Creative Corner

[center][img]http://i.imgur.com/a1d8c71l.png[/img] [size=4]A Flight Rising fan-fiction. [b]Updated 08/17/2020:[/b] Chapter 4 - Page 48. Previously ~ Chapter 4 - Page 47. [/size][/center]

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So, this is a still-in progress project I've been working on from time to time over the past few years. It started with a silly idea that blossomed into, at least for me, a pretty awesome and fun Flight Rising fan story. I had big plans, big ideas for full comic pages and glorious things. But, as everyone knows, life happens. I had to step away from Flight Rising for a while for my health (at least I couldn't put as much effort as before). Now, I'm back, and as much as I'd have liked to get back on the project full-til, I just don't have the time.


However. I've put a lot of time and thought into this story, characters are fleshed out, plot determined, most of it decided. And I'd still like to share it. So since I can write a whole lot faster, and easier, than I can draw, I've decided to post the story anyway. It's a kind of silly premise, and in no way follows any real Flight Rising lore. I have fun with it, and maybe you guys will too.




This is a fanfic based on my love of old hard-boiled detective novels and Film Noir. The world of Sornieth isn't quite what it should be in this story. This is a humanized Deities story, but only the Deities are that way. All eleven make appearances, but the primary protagonists are Flamecaller and Stormcatcher. I've given them 'names' instead of calling them by their true titles, for reasons to be explained in time.

Occasionally, I will post some drawings as the urge hits me, and I may throw up old pieces, some unfinished, as well. I'll be posting a partly-finished pic of Flamecaller shortly.

If this sounds interesting, feel free to read on! Thanks for stopping by and checking out my silly work-in-progress.

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Was asked for pings, adding a list here :3

Pinglist
@Hinumi
@Beatoriche
@Severing
@Amezrou
@Khyra
@Polymorphus
@StrykeSlammerII
@DreamerRho
@MurEyeUh
@mothmoss
@defenestrating
@Scorporius
@hippogriff412

[center][size=5][u]Primary Characters[/u][/size] [u]Fromelda Fahrenheit[/u] [img]https://i.imgur.com/ZsBUUrA.png[/img][/center] The world-weary, hard-headed private eye. Likes her cigars and her nightcaps maybe a little too much. When the dirty deeds of the world dry up and rent is due, she pays the bills by moonlighting as a venue singer at a local nightclub. Prone to rashness and bullheadedness, she's an honorable dragon at heart, and most of the Blacksand District knows this. Could use a new case. Seriously, any day now, any case. Her affinity is for [i]Fire[/i]. [center][u]Silus Sparks[/u][/center] [img]https://i.imgur.com/HnRjU6n.png[/img] The somewhat obsessive-compulsive business magnate, owner of the factories that make up the heart of the Lightning Farm. An avid inventor and tinkerer. His plants provide Sornieth’s denizens with most of their power and technological needs. That is, they did until recently. His affinity is for [i]Lightning[/i]. [center][u]Linda Luster[/u][/center] A bubbly and energetic young lady. Part-time office aid at the Fahrenheit PI office, and the only other employee. An heiress in her own right, with a mansion at the pinnacle of the Glistening Promenade, she doesn’t need the work, no sir. But she does, occasionally, get bored. And working for Fromelda, if sometimes slow, is usually anything but boring. Her affinity is [i]Light[/i]. [center][u]Gwendolyn Gardenia[/u][/center] A very sweet, plump and pleasant lady. At first glance. She owns a botanical shop on the northeast side of town in the Gladevine District. Beneath those dimples, she's as shrewd as they come. Her affinity is [i]Nature[/i]. [center][u]Einarr Edapholo[/u][/center] A very large, solid man. Owner of the quarry on the north side of town. Big enough and strong enough to break the rocks he mines by hand, there is more to this behemoth than people think. He often seems lonely. His affinity is for [i]Earth[/i]. [center][u]Abascus Archimedes[/u][/center] Sornieth’s resident genius, though Silus Sparks would challenge him for the title. A man full of questions and honest, heartfelt curiosity. A bit of a shut-in, though not intentionally. He just loves that telescope of his an awful lot. His affinity is the [i]Arcane[/i]. [center][u]Siofra Sheedy[/u][/center] Owner of The Amphitheater, a derelict but hopping club in the janky Ruins of the Obscured Crescent. A little dark, a little broody, and at times equally as giddy. She likes a good laugh as much as the next dragon. Especially if its at someone else's expense. Her affinity is for [i]Shadow[/i]. [center][u]Tidus Thalassus[/u][/center] [img]https://i.imgur.com/NizLjwi.png[/img] A wealthy, reclusive gentleman. Never seen outside his expansive mansion, built on an island in the very center of Sornieth City's great sea-like lake, the Leviathan. It’s said he has a passion for fish. He has a reputation for knowing many things he should have no business knowing. His affinity is for [i]Water[/i]. [center][u]Ingvar Íss[/u][/center] Ingvar is a man of few words, but deep pockets. He'll loan you what you need for that new gene change. As long as you pay him back. With interest. Some call him the king-pin of the Southern Icefloes. His affinity is for [i]Ice[/i]. [center][u]Peronel Pestulina[/u][/center] Some dragons whisper things about Miss Peronel. Worrisome things, nasty things. The whispers die out quickly after they start. Owner of Lady Pestulina's 'Pothecary in the less than savory side of town, the Boneyard. Her affinity is for all things [i]Plague[/i]. [center][u]Wyot Williwaw[/u][/center] Does Mister Williwaw even have a job? No one knows. To most, he’s a dandy ne’er-do-well with an unprecedented ability to win the hearts of dragons. And boy, do they flock to him. He’s often seen drifting from one rad scene to the next, ever looking for the next cool kitten and easy-street jive. His affinity is [i]Wind[/i]. [center][u]Ombra Incorporated[/u][/center] Silus Sparks' biggest corporate rival in Sornieth City. New to the city, their products are nevertheless on every dragons' wishlist. They make everything, anything, and however you might want it. There isn't a neighborhood that doesn't have an Ombra Goods sitting invitingly on the next block. Run by the magnanimous Daedalus Ombra and his darling Dahlia. [center][img]https://i.imgur.com/Y0YQoil.png[/img] Dahlia Ombra. The Everything Girl. [/center] [center][img]https://i.imgur.com/8D99J0N.png[/img] Just your friendly neighborhood Ombra employee! [/center]

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. . . . . . . A squall blew up from the southern floes that night. Its icy wailing pummeled roof, street, and dragon alike, and inhabitants of the Blacksand District hurried for cover. Much grumbling and muttering was heard. Blacksand dragons weren’t very fond of the rain. One resident was particularly displeased by the weather. From the safety of her cheap sixth story flat, she watched the world outside soak through. And griped about it, to no one in particular.
. . . . . . . “Such a depressing time of year,” was her opinion of the wet. “Of course it would rain tonight.”
. . . . . . . As if in emphasis, the wind shifted and drove the rain harder against the window pane. It was a good storm. It would probably last until morning. The thought of staying home, warm and dry, was exceedingly tempting to Fromelda Fahrenheit. But the pile of letters, bills left deliberately in plain site on the desk, were pressure enough to get her moving. A quick search for her coat left her scowling. It wasn’t where she liked it: on the back of the chair or crumpled on the floor.
. . . . . . . “Where’s my coat? Linda? Linda!”
. . . . . . . “No need to shout,” came the response from the kitchen. “On the coatrack, with your hat, where they both belong.”
. . . . . . . Grumbling about ‘personal property’ and ‘touching things’, she retrieved her absconded items, buckling every buckle and tightening every strap. At least she’d bought a new coat that year. There’d be no soaking through threadbare holes in this one.
. . . . . . . “You’ll be late Fromelda,” said Linda, emerging from the kitchen. The soft chiming of her voice almost hid the chiding in those words. Almost.
. . . . . . . Fromelda smacked her hat firmly on her head. “Not if I run. I don’t plan on getting wet.”
. . . . . . . Linda laughed, and when Linda Luster laughed, it was a beautiful sound. Like water trickling merrily over stones. “I’ll lock up when I’m done. Remember to smile!”
. . . . . . . “You know I love to show my teeth.” Fromelda did just that.
. . . . . . . Linda made a face. “Woo your audience, don’t terrify them.”

. . . . . . . Fromelda left Linda to her filing. Foregoing the warmth of hallways packed with chatting dragons, she scooted bitterly out into the streets. The factories of the Blacksand District hummed day in and day out, good weather or bad. The stacks belched healthy columns of smoke that mixed with the rain, and pavement turned to muddy soup that stuck to boots and claws. Swing shift had just ended, and the working masses all crusty with soot headed home to their lairs. Fromelda pushed against the crowds, competing for the sparse protection of storefront awnings. Water dripped from the feeble cover and snuck its way down the back of her neck. At least the Kaleidoscope wasn’t far.
. . . . . . . Soon she could hear a shrill call, competing with the drumming of the rain. Fromelda knew that song well enough. She wasn’t late. The front of the Kaleidoscope nightclub was a mess of dragons all hoping to get in. Fromelda went around the back. The Snapper boys let her in. The Kaleidoscope’s dressing rooms were hot, crowded; loud and messy and forever clouded with stray face powder. Shaking off her damp coat, Fromelda plunked herself down to wait her turn at the mirror.
. . . . . . . “It’s a muckity-muck outside, ain't it Ms. F?” The pearlcatcher seated next on the bench offered a towel.
. . . . . . . “Like walking through soup,” Fromelda agreed. She wiped her face dry, frowning at the blackish film left on the cloth. “How’re the boys?”
. . . . . . . “So big now, you should see!” The Pearlcatcher preened. “I swear, it’s like they were little for only a few days, and then, poof! Just so big.”
. . . . . . . Fromelda spared a smile for the enthusiastic mother. She leaned back against the wall, stretching out her legs and feeling the musical vibrations of the current set drum against her back. It’d be her turn in a few rounds. She wasn’t much for performing. But the money was good, especially when it was otherwise tight.
. . . . . . . A shuffling and deep Hallo, coming in! from the curtains ushered in the Kaleidoscope’s hefty Snapper proprietor. Politely averting his eyes from the undressing assortment at the mirror, he turned to Fromelda.
. . . . . . . “Get your face on, Fahrenheit, you’re up next.”
. . . . . . . Fromelda stood, glancing her head on a low beam with wince and a scowl. “Where’s Eveleen?”
. . . . . . . “Her new gembond’s caused a rash,” was the mustachioed reply. “Hurry now, ten minutes!”
. . . . . . . Rolling her eyes, Fromelda grumbled. “Gembond is a rash.” She hurried off to dress regardless.

[center][size=4][font=Century]Fromelda Fahrenheit[/font][/size] [img]http://i.imgur.com/dpP8RIr.jpg[/img] A little half-finished photo of how I picture Fromelda. Will post another page or two tomorrow. =ouo=[/center]

. . . . . . . The house was packed. Fromelda didn’t sing often. But, when she did, the turnout was usually worth it. It was a long night too, with both a fill-in performance and her own. Not that the crowd minded. Dragons couldn’t seem to get enough of her, and her stupidly sparkly red dress, on stage. A little confounding, as some patrons compared her singing to the sound of gravel grating. And yet, those same dragons would sit through her entire set. They were drawn to her, inexplicably. Like moths to a brilliant flame.
. . . . . . . Fromelda ended her set to tremendous applause. Feet aching and throat hoarse, she avoided the dressing room in favor of the taps out front.
. . . . . . . “Magnificent as always, Fahrenheit!” The proprietor praised as Fromelda passed by his office, mustaches happily a-bristle.
. . . . . . . “How’d we do?” Fromelda asked, casually but not.
. . . . . . . “Excellent. What’d you expect? Perla’l have your cut divvied up in a jiff,” he said with a smile down at his pinched-mouth secretary diligently counting away. “Really, Fahrenheit, I could set you up nice if you’d just pen a contract with us. No more poundin’ the pavement or the forge.”
. . . . . . . “I actually enjoy those things, far more than the screeching I do here,” Fromelda replied without any ire. “I’ll be back to pick up my percentage.”
. . . . . . . Late as it was, the front hall was mostly empty of the teeming masses hollering just moments before. Except, of course, for one small, overly excited Coatl waiting eagerly for Fromelda to come out. Fromelda expected him. He was at all of her shows.
. . . . . . . “You were wonderful, Missus Fahrenheit! I, I mean you’re always wonderful, but tonight you were even more so.” The small Coatl bobbed on his feet, claws clutching a camera to his chest.
. . . . . . . “Thanks,” she replied, offering the whelp a smile that made his crest fluff up. She rolled her eyes at the camera though. “You must have enough pictures of me to fill an entire hoard by now. You can’t possibly need another.”
. . . . . . . The Coatl held up his prized possession and said, “Just one more, missus?”
. . . . . . . “You say that every show. You realize I’m pretty much the same each time, right?”
. . . . . . . The emberling launched into a passionate explanation of how special each photo he took of her was. But Fromelda had stopped listening. Someone else had caught her eye, sitting at the far end of the bar where the lights didn’t quite hit.
. . . . . . . “Raincheck, kid, I’ll pose for you next time.” Fromelda patted him on the head and made a beeline for the bar. The Imperial minding the taps had seen her coming. She sat down on a stool, a drink already fizzing on the counter. “Now here’s a mug I haven’t seen in ages. What brings you to this neck of the coal mines, Sparky?”