this thing," Sterling said. "We can't let it stay," Paige said. "The other beast had a crown. It fell when they broke it. Look around!" "I'll hold it off," Torch said. And he rushed in for more. It was a slog. Torch fought as hard as he could to protect himself and his team as they searched the area and kept their distance. When she could, Paige sent in her crows again and again to harry this beast. But mostly, Torch knew he was on his own. But his flesh was raked and rent by the beast's claws, and now and again it almost got its teeth on him. Torch used his weight where he could, but the beast's dust-like nature made it hard to land a decent blow. And in an effort to defend himself, he was burning through the last of Shula's enchantments much faster than he ever wanted to. He just kept thinking of the others beyond the tunnel - so alive, so worried - and those who had not survived. Even the dead were not safe from things like this. Even the dead were robbed of their peace. It was Sterling who had the idea. "Torch!" he shouted. "The pendant!" He would not have noticed it otherwise. Caught between the shrouds of the Withered King was a single jade bauble - a small thing, a little teardrop that shined wickedly even in the darkness. And as Torch noticed it, the Withered King drew back with wide eyes. And Torch knew that Sterling was right. In that instant, he used everything that remained of Shula's enchantments. He had mastered them over the years, and now he used them as much as he dared and wreathed his body in flames. He drove forward, even as the beast retreated, and he lunged his massive jaws towards the creature's throat and the gem that hung there. It faded to dust beneath his teeth, but too slow. His teeth caught the pendant. It shattered. His ears rang, and he fell, even as his mouth filled with glass. Wind filled the chamber, extinguishing the flames. A feeling like cracking ice crawled across his flesh. Then Torch's chest was tight - too tight. His heart was in his mouth, and he couldn't catch his breath. And for a moment he panicked. Then, gentle orbs of light filled the room. While Paige's crows flew around the chamber, Sterling's stationary sphere approached. "Open up," the coatl instructed. "Let's see the pendant." Torch opened his jaws, and Sterling extracted the remains. He held it up in the dimness, running his claws along it. "A phylactery," he said softly. "We should have guessed." "It's gone though, isn't it?" Paige asked. Sterling nodded. "I believe so. We'll bring Bo and Six through later to make sure, and then Dru and I will seal it to make sure no evil lingers. But I believe we are now safe from that horror." "It's been too long," Torch said. He was exhausted. He staggered to his feet, and Paige stood beside him to steady him. "Careful, friend," she said. "And by the way, when you get outside, don't be surprised if you get an interesting reaction." She reached up and rapped her knuckles on a patch of Torch's hide. It sounded like she was striking stone. "Looks like you've curried favor with Father once more." Torch looked down at his gauntlets. And where he was used to seeing the bright orange plates he had earned when the tombs first opened, there were none. Instead, shimmering plates of scales, so like veins of sunlight, peeked through around his toes. He cursed softly, then dropped to his knees in praise.[/quote] [quote=2017-05-13] [right][i][url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/baz/1766234/138#post_27220861]Source[/url][/i][/right] The seals had been broken, and the dust had settled, but there was so much work to do. As they were cleared to reenter their homes, each of the dragons took to inspecting their living and working spaces and making notes of the repairs that had to be made. Eldritch, Lightshow, and Tala made careful notes of the needs of each space. And at the end of several days, it became evident that there was no way the Citadel was safe for anyone. Another few months living under the oaks or worse - out in the scraped early lairs on the Shattered Plain. The very idea turned many of their stomachs. It had been a hard life for those who remembered it. Instead, a few dragons took vacations to the sea to fish with Shearwater, and others took a few weeks at a writer's retreat hosted by the 'resident' poet, Meadowtouch. Others pushed up their sleeves and got to work. Drusilla laid down runes throughout the broken halls to protect the workers. Setara wandered the ruins to ease any troubled spirits. Nibiru and Torch assisted the earth guardians with heavy lifting. Javor and Bordeaux saw to the orchards. And Sixten went on more than a few trips to neighboring clans to see if he could scare up much-needed resources and establish credit. There were a few clans that had escaped the notice of the Bleachbone Horde. Many, like Oakrest, had a natural distrust of strangers bordering on rudeness, but such behavior was natural to Six. And he returned with not only a few supplies, but a mystery as well. "Never seen the like," he said, passing it around the dragons who had gathered to see what he'd brought back from his recent trip. There was plenty of granite and wood, but there was also a small cabochon that seemed to emit an eerie purplish glow. "It has no haunting that I can detect. And if I can't find it..." He let the rest of the sentence unsaid, and many gathered were grateful he had. The number of times Six brought up his mother's condition - a condition he inherited - was enough to cause even the most patient dragons to roll their eyes. The first to inspect the item was Cortado, Six's mate. She turned the item over in her claws, pressing it against her flesh to feel the temperature and shape. Then she was off to her catalogues while others stood around shooting the breeze and eventually losing interest enough to return to their other tasks. But after a few days, Cortado admitted defeat. "I risked a gander at it," she said, scrubbing one hand over her scale-covered eyes. "I don't know anything about it." Six took the item next to Bo and Setara, both water dragons who spent a lot of time around books. Perhaps they knew something. But Bo was busy wrestling with the bookshelves and Setara was busy wrestling with the spirits that haunted the space. "You'll have to come back," Bo said. "Probably within the month." Disappointed, Six took to poking the object in broad view of the rest of the clan, hoping someone he hadn't asked yet would know what it was. It was Oddity, a perpetually curious pearlcatcher who had recently moved in as the resident doctor, who snatched the item up and started inspecting it anew. Six didn't stop him, but he hovered nearby, lest trouble start anew. "You ever see anything like this before?" Oddity asked Amund. He shoved the cabochon at him, and Amund took the item with great fluster. It was clear that Amund wanted to dismiss the item and return it, but as he opened his mouth, he hesitated. "I don't know what it's called," he said, "but I have seen this before. These are bad news." Six and Oddity looked at the item in awe. "We should probably get rid of it, then," Oddity said, reaching for it. Amund snatched it away. "You can't just 'get rid of' these things." He passed it back to Sixten. "Take it to one of your Stonetouched. One of them can probably get a reading off it or know what it is." Emboldened by their interest, the three tracked down Chandra, who was attempting to lay down a few stones to repair the floor of a corridor. She inspected the item for a long time, eventually drawing a deep breath of the air around it. "I'm fairly certain," she said, her voice distant and dreamlike, "it's a Weal Gem. Many dragons consider them bad luck." Amund stood a little straighter. "What are they?" Oddity asked. "Where do they come from?" "Strong ones - and you'll know when there's a strong one nearby - are said to be made from great mages making pacts with evil. They are rumored to open something inside a dragon, amplifying the magic they're able to cast a thousand fold. The more they're handled, the stronger they become." "Doesn't sound like bad luck at all," Six said. "Sounds pretty useful." "What happens to a dragon when it casts too much magic too soon?" Silence hung between them. "Nothing good," Chandra finished sharply. She passed the stone back to Six. "This one is small - likely just a fragment of a larger one. There's a darkness to it, but it probably won't harm you." Without further discussion, she returned to repairing the corridor, leaving the three dragons to stare at the cabochon in Six's claws. "What are you going to do with it?" Oddity asked. Six looked startled. "Do?" he yelped. "I don't want to do anything with it!" He looked back to it, running his claws along it. "I wonder if I could lose it in the desert or something." Amund narrowed his eyes at him. "That's a bit irresponsible," he said. "I mean, if Chandra's right and it's nothing big, fine. But what if it's bigger than she knows? And what if some beastclan or hatchling or something finds it?" Oddity raised an eyebrow. "Have you seen the desert outside?" he asked. "My point," Amund said, "is it's better to keep it under close watch. You know what they say about enemies - keep them closer than you keep friends." "I'm not keeping it," Six said. Amund put out his hand. "I didn't suggest you would. I'll have Vilma take a look at it, and I'll keep it safely under glass." Sixten looked at the skydancer skeptically, then carefully lay the stone in his hand. He felt guilty and bad handing it over, like he was signing a friend's death warrant. He felt the hole in his heart for a long beat, then breathed easier just for letting go of it. He looked at Amund, who was eyeing the stone like it was a snake. "Yeah," Amund said at length, "no one has any business with this thing." "You sure you want to keep it?" Oddity asked. "My god keeps many things unwanted by others. What better place to keep such horrors than within a shrine of ice?" "The earth?" Sixten suggested. "Many old things are best kept by the earth." "And on the next troubling thing you find, we may enter debate. This one, though, is a beauty and ought be kept exactly as I said - encased in glass and safe from those who know no better than to pick up every glittering thing they find."[/quote] [quote=2017-05-18] [right][i][url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/baz/1766234/141#post_27312625]Source[/url][/i][/right] At first, Tala had been ecstatic that the Citadel was opened. No more living under the trees! No more staring at the open sky all the time! No more days filled with the stresses of raiders, beastclans, illness, and cold! But though many dragons remained in the Citadel, it no longer hummed with life. She found herself missing Brightwork among his dye vats and Krystallos in his surgery. She longed for Clarion over the cookfire, the firelight catching on her crystalline mane. She longed for life as she remembered it. The humdrum nature of a clan at peace, rather than the haphazard stumbling that had become Oakrest during this transition. She had lived enough days in transition, and she had raised enough children not knowing what tomorrow would bring. She said as much to her mate, Javor, who sat in his workshop carving. She watched him carefully, knowing she'd be lucky to get a single word out of him. He might make a few tonal hums, but they weren't really words as others might understand them. Tala knew what they meant, whether they were good or bad, but it had been a difficult thing to learn, and it had taken many years. She was worried, bringing this feeling to Javor. He had so much to lose if they left. He'd acquired a grove of oak trees to harvest and carve and build. He'd started a project to live-sculpt wood for enormous effigies of the Eleven. He was starting to build friendships again. She hated to think of taking this from him. Tala wasn't surprised when Javor didn't answer. He set his tools down and moved to sit beside her, leaning against her, a small sound vibrating in the back of his throat that meant nothing besides he was listening. "Don't just agree with me," she said quietly. "What do you want?" The humming stopped, and Javor stared at her face with big green eyes that flicked here and there, noticing - she assumed - her cheek bones and her eyes and her nose, but never really stopped to make eye contact. Then, he pressed his forehead against hers and sighed. They were quiet for a time, and Tala didn't dare bring it up again. She, too, was afraid of what would happen if they chose to leave under such good terms. Would they find another home? Would their children be as happy there as they had seemed to be here in Dragonhome? She made herself put the thought behind her, and she started planning photos again. Weeks passed, then a month and another. She said no more about it, and she thought no more about it. Then, one day shortly after their most recent nest hatched, Tala woke to an odd surprise. It was an oak tree, just a few inches tall and set in a deep pot. Around its single branch hung a note that read "I'll bet it can grow anywhere."[/quote] [quote=2017-05-19] [right][i][url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/baz/1766234/144#post_27327521]Source[/url][/i][/right] "Imperials are simply too big to reside safely within Oakrest," Torch said at the meeting. "They'll get caught in the tunnels, and then the rest of us are truly in a pinch, because you know what happens to dead imperials." "Not all imperials who pass become Emperors," Sangue said. "Remember Shula merely died." The older dragons had convened in council to discuss and debate a request from Mera, a traveling dragon who wished to shelter with their clan when she was in the area. They had clustered around Copperlight, each one demanding to be heard. Torch scoffed. "It's not a risk we can take. Imagine tunnels full of smaller dragons and dead imperials rampaging about." Eldritch cleared his throat. "I'd like to remind everyone that statistically a large imperial is no taller than an average guardian. The tunnels of Oakrest were built so dragons of all sizes could enjoy the safe haven our clan affords." Silence hung as no one chose to point out the irony in calling Oakrest 'safe' or a 'haven'. Eventually, Torch spoke again. "Meadowtouch and Shearwater stay well clear of the tunnels," he said. "Meadowtouch has always been ... odd," Chandra said with a soft smile. "Remember how he used to lay in the middle of the fields for days on end, so that if you flew over him at a height, he may resemble a pool of water?" She chuckled. "Both Meadowtouch and Shearwater have expressed concern regarding the wisdom of allowing imperials to remain in the Citadel," Eldritch said, flipping pages and reading from them quickly. "Meadowtouch in particular has been adamantly opposed to the idea. Shearwater is on record saying he simply prefers his solitude. I can't see a reason to stop someone from living here if they have a pulse, they've never killed anyone, and they want to live here." Torch bristled at that. "Seven pairs of unseeing eyes and snapping jaws would say otherwise!" he snarled. Copperlight cleared his throat at last. "There is no history of emperors around this area of Cairnstone Rest. We have been vigilant over the years, and imperials have always been members of our clan, even before most of us had chosen to remain here. There is no sense in forbidding a dragon based solely on what their breed has a proclivity towards. After all, snappers have a reputation for their bite, do they not? We do not muzzle you." Torch narrowed his eyes, then fell silent. The others turned to look at him, and he nodded. "None of us are welcome here," he said at length. Chandra smiled and patted him on the arm. Then she turned to Copperlight. "But where will she stay?" The group was silent again, and none of them dared suggest they move Shula's wax sculptures. Copperlight turned to Eldritch, who was flipping through papers again. "There's a large apartment on the Eastern Aerie," he said. "I can have some appropriate furnishings moved in, and she can take a look to see if it's to her liking?" Copperlight nodded. "Please do," he said. Eldritch made some notes, then salted his scrolls and rolled them shut. "I"ll deliver the news to our visitor?" he said. Torch stared him down. "None are welcome here," he said again. Eldritch pushed passed him. "I haven't gotten it wrong yet, Torch. And I don't intend to. She may not be welcome, but I know a perfect spot to get some morning sunlight on her maps. She'll love it." He shut the door behind him, and Copperlight simply shook his head. "We'll all keep an eye," Copper said at last. "None of us want what you're afraid of."[/quote] [quote=2017-05-21] [right][i][url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/baz/1766234/145#post_27366216]Source[/url][/i][/right] The door to Amund's study flew open, and in rushed Sixten and Oddity. They looked pale and shaken, and Amund regarded them with an icy stare. He'd been balancing his ledgers, and the interruption was not welcome. "Amund, we need your help," Sixten said. He approached the skydancer's desk and lay a jeweled pendant on it. "I just bought this at the bazaar." The pendant was a small bronze piece set with faceted quartz by the looks of it. It rested on a wrought chain and glistened in the flickering light from the lantern above his desk. Amund poked it gently with a claw. "Alright," he said. "Why?" "Some bog named Thorns was selling it. She said it was cursed," Oddity supplied, circling around to stand behind Amund. He got the distinct feeling the pearlcatcher was trying to put Amund between himself and the pendant. "This is a serious problem. If someone's selling cursed amulets, then that's a big deal," Sixten said, staring at the pendant like it was a snake about to bite him. Amund looked from the pendant to the pearlcatchers, trying to convey his annoyance at this interruption. "What do you want me to do about it?" he asked. "You know better curse breakers than I do." "She said that if anyone tried to break the curse, that it would doom the whole clan," Six breathed. "Can't you put it here, like you did that Weal Gem? Keep it safe until we find a way to not doom the clan?" Amund stared at the pendant. Then he heaved a sigh and picked it up. He turned it around in the light, listening to Six and Odd gasp and wince. He narrowed his eyes at it and tried to discern any kind of magical enchantment. At last, he set the pendant on his desk again. "She said it was made from dryad tears," Oddity said. "That they were harvested without the dryad's permission, so her curse lay upon the piece." "You've been taken for a ride," Amund said. "This is quartz. I'd expect this maybe of Odd, but Six you can see spirits. Why would you believe something so ridiculous?" "I can't see curses!" Six hissed. He snatched up the pendant and gave Amund a scowl. Then, his expression softened a little. "You're sure it's safe?" Amund shrugged with one shoulder. "Take it to Setara if you don't believe me. She'll at least know who to talk to about double-checking it. Why would you even buy something that someone tells you is cursed, anyway?" Six got a soft look before he answered, and Amund could feel the warmth flooding off him. "It'll look so good on Cortado's throat," he said. "She doesn't have anything like it." Slightly sheepish, slightly embarrassed, he took the pendant off Amund's desk. "I'll uh... I'll come back if it is cursed for real, alright?" When they left, Amund scrubbed his face. Really, at this rate, what choice did he have?[/quote] [quote=2017-05-23] [right][i][url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/baz/1766234/148#post_27399391]Source[/url][/i][/right] The scream came just after First Star, and those who were closest hurried towards the sound, arriving at the quarters of the singer, Periwinkle, and her mate, Dawn. Inside, there was no sign of trouble, but Peri looked quite shaken. "I don't know what it was!" she said, her voice trembling. She could barely stand, and Lisabet helped her to a couch while Evergreen hurried off to fetch Oddity for a more thorough check-up. "It was just here - big eyes and blood. Oh, Eleven, I remember the blood!" The whites of her eyes flashed, and those gathered within her quarters fell to trying to keep her calm until the doctor arrived. After she was pronounced frightened but fine, Setara and Ink were called in to assess the situation. "What were you doing when you saw the apparition?" Setara asked, peeking into drawers and boxes along Peri's dressing table. "I was doing a practice make-up for my next concert," Periwinkle said, her voice still a little strained. "I've collected some older pieces of jewelry, and I needed to make sure they were in good repair for the show while I had enough time to repair them." "Show us," Ink said, and the two dragons gathered around Periwinkle as she sat, clearly afraid, at her dressing table and started first with her makeup, then with the jewels. She delicately fastened an ancient necklace, then a bracelet, then a more modern silk drape fashioned in the manner of the ancient tribes of Dragonhome. All of this was unremarkable. Then, she reached for a single earring. Setara set her hand over the bauble before Periwinkle could pick it up. "Where's the mate?" she asked, looking at Ink over Peri's head. Ink asked Periwinkle a question in coatl, and the singer looked between the two. "There was only ever one," she said. "I bought it for a steep price from a trader out near the Pillar. Look," she reached for the dangling green gem. "These runes marked it as a gem belonging to a member of the high houses." She spoke a language neither Setara nor Ink knew. "It means 'Blessings and Long Life.' I assumed it was either intended to be a single jewel or the mate had long-since been destroyed." Setara looked up suddenly, and immediately after a wild gust tore through the room. Ink did her best to shield Periwinkle, who shrieked in terror and tried to hide under her dressing table. Setara, however, stood in the middle of the storm. "Say it again! The old words, say them again!" Periwinkle, her voice quaking anew, stammered through the old words. And for an instant, the room grew cold as high winter. The gust was replaced with a low moan overlain with a sound like tearing metal. Blood pooled on the floor between the three of them, and a barest trace of horns and eyes filled the space above it. A voice, thin and reedy, spoke the same old tongue, and then the apparition was gone and the room was markedly warmer. Ink cleared her throat and righted a few books that had been blown off a shelf. "Well," she said. "Not often we find that in the Citadel." Setara stared at the earring in her hand, then helped Periwinkle to her feet. "That's the trouble?" she said. Periwinkle nodded. She looked like she wanted to cry. "Just one question before we can help you tidy up in earnest: What did it say?" Periwinkle drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. "She said 'Kienn, I can't find my other.'" Ink looked between the two. "The other what?" Setara nodded. "I'm going to borrow the earring for a while," she said. "If I can, I'll return it." "It was very expensive," Periwinkle protested. "More expensive than your peaceful lair?" Setara asked. Periwinkle didn't answer. She only sighed.[/quote] [quote=2017-05-25] [right][i][url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/baz/1766234/150#post_27431541]Source[/url][/i][/right] Setara was used to wandering the Citadel alone, listening for what little whispers and hints of deeper troubles she could find. But now, she was listening to one jade earring she had taken from Periwinkle after the apparition appeared in her lair. It was difficult to tune out all the sounds and feelings that swelled through the lair in favor of this one gossamer thread. She hoped it would be worth it. She listened to the earring for weeks, finally caving and taking lessons from Periwinkle on how to say some things in the old tongue. And while frequently the ancient words could be spoken without trouble, every now and again the temperature would drop and a small breeze would flit through the corridors. Setara took thorough note of the way things felt when she had stirred the spirit ever so briefly. And those moments made picking out the spirit's thread among the others in the Citadel much easier. She was able to track it, then. And if she could track it, she might be able to confront it. She was no stranger to the tombs, though the structure to some areas had become less stable since the seals had been lifted. She took Chandra with her as she delved deeply into the corridors, chasing an echo of what was becoming more and more legible as fear and confusion and loss. Once or twice, they caught sight of the spirit in its entirety, and Setara was shocked to see the wounds, still bleeding, that covered the spirit's form. She stared with horror-laced eyes, then disappeared into what looked like solid stone. Chandra led the way, then. She used her talents as one of the Stonetouched to know where to place her hands to open the passageway that Setara would have passed hundreds of times before she may have seen it. The passageway that opened was high-ceilinged, and Setara marveled at the sight of the night sky through a small crevice above. Moonlight fell on several markers and skulls, including a pile that seemed heaped together in a rush. "You poor darling," Chandra said at one. She turned a sad look to Setara, who pocketed the earring to help Chandra sort the bones. Some were broken cleanly, as if they had been cut with something extraordinarily sharp. There was a residual sadness to some of them, and there was horror to others. Chandra sorted them into three heaps with certainty, and Setara trusted her judgement over her own here. "What happened with these bones?" Setara asked, meaning the ones that had been cut. "Robbers," she said, explaining the mess of bones. "Eleven knows what scared them off before they pilfered the rest of the bones, but the earring..." She trailed off, then pointed to the bones that had been cut so neatly. "They were hers." Setara helped Chandra return the bones to the markers. The two of them prayed for the release of the spirits, and Setara sat in meditation for a long time, trying to establish a contact with the spirit from Peri's quarters. Chandra took it upon herself to return eventually with Sangue, who stood silent watch while Setara worked. Setara had begun to suspect the spirit would not return when it suddenly did. Setara was considering packing up and returning the earring to the grave and turning the chamber over to Sangue for his consideration. Instead, the spirit appeared between her and the tomb, and it spoke the words it had said in Peri's quarters about finding 'the other.' Then, a shrill scream filled the corridor beyond, and Setara and Sangue hurried to investigate. The hall was empty, aside from what looked like blood welling up from the earth like a stain spreading through fabric. Setara looked at Sangue who in turn looked to Chandra. None of them knew what to do about this, but Setara tried to take a sounding of the spirit, and she followed the sharp, panicky feelings that filled her as she led the way down the halls and into the depths of the tombs. "Should we be going this deep?" Sangue asked after a time. "Is this not where the horror that Torch and the others fought once laired?" And Setara realized that it was true. She was following the markers left by Sixten when he first found signs of the lich. But there was none of the oppressive weight in the air that she had heard about from the others who had gone into the tombs. "We'll be alright," she said, and she hoped it was true. They took glowstones from one of the caches as they wandered more deeply. Setara's runes glowed softly in the darkness, but it was never enough to safely guide their steps. The chill of deep earth persisted, and each of them was glad of the accouterments they wore as they headed deeper and deeper. "Father, where are we going?" Chandra asked, her voice high and strange. And Setara knew they were on the right track at the very least. She turned to Sangue. "Please," she said. "Keep an eye on her. I'll be handling whatever spirits there are. I can't handle her, too." Sangue nodded. "Angus outdid himself with the moon garden, don't you think?" Chandra gushed. Setara felt the corridor lengthen, then shorten ahead of her. Her eyes were drawn to footprints in the dust, and following them with her eye she saw the second apparition. He was at the far end of the corridor, but she could see his every feature clearly. He looked panicked, and he ran towards them with a gust of icy air. And just before he reached them, his face contorted in a silent scream and he faded away. "I didn't see anything. I swear," Chandra whispered, her voice sounding like it would break from fear. But a glance at the old tundra showed her face astoundingly placid. Sangue looked uncomfortable, and Setara lay a hand on his shoulder. "We'll get it sorted out," she said softly. He only nodded, but he didn't look convinced. It was a bit more walking before Setara saw the footprints turn into an alcove that again took her by surprise. And when they entered, the room surged with a darkness and malevolence she had not anticipated. Sangue cursed beside her, and it was then that she saw the room as he did. A ring of plinths filled the room, each stained with ancient ichor and lain with withered bodies, each cut in the same way the remains above had been cut. At its center, a series of ancient runes had been cut, binding the souls in black magics. Chandra wept, and Setara turned to Sangue. "Do what you can," she said, then approached the runes in the floor. In the years that she worked with the Hunters of Oakrest, Setara had learned to essentially read necromantic sigils, and this one was no different. She saw the anchors, the payments, and the goal - immortality, what less? And with hands filled with water magic, she eroded the carved runes for the anchors and the payments. She wondered if the room was of use to the lich that Torch and the others had stopped weeks ago. If it was, then so much for immortality. If it wasn't... She tried not to think about it. She tried to keep her wits about her. She worked for a long time, tearing the seals apart, and as she did the deep evils in the room started to abate. She felt weight lifted out of the room, and when she was finished, Chandra looked around the room as if seeing it for the first time. "We'll have to clean it," she said. "How disgraceful, leaving blood around for years like this." Setara smiled a little, and a return to the hall showed no footprints beyond their own, no residual hauntings of a pearlcatcher's death. They investigated a while longer, but Setara could no longer find the strong emotions that had led her down here in the first place. After a time, the three returned to the Citadel. Chandra returned to her usual studies and duties, and Sangue had other Hunters accompany him to the tombs to ensure the dead were properly interred. But Setara still could not settle the earring. She still had not found 'the other', not as far as she could tell. And when she spoke the words that Periwinkle had taught her, she still felt the cool breeze and smelled old blood. Torch caught her staring at it once, twisting the little bauble by candlelight as he repaired his coat. "What's that?" he asked. Setara held it out to him, and he looked for an instant as if he would be ill. "Peri had it," she said. "Remember how she caused such a fuss the other month?" She told him of all the things they found in the tombs while searching 'the other,' and she told him how she still felt unsettled that she hadn't finished the job. He was quiet for a long time, watching the gem as if it would bite them. "What's wrong?" she asked. He drew a deep breath. "I've seen that before," he said. It was the middle of the night, but Torch led Setara out to the canyon floor and into the tunnel dug by the Bleachbone Horde. As he led, Setara kept close to him. She could feel the oppressive energy seeped into the stones, the horror and the greed. "This is where we lost Hodges," Torch said. "And where we fought the Withered King." "Twice," Setara said, staring around at the scrolls turning to dust in a corner, the spare but destroyed furnishings, and the blood stains on the floors. Torch wandered around for a short time, then called her over, poking something with his foot. Setara hurried over, and there was the shattered remains of a green gem set with a golden end cap. "The phylactery," Setara breathed. Torch nodded. Setara picked up a large chunk of the stone and held it up to see runes similar to the earring's stone carved across it. "This is it," she said softly. "Thank you." She returned the pieces of the shattered phylactery to Periwinkle the next morning, explaining the story as she understood it. She told a tale of those deceived into their own deaths, of souls trapped within the 'other', the mate to the earring. "So much," she said, "is lost to history. One day, maybe we'll know the truth of it. For now, I am glad to have seen so much put to rest." Periwinkle considered the gems swaddled in a box on the table between them. "Perhaps," she said, "someone else should keep them." She slid the box back to Setara, and she could tell the coatl was discomfited. Setara reached out to touch Peri's claws. "You didn't know," she said. "You couldn't have known." Peri looked at her long and hard, then nodded. "No," she said. "You're right. But I have worn that stone in pride while its mate held others captive for centuries. It is not an easy pill to swallow." She rose from the table. "I've got another, much more recent stone in mind for my concert. Please, see that these are respectfully handled."[/quote] [quote=2017-05-27] [right][i][url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/baz/1766234/152#post_27458838]Source[/url][/i][/right] She was told that once, they were beautiful, terraced and manicured slopes. They were irrigated with diverted springs and maintained by dragons hoping to feed the mountain communities with their bounty. Tall stands of mountain oaks served as Bordeaux's Charge and Javor's precious wood supply, but they also sheltered lovers and scholars and daydreamers from the oppressive sun of Dragonhome. Sassafras eyeballed the scruffy landscape with distrust. She could see the attempt at terracing, but she sincerely doubted the gardens and 'orchards' of Oakrest were ever as grand as she had been led to believe. All she had asked of that secretary was whether there were any flowering plants nearby. And she'd been directed here. She scoured the landscape with her narrowed eyes. There. One single white flower - possibly jasmine - peeked out from a tangle of chokeweed. Sassafras sniffed in annoyance. She would never be able to produce her oils and perfumes this way. And she certainly didn't have the time or inclination to grow things. What did she look like, a nature dragon? The idea of gardening made her fur stand on end. "It's sad, isn't it?" a soft-stepping dragon asked from behind her. Sassafras turned to see the frankly sad expression of a nature flight snapper staring up at the same expanse. "I've been trying to rehabilitate it," she said, "but I've run into some interesting kinds of disease." Please don't tell me, Sassafras thought to herself. The snapper lived up to her species reputation and began listing all the various parasites and fungi she had found amid the terraced remains of the gardens. Sassafras did her best to pretend she was listening for the first fifteen minutes, but after a while, she tried walking off. The snapper followed her, never breaking stride in her conversation. Sassafras considered leaving, but she had been here first. She was just trying to survey what plants already grew here, and she was going to be chased away by some horticulturalist? She did not think so. So instead, Sassafras patently ignored the snapper, trying her best to find the things she had set out to find. But whether it was due to lack of samples or because the snapper was distracting her, Sassafras' search turned up empty. And then she heard the blessed words, "... about all. But I still found it strange to find so many troubles like this in Dragonhome. In a more humid environment, perhaps. But..." And then, blessedly, she stopped talking. "Funny," Sassafras agreed with a shrug. "Anyway, I must be going. Look at the time." "I hope you'll return later, when the gardens are restored. I sent word to another clan that Eldritch mentioned might be of help to us. They're very good with trees, you see. I am, too, but herbs are more my specialty. I'm Bergamot, by the way." Sassafras stared her down. Then grudgingly gave this snapper her name. "Oh, how delightful! We're both plants!" the snapper giggled. Sassafras continued to stare at her. This dragon could not be serious. "Yes," she agreed tersely. "Well. Do let me know if you have any success." She bade the dragon farewell, then set about wondering if there were wild plants that she could gather for her oils instead. Even if the orchards and gardens were restored, Sassafras sincerely doubted her need to spend any time there so long as there was a snapper about.[/quote] [quote=2017-06-01] [right][i][url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/baz/1766234/155#post_27545397]Source[/url][/i][/right] When Ayla arrived, she wasn't sure what to expect. She'd heard stories of Oakrest from many of Prufrock's residents - so many had come from the clan in Dragonhome. But she also knew that there had been hard times for the clan as well. The shattered terraces and crumbled reliefs were more telling a sign than she expected. So much of what must have been painstakingly crafted art was completely destroyed, just shattered pieces and dust. Here and there, beautifully carved railings protected absolutely nothing where whole chunks of earth had fallen away. Tiled floors were reduced to shards of stone. It broke Ayla's heart. But while she hoped one day she could see to the stones, she was not here for them. She was here to see the Stonetouched and the Hunters. She had gathered they would be the ones to help her with the spirit that had fused itself so tightly to her soul. So far, though... So far she felt like those old railings - beautifully worked with nothing below. /// Six could smell the spirit pouring off the young wildclaw like a bad perfume. Every time she came into the room he was in, he watched her every move. He couldn't see the spirit, but he knew it was there, knew it was twisting and snared within her soul. There was a wrongness there. A black mark on this young dragon's heart, just from that thing being there and her being allowed to remain in the Citadel. Others had been killed for less. "Copper has it in hand," Setara told him on more than one occasion, but it didn't stop him from staring. He knew, he KNEW that there was something brewing here, that some blackness would befall their clan because they had allowed such an abomination to reside with them. But he let himself be talked down time and time again. First Setara, then Paige, then Sterling - leave it to those last two, since this newcomer was their flesh and blood. He wondered if they'd be so sympathetic if she'd been a nobody from nowhere. But then, his first nest since her arrival hatched. And the runes that marked his line to protect them from spirits flared brightly for an instant - then snuffed themselves out like a burnt-out fuse. Cortado, bless her, could not see the cause of his distress. But she knew there was a problem. When Six was certain his children were safe, he went straight to Copper, for he clearly did not have it 'in hand.' He fumed. He raged. He screamed at Copperlight that such a thing as this stranger would be allowed in their lair and be allowed to influence his children so that they were not as protected as they could be! Copperlight regarded him steadily through the meeting, and when Sixten had blown himself hoarse, the old guardian stared him down with the steady look he gave all who had crossed him enough times. "What would you have me do?" he said. "She is a child, and she is not well. If we can heal her, should we not do so?" "What of my children? What of Ink's and Odd's and Mera's? This monstrosity is a danger to all of us! If she can manipulate the runes that protect my family while they are yet eggs, imagine what she could do to any of the rest of them!" Copper did not rise to the bait. "It is a large 'if'. She has a great well of strength, true, but to influence your hatchlings in the nests? She has not even been to the nests. I doubt she knows you from another pearlcatcher. Ayla keeps mostly to herself." "She shouldn't be here. She never should have been here. We have driven out others for less." Copper dipped his head a touch. "We never drove out your mother," he said. "She chose to leave." "No one made it easy for her. And here we are with this wildclaw." He spat on the earth. "I will not let it be easy for her, either."[/quote] [quote=2017-06-04] [right][i][url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/baz/1766234/157#post_27588435]Source[/url][/i][/right] Dragonhome was nothing like the forests of his youth, and Bernard was becoming terrifyingly astute at reading dust devils as they passed. But Bernard had come for a day like this - greyed over with rare clouds that hadn't broken over the mountains from the seas to the west. The sky was a swath of silver, but the air was still wickedly hot. In the distance, Ayla, the strange arcane wildclaw, dug with all the ease of a member born to Oakrest. At the same time, the snapper Bergamot reviewed plans and sipped tea. "Fruit trees?" she asked. "It shouldn't be too much for either of us to manage," Bernard said softly. Bergamot frowned again. "I'm mostly worried about the water issue. Dragonhome is no Shrieking Wilds. We must be responsible with what we have." In the distance, the sky rumbled. Not quite thunder. Not quite rain. "They're quite drought tolerant. If we use catchments," Bernard said, "and run a gravity irrigation system..." They had been pitching thoughts back and forth for the last hour, watching Ayla repair the terraced steps that had once held an orchard of great remark. Bernard couldn't tell if Bergamot was paying attention to what he was saying as he explained the idea, but eventually she inclined her head. "This is for your caterpillars, right?" she asked. "They need these leaves to survive. I turn them into silk." "You know the Wild Orchard, back in the Labyrinth?" Bernard raised an eyebrow. "You head there, track down some of these mulberry trees, and bring them back. I'll give 'em a look over, see if there's any reason they can't live here." "I'm hardly the one to go on a long journey to--" "You want these mulberry trees, Bernard, you're the one to do it. Maybe by the time you come back, Ayla will have some terraces done, and we can talk about light exposure, yeah?" Bernard scowled. He hardly wanted to be away as he and his mate were just getting settled in. But he saw no other way around it - if he wanted to get his industry running, he would have to get the plants OK'd by Bergamot. "Thank you for your time," he muttered as he rose. Bergamot smiled at him. "Bernard," she added, "I hope they turn out alright. I would so love a new dress, and I've heard such wonders about silk. Safe travels."[/quote] [quote=2017-06-07] [right][i][url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/baz/1766234/159#post_27634665]Source[/url][/i][/right] Bryant smiled. "Let me tell you a thing about dancing." Circe had just explained that the shaking wasn't strictly excitement. She liked the music, sure, but she always seemed like a leaf in a storm, even when she was standing still. He whispered, "You only stop dancing when you stop moving. You only stop moving when you dead." He'd been traveling, playing a few shows, having a few sit-ins and jams with some folks who really knew rhythm. And here was this lady - not a girl, mind, a lady full of class, even with broken nails and eyes that spoke a world of things she didn't want to talk about - who smiled gamely up at him and said, "Well I'm not dead." Oh, she had him by the heart in that moment. Those pale eyes and that smile that twitched just a little, as if it were uncertain how big and grandiose it wanted to pull. It was fun while it lasted. So cliche, but so true. Bryant liked Circe - he liked her fire and her poise and the way her voice quavered when she wasn't trying very hard to be articulate. He spent a while practicing, seeing if he could get his horn to mimic the way her voice tilted and pitched at such odd moments in the conversation. It was intriguing. It was beguiling. It was charming. It was indelibly Circe. He liked to draw conversations with her - not out, and not into, just draw them. Like making a line with a pen, and when you run out of paper, you just change direction, sometimes circling back on yourself. Conversations with Circe were excellent - she'd been all over, and they talked about what they loved and loathed about territories and clans all over the continent. And sometimes, she grew silent just to get the words right. He hung on every silent beat. They kept away from more complicated things like family and history. But it was definitely enough to fill time. Enough to let time get away. Bryant stayed longer than he meant to. He'd cancelled engagements out on the Cloudsong just to chat with this hummingbird, just to take her dancing and see if she hopped as well as she shook. She hopped fine, even if she was nervous. He'd have stayed longer, too, if she was the staying type. Even though he knew her heart wasn't fully his. Love doesn't have to be all-consuming to be real. It can be brief and just as true. He watched her pack up one day. She'd mentioned a parcel and a delivery, and she told him maybe sometime they'd catch up again. Her hands shook as she spoke, and he wondered how much of that was her natural flutters and how many were because she felt something worth keeping was being left behind. He didn't ask. He didn't want to know. In the light after she left, Bryant sat down with coffee and horn. And he noodled a bit, but mostly he wrote. It was complicated and tricky, and to play it you needed chops, but he nailed the notework for Circe's tremors. Runs of sharp little notes, quick fingers, and enough breath that even after you still felt breathless. It took him a few days to write it all down, as well as the note wishing her well. He sealed it and left it with the postmaster for next time she came through on work. You know, provided she was still dancing.[/quote] [quote=2017-06-10] [right][i][url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/baz/1766234/161#post_27700318]Source[/url][/i][/right] It had been months since the Citadel was reopened. Trade was picking up, and new faces were moving in. Repairs to the corridors and chambers within were well under way. Normalcy seemed right around the corner. So close, Paige thought, but not close enough. She thought often of her mate, Ink. She thought of how Ink sat up at night, silently staring down her drawing board. She thought of how, since that first encounter with the Withered King, Ink had not had the strength she used to have. It had been a long recovery. Ink gave her all during the time the Citadel was sealed, as had they all. The Hunters of Oakrest had worked together to ensure that the few civilians who had been locked within with them were safe, that the monsters who had swarmed the halls of the Citadel were stopped. But where Ink had once been nigh unstoppable, she now tired so quickly. After the Citadel reopened, Paige had hoped her mate would strengthen quickly. Sunlight, fresh air, less stress in the clan ... It all should have added up to a rapid recovery for all of them. But where Paige and Six and Dru and Torch rebounded from the exhaustion they shared, Ink walked with a limp and her usually engaged attention was now withdrawn. At Paige's insistance, they went to Oddity for an assessment. Oakrest's doctor looked her over, listening to the symptoms listed by both dragons. Then, he sent Paige from the room to listen to Ink's troubles in privacy. That half hour was worrying for Paige, but she trusted Ink, and she trusted Odd to make an accurate assessment. When she returned, she was surprised by the explanation to which they had arrived. "My best guess is a curse," Oddity said, his tail twitching softly as he watched the two of them. "When Torch and Dru pulled you away from the wyrm, it nearly had you." Ink nodded softly. "I don't remember much more of that time passed that. It was exhausting." "It's trying to kill you even now," Oddity said. "You will continue to fight this weakness for the rest of your life if you do not break the curse." There was a great silence, and Paige drew close to her mate. "How?" she asked softly, glancing over at Ink's stern gaze. The way her jaw was set was heartening. It looked like she at least knew what to fight. Oddity shook his head. "I'm a surgeon and a diagnostician. I have no experience with curses and their ilk. I've never truly seen one in action before I moved here. I had only heard of them in rumors." "I'll find a way," Ink said, her voice the honed edge of a knife.[/quote]

[center][size=7][b]Oakrest Hatchery Lore Compilation (Part Three)[/b][/size][/center] [quote=2017-06-16] [right][i][url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/baz/1766234/165#post_27796737]Source[/url][/i][/right] It was a brief interlude in the spring monsoons that wracked the shoreline north of Oakrest which brought the body to the shore. Shearwater looked at it and cursed before hauling the imperial above the high water line and hurrying off to the Citadel to get help. /// Nibiru came as Oddity's silent shadow. So few dragons in the Citadel knew the healing arts, and though Nibiru would hardly count themself as capable, they still knew more than most. The two followed Shearwater down to the rock-studded shore. A bitter chill hung in the air, casting the shoreline cliffs into bleak contrast with the dry heat of the Citadel. "Let's hope he doesn't need any plaster done," Oddity groused as they picked their way among stones. "It'll never set in this damp." In a short time, they stared down at the form of an imperial, his eyes half-lidded, his breath barely fogging Oddity's pocket mirror. "Do we know him?" Shearwater asked. The fear in his voice drew Nibiru's eyes up to him. "He's not from the Citadel," they said at last. Then, they glanced at Oddity. The surgeon was ignoring their guide, and Nibiru frowned deeply for a moment before adding, "Please, we will need to move him. We will need help." As Shearwater flew off, Nibiru turned their attentions to the task at hand. Oddity calmly and carefully attended their patient, and Nibiru followed the directions to the letter. Eleven knew where this stranger had come from, but he was here now. He wasn't dying on their watch. /// Frostcoil was aware of the dull ache in his head, the burn in his nostrils, and the musty taste tinged with iron in his mouth even before he opened his eyes. It was so much easier to keep them closed, and he was aware of the sound of someone breathing nearby before he could see them. He was drawn to pain, then. His ribs felt as if they'd been crushed, and his head felt split by fire. His breath came sharply, and he regretted it instantly. His lungs hurt more than he thought lungs could hurt. "You're better to lay still," someone said, and Frostcoil opened his eyes to a blurry mess of brown that resolved into the shape of a ruddy pearlcatcher maid. She wasn't bad looking. When she moved, a set of bells around her ankles jangled. Frostcoil gave her his most winning smile. "Hello there," he purred. Or at least, he tried to purr. It came out more as a raspy croak. She actually rolled her eyes at him. "I'm usually much better looking than this," he added. She quirked her eyebrows at that. "Half-drowned is not a good look for anyone," she said. He furrowed his brow. "Is that what happened?" he asked, and then memory of the storm came back to him like a mountain in the fog. He jolted towards his feet. "The ship!" he gasped. The little pearlcatcher set her hands on his shoulder and tried to ease him back to what he realized was a bed. "There was no ship we found," she said. "Only you, half-broken on the rocks. I must go tell Odd that you are awake. Please, do not lurch so. You'll undo all we have done to mend you." He scowled. Where was the ship, he wondered? But he let himself be talked back to resting. The world was more amenable while he was lying down. "Fair maiden," he said. "Please. I will rest if you but tell me your name?" She looked at him like she wished he would be swallowed by the earth and gone from her sight. "I'm no maiden," she said. "I am the flame. You may call me Nibiru." And with an annoyed flick of tail, Nibiru left. /// "Most of it will mend," Oddity had said. "Your wings, on the other hand..." He frowned quite a bit in the telling. Nibiru, who was very clear about how Frostcoil should refer to them when they returned with the doctor, made an indifferent shrug. "It won't be that bad," they said. "We have seen worse." Oddity frowned. "Titus," he said, nodding in agreement. "He could fly by the time he reached you. But the scarring he carried was significant." "If Titus can do it, this oaf can." Nibiru slipped away as Frostcoil stared after them, jaw agape. After they left, Oddity tutted and shook his head. "Is it just me?" Frostcoil asked. He had to forcibly shut his own jaw. Oddity smiled and shook his head. "They carry a knife for everyone. Don't take it personally." /// After Oddity let him walk again, sure that he would do nothing to disrupt the mending of his ribs or limbs, Frostcoil set about investigating his own mysterious appearance on the shore. He remembered the storm blowing in, and he remembered the strong gales blowing. Near as Frostcoil could gather, he must have been blown from the ship, must have been kited into the water and tumbled by the surf. There, on the rocky bottom, thrashed by waves, it was a sheer miracle that he survived. Had Shearwater not found him, he may not have made it. It was a heavy thought, and until his wings mended, Frostcoil knew he couldn't get very far. After all, an imperial without his wings was little better than a very long snapper. So he took to wandering the Citadel while he healed. The dragons here were secretive, on the whole, though Frostcoil found a friend in Amund, who was a former sailor himself. They traded fish stories a few times, and Amund gave him a better tour than he'd scrounged up on his own. And that was how they wound up watching Nibiru dance. Frostcoil watched, completely stricken, and understood what Nibiru meant when they had said they were flame. Later, after the tour, Frostcoil asked about Nibiru and Amund winced. "They're fire," he agreed half-heartedly. "But they're the coldest fire I've ever known." /// "Higher," Nibiru said. Frostcoil lifted their tender wing as high as he dared, wincing as he did. Nibriu, perched above, grabbed hold of his tender wing and pulled until it extended straight. Frostcoil yelped, tears in his eyes. "This far," they said. "Every day. Ten repetitions. At least three times a day. More is better. You must ensure the blood flow is not obstructed, and that you do not allow arthritis to set in." "This would be easier if you had a real healer," Frostcoil muttered. Nibiru stared him down, trying to melt him with the intensity. Frostcoil gave them a bright smile. "You know, you must be fire. You smolder quite well." Nibiru's face darkened at that, then completely shut down. "We're done," they said, their voice dropping any lilt at all. "Three times a day," they repeated before gathering their things and heading towards the door. Frostcoil knew that he had said something wrong, but he was just playfully flirting. He had been trying to get the pearlcatcher's goat, as it were. If he'd made them blush or laugh, he would have considered it a success. This wasn't what he'd intended. /// It was a week before Nibiru would see him, and then it was only in the context of therapy. Frostcoil tried to bring up what he'd said, what the trouble was, but every time he started to speak, Nibiru cut him off, spoke over him, interrupted about something relevant to his healing. Frostcoil felt off his game by this curt pearlcatcher. He surrendered to ministrations of stretches and strength-building exercises that demanded more of him than his work among the sheets and rigging of the ship ever did. Afterwards, winded and sore, but feeling more limber than he had before, he tried one final time. "Look," he said. "I don't want to hurt your feelings. I never intended that. I just ... I think you're very good looking. I want to compliment you." Nibiru's eyes narrowed again, and their cheek twitched for just a moment. "I am no pretty face," they said. "No. Everyone I've spoken with agrees you're fire and knives and absolutely terrible." That brought a very small smile to their face. "You keep treating me," they said, "like a shrinking child. Like something fragile. Like something worth holding close." "Beautiful things are worth holding close," Frostcoil countered. "Asps are beautiful," they answered, snapping shut the case they were packing. "You would not want to hold one close." /// After that, Nibiru seemed much warmer, and they were sometimes found in common areas, laughing and gambling with others. They were approachable, and when Frostcoil drew nearer, they did not lash out at him. He didn't know the cause of the change, but he was grateful. "You know," Lisabet said one evening after Nibiru had retired, "I noticed how you look at them sometimes. Just remember - that hearth'll keep your house warm, but the chimney fire's gonna burn it down." "They like me," Frostcoil said defensively. "Like a candle likes a moth," Lisabet muttered into her drink. But Frostcoil found Nibiru returning his flirting while they worked on restoring his wings' range of motion. And now and again, he would catch them looking at him. And for a moment, he wondered whether their mane was soft or coarse, then found himself stared at again. "A few more months," they said, intruding into Frostcoil's thoughts but not breaking their frank stare, "and you'll be able to fly again. I hear Amund has almost tracked down your ship's itinerary. We could have you there in no time." Frostcoil looked away. Oakrest was landlocked, so it was unlikely his ship would ever come near enough to see this candle-dancer again. "A pity," he said. "I was almost hoping for more time." They gave him an amused smirk. "I like you, Frostcoil," they said. "When I feel like liking anyone." That stung. To cover it, he gave them an awkward shrug. "That's uh," he said, "fine, I guess. I mean, my heart belongs to a woman like the deepest sea." They quirked their eyebrows at him in what he had learned was silent laughter. This time there was a playful smile beneath. "She can have your heart," they said. "But perhaps I could have some of your time remaining here?"[/quote] [quote=2017-06-18] [right][i][url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/baz/1766234/166#post_27849680]Source[/url][/i][/right] Eldritch peered over the the edge of the terrace, watching the long trail of dragons arrive. Radomir smiled smugly beside him, even as in the distance the banners were raised, heralding newcomers to the canyons. On the ramparts, various Hunters and guards appeared, peering down in wary curiosity. Most stuck to the shade, and in this heat, Radomir didn't blame them. "You gonna go down and check it out, Ellie?" Radomir asked, using a teasing nickname. Eldritch cast a poisonous look over his shoulder. "Copper said that Blackshore would sort it out," he said quietly. "So I'll let her do it." From this distance, they couldn't hear anything, but they watched Blackshore mosey through the ranks of the trailing collection of dragons. Many had high-heaped wagons or bulging packs on their own backs. And many looked worse for wear. After a time, Blackshore exchanged a few words with someone, then curtly spread her wings and took off, only to land on the terrace before Radomir. She cast a guarded look at Eldritch, saying, "It's a caravan out of Northrim. Harpies are bad this time of year, and it's been through a lot. I told them they may repair in the safety of the canyon, but none are welcome in Oakrest." Without another word, she entered the Citadel and disappeared into the dimness within. Eldritch watched her go for a while, then shook his head. "I'll go tell Copper," he said, "in case he wants to roll out the welcome committee." "Eh, some festivities would keep Lightshow busy at the very least," Radomir said with a smile. Eldritch heaved a great sigh. "I just hope this harpy problem doesn't spread this far west. We have enough problems as it is."[/quote] [quote=2017-06-25] [right][i][url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/baz/1766234/168#post_27973480]Source[/url][/i][/right] "Harpies?" Sixten asked, staring at Copperlight like he'd lost his mind. He'd been called in for a meeting among Copper's advisors, and he didn't like where it was going. "I've never negotiated with harbies in my life. I do dead things, not bird things, in case you've forgotten." Copper didn't bat an eye. "Regardless, you're our best choice for envoy. The raids have been creeping closer since that caravan pulled in. We've had reports of harpies from Shearwater and Mera, and they're not as far-flung as we sometimes pretend." "Problems with the imperials in our community is problems for us all," Torch said. "Back in Wild Orchard, Ember checked up on them all the time. Here, we just wait for problems to happen. It's not good practice." "They'd rather be left alone. It's not a crime to be born an imperial," Eldritch said, rolling his eyes from where he took minutes. "No one said it was," Torch groused. "Regardless of how imperials are treated between various clans," Copperlight interjected, "there are harpies on our border, and the last thing I want is them killing eggs in our nests. Six, you're going to treat with them. See what kind of deal you can work out, see what you can find out about them moving this far into the mountains. You'll take ... Ametrine?" He cast a glance at Sidney, who shrugged indifferently. "Evergreen is probably a better choice. Ametrine's runestones take up a lot of his time," they said. "And you should take someone level-headed as well." They were silent for a time, then Copperlight nodded. "Philomena," he said. "She's strong but steady. Besides, you could do worse than bringing two nature dragons to a desert tribe." Six groaned. "What are we going to do, Copper, bring them flowers?" "If need be," Copper said sternly. "Syd, help him pack. I'll send Eldritch down to help with logistics after we finish up." Sydney gave Copper a deep nod, then left, taking Sixten with them. After they were gone, Copper turned to Torch and sighed. "I don't want to hear about imperials being a problem in my councils again, Torch," he said. "We need them as much as we need anyone else." "The risks--" Torch began, but Copper held up a claw for silence. "There are risks to all of us. If the terrors that you fear do befall us, we will handle them, as we have handled every other problem that has come our way. But we will not drive a hale dragon from our midsts because we are afraid. Do I make myself clear?" Torch dropped his head deeply. After a moment, he nodded. "I'll do my best, Copper," he said. "It is all I have ever asked of you, my friend." [/quote] [quote=2017-06-28] [right][i][url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/baz/1766234/171#post_28026595]Source[/url][/i][/right] Mera's map was remarkably easy to read, given all the flourishes and extra notations that had been scribbled on it. Made from several pieces of vellum stitched together, Six and his party could lay it flat to compare the real world with the landmarks the great imperial had illustrated or fold it with some trouble and stow it among their gear. While they weren't fully certain where they would find the harpy roost, Six was glad that Mera had given them the map. They carried few items, for what do you offer in trade to a clan who is eager to spill your blood and whose blood you would not mind spilling? "Inks," Eldritch suggested as they packed. Sydney scoffed but shrugged. "They can use their own feathers for quills. Why not send them inks?" They also sent food stores - dried fish, gathered herbs, and a few bushels of acorns. No one knew exactly what harpies ate, but perhaps if they were fed well, they would have little reason to continue migrating. That was the going hope, anyway. Sixten secretly worried that they would see Oakrest's offerings in trade for truce as a sign of abundance and would send a raiding party down on the Citadel. Six, Evergreen, and Philomena traveled along the coast, hoping to meet some of the scouts. While Evergreen and Philo were there as muscle in case things went bad, Sixten wished they also carried some of the burden of diplomacy. It had been some time since he was called on to attend the job as his father knew it. Mostly, he haggled with the dead. Now he haggled with glorified birds. After three days' flight to the north and east, they saw the swirling forms of the harpy clan flooding in the air in agitation. They swelled and swirled like songbirds that had seen a cat. And for a time, Six and his party watched them in mild horror. Eventually, though, Evergreen gave Six a nudge in the side and a large grin. "Come on," he said. "No time like the present. Let's go meet the hens." "I'm pretty sure we shouldn't call them 'hens,'" Six muttered. Evergreen led the way towards the distant roost. "Maybe not to their faces," he agreed. "But I'm pretty sure they're out of earshot at this point."[/quote] [quote=2017-07-06] [right][i][url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/baz/1766234/179#post_28174452]Source[/url][/i][/right] They'd been held for weeks. As far as any of them knew, those back in the Citadel must assume that their diplomatic journey was successful and they would be returning soon. But Sixten, Evergreen, and Philomena watched the moon wax until the desolation of Dragonhome was bathed silver. They were pulled from their small prison cavern in chains, their wings bound to their ankles. The surrounding cliffs were filled with the forms of harpies gathered to watch the proceedings. "Still no plan?" Philomena muttered in Six's ear. "I am game for options," he hissed back and got a staff in the chest for his trouble. He staggered, and beside him Evergreen snarled at the harpy with the staff, and received a swift crack of his own. Ahead, a channel of harpies led up to an enormous dais with an altar in the center. On the altar, as advertised, were the eggs, fifteen in all. Fifteen too many. He pushed himself to the front of the trio when they were pulled to a stop. The harpies around the altar began singing and chanting, a high bird-like voice rising in ululation above the chant, and the moon seemed to change to a pale blue. A harpy near his right sharpened a chert knife along a leather strop, and another held aloft a massive silver basin to the cheers of the gathered onlookers. There was no way with their wings bound that they would be able to survive an escape attempt, and Six's attention returned time and again to the eggs. There was no need to drag children into this. His heart raged in silence, for he knew there was nothing to gain but vanity to speak. Instead, he turned his thoughts to after, and he reaffirmed, for not the first time since their capture, his hope that afterwards his spirit would be collected by those who tend the Pillar for the glory of the Earthshaker. Then, abruptly, the chanting stopped, and the crowd swelled with a repeated chant of their own. The chain around Six's throat tightened, and he was led forwards, then forced to his belly by harpies with staves. The silvery basin was set before him, and Six stared into its luminous bowl, filling as it did with the light of the moon. And the swelling darkness of shadowy forms that seemed to lick at his own face. The harpy with the knife held it aloft to cheers, then approached Six with a wicked smile. Moonlight danced along the knife edge. For a moment, Six felt nothing. Then the insignificance of his own life hammered hard into his chest, and he jerked, just once, against the chain. His own pulse echoed in his ears. He was alone and afraid. The harpies held him, and the knife bit into his scaled throat like a heated needle. As he fell, the night went black. /// Evergreen, behind Sixten, watched with great fear and sorrow as his friend was led towards the altar. But before the first drops of blood could run from his throat into the basin below, a great howl filled the air around them all. A great pressure forced harpies and dragons alike to their knees. And from the shadow beneath Sixten, a great form reared up, blocking the moon. It hovered for a moment, almost draconic in form, but its shadowy shape twisted and flickered too much to tell for sure. Then, it crashed down on the cowering harpies like a wave. As soon as it touched them, they screamed and the pressure released around Evergreen and Philomena. The two of them struggled at their chains until Evergreen forced several links apart on Philomena's with vines he called from the earth, and she in turn used her massive strength to pull through his. "Get Six!" Evergreen yelped. "I'll get the kids!" He hurried towards the altar, dodging through shadowy fingers as this ethereal beast howled and screamed. He passed the broken bodies of harpies, many dashed against the stone around them. And at the altar, he met the leader of the harpies, raising an enormous silvery mace towards the eggs below. She shrieked several words, then brought the hammer down. Evergreen surged forwards towards her. As she brought the hammer down a second time, he was in the air, leaping over the altar. Before she could raise the hammer a third time, she was on the ground, struggling beneath him. They traded blows, but she swiftly fell beneath him. He grabbed several pouches off the dead and one of the silvery basins nearby. Around them, the harpies had scattered and the shadow beast was turning towards Philomena. Evergreen scooped the thirteen remaining eggs into as many bags as he could and tied them together before tossing them around his shoulders. The rest, he swept into the basin. Meanwhile, Philomena squared off against the shadowy beast, keeping low while it swelled tall against the moon. They traded blows like cornered cats. Then, Philomena gathered the reserves of life magic that she had at her disposal and raked her claws clean through the shadowy beast. With a scream, it retreated back into Six's shadow. Evergreen skidded to a stop beside her. "Can you grab him?" he asked. "I have the kids." Philomena nodded, then slung their fallen companion over her shoulders. "What was that thing?" she asked. "Spirit of some kind," Evergreen said, stretching his wings. "But since it's gone, the harpies are gonna come back. Let's book." Philomena's great wings stretched out above them, and she lifted both herself and Sixten. Evergreen followed right behind, the two hurrying South, back to Oakrest with harpies on their tails.[/quote] [quote=2017-07-11] [right][i][url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/baz/1766234/184#post_28249221]Source[/url][/i][/right] Marisse opened the box lid with some prompting and let the contents spill out onto the table. "Coins," she breathed, as if they were likely to blow away at a bold word. They were various mints, struck with the seals of clans that had flourished briefly, then faded into the dust of Dragonhome, nothing but their scraps remaining to tell their tales to future generations. Thorns pawed her claws through the pile, letting it clatter brightly between her fingers. "I can flip some of them," she admitted. "I know a few collectors." Marisse frowned at the pile. She didn't need all of them, but she wanted all of them. She wanted to hold them all and turn them over in her hands, like memories of warmth in the winter. Each one was a mark of the death of the weak, the superiority of this desert over the backbones of civilization. "I'll give you twenty percent of the cut," she breathed. Thorns snorted lightly. "You'll give me forty." "Twenty-five." Thorns narrowed her eyes and flicked some of the coins back into the box. "Perhaps you can find another seller," she drawled. Marisse's feathers pressed flat against her skull in irritation. "Thirty," she hissed. "How about thirty-three, and we'll call it a day?" Thorns asked with a smile. Marisse snarled a little, then pushed the box of coins over to Thorns. The bogsneak spat in her hand, and they shook on it. "It will take me some time to sell them all," she said. "But come back in the month and we'll see what we have left." "So soon?" Marisse asked. Thorns smiled. "We'll see if my collector likes what they see." [/quote] [quote=2017-07-16] [right][i][url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/baz/1766234/187#post_28357227]Source[/url][/i][/right] It started with a cough. Just a little tickle in the back of the throat that didn't seem to clear. The cough led into chills and fevers, and from there the symptoms worsened. Hatchlings, especially, were vulnerable, as were those who spent a good deal of time in the depths of the tombs. Whispers started about how Ink had been unwell for some time, how she didn't seem to be getting better or worse. Some suspected her as being the start of the problems. After all, dull-colored coatls... Quietly, without fanfare, meeting areas began to thin. Shops closed, the library shuttered, and even the tombs became barred to all but the most expert of Hunters, seeking the cause in the depths if that was indeed where it originated. Timur, the candymaker, began pouring lozenges instead of lollipops, hoping this small action would help ease the troubles of his clanmates. Periwinkle, the singer, staged small concerts for those who were ill, hoping to rally their spirits as best she was able. The small bright spots amid the gathering gloom did little to stem the oncoming flood of panic. No matter how Oddity or Nibiru or even Copperlight tried to reason with them, some of the more panicky dragons among Oakrest's citizens had become irrational. They started trying to book passage to other clans, other territories while even those in the queue behind them were coughing and clearing their throat and claiming it was just allergies. But when word of the sickness reached those who would escort them across Dragonhome, the caravan drivers and traveling merchants returned their payments and swore off offering aid to those who would want it. If they could manage the trek across the sands, they were welcome to risk it themselves, but most of those who were fleeing the contagion had no experience with Dragonhome's wilderness. There was no hope of making it even to Maserift, their closest ally, with so much sand between the two clans. After much discussion, it was decided that there was no use holding anyone against their will, but it was unethical to demand they stay, and equally unethical to provide them no ways to cross to new clans if they were healthy. Oddity and Nibiru got to work examining dragons as quickly yet thoroughly as they could. Philomena stood by, waiting to offer paths across the Shattered Plain to those who were cleared. But despite how quickly they worked, it was Sangue they feared who would be first found working through the night.[/quote] [quote=2017-07-20] [right][i][url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/baz/1766234/189#post_28439491]Source[/url][/i][/right] Dilshad had provided a list of current residents, and Sidney had the requests to leave. Oddity wanted to let as many evacuate as wanted to, but ... The risk of the infection was too great. And between him and Nibiru performing checks on the populace as often as possible, he had hoped that he would be able to stop the infection where he could. A little good old-fashioned pathology, some time in the sun, some good food and rest, the usual prescriptions for troubles of this nature. But Dilshad showed up and started signing faster than Nibiru could keep up, and so he took out his notes and scribbled something down before turning his tablet around to display the name: CADEYRN Oddity cursed and hurried out the door with Nibiru, leaving Dil in their wake as they rushed down the corridors to the narrow doorway into the library. Oakrest's library had been a source of trouble and bad luck since long before Oddity had come here. Rumored to be cursed or haunted in some way, it had seen its way through six different librarians since the clan was founded. Whether they were driven off or simply disappeared or, in the case now of Cadeyrn, succumbed to some more mundane fate, none had lasted a full holiday cycle in the posting. The room was dim, and pages whispered in the dank chill. The stacks were a mess as they had been before Cadeyrn had come. The shadow had fallen again on the pages, and small blue ghost lights flickered in the sconces. Several shelves were hurled on their sides, as if some enormous ridgeback had thrown a tantrum. Several cloches used to protect rare specimens were smashed against a wall. And there, above the shards of glass, large rents had been carved into the stone wall, as if an enormous fiend had had a tantrum just here. They found Cadeyrn in his chambers, looking peaceful even as one hand reached towards a stack of books, or perhaps the handkerchief that rested there. Nibiru cursed then, and Oddity looked solemnly at the room before them. Both their mouths were covered with barrier masks to protect them from infection, and their gloved hands did the best anyone could hope for in this situation. "Fetch Sangue," Oddity said with a heavy sigh. "I'll get Eldritch to cordon off the hall. It's not safe."[/quote] [quote=2017-07-23] [right][i][url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/baz/1766234/192#post_28485110]Source[/url][/i][/right] "I don't feel much of anything," Setara said, tracing her fingertips along the wall as she walked beside her mate. "No touch of hostility, no unusual entities, nothing." "What a terrible time to be without Dru," Torch grumbled. "She'd know what the cause of this would be." Setara smiled beside him and patted one of his thick shoulders. "We'll figure it out," she said softly. "I want that to be past tense," he groused. Setara forgave his foul mood. He'd been under a lot of stress lately, and he hated feeling out of his depth. And to be honest, all of them were out of their depths. Oddity was doing his best with the sick, but what good was a Hunter against an epidemic? There was nothing they could do, and so Torch decided to send out sounding patrols, heading as deep as they could into the tunnels to see what, if anything, could be found. Theirs, however, seemed to be of no great consequence. In time, they returned to the surface, and they gathered with other Hunters who listed the normalcy with which their patrols had been met. Except Sixten, who had been strange since Philomena returned with him slung over her shoulder months ago, having returned with eggs they had rescued from harpies. It had gone badly, and that was all anyone knew, because Philomena and Evergreen both refused to talk about it, and Sixten was growing more distant, more fey. There was a blackness around him that unsettled them all, but especially Setara. She stared at him across the knot of Hunters, and he seemed to be pensively considering the wall. "Sixten," she said more sharply than she meant to, and the whole of the others turned to look between them both. He turned lazy brown eyes at her, looking for all the world as if he wished his own death to abate some preternatural boredom. More gently, Setara said, "What did you find?" He closed his eyes, turning his head away. His voice was soft, softer than it had been before whatever happened among the harpies. "I would think you would already know," he said, looking up at her again. "Can't you feel them fading, like dusk into night? Can't you feel their lives slipping from them?" For a moment, there was a flicker of something hungry in his eyes, but it was gone when he blinked them again. Setara turned to Paige, who sat beside her. As Sixten rose quietly to leave the gathering, Paige whispered, "I saw it, too. You didn't need to be touched in any shape to see it on him. We should keep a watch."[/quote] [quote=2017-07-25] [right][i][url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/baz/1766234/194#post_28520852]Source[/url][/i][/right] There was rumor of a bad cough with a fever sweeping through the Citadel, but it hadn't reached anywhere of note. Still, Sassafras had suggested they leave. She'd talked of going perhaps to Wild Orchard or Endhaven or even Prufrock and perhaps Amund could take up sailing again. Better than sitting in these stuffy stones all day, waiting to find something else to add to this collection of oddments. But Amund wouldn't budge. His place, he decided, was Oakrest - waiting and watching for things found in the depths of the tombs or out on the plains or washed in with the latest floods. The collection meant so much to him, because it felt like for the first time he was doing something, even if it was just ensuring no one else could have the bizarre baubles he kept encased in ice and glass. They fought bitterly for a time, and Sassafras headed down to the gates to see if she could gain a travel permit. Meanwhile, their nest was drawing nearer to hatching, and despite their differences, the two determined to raise their children to the best they were able. And while Sassafras waited for her number to be called for an examination by the clan's physicians, she returned to her work distilling oils and perfumes. The little ones were such joy to her life, and though she was never the warm and doting mother others may have been, her affections were still not as remote as they may have been, either. She kept her sons underfoot, and while they were in earshot, she was civil with Amund, who did not stop hoping he could talk her out of leaving. "You love your stones more than you love me," she said sharply one evening after their sons were put to bed. He looked away. "I feel more obligated to keep them safe," he said. "Don't lie to me," she sighed. "It's like the shine you held for me has long since tarnished, and you've no will to polish it." She packed her belongings quietly, and though she knew her sons would not be fooled - they were skydancers, after all - she wanted to put up appearances of normalcy. But the cough started before her number was called. And when the fever came soon after, she begged Amund to take the children somewhere safe. He watched from afar as Nibiru sat beside Sassafras, their face covered with a mask, and held her hand. The pearlcatcher did what Amund could not, speaking quiet truths of sweeping glaciers and frozen winds, letting her be gently carried to death. It was all he could hope for. He wept bitterly with his sons, and they grieved in their own ways, but he could not stop hearing his own lie on his lips, nor her metaphor about tarnished silver.[/quote] [quote=2017-07-30] [right][i][url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/baz/1766234/197#post_28618052]Source[/url][/i][/right] The memorial garden was quiet, and just beyond it Sangue set the final cairns upon the newest tombs. He swept dust from the plaques detailing the remains of each who rested beyond the plaques, tending each fallen clanmate with the same duty and care as he tended the tombs below the Citadel. While the fevers ravaged the clan, everyone had seemed on edge. Some had come to the cemeteries and spoke with Sangue about their final wishes. Their worry and fear was palpable, and Sangue spoke to them with the deepest respect, for though their hearts yet beat, they would one day be his Charge. To Sangue's great relief, the toll was not higher than it had been. At the end, Oakrest had been decimated - literally. One in ten dragons had fallen to the fever, and Sangue had been as busy as Oddity and Nibiru. But, so far as the doctors said, the worst of it had passed. Those who were still ill would recover fully, and those who had survived would be stronger for it. And though eventually the living would once more forget the dead, Sangue was happy that they were visiting for now. He was pleased to share with the living the same gentle peace he shared with the dead. And he was pleased to see his Charges remembered - at least for a time. [/quote] [quote=2017-08-05] [right][i][url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/baz/1766234/200#post_28709297]Source[/url][/i][/right] They traveled during dawn and dusk, while the world was cool but not cold, heading deep into the mountains beyond Oakrest. Ink tried to lead for a time, but she was easily exhausted, and the trip took far longer than they had intended it. Paige, may Lightweaver shine upon her, was there every step of the journey, offering a hand where she could and a gentle word when nothing else could be done. They had left the Citadel after reading reports of old tombs to the north that may have some answers regarding Ink's condition. Her frail health had not cleared up, and Oddity's assessment that it was beyond his mundane healing was no great surprise, but still a blow to their morale. Ink, for so long, had been a hearty Hunter, her strength placing her as a pillar among the community. But now it was shattered, and who knew if it would return. "No one cares if you ever Hunt again," Paige had tried to reason with her before they left. "We have younger dragons to take up the blade and the hammer. I just want you to be able to live comfortably. We're not young anymore." "We're not old, either," Ink had spat, hearing the vitriol in her own voice. "Let the young come and we will train them, walk with them and temper their claws. But I will walk the Hunter's path until my breath ceases to come." And so they planned the trip to the north. And amid the craggy landscape, the world was chilly, barren, and beautiful. And as sunrise crested through the mountains, Ink thought for one more day how glad she was to yet live.[/quote] [quote=2017-08-15] [right][i][url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/baz/1766234/204#post_28893131]Source[/url][/i][/right] [i]Gentle locust Devour My heart's field Let no trace of it Remain I grow weary As fallow Draws near My breath Rises Milk white with cloying frost As you gorge On salt-tinged wheat Remember: Your wings Will not outlast The ice[/i] Even the very rim of the sheltering peaks rang with the voice of Oakrest's "resident" poet, Meadowtouch. Nibiru heaved a sigh as they skidded down the steep incline into the surprisingly lush valley below. Meadowtouch did not often leave the valley except to hawk his art in markets across Sornieth or to return to Oakrest for the annual festivals, during which time his songs would fill the caverns of the Citadel instead of only his distant refuge. The air filled with the sound of a large stringed instrument being played in half-starts as the imperial, somewhere, was jotting down thoughts of the music he would play to accompany the poetry he had already finished reading aloud for the fourth time. Nibiru wanted to scream that it sounded fine and he should just STOP, but Nibiru had learned one thing about Meadowtouch in the time they had taken the Citadel as their home: Meadowtouch would never just stop. When they drew closer, they could see Meadowtouch scribbling furiously, his well-groomed maw frowning delicately. "Meadowtouch," they said carefully, calling him so as not to startle him. They had once mistaken to shorten his name to simply 'Meadow,' and that had earned them a month of being called 'Nibs' in reply. A hearty apology and a sacrifice to Earthshaker in his name finally appeased him enough to stop it. They would not make the mistake again. The massive imperial looked up, then down as they spied Nibiru's bright hide among the more drab browns and greens of the valley's vegetation. "Little ember," he purred. "A bit early to start practicing for the festival, don't you think?" "I came to tell you I will not be dancing for Flameforger's in Oakrest," they said. He looked aghast. His hand even went to touch his heart. For a moment, Nibiru thought he might faint. Bless this enormous buffoon. "Titus can dance in my place if you feel a dancer is necessary." Meadowtouch's face darkened at that. "An earth dancer for a fire festival? Really." "You have made do without me before," they said with a wisp of a smile. "I'm sure you can manage again. I'm going home." The imperial's face softened at that, and he looked around at the place he called home. "I can't fault you that," he said softly. "It's been quite some time, hasn't it?" Nibiru only looked away. "When will you leave?" "In a few weeks. I have to make sure everything is in order." Meadowtouch smiled conspiratorially down at them. "Little ember, do not try so hard to organize, lest you miss your time. Patience is a virtue for stones, not flames."[/quote] [quote=2017-08-20] [right][i][url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/baz/1766234/205#post_28976623]Source[/url][/i][/right] Last night there was word of a grand disturbance in the local watering hole. Shattered mirrors and loud, eerie noises were reported by those who lived nearby. Setara went down to check it out in the morning, starting her interview with the barkeep, Peony, who was doing his best to right the damages before the rest of the Citadel decided to stay up late and knock a few back. When she asked who was in the bar last night, he shrugged. "The regulars," he answered. Then he paused, narrowing his eyes a little at the memory. "A couple merchants. One stood out." He pulled a coin from a drawer and passed it to Setara. "He paid with this. Not one of our sterling, and not struck with a mark I recognize. But a pebble said it was silver enough to pay for the drink, so I took it. Ingot's ingot, right?" She stared at it, trying to feel its heft in her hand. "This is very old," she said. "I figured it might be," Peony answered, using his arcane gifts to lift the shattered glass from all areas and sweep it into a cohesive pile of wreckage. "Did anything stick out about the stranger?" she asked. Peony sighed. "Cloaked figure," he admitted with half a shrug. "Took his liquor straight, no frills, and just hung quiet while everyone else around him saw to their own businesses. You know how some people just watch others? He didn't do that. He watched his glass. Stayed for a while." He paused. "There was a signet ring." Setara perked up at that. "Did you see the seal?" "I just saw the stone and the band. Too big to be just for show, and too flat. Wore it on his right hand, which is what he used to drink with. Didn't seem too violent, but I mean..." He paused and gestured around at the bar, which had all manner of shattered furnishings. "I have quite the chore before opening tonight." He sighed and shook his head. "Is there anything else?" "You said he stayed for a while?" "Yeah. He paid, but he lingered even when his drink was done. I didn't see him leave. Come to think of it, I didn't see him come in, either." "If you remember anything, write it down or tell me right away," she said. "Would it be alright for me to come by later in the week and do some readings?" Peony frowned. "Do you think the bar is suddenly haunted?" "Lots of places become suddenly haunted. I want to make sure it isn't." He cursed and started chewing on his nails. "Don't tell me this place is going to turn into the Library all over again." Setara smiled a little. "I'm going to hold on to this coin for a little bit, do some research. I'll give it back when I'm finished." Peony nodded. He'd already peeled one nail clear off a finger. "Sure," he mumbled. "Good luck."[/quote] [quote=2017-08-23] [right][i][url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/baz/1766234/207#post_29042210]Source[/url][/i][/right] Cortado turned the coin over in her claws for a while before finding a book beneath one of the counters. "Thorns is the one you really want to see if you have a coin," she said, her fingers following the braille on the pages faster than Setara could read the scrawl of Cortado's sighted hatchlings in the margins placed for the ease of navigation of sighted dragons. She paused now and again to fidget the coin through her fingers again, then hurried onwards, finally turning the book to face Setara. "It should be one of these," she said. "This looks like it," Setara said, guiding Cortado's fingers to the braille beneath a pocket containing a similar coin. The pearlcatcher paused and nodded, then frowned. "This coin is quite old," she said. Setara felt her stomach drop a few notches. "Like, dating back to the Quartz Kingdom?" she asked, her voice quiet. Cortado laughed. "Not quite that old," she said. "But before Oakrest was here, certainly. You may want to check with Amund's son, Jahleel. He seems to be the antiquarian around here." Setara bowed her head deeply, then mumbled thanks when she remembered Cortado couldn't see her. "Oh, by the way," she added, peering around the pearlcatcher's shoulder. "How is Six faring?" Cortado's easy smile wavered into worry. She flicked her ears to a side room in the couple's lair, then pinned them against her head with a sigh. "That event," she spat. "With the harpies. It took so much from him. He needs to rest." Setara frowned. "We're so short-handed," she sighed. "I know," Cortado said. "But ..." She trailed off, then shook her head. Setara could tell Cortado was concealing something, so she waited. When it didn't come, she asked softly, "But what?" Cortado sighed again, then gestured for the skydancer to join her over in a far alcove of the front shop. "When he's sleeping, he gets so cold. And when he's awake, he's so moody." "He's understandably upset. It was a harrowing event." Cortado frowned. "It's not just that. He talks to things that aren't there. He seems like he has lost a spark he once had, wherein he cared for others. I don't know how to reach him. I worry that he is hiding these things from me easily because I can't see him. I worry that a more sighted mate might have been able to tease through his mood like a comb through a tundra's unruly mane." Setara frowned back in the direction of the other room. Cortado reached forward and clasped Setara's arm within her claws. "Please," she whispered. "If there is something you can do for him... please do it." Setara lay her hand on Cortado's and nodded. "It will take some doing," she said. "Time and preparation, and then actual work in itself." "Please." "I'll do what I can." Tears slipped between the plaques on Cortado's face and she smiled. She pressed her own hands to her mouth and nodded. "Let me know," she whispered, "if I can help. I miss him so."[/quote] [quote=2017-08-25] [right][i][url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/baz/1766234/209#post_29075006]Source[/url][/i][/right] Bernard had brought the mulberry tree for Bergamot to inspect, and though she agreed it was likely a good specimen, they had a difficult time getting it to take root in Dragonhome's harsh climate. Bernard found himself playing errand boy more than he liked, often travelling back and forth to the Wild Orchard clan in search of more advice to keep the tree from shriveling up and dying. This was how he met Murphy, an old dragon who was returning to the Viridian Labyrinth after a long sojourn in the Wandering Contagion and a shorter time in Clan Maserift in Dragonhome. Murphy listened to Bernard's troubles, about how he needed this tree to keep his silk worms alive, about the climate that would hardly let any large trees grow beyond the mountain oaks. That last part piqued Murphy's interest, and he volunteered to accompany Bernard back to his home clan to see the troubles with the mulberry tree himself. Bernard wasn't certain Murphy would be able to survive the trek to Dragonhome, dressed as he was in dark colors and clothes that covered much of his body. But he agreed to lead the way back. And when landed, Murphy wept with both joy and dismay. Joy, for these were the terraces he had built, years on years ago. And dismay, for these were terraces and gardens long gone to seed, so much of it parched and empty compared with the thriving life they once held. "They are not my gardens," Bernard said defensively when Murphy asked about them. "They are [i]your[/i] gardens, friend," a voice said behind him, and Murphy turned to see old Bordeaux, more withered than Murphy ever remembered. "And they missed you. Will you be staying?"[/quote] [quote=2017-08-27] [right][i][url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/baz/1766234/212#post_29107315]Source[/url][/i][/right] With Nibiru away visiting their homeland, Meadowtouch was left setting up the celebrations for Flameforger's on his own. Well. Lightshow was there to help, as he always was, but where Lightshow would often organize events and catering, it was up to Meadowtouch to organize the actual entertainment. With that came what was, to his estimation, the most important aspect of any festival: the dance. He was frankly annoyed with Nibiru for leaving. What kind of flame dancer leaves right when they are needed most? He imagined the pearlcatcher would laugh and remark that wind directed a flame's path, not stone. He was annoyed at that as well. As the days drew closer to the start of the festival, there was more than the usual buzz, and Meadowtouch felt his anxiety about being so close to the tombs for so long growing stronger. This was no place for an imperial. So he was pleased when at last the first day of the festival arrived. The sooner a given festival was over, the sooner he could return to his valley refuge and relax. He tried not to cringe too hard at the week's entertainment, the eager but uninspired pieces thrown together by Titus and Radomir and even Minke - oh Father bless Minke, they tried. But some dragons simply have talent, and others are better cultivating theirs somewhere far, far away and empty. By the time he took the stage to deliver his songs in honor of the festival's deity, the crowd had thinned considerably. But he was here to offer his voice in dedication to the gods, not to the people gathered. His audience was far more incorporeal, and he was not offended. His pride came not from the applause, but in knowing he had done well in choosing his words. Still, when he was finished and packing his things to return to his valley for a few days, his eye was caught by a young imperial who approached him eagerly. "You sang beautifully," he said. No stranger to fans, Meadowtouch thanked him gracefully but tried to make his exit. The sooner he could leave so charged a place as Oakrest's Citadel, the better for him. "I was wondering, perhaps, if you worked on commission?" his fan asked. "I am known to do so on occasion," Meadowtouch said warily, and it was true. He ran a popular-with-some stall in markets across Sornieth, travelling as his heart desired, but he had never worked on commission from someone in his own clan. "Might I look you up in a few days to discuss such a thing? I would be honored for you to sing for my family." Meadowtouch cocked his head to the side. "A curious proposal," he said. The other imperial smiled broadly. "You have a way with words," he said. "If they are results which please us both, perhaps we might make it a regular proposition." Meadowtouch laughed at that. "Let us see," he said, "first how well your kin take to my words. A grand proposal, and a challenge by the sounds of it. I will see you in a few days' time."[/quote] [quote=2017-08-29] [right][i][url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/baz/1766234/214#post_29150638]Source[/url][/i][/right] Jahleel turned the coin over in his hands a few times, the notes from Cortado written out by one of her children before they had gone on their way. He frowned at it, taking down first one book, then another from his carefully maintained shelves. "I lent the maps," he said, "to Mera. You know, the cartographer? But we should get a fairly good understanding of the lay of the land from copies of charters and treaties." Setara felt the other presence in the chamber, prowling and low. It was a familiar presence, back from when Bo was the librarian in Oakrest. The position was rumored to be cursed, but Jahleel didn't seem to mind. If he felt the other presence, he made no sign. Instead, he lay a map on a light table and set another thin sheet of oiled vellum over it, weighing it all down at the corners so he could sketch on the oiled sheet without harming the map. He switched his glasses to another pair and set to work. "I'll be a little bit, if you want to browse the library while I'm busy?" he suggested. For a time, Setara meandered through the stacks, marveling at how tidy it was. She remembered coming in almost weekly to help diffuse some of the bad energies that had gathered here when Bo was librarian. But Jahleel seemed to have it quite in hand. The beaded curtain near the front of the library rattled as a visitor entered. Or rather, part of a visitor entered. Mera was able to fit her head and her foreclaws in, but the space that was used to hold so many books in such an organized fashion could barely accomodate a pair of skydancers, let alone an imperial. "Oh, Mera!" Jahleel said as peeked around the corner of a shelf to see who had arrived. "I brought the maps back," she said. "Excellent! Say, while you're here, I need your help with something." He frowned at the space and the shelves, then gestured for Setara to help him move the light table closer to the cartographer, rather than the other way around. It took the better part of an hour, with Jahleel reading archaic descriptions of landmarks and Mera pointing out their location and directing Setara how to mark the proper areas on the oiled sheet, but eventually they were finished with the entries in the texts. Setara marked off a few major landmarks - approximations of coast line, a few big mountains, and a major route to the Pillar - and then Jahleel turned off the light table and the three of them looked at the areas they had separated from the rest of Dragonhome. "Your coin comes from somewhere around here, I would wager. Cortado dated it to the rule of Goldstone of Jadecap, and so far as our texts tell, she ruled over the shaded areas." Setara frowned. She was terrible at reading maps, despite having stared at this one for a very long time. "That's the ocean..." she said, trailing a finger along the coastline she'd drawn. Mera smiled down at the pair of skydancers. "Let me make this easy for you?" she suggested. She unrolled one of the maps she had returned today, a largish one that seemed to fold in various places. She swapped the map of Dragonhome for the new map and lay the oiled cloth above it. When she turned on the light table again, a large marking indicated a position in the dead center of the area Jahleel had said was once Goldstone's territory. "This other map," she said, "is the one Sixten and his party took to investigate the harpy problem a few months ago." Setara felt the color leave her face. "That marking then," she said. "That's where the harpies tried to kill them." Mera nodded. "I'm heading out in a few weeks to check it out. Did you want to come along?" Setara steadied herself on a bookshelf and felt sick. She didn't know what this coincidence meant, but she was fairly certain it meant the coin - and its bearer - were bad news. "I'll think about it," she said. "Let me know before you leave."[/quote]

*laugh until cry* OH DEAR.


@Quis - Look at this. Scroll up and look at this. XD LOOK NOW I DON'T HAVE TO COMPILE IT ALL MYSELF. Eulerian did it. XD;;;;;

Oh no. I don't know what to do with this. Oh no.

*slams hands against table* YES!

@Eulerian come give me double high fives, heck yes, seriously. This is a public service to all FR.

@Quis

8^) ALL THE HIGH FIVES

???? Melchior kids why also what the heck, another imp?? they all have flint as a tertiary the skys are all female and the imp is male [i]just like in the last nest[/i] [url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=33420960] [img]http://flightrising.com/rendern/350/334210/33420960_350.png[/img] [/url] [url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=33420961] [img]http://flightrising.com/rendern/350/334210/33420961_350.png[/img] [/url] [url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=33420962] [img]http://flightrising.com/rendern/350/334210/33420962_350.png[/img] [/url]

That first girl looks FIERCE as an adult. Like she could kick some serious butt if someone crossed her path. And I can't believe 4/5 of Melchior's kids have flint as their tert, haha. What are the odds.

Also I just realized I've been calling him Melichor this whole time but thats nto his name i am sorr y

Eulerian - beautiful kids!


GM - is your girl off CD today, and can Bryant come visit? Or are your nests / lair full?