[center][color=#BBBABF][size=1][b]PREV.[/b][/size] [size=2][url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/cc/2323941/35#post_38105724]Dragon[/url] | [url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/cc/2323941/1#post_2323941]Contents[/url] • Characters [url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/cc/2323941/1#post_30507351]A-M[/url] [url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/cc/2323941/1#post_30507353]N-Z[/url] • [url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/cc/2323941#post_30507364]Stories Pt. 4[/url] | [/size][size=1][b]NEXT[/b][/size] [size=2][url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/cc/2323941/35#post_38105750]Dragon[/url][/color][/size][/center]
-----
[right][url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=48252261][img]http://flightrising.com/rendern/coliseum/portraits/482523/48252261.png[/img][/url]
[size=2][color=#9494A9][url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=48252261]profile[/url] • back to[/color] [url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/cc/2323941/35#post_38105730]main post[/url][/right]
[columns][center][item=otherworldly collar][/center][nextcol][color=transparent]..[/color][nextcol][color=#61AB89][font=garamond][size=7][size=4][b]the curse of the body-snatcher[/b][/size][/size][/font][/color]
[size=2]written by Disillusionist
special thanks to Schingiuire
[color=#9494A9]3,656 words[/color][/size][/columns]
[color=#2B768F]The dragon was not alive, but one would be forgiven for thinking that it was. It had been carefully sculpted to mimic a beautiful specimen of dragonkind -- an [i]Imperial[/i], as befitted the King of the Ocean. Its scales glittered like stars, and great gems had been embedded into its limbs....Despite its wondrous appearance, it had no magic of its own -- for it was but a shell to be worn, practically a costume, and any magic it would possess would have to come from its wearer.
Resham approached the chrysalis cautiously. It was kept beneath a great bell jar of glass, protected from the crushing pressures at the bottom of the sea. It stood in solitary splendor in the Ocean King's vault, surrounded by other dazzling treasures. Resham paid them no heed, however. Not for him the singing clamshells, the trees of rainbow coral, or the Maren frozen in blocks of clear crystal. His eyes were on the Imperial chrysalis, for it was his gateway to another world. To the surface.
On Sornieth, what one can perceive with the five senses is but the veneer of that [i]reality[/i]. Spirits exist just beneath this surface, side-by-side with the dragons and the beasts. Just as most dragons cannot sense them, so they, too, cannot interact with physical beings -- not usually. Still, there are ways to get around this barrier.
When dragonkind began building their cities upon land, many spirits retreated to the bottom of the sea. It was no great loss for them, for within the abyss they could raise great palaces and towers of their own. The most magnificent of these was given over to the [i]Ocean King[/i], a spirit as mighty as he was ancient. Like the rest of his kind, he found himself fascinated by dragonkind: The dragons could [i]experience[/i] things that spirits could only dream of, such as the tastes of food, the pressures of illnesses, and the whirling storms they called [i]emotions[/i]. It was not long before the spirits sought ways to have these experiences for themselves. The King put the question to his best wizards and sages, and soon they came up with an interesting solution: Spirits by their very nature lack substance. They cannot just manipulate magic, they [i]are[/i] magic. In order to experience physical sensations, they needed physical forms. They needed [i]bodies[/i].
In the long centuries of his reign, the Ocean King had gone through many different bodies. They had been sculpted from enchanted crystal, carved from ensorcelled wood, cobbled together from metal and porcelain....There had even been attempts to transmute living flesh, mostly from the remains of drowned dragons. Whenever the King sought to visit the surface world, he donned a body. He wore it over his substance like a cloak, and he transported himself to the surface, where he could mingle with the dragons. He could savor their food and drink, maybe even enjoy a tryst or two....
There had been attempts to engineer a body that was so lifelike, it would enable its wearer to feel emotions and sensations as true dragons did, and Resham guessed that this was what the chrysalis before him was. The final fruit of the long years of research, of the King's own perseverance and magic.
A shadow moved over Resham's face. The chrysalis had been completed many years ago; rumors of it were what had led him here. Still, he hadn't heard of the King using it. Had he donned this body and proven that it was, in fact, suitable for life upon the surface? Perhaps this was but a prototype, and the [i]true[/i] chrysalis was still being engineered....
[i]No[/i], Resham decided -- he would not wait. He had arrived at the palace decades ago in his most innocuous-looking form, and he had religiously maintained the glamors that kept him disguised as a servant. The other spirits had grown to trust him, and no one had guessed that he was in fact Resham the Fleet, Resham the Shadowless, a great trickster spirit and a thief of no small talent. He had insinuated himself into countless abodes upon the bottom of the sea and made off with enough treasure to rival the King's wealth, and now, at last, he would rise above the waves to plunder the physical realms.
He shed the glamours and hovered before the bell jar. The radiance of his true form filled the room as he hovered before the crystal, his forelimbs extended. He cast more spells -- the glass began to crack -- and he held the water back as the chrysalis wrapped around him like a great flower. He slipped comfortably into the Imperial-shaped shell, marveling at the strength of the limbs and the compartments tucked deep inside. What were they called...organs? His chest expanded as the chrysalis drew breath; the wings and tail trembled. The pressure of the deep sea and the coldness of the abyss...He could feel it, all of it! [i]He was coming alive.[/i]
Resham's thievery did not go unnoticed, and the spirits of the palace awoke. Guards, lesser elementals loyal to the Ocean King, converged upon the treasure vault. They attacked the thief with crushing water and blades of stone and ice, but the artificial body had been engineered to protect its royal master, and it sustained next to no damage. Resham himself marveled at the strength his new form possessed. He swatted aside the lesser spirits, fighting his way out of the treasure vault.
He was still in danger, however: the Ocean King himself had risen to challenge this intruder. From a trench at the palace's heart he rose, his great form flickering through myriad sparkling shapes. As he approached, Resham felt his voice shake the waters, the words forming themselves within his mind: [i]"Shadowless...I know you. A trickster, a thief...You will return my body. It is my new life, my salvation...Give it back to me!"[/i]
He completely filled the doorway now. He reached out with numerous appendages, intent on prying Resham out of the chrysalis. The thief, however, was not about to give up this prize so easily. He wove and dodged around the King's appendages, fighting to get past....When one of the tentacles wrapped around his hind legs, he fought back, hurling a spell that smashed audibly into the King's bulbous body.
The greater elemental's scream was deafening. It tore through Resham's head like a knife, and instinct took over, sending him blundering through the palace walls and out into the open sea. Up he went, up and up...First he was driven by terror, and then he realized there was no pursuit, and exhilaration drove him on instead. He entered the Ocean King's palace as a spirit, and left it with a body of his own -- at last he was ready for the surface world.[/color]
[center][url=http://msb-lair.tumblr.com/post/138792766902/even-more-flight-dividers][img]https://66.media.tumblr.com/d705ca2256fbaa95e02aca70b3034e7a/tumblr_inline_o23jkkOsuG1r3lvtf_500.png[/img][/url][/center]
[color=#2B768F]Such a daring heist, a successful robbery with a great prize...Yet weeks later, Resham remembered that day only with bitterness. The chrysalis had been engineered to make its wearer feel every physical sensation -- and feel them Resham did. Not just the promised joys like flavors and excitement and joy, but also things like fatigue, sleepiness, and the cold. He hadn't bothered to research life upon the surface, and the customs of dragonkind baffled him. Not to mention that he often had difficulty controlling this new body. His stumbling speech and awkward movements caused others to mock him. In this strange new world, his senses were not just stimulated, they were [i]assaulted[/i]. He was no suave and adroit trickster; he had been reduced to nothing but a bumbling fool.
He'd considered discarding the body, but he couldn't seem to slip out of it. There was probably some trick to it, some counterspell. [i]"I should return this,"[/i] he thought, but then he remembered the Ocean King's slimy grasp, and he knew that if he showed himself in the palace again, mercy would not be forthcoming. Perhaps he could contact one of the King's sages, ask them for help....Begrudgingly, he followed a river back to the coast. A good thief always knew when to cut his losses, and it looked like his time had come.
He lay down beside the river when night fell, hating how the moisture seeped into his scales. On the horizon, he could see the moonlit line of the sea. He would be there tomorrow; he could try to establish contact with his fellow spirits. He closed his eyes....
[i]"I greet you, Shadowless," the Ocean King whispered, and his voice was the sough of the waves upon stone. He was no longer the pallid, billowing thing Resham had confronted in the palace; now he was as vast and dark as the ocean itself....
Or perhaps he[/i] was[i] the ocean itself?
"Do you know what you have stolen from me?"
Even in his dream, Resham felt how heavy his head was. He shook it, and his damp mane clung to his scales, trailed wispy hairs over his eyes. He blinked them away irritably.
"It's not just a shell. It was to have been my salvation...my new life. My new form."
Water pressed down upon Resham, crushing him. Suddenly he was at the bottom of the ocean again, and it was weighing down on him....
No, it wasn't the ocean. With the knowledge that comes in dreams, he realized he was feeling the weight of [/i]years[i]. Centuries upon centuries, stretching into millennia...The lifespan of the great Ocean King weighed him down.
"Yes...More years, and more. More would have been mine....I was growing weak, and my sages had found a way to extend my lifespan. The bodies of dragons, living beasts. I could wear them for a time. Not only could I experience the sensations of their world, I could also experience the [/i]years[i] each dragon would have lived. I could add them to my own....One body after another, years upon years added to yet more years.
"Why so many bodies, you wonder? It is because a mortal body soon wears out. And then it must be quickly vacated, lest Death find you. But that is an easy thing for a spirit to manage, eh, Resham? What say you, Resham?"
The Ocean King's voice was mocking. Resham struggled to answer, to tell him that he couldn't remove the body -- it was already wearing out, as the King had said. He had to vacate it....
Time seemed to slow to a crawl. Suddenly the rest of the King's words took on a terrible meaning:[/i] A body must be quickly vacated, lest Death find you.
[i]The Ocean King began to laugh. It sounded like tidal waves smashing upon the shore. "That body and its years would have been mine, but you stole them from me, Resham. You stole my time...and now I have none left. No more. I must quit this world now; I can no longer maintain my form. So if you want that body, it is yours." An ugly, oily smirk seemed to form within the King's voice. "Shadowless[/i] no more[i]."
Startled, Resham looked down. Silver moonlight shone down upon him, and at his feet, there stood his shadow. His now. Just like the Ocean King's false body...
"You will feel its effects, and more besides. You will feel the weight of ages upon it. That body shall become your prison -- [/i]and you will die inside it."
At these words, Resham awoke with a gasp. Somehow, he had slid or sleepwalked into the river, and it was dragging him under...[i]dragging him towards the sea[/i]. He hurled himself back out and onto the grass, but something was wrong; his sides were burning....He contorted upon the grass as his scales pressed closer together, knotting so tightly that he couldn't possibly slip out. The former spirit writhed upon the grass, and he screamed.
Even as the Ocean King became one with the sea, his curse crept up the river, grabbed Resham by the throat. And now, for the first time, Resham felt the flutter of his pulse, his heartbeat, and what it truly meant to be alive.
He would have lived much, much longer if only he hadn't acquired a body. As it was, the physical world could now assail him, and it would wear him down faster. The King's curse sealed him into his stolen body, and it became really and truly his. He was alive now -- and eventually, sooner or later, like all living things, he would die.[/color]
[center][url=http://msb-lair.tumblr.com/post/138792766902/even-more-flight-dividers][img]https://66.media.tumblr.com/d705ca2256fbaa95e02aca70b3034e7a/tumblr_inline_o23jkkOsuG1r3lvtf_500.png[/img][/url][/center]
[color=#2B768F]Long years passed. The false body had been wrought to be marvelously strong, and for some time, Resham entertained the thought that the Ocean King had made only idle threats. No magic or weapon could pierce this enchanted shell! It was--
He remembered the first time he felt pain. He had passed a roadside inn, and the doors had burst open in a shower of splinters. A pair of Ridgebacks, thoroughly drunk, rolled out onto the street as they slashed angrily at each other.
One of their lashing tails cut Resham's shoulder open. It was a minor wound, but to someone who'd never known physical pain before, the agony was explosive. He collapsed on the dirt road, howling in pain, as the Ridgebacks stopped brawling and stared dumbfoundedly at him.
He was brought to an infirmary. The nurse on duty cheerfully stitched him up with a magic spell, chiding him not to be so dramatic. Resham did not hear her words, however. His thoughts were instead focused on ridding himself of this accursed vessel. [i]"I have to get rid of this. Have to get away..."[/i]
Over the years, he made discreet inquiries: Was there someone on Sornieth who could release the Ocean King's bindings? Failing that, could his life at least be extended? Extended until a release was found....
Hope came to him one day. While traveling in the Plaguelands, he heard tell of an ancient Skydancer. It was said that she had extended her lifespan by centuries, using techniques learned from an even more ancient sage who had slumbered for a time on the shores of the Wasteland's sea.
Resham leaned forward eagerly. "What is this Skydancer's name?"
"She is Hautala," he was informed. "She came inland after her clan abandoned her and she was nearly killed by some raiders. You will find her with her new clan within the Abiding Boneyard."
Resham made haste for the Boneyard, with both Hautala's name and that of her new clan to guide him. If he couldn't be released from this body, then he could at least rest for a time. He could hide away from all danger, hidden beneath the ground, as Hautala's teacher had been. Centuries upon centuries...Perhaps by the time he awoke again, there would be a magic-user talented enough to free him. Or the curse might wear off in time. Or perhaps...
Weeks later, Resham stood silently, his hopes destroyed. At his feet was all that remained of the Skydancer sage.
"She was old," the clan leader growled, "and she faced many hardships before she came here. She lived for only a few moons before passing away."
[i]Only a few moons[/i]...Resham stared numbly at the grave that was the Skydancer's final resting place. Her staff served as its marker, but any magic it might've held had long fled, and it was impotent now, the vessels tied to it empty and dry. He felt empty, too. He had searched for so long and traveled so far...only to have things end here, at this drab patch of earth.
His head reeled. [i]"She died...So it was all hearsay, then? There is...no way...?"[/i] His accursed, artificial heart pounded faster and faster, sending blood rushing through his ears. Over the haze of confusion, he barely heard the leader speaking again. He had to ask her to repeat herself.
"She talked of a...student? I suppose you could call him that." The Mirror shrugged. Immediately Resham's vision cleared, and he hunkered down to address her once more. "Who is this student? Tell me!"
"From what I recall, they weren't together for a long time. She was already quite weak when they first met, and he wasn't much better off. Some sort of sickness...I don't know if she cured him, managed to extend his life. They parted ways after only a week or so of traveling together. He was...Yes, he was a Guardian, Plagueborn as well. I believe his name was [url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=40774418][i]Nairu[/i][/url]."[/color]
[center][url=http://msb-lair.tumblr.com/post/138792766902/even-more-flight-dividers][img]https://66.media.tumblr.com/d705ca2256fbaa95e02aca70b3034e7a/tumblr_inline_o23jkkOsuG1r3lvtf_500.png[/img][/url][/center]
[color=#2B768F]More years, more years and more...of searching, traveling, learning, and hoping...Resham continued his travails. He had learned a bit more about the mysterious Nairu: The young Guardian had been afflicted with a terrible disease and abandoned by his clan. Apparently he and Hautala had run into each other, and Hautala had...taught him the secret of extending one's life? Resham had to know the secret. He'd find this Nairu and learn from him....
But the trail ended in the Scarred Wasteland. He never did find Nairu's previous clan; Nairu himself remained elusive. Had he died alone in the desert, just like his tutor had? If so...[i]No![/i] Resham shook his head fiercely. There had to be hope for him. There [i]had[/i] to be!
And so hope drove him on over the years, even as the land and its people changed....
One night, he awoke to a voice singing on the wind. He poked his head out of his mountain cave and cocked an ear to listen. Outside, all was dark and steady. The moon glinted on the line of the sea, far to the horizon.
And that faint [url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=37133648]voice[/url]: [i]"Sleep, my Nairu. Sleep..."[/i]
His mouth went dry. Another Nairu, perhaps? Or the same one he'd been searching for? Still, perhaps it would do no harm to check....Sleep drained out of him like water, and he spread his heavy wings.[/color]
[center][url=http://msb-lair.tumblr.com/post/138792766902/even-more-flight-dividers][img]https://66.media.tumblr.com/d705ca2256fbaa95e02aca70b3034e7a/tumblr_inline_o23jkkOsuG1r3lvtf_500.png[/img][/url][/center]
[color=#2B768F]It had been a long journey, and the crew of the [i]Exaudi[/i] was anxious to get home, not least because of the rain that was dumping buckets of water upon them. Finally, they moored the ship and began unloading their cargo. Directing the operatons was a lean Guardian with a dark-blotched hide.
A dragon crept up to his side. "Are you Nairu?"
"Yes, why?" the Guardian answered absently. And then he stopped as the other dragon grabbed his foreleg. He turned, looking into what seemed to be a field of blue-green stars. "I have been looking for you," the Imperial hissed.
"What for?" Nairu growled. He tried to twist out of the stranger's grasp.
"Plagueborn Guardian...Did you learn magic from a Skydancer named Hautala?"
"Hautala! I haven't heard that name in ages." Nairu's eyes briefly widened, and Resham felt some hope...
And then it was dashed away roughly, as it'd been dashed away so many times before, as Nairu shook his head. "We traveled together for a few days, but I learned no magic from her. She helped me with my illness, that's all. I don't know what she did...but it worked." And that was when Resham realized that the blotches on his skin weren't inborn markings, but the scars of a terrible disease.
"You don't...know what she did? No, y...you must know. Tell me how to extend my life."
Nairu's frills flattened. "I don't know how she did it. I was ill; I could barely make sense of it. She never actually taught--"
"Tell me! [i]You have to tell--[/i]"
"Nairu, is everything all right?"
Both Nairu and Resham turned. The Speaker was a [url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=43097083]Bogsneak[/url], a rather plain-looking one with Nature-green eyes. Nonetheless, Resham's skin prickled when he looked at her. There was something off about her....
"Yes, Naddaha. We have those vessels you ordered. We're unloading them now." As he spoke, Nairu twisted his leg out of Resham's grasp. With a last suspicious glare, he bustled away.
Resham was about to pursue him, but Naddaha's voice stopped him: "Who are you?" It was a low, cold voice, one that brooked absolutely no nonsense.
"I'm Resham," he answered bluntly. He was about to tell her to leave him alone, but that was when he understood what was so weird about her.
The rain. It continued to fall, but in a most startling fashion -- it was bucketing down everywhere except [i]upon[/i] Naddaha. An empty space surrounded her, and Resham, peering upwards, thought he could see [url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=43083933]something[/url] hanging in the air above her: transparent, but not quite invisible....
"You're no dragon." Her voice was deceptively lazy. "What are you doing so far from home, [i]spirit[/i]?"
"You know what I am?"
She shrugged. "I see things others cannot," she answered carelessly. The crew was beginning to troop over now, bearing crates stamped with [i]Fragile[/i] and [i]Handle With Care[/i]. They clinked slightly; whatever was in them was large and breakable.
Resham barely noticed, however. His thoughts were turning inward again. He'd traveled for so long and met with so many people; there were certainly some dragons who'd recognized his true nature, but they were few and far between.
Nairu really didn't seem to know how to extend lives....He couldn't give up. Not here, not after so long. "Can you help me? This vessel I'm wearing -- I want to be rid of it. I'm trapped inside...."
"Well, we can certainly try!" And Naddaha smiled, showing sharp, even teeth. "I specialize in using ensorcelled vessels; my servants use many of them. Shall we go back to the lair? I can introduce you; it seems to me that you'll be with us for quite some time."
"What exactly is it that you do?" Resham queried carefully. So many disappointments had made him wary. Then, too, there was danger. Spirits had their uses, he knew that now. Even fettered ones such as him...[i]especially[/i] fettered ones such as him.
"Why, I'm a spirit wrangler. I bind and banish elementals that give my mortal kin any trouble."
"I don't think you're the help I'm looking for...."
"Probably not," Naddaha admitted, "but I could use an assistant -- and you don't have anywhere else to go, do you?" And she smiled again, without humor this time, and showed her sharp, bright teeth.[/color]
[right][font=Copperplate Gothic Light][color=#61AB89][size=5][b]~ The End[/b][/color][/size][/font][/right]
[size=2][color=#9494A9][b]Credits:[/b] Thanks to [i]Schingiuire[/i] for the lore prompt and giveaway.[/color][/size]
-----
[center][color=#BBBABF][size=1][b]PREV.[/b][/size] [size=2][url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/cc/2323941/35#post_38105724]Dragon[/url] | [url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/cc/2323941/1#post_2323941]Contents[/url] • Characters [url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/cc/2323941/1#post_30507351]A-M[/url] [url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/cc/2323941/1#post_30507353]N-Z[/url] • [url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/cc/2323941#post_30507364]Stories Pt. 4[/url] | [/size][size=1][b]NEXT[/b][/size] [size=2][url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/cc/2323941/35#post_38105750]Dragon[/url][/color][/size][/center]
|
|
..
|
the curse of the body-snatcher
written by Disillusionist
special thanks to Schingiuire
3,656 words
|
The dragon was not alive, but one would be forgiven for thinking that it was. It had been carefully sculpted to mimic a beautiful specimen of dragonkind -- an Imperial, as befitted the King of the Ocean. Its scales glittered like stars, and great gems had been embedded into its limbs....Despite its wondrous appearance, it had no magic of its own -- for it was but a shell to be worn, practically a costume, and any magic it would possess would have to come from its wearer.
Resham approached the chrysalis cautiously. It was kept beneath a great bell jar of glass, protected from the crushing pressures at the bottom of the sea. It stood in solitary splendor in the Ocean King's vault, surrounded by other dazzling treasures. Resham paid them no heed, however. Not for him the singing clamshells, the trees of rainbow coral, or the Maren frozen in blocks of clear crystal. His eyes were on the Imperial chrysalis, for it was his gateway to another world. To the surface.
On Sornieth, what one can perceive with the five senses is but the veneer of that reality. Spirits exist just beneath this surface, side-by-side with the dragons and the beasts. Just as most dragons cannot sense them, so they, too, cannot interact with physical beings -- not usually. Still, there are ways to get around this barrier.
When dragonkind began building their cities upon land, many spirits retreated to the bottom of the sea. It was no great loss for them, for within the abyss they could raise great palaces and towers of their own. The most magnificent of these was given over to the Ocean King, a spirit as mighty as he was ancient. Like the rest of his kind, he found himself fascinated by dragonkind: The dragons could experience things that spirits could only dream of, such as the tastes of food, the pressures of illnesses, and the whirling storms they called emotions. It was not long before the spirits sought ways to have these experiences for themselves. The King put the question to his best wizards and sages, and soon they came up with an interesting solution: Spirits by their very nature lack substance. They cannot just manipulate magic, they are magic. In order to experience physical sensations, they needed physical forms. They needed bodies.
In the long centuries of his reign, the Ocean King had gone through many different bodies. They had been sculpted from enchanted crystal, carved from ensorcelled wood, cobbled together from metal and porcelain....There had even been attempts to transmute living flesh, mostly from the remains of drowned dragons. Whenever the King sought to visit the surface world, he donned a body. He wore it over his substance like a cloak, and he transported himself to the surface, where he could mingle with the dragons. He could savor their food and drink, maybe even enjoy a tryst or two....
There had been attempts to engineer a body that was so lifelike, it would enable its wearer to feel emotions and sensations as true dragons did, and Resham guessed that this was what the chrysalis before him was. The final fruit of the long years of research, of the King's own perseverance and magic.
A shadow moved over Resham's face. The chrysalis had been completed many years ago; rumors of it were what had led him here. Still, he hadn't heard of the King using it. Had he donned this body and proven that it was, in fact, suitable for life upon the surface? Perhaps this was but a prototype, and the true chrysalis was still being engineered....
No, Resham decided -- he would not wait. He had arrived at the palace decades ago in his most innocuous-looking form, and he had religiously maintained the glamors that kept him disguised as a servant. The other spirits had grown to trust him, and no one had guessed that he was in fact Resham the Fleet, Resham the Shadowless, a great trickster spirit and a thief of no small talent. He had insinuated himself into countless abodes upon the bottom of the sea and made off with enough treasure to rival the King's wealth, and now, at last, he would rise above the waves to plunder the physical realms.
He shed the glamours and hovered before the bell jar. The radiance of his true form filled the room as he hovered before the crystal, his forelimbs extended. He cast more spells -- the glass began to crack -- and he held the water back as the chrysalis wrapped around him like a great flower. He slipped comfortably into the Imperial-shaped shell, marveling at the strength of the limbs and the compartments tucked deep inside. What were they called...organs? His chest expanded as the chrysalis drew breath; the wings and tail trembled. The pressure of the deep sea and the coldness of the abyss...He could feel it, all of it! He was coming alive.
Resham's thievery did not go unnoticed, and the spirits of the palace awoke. Guards, lesser elementals loyal to the Ocean King, converged upon the treasure vault. They attacked the thief with crushing water and blades of stone and ice, but the artificial body had been engineered to protect its royal master, and it sustained next to no damage. Resham himself marveled at the strength his new form possessed. He swatted aside the lesser spirits, fighting his way out of the treasure vault.
He was still in danger, however: the Ocean King himself had risen to challenge this intruder. From a trench at the palace's heart he rose, his great form flickering through myriad sparkling shapes. As he approached, Resham felt his voice shake the waters, the words forming themselves within his mind: "Shadowless...I know you. A trickster, a thief...You will return my body. It is my new life, my salvation...Give it back to me!"
He completely filled the doorway now. He reached out with numerous appendages, intent on prying Resham out of the chrysalis. The thief, however, was not about to give up this prize so easily. He wove and dodged around the King's appendages, fighting to get past....When one of the tentacles wrapped around his hind legs, he fought back, hurling a spell that smashed audibly into the King's bulbous body.
The greater elemental's scream was deafening. It tore through Resham's head like a knife, and instinct took over, sending him blundering through the palace walls and out into the open sea. Up he went, up and up...First he was driven by terror, and then he realized there was no pursuit, and exhilaration drove him on instead. He entered the Ocean King's palace as a spirit, and left it with a body of his own -- at last he was ready for the surface world.
Such a daring heist, a successful robbery with a great prize...Yet weeks later, Resham remembered that day only with bitterness. The chrysalis had been engineered to make its wearer feel every physical sensation -- and feel them Resham did. Not just the promised joys like flavors and excitement and joy, but also things like fatigue, sleepiness, and the cold. He hadn't bothered to research life upon the surface, and the customs of dragonkind baffled him. Not to mention that he often had difficulty controlling this new body. His stumbling speech and awkward movements caused others to mock him. In this strange new world, his senses were not just stimulated, they were assaulted. He was no suave and adroit trickster; he had been reduced to nothing but a bumbling fool.
He'd considered discarding the body, but he couldn't seem to slip out of it. There was probably some trick to it, some counterspell. "I should return this," he thought, but then he remembered the Ocean King's slimy grasp, and he knew that if he showed himself in the palace again, mercy would not be forthcoming. Perhaps he could contact one of the King's sages, ask them for help....Begrudgingly, he followed a river back to the coast. A good thief always knew when to cut his losses, and it looked like his time had come.
He lay down beside the river when night fell, hating how the moisture seeped into his scales. On the horizon, he could see the moonlit line of the sea. He would be there tomorrow; he could try to establish contact with his fellow spirits. He closed his eyes....
"I greet you, Shadowless," the Ocean King whispered, and his voice was the sough of the waves upon stone. He was no longer the pallid, billowing thing Resham had confronted in the palace; now he was as vast and dark as the ocean itself....
Or perhaps he was the ocean itself?
"Do you know what you have stolen from me?"
Even in his dream, Resham felt how heavy his head was. He shook it, and his damp mane clung to his scales, trailed wispy hairs over his eyes. He blinked them away irritably.
"It's not just a shell. It was to have been my salvation...my new life. My new form."
Water pressed down upon Resham, crushing him. Suddenly he was at the bottom of the ocean again, and it was weighing down on him....
No, it wasn't the ocean. With the knowledge that comes in dreams, he realized he was feeling the weight of years. Centuries upon centuries, stretching into millennia...The lifespan of the great Ocean King weighed him down.
"Yes...More years, and more. More would have been mine....I was growing weak, and my sages had found a way to extend my lifespan. The bodies of dragons, living beasts. I could wear them for a time. Not only could I experience the sensations of their world, I could also experience the years each dragon would have lived. I could add them to my own....One body after another, years upon years added to yet more years.
"Why so many bodies, you wonder? It is because a mortal body soon wears out. And then it must be quickly vacated, lest Death find you. But that is an easy thing for a spirit to manage, eh, Resham? What say you, Resham?"
The Ocean King's voice was mocking. Resham struggled to answer, to tell him that he couldn't remove the body -- it was already wearing out, as the King had said. He had to vacate it....
Time seemed to slow to a crawl. Suddenly the rest of the King's words took on a terrible meaning: A body must be quickly vacated, lest Death find you.
The Ocean King began to laugh. It sounded like tidal waves smashing upon the shore. "That body and its years would have been mine, but you stole them from me, Resham. You stole my time...and now I have none left. No more. I must quit this world now; I can no longer maintain my form. So if you want that body, it is yours." An ugly, oily smirk seemed to form within the King's voice. "Shadowless no more."
Startled, Resham looked down. Silver moonlight shone down upon him, and at his feet, there stood his shadow. His now. Just like the Ocean King's false body...
"You will feel its effects, and more besides. You will feel the weight of ages upon it. That body shall become your prison -- and you will die inside it."
At these words, Resham awoke with a gasp. Somehow, he had slid or sleepwalked into the river, and it was dragging him under...dragging him towards the sea. He hurled himself back out and onto the grass, but something was wrong; his sides were burning....He contorted upon the grass as his scales pressed closer together, knotting so tightly that he couldn't possibly slip out. The former spirit writhed upon the grass, and he screamed.
Even as the Ocean King became one with the sea, his curse crept up the river, grabbed Resham by the throat. And now, for the first time, Resham felt the flutter of his pulse, his heartbeat, and what it truly meant to be alive.
He would have lived much, much longer if only he hadn't acquired a body. As it was, the physical world could now assail him, and it would wear him down faster. The King's curse sealed him into his stolen body, and it became really and truly his. He was alive now -- and eventually, sooner or later, like all living things, he would die.
Long years passed. The false body had been wrought to be marvelously strong, and for some time, Resham entertained the thought that the Ocean King had made only idle threats. No magic or weapon could pierce this enchanted shell! It was--
He remembered the first time he felt pain. He had passed a roadside inn, and the doors had burst open in a shower of splinters. A pair of Ridgebacks, thoroughly drunk, rolled out onto the street as they slashed angrily at each other.
One of their lashing tails cut Resham's shoulder open. It was a minor wound, but to someone who'd never known physical pain before, the agony was explosive. He collapsed on the dirt road, howling in pain, as the Ridgebacks stopped brawling and stared dumbfoundedly at him.
He was brought to an infirmary. The nurse on duty cheerfully stitched him up with a magic spell, chiding him not to be so dramatic. Resham did not hear her words, however. His thoughts were instead focused on ridding himself of this accursed vessel. "I have to get rid of this. Have to get away..."
Over the years, he made discreet inquiries: Was there someone on Sornieth who could release the Ocean King's bindings? Failing that, could his life at least be extended? Extended until a release was found....
Hope came to him one day. While traveling in the Plaguelands, he heard tell of an ancient Skydancer. It was said that she had extended her lifespan by centuries, using techniques learned from an even more ancient sage who had slumbered for a time on the shores of the Wasteland's sea.
Resham leaned forward eagerly. "What is this Skydancer's name?"
"She is Hautala," he was informed. "She came inland after her clan abandoned her and she was nearly killed by some raiders. You will find her with her new clan within the Abiding Boneyard."
Resham made haste for the Boneyard, with both Hautala's name and that of her new clan to guide him. If he couldn't be released from this body, then he could at least rest for a time. He could hide away from all danger, hidden beneath the ground, as Hautala's teacher had been. Centuries upon centuries...Perhaps by the time he awoke again, there would be a magic-user talented enough to free him. Or the curse might wear off in time. Or perhaps...
Weeks later, Resham stood silently, his hopes destroyed. At his feet was all that remained of the Skydancer sage.
"She was old," the clan leader growled, "and she faced many hardships before she came here. She lived for only a few moons before passing away."
Only a few moons...Resham stared numbly at the grave that was the Skydancer's final resting place. Her staff served as its marker, but any magic it might've held had long fled, and it was impotent now, the vessels tied to it empty and dry. He felt empty, too. He had searched for so long and traveled so far...only to have things end here, at this drab patch of earth.
His head reeled. "She died...So it was all hearsay, then? There is...no way...?" His accursed, artificial heart pounded faster and faster, sending blood rushing through his ears. Over the haze of confusion, he barely heard the leader speaking again. He had to ask her to repeat herself.
"She talked of a...student? I suppose you could call him that." The Mirror shrugged. Immediately Resham's vision cleared, and he hunkered down to address her once more. "Who is this student? Tell me!"
"From what I recall, they weren't together for a long time. She was already quite weak when they first met, and he wasn't much better off. Some sort of sickness...I don't know if she cured him, managed to extend his life. They parted ways after only a week or so of traveling together. He was...Yes, he was a Guardian, Plagueborn as well. I believe his name was Nairu."
More years, more years and more...of searching, traveling, learning, and hoping...Resham continued his travails. He had learned a bit more about the mysterious Nairu: The young Guardian had been afflicted with a terrible disease and abandoned by his clan. Apparently he and Hautala had run into each other, and Hautala had...taught him the secret of extending one's life? Resham had to know the secret. He'd find this Nairu and learn from him....
But the trail ended in the Scarred Wasteland. He never did find Nairu's previous clan; Nairu himself remained elusive. Had he died alone in the desert, just like his tutor had? If so...No! Resham shook his head fiercely. There had to be hope for him. There had to be!
And so hope drove him on over the years, even as the land and its people changed....
One night, he awoke to a voice singing on the wind. He poked his head out of his mountain cave and cocked an ear to listen. Outside, all was dark and steady. The moon glinted on the line of the sea, far to the horizon.
And that faint voice: "Sleep, my Nairu. Sleep..."
His mouth went dry. Another Nairu, perhaps? Or the same one he'd been searching for? Still, perhaps it would do no harm to check....Sleep drained out of him like water, and he spread his heavy wings.
It had been a long journey, and the crew of the Exaudi was anxious to get home, not least because of the rain that was dumping buckets of water upon them. Finally, they moored the ship and began unloading their cargo. Directing the operatons was a lean Guardian with a dark-blotched hide.
A dragon crept up to his side. "Are you Nairu?"
"Yes, why?" the Guardian answered absently. And then he stopped as the other dragon grabbed his foreleg. He turned, looking into what seemed to be a field of blue-green stars. "I have been looking for you," the Imperial hissed.
"What for?" Nairu growled. He tried to twist out of the stranger's grasp.
"Plagueborn Guardian...Did you learn magic from a Skydancer named Hautala?"
"Hautala! I haven't heard that name in ages." Nairu's eyes briefly widened, and Resham felt some hope...
And then it was dashed away roughly, as it'd been dashed away so many times before, as Nairu shook his head. "We traveled together for a few days, but I learned no magic from her. She helped me with my illness, that's all. I don't know what she did...but it worked." And that was when Resham realized that the blotches on his skin weren't inborn markings, but the scars of a terrible disease.
"You don't...know what she did? No, y...you must know. Tell me how to extend my life."
Nairu's frills flattened. "I don't know how she did it. I was ill; I could barely make sense of it. She never actually taught--"
"Tell me! You have to tell--"
"Nairu, is everything all right?"
Both Nairu and Resham turned. The Speaker was a Bogsneak, a rather plain-looking one with Nature-green eyes. Nonetheless, Resham's skin prickled when he looked at her. There was something off about her....
"Yes, Naddaha. We have those vessels you ordered. We're unloading them now." As he spoke, Nairu twisted his leg out of Resham's grasp. With a last suspicious glare, he bustled away.
Resham was about to pursue him, but Naddaha's voice stopped him: "Who are you?" It was a low, cold voice, one that brooked absolutely no nonsense.
"I'm Resham," he answered bluntly. He was about to tell her to leave him alone, but that was when he understood what was so weird about her.
The rain. It continued to fall, but in a most startling fashion -- it was bucketing down everywhere except upon Naddaha. An empty space surrounded her, and Resham, peering upwards, thought he could see something hanging in the air above her: transparent, but not quite invisible....
"You're no dragon." Her voice was deceptively lazy. "What are you doing so far from home, spirit?"
"You know what I am?"
She shrugged. "I see things others cannot," she answered carelessly. The crew was beginning to troop over now, bearing crates stamped with Fragile and Handle With Care. They clinked slightly; whatever was in them was large and breakable.
Resham barely noticed, however. His thoughts were turning inward again. He'd traveled for so long and met with so many people; there were certainly some dragons who'd recognized his true nature, but they were few and far between.
Nairu really didn't seem to know how to extend lives....He couldn't give up. Not here, not after so long. "Can you help me? This vessel I'm wearing -- I want to be rid of it. I'm trapped inside...."
"Well, we can certainly try!" And Naddaha smiled, showing sharp, even teeth. "I specialize in using ensorcelled vessels; my servants use many of them. Shall we go back to the lair? I can introduce you; it seems to me that you'll be with us for quite some time."
"What exactly is it that you do?" Resham queried carefully. So many disappointments had made him wary. Then, too, there was danger. Spirits had their uses, he knew that now. Even fettered ones such as him...especially fettered ones such as him.
"Why, I'm a spirit wrangler. I bind and banish elementals that give my mortal kin any trouble."
"I don't think you're the help I'm looking for...."
"Probably not," Naddaha admitted, "but I could use an assistant -- and you don't have anywhere else to go, do you?" And she smiled again, without humor this time, and showed her sharp, bright teeth.
~ The End
Credits: Thanks to Schingiuire for the lore prompt and giveaway.
[center][color=#BBBABF][size=1][b]PREV.[/b][/size] [size=2][url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/cc/2323941/35#post_38105730]Dragon[/url] | [url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/cc/2323941/1#post_2323941]Contents[/url] • Characters [url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/cc/2323941/1#post_30507351]A-M[/url] [url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/cc/2323941/1#post_30507353]N-Z[/url] • [url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/cc/2323941#post_30507364]Stories Pt. 4[/url] | [/size][size=1][b]NEXT[/b][/size] [size=2][url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/cc/2323941/36#post_38105753]Dragon[/url][/color][/size][/center]
-----
[right][url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=47183700][img]http://flightrising.com/rendern/coliseum/portraits/471838/47183700.png[/img][/url]
[size=2][color=#9494A9][url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=47183700]profile[/url] • back to[/color] [url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/cc/2323941/35#post_38105750]main post[/url][/right]
[columns][center][item=pulsing relic][/center][nextcol][color=transparent]..[/color][nextcol][color=#2B768F][font=garamond][size=7][size=4][b]i am dispatch:[/b] definition 1[/size][/size][/font][/color]
[size=2]written by Disillusionist
special thanks to KallyPaige
[color=#9494A9]2,466 words[/color][/size][/columns]
[color=#6D675B]The plains of Dragonhome were dark and drab, stretching beneath an endless well of stars. To the horizon, [url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=32181477]Origenes[/url] could just make out the spindly shapes of the petrified forest.
The forest was more than just a place of death, it was a place of [i]history[/i]. Many of those stone-touched trees were millions of years old—perhaps some of them had even known the touch of the gods. It was no wonder the place was avoided: It was inhospitable to most life-forms, and there were many who said it was sacred...or cursed....Well, Origenes had braved sacred and cursed places before, and he was still here to talk about them. The thrill of them, the adventure! It was always wonderful to be able to investigate those places with his own eyes.
In long-ago times, Earth dragons had in fact attempted to settle among the petrified trees. Origenes wasn’t sure why they’d given up; probably the soil had been unable to support crops and livestock for long. But the dragons had stayed long enough, it was said, to raise a temple to the Earthshaker. It, too, had been abandoned, though there were those who said that it was still haunted by phantoms of the forest, or by the ghosts of the dragons who’d raised its hallowed halls. They strode with feet both heavy and insubstantial, chanting sepulchral hymns to their god.
[i]“And oh boy, I can’t wait to get there!”[/i] Really, Origenes was incorrigible. He wasn’t [i]stupid[/i], however. He didn’t doubt that he, [url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=31549106]Ashes[/url], and Zubeida could tackle any threats in their way, but still, better to update the clan on his whereabouts just in case something went wrong. He activated his comm crystal...
It was dawn in the Sunbeam Ruins, he judged. In the past, he would’ve waited some more hours before contacting his clan, but while Origenes had been away with his friends, his lairmates had recruited some new dragons, including a Dispatch Officer. Origenes hadn’t seen her yet, but he had grown used to her perky voice chirping at him via the comm crystal. The clan required him to check in with them daily at dawn and dusk, and if he failed to do so, the Dispatch Officer contacted him instead.
Not this time, though. “Good morning, Dispatch”—he opened the conversation first. There was silence for a few seconds as the crystal glowed faintly....Perhaps he’d misjudged the time and she was still asleep?
And then the crystal brightened, and the unseen dragon replied....[/color]
[center][url=https://msb-lair.tumblr.com/post/138956636979/and-more-flight-dividers][img]https://66.media.tumblr.com/515b3114f1bad4a607fb7ea5af2b4531/tumblr_inline_o25fvvo1fd1r3lvtf_500.png[/img][/url][/center]
[color=#2F4557]Salutations, person! I am Rilivi, born of [url=http://www1.flightrising.com/clan-profile/245055]Clan Tamotoral[/url]. As I record this, it is early dawn in what is called the Sunbeam Ruins, and the sun has not yet appeared in the sky. That is all right. It is good if I begin my work early, for I have many, many things to do. My, but this place is industrious. Energy in the morning must be at 100%!
After I break my fast in my quarters, I move down to the lobby of the main lair, and thence to the Commercial Wing. I am not alone, for many of us have responsibilities there. These mostly have to do with making treasure, which I have discerned is vital to the continued existence of the clan. It is this world’s chief currency.
As my clanmates and I enter the Commercial Wing, the spells embedded in the stone activate, and the great hall is illuminated. I like magic; it is very convenient. It is a pity I cannot wield it myself.
By now, many of my clanmates know me. For my part, I am most familiar with [url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=43634405]Rhaplanca[/url]. She is the Commercial Director who runs this place. By day she mostly stays in the panopticon in the middle of the building, from which she is available to survey most goings-on in the main hall and assist any visitors or tenants. The panopticon, too, is where I spend most of my working hours. I am this clan’s Dispatch Officer, the first...[i]dragon[/i]...to hold this office.
Ah, yes—I am no dragon, though I greatly and superficially resemble one. A Skydancer, if one is being specific. But I am not a dragon; I am not even a spirit or a construct or one of those strange, capricious beings who call themselves Beastclans. No, I am an [i]Aletebri[/i], and my kin and I do not originate from Sornieth. We come from very far away.[/color]
[center][url=https://msb-lair.tumblr.com/post/145373377729/simpler-dividers][img]https://66.media.tumblr.com/721eb08b050b0d9682496a3d488621c1/tumblr_o87ud4zEPy1tddvg0o3_500.png[/img][/url][/center]
[color=#2F4557]My siblings and I were born past the stars that adorn Sornieth’s night sky. We lived on another planet with our parents, the [url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=46086367]Alete King[/url] and [url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=41421247]Queen[/url]. We looked very, very different then.
We had not intended to come to Sornieth, but as our ship was passing this planet, a solar flare erupted and damaged much of our equipment. We were forced to descend into the atmosphere, and we crashed into Leviathan Trench. For a short time, it was our home, for there we struggled to repair our ship. I am afraid it was very badly damaged, however. There was nothing we could do.
Furthermore, this planet has such strange energies! It must all be that “magic” floating around. We detected especially high traces of it in the waters that surrounded our ship; perhaps that was what changed us. Our limbs grew longer and stronger, and our faces changed. Best of all, we grew wings! Flying has its limitations and it is a biologically expensive endeavor, but it generates such lovely sensations.
And we did not lose our bioluminescence. These markings show an Aletebri’s identity and mood; while the placement of the markings changed, they remained unique according to each individual. It was only a matter of re-memorizing who bore what pattern, and then all we had to do was match the different flashes of light to the moods displayed by that Aletebri. A useful exercise—for we soon determined that we had to abandon our ship and go out among dragonkind, if we were to survive on this strange new planet.
You may perhaps be thinking that that was how I came to this clan, the Disillusionists. Well, yes and no. The events were not as simple as all that.[/color]
[center][url=https://msb-lair.tumblr.com/post/145373377729/simpler-dividers][img]https://66.media.tumblr.com/721eb08b050b0d9682496a3d488621c1/tumblr_o87ud4zEPy1tddvg0o3_500.png[/img][/url][/center]
[color=#2F4557]“AVAUNT!” screamed the yellow [url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=34540094]Tundra[/url], and I slid backwards in the sand. I should have been more careful, but I was tired, and discouraged besides, and so my mind had been on other things. Had I not been so distracted, I would have noticed her shadow upon the dunes.
The sun was right behind her, and so I had to squint. Reading draconic body language was something of a struggle for me then. I had not had many encounters with the variant known as “Tundra”. But I had observed the flattened ears, bristling fur, and lashing tail in other creatures, particularly cats, and I tentatively guessed that she was agitated.
“[url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=43414198]Lightning Dancer[/url]! I have been looking for you! I have [i]found[/i] you!” So saying, she did a jerky sort of shuffle, scuttling back and forth across the heavy sand. She left a churned-up mess of footprints around herself. “Now you must hear my questions and grant me your forbidden knowledge!”
“What are you talking about?” said I. I knew I strongly resembled a Skydancer, and my eyes were the same hue as the eyes of dragons who drew their strength from electricity. Perhaps that was where the confusion arose. But “Lightning Dancer” was not my name, and no one had hitherto addressed me as such, so I thought it best not to commit just yet.
“I know of you! I’ve heard stories. All sorts of stories!” The Tundra stretched her neck out eagerly. Her eyes were wide with anticipation. “You’re the oracle who lives in the wasteland, dispensing mystical knowledge to those wily enough to find you. Hey, what’s in your hand? Is it,” and her fur ballooned around her face like a great halo, “[i]ancient and forbidden technology[/i]?”
“No, this is a breathing apparatus.” I held it up to show her. “I use it for breathing in the ocean, at depths where my gills can’t extract oxygen from the surrounding water.”
She let out an audible gasp. “[i]Sorcery[/i]!”
“Negative. It’s just...technology.” I was proud of the breathing apparatus; I’d developed it myself. I’d had to, for my siblings had scattered across the planet and my parents had strongly indicated it was time I test my mettle, too. But I have to say that this reception was not what I’d been hoping for.
The Tundra stretched her neck still longer. This time, she sniffed my shoulders. “You smell funny!”
Even I knew that this was a very tactless remark. Still, I maintained my silence. An Alete Princess must maintain her graciousness and dignity...
“You’re not a dragon! Are you some type of fairy?” And the Tundra’s hair flattened suddenly, gleaming silkily in the light. “You glow very prettily, ma’am.”
“Thank you.”
The dragon sat down on the sand. She licked a paw, smoothed it over her head. “I’m Aurelie,” she said, and she continued grooming herself, oblivious to my annoyance. “It is very nice to meet you, Madam Lightning Dancer.”
“I’m [i]not[/i] a Lightning Dancer. I’m an Aletebri, an extraterrestrial.” Father had advised me to be transparent in my dealings. This world had so many anomalies; he felt one more wouldn’t hurt. “I don’t live out here. I was looking for my ship. It crashed at the bottom of the sea.”
“So that was why you came out of the water. Oh! [i]Ohhh[/i].” Aurelie frowned so hard, I could see the wrinkles beneath her fur. “She lives out in the desert, surrounded by dunes and crags of rock....I guess you’re not her, after all.”
I shook my head. It could be hard, adjusting to life on this strange new planet, but I did not envy the Lightning Dancer. It was probable that many of her visitors were more obnoxious than this Tundra.
Aurelie sat for a long moment, frowning at the sea. I considered uttering something, telling her to move aside, perhaps...and then she flicked her tail and said, “Eh, it doesn’t look that deep; I bet some of my clanmates could dive down there. You’ll complete your whatever-thing in no time. G’bye, Lady!” And she stood up and plodded off across the sand.
I was all ears then, and I raced to get ahead of her. “Wait—you know someone who can dive into Leviathan Trench and retrieve my ship?”
“Weeeeell, I dunno ’bout that...but I’ve got some pals who dived into the ocean once; they rescued our [url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=33209964]Chief of Security[/url] from a [url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=37133648]siren[/url]. I don’t like ’em both: he’s grumpy and she’s nasty.” She stuck out her tongue. “That yucky, icky siren.”
I made my decision: “Take me to those people.”
“What, our Security Chief and the siren? But he’s a real grouch, and the siren’s off somewhere sailing on our ship—”
“No, I mean, to your fellows who can dive into the deep abyss. I am looking for people who can assist me in getting my family’s ship back!”
She yawned. “Oh, well, it’ll probably be kinda expensive,” and then her eyes lit upon my breathing apparatus, “but hey, you could probably work for us, sell stuff or blah blah. [i]That[/i] looks wicked cool. Do you have a name, Glow-glow Lady?”
I told her my name was Rilivi. I did not appreciate the appellation “Glow-glow Lady”.[/color]
[center][url=https://msb-lair.tumblr.com/post/145373377729/simpler-dividers][img]https://66.media.tumblr.com/721eb08b050b0d9682496a3d488621c1/tumblr_o87ud4zEPy1tddvg0o3_500.png[/img][/url][/center]
[color=#2F4557]Upon my arrival at the Sunbeam Ruins, I contacted my father and informed him of the recent developments. He gently reminded me that there was no point in retrieving the ship, as it had been damaged beyond repair and was completely incapable of launching us beyond the stratosphere again. I was deeply put out when I remembered that. I forget details sometimes.
“But it sounds like you’ve fallen in with a nice, hardworking clan! Why not make the most of these circumstances? Perhaps your mother and I will come and visit....”
We had left the ship together some months before, though I had made additional trips since then to attempt further salvage operations. They had all been unproductive, for structural damage meant that the ship had become a dangerous environment, likely to fall into the abyss at any given moment. The trip after which I met Aurelie has so far been my last.
It suited me to attach myself to the Disillusionists. Others among my kin had settled in the Sunbeam Ruins, so I was at least not isolated. The Disillusionists were a rapidly expanding clan in need of many officers, and I had had some experience in that line of work before. After some discussion, it was decided that I would function as a Dispatch Officer.
Our translation equipment helps us understand Sornieth’s natives to some degree, though some incompatibilities still exist. In this case, I was momentarily confused by the word “dispatch”. It did not translate well to the Alete language.
[url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=25629153]Gyordan[/url], the Guardian tasked with orienting me, had been rapidly growing frustrated. At my question, he tossed his head up, frills flattened in despair, and groaned, “Just look it up!” And he turned and lumbered away.
So I did, and as it turns out “Dispatch Officer” is a good label for my job. The Commercial Wing opens at 6:00 a.m. and closes for the night at 10:00 p.m. Many dragons come and go. When they are off the clan grounds, they keep in touch with me, apprising me of their movements and locations. I receive, report, and reply to these notifications as needed.
“The [i]Exaudi[/i] is en route to the harbor; please be prepared to receive a shipment of six ensorcelled spirit-vessels, extra-large.”
“A storm has been recorded moving across Windswept Plateau. Courier [url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=38799346]Khamsin[/url] is grounded in Cloudsong; all Wind deliveries to go with Heavy Transport [url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=43645416]Keilim[/url] instead.”
“Order of metal sheets from the Ashfall Waste has been waylaid by harpies and the cargo has been lost. Please advise.”
And so on and so forth.
Although I remain in my office for most of the day, with only the comm systems in front of me, I find this very exciting. The dragons’ reports offer glimpses of the world abroad and the challenges they face. It is also a very good way to start learning how commerce and economics work.
Paradoxical as it is, this, too, is a good way to begin building rapport with my clanmates. Many of them know me as a figure distantly glimpsed atop the panopticon; they find it comforting if they can link my voice with my form. And I am very helpful, if I do say so myself. So even when I give them orders, sending them here or there, they generally follow instructions without complaint. At the end of the day, before all operations are shut down for the night, my signing-off message is the last one they hear.[/color]
[center][url=https://dictionary.cambridge.org/dictionary/english/dispatch][font=garamond][size=6][b]dispatch[/b] (verb, tr.)[/font][/url]
[size=4][font=cambria]1. to send something, especially goods or a
message, somewhere for a particular purpose[/font][/size][/center]
[right][font=Copperplate Gothic Light][color=#2B768F][size=5][b]continued[/b][/color][/size][/font][b][size=5][url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/cc/2323941/38#post_38481932]»[/url][/b][/size][/right]
[size=2][color=#9494A9][b]Credits:[/b] The [i]Aletebri[/i] subspecies was created by KallyPaige. Special thanks to her for the additional info as well![/color][/size]
-----
[center][color=#BBBABF][size=1][b]PREV.[/b][/size] [size=2][url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/cc/2323941/35#post_38105730]Dragon[/url] | [url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/cc/2323941/1#post_2323941]Contents[/url] • Characters [url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/cc/2323941/1#post_30507351]A-M[/url] [url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/cc/2323941/1#post_30507353]N-Z[/url] • [url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/cc/2323941#post_30507364]Stories Pt. 4[/url] | [/size][size=1][b]NEXT[/b][/size] [size=2][url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/cc/2323941/36#post_38105753]Dragon[/url][/color][/size][/center]
|
|
..
|
i am dispatch: definition 1
written by Disillusionist
special thanks to KallyPaige
2,466 words
|
The plains of Dragonhome were dark and drab, stretching beneath an endless well of stars. To the horizon, Origenes could just make out the spindly shapes of the petrified forest.
The forest was more than just a place of death, it was a place of history. Many of those stone-touched trees were millions of years old—perhaps some of them had even known the touch of the gods. It was no wonder the place was avoided: It was inhospitable to most life-forms, and there were many who said it was sacred...or cursed....Well, Origenes had braved sacred and cursed places before, and he was still here to talk about them. The thrill of them, the adventure! It was always wonderful to be able to investigate those places with his own eyes.
In long-ago times, Earth dragons had in fact attempted to settle among the petrified trees. Origenes wasn’t sure why they’d given up; probably the soil had been unable to support crops and livestock for long. But the dragons had stayed long enough, it was said, to raise a temple to the Earthshaker. It, too, had been abandoned, though there were those who said that it was still haunted by phantoms of the forest, or by the ghosts of the dragons who’d raised its hallowed halls. They strode with feet both heavy and insubstantial, chanting sepulchral hymns to their god.
“And oh boy, I can’t wait to get there!” Really, Origenes was incorrigible. He wasn’t stupid, however. He didn’t doubt that he, Ashes, and Zubeida could tackle any threats in their way, but still, better to update the clan on his whereabouts just in case something went wrong. He activated his comm crystal...
It was dawn in the Sunbeam Ruins, he judged. In the past, he would’ve waited some more hours before contacting his clan, but while Origenes had been away with his friends, his lairmates had recruited some new dragons, including a Dispatch Officer. Origenes hadn’t seen her yet, but he had grown used to her perky voice chirping at him via the comm crystal. The clan required him to check in with them daily at dawn and dusk, and if he failed to do so, the Dispatch Officer contacted him instead.
Not this time, though. “Good morning, Dispatch”—he opened the conversation first. There was silence for a few seconds as the crystal glowed faintly....Perhaps he’d misjudged the time and she was still asleep?
And then the crystal brightened, and the unseen dragon replied....
Salutations, person! I am Rilivi, born of Clan Tamotoral. As I record this, it is early dawn in what is called the Sunbeam Ruins, and the sun has not yet appeared in the sky. That is all right. It is good if I begin my work early, for I have many, many things to do. My, but this place is industrious. Energy in the morning must be at 100%!
After I break my fast in my quarters, I move down to the lobby of the main lair, and thence to the Commercial Wing. I am not alone, for many of us have responsibilities there. These mostly have to do with making treasure, which I have discerned is vital to the continued existence of the clan. It is this world’s chief currency.
As my clanmates and I enter the Commercial Wing, the spells embedded in the stone activate, and the great hall is illuminated. I like magic; it is very convenient. It is a pity I cannot wield it myself.
By now, many of my clanmates know me. For my part, I am most familiar with Rhaplanca. She is the Commercial Director who runs this place. By day she mostly stays in the panopticon in the middle of the building, from which she is available to survey most goings-on in the main hall and assist any visitors or tenants. The panopticon, too, is where I spend most of my working hours. I am this clan’s Dispatch Officer, the first...dragon...to hold this office.
Ah, yes—I am no dragon, though I greatly and superficially resemble one. A Skydancer, if one is being specific. But I am not a dragon; I am not even a spirit or a construct or one of those strange, capricious beings who call themselves Beastclans. No, I am an Aletebri, and my kin and I do not originate from Sornieth. We come from very far away.
My siblings and I were born past the stars that adorn Sornieth’s night sky. We lived on another planet with our parents, the Alete King and Queen. We looked very, very different then.
We had not intended to come to Sornieth, but as our ship was passing this planet, a solar flare erupted and damaged much of our equipment. We were forced to descend into the atmosphere, and we crashed into Leviathan Trench. For a short time, it was our home, for there we struggled to repair our ship. I am afraid it was very badly damaged, however. There was nothing we could do.
Furthermore, this planet has such strange energies! It must all be that “magic” floating around. We detected especially high traces of it in the waters that surrounded our ship; perhaps that was what changed us. Our limbs grew longer and stronger, and our faces changed. Best of all, we grew wings! Flying has its limitations and it is a biologically expensive endeavor, but it generates such lovely sensations.
And we did not lose our bioluminescence. These markings show an Aletebri’s identity and mood; while the placement of the markings changed, they remained unique according to each individual. It was only a matter of re-memorizing who bore what pattern, and then all we had to do was match the different flashes of light to the moods displayed by that Aletebri. A useful exercise—for we soon determined that we had to abandon our ship and go out among dragonkind, if we were to survive on this strange new planet.
You may perhaps be thinking that that was how I came to this clan, the Disillusionists. Well, yes and no. The events were not as simple as all that.
“AVAUNT!” screamed the yellow Tundra, and I slid backwards in the sand. I should have been more careful, but I was tired, and discouraged besides, and so my mind had been on other things. Had I not been so distracted, I would have noticed her shadow upon the dunes.
The sun was right behind her, and so I had to squint. Reading draconic body language was something of a struggle for me then. I had not had many encounters with the variant known as “Tundra”. But I had observed the flattened ears, bristling fur, and lashing tail in other creatures, particularly cats, and I tentatively guessed that she was agitated.
“Lightning Dancer! I have been looking for you! I have found you!” So saying, she did a jerky sort of shuffle, scuttling back and forth across the heavy sand. She left a churned-up mess of footprints around herself. “Now you must hear my questions and grant me your forbidden knowledge!”
“What are you talking about?” said I. I knew I strongly resembled a Skydancer, and my eyes were the same hue as the eyes of dragons who drew their strength from electricity. Perhaps that was where the confusion arose. But “Lightning Dancer” was not my name, and no one had hitherto addressed me as such, so I thought it best not to commit just yet.
“I know of you! I’ve heard stories. All sorts of stories!” The Tundra stretched her neck out eagerly. Her eyes were wide with anticipation. “You’re the oracle who lives in the wasteland, dispensing mystical knowledge to those wily enough to find you. Hey, what’s in your hand? Is it,” and her fur ballooned around her face like a great halo, “ancient and forbidden technology?”
“No, this is a breathing apparatus.” I held it up to show her. “I use it for breathing in the ocean, at depths where my gills can’t extract oxygen from the surrounding water.”
She let out an audible gasp. “Sorcery!”
“Negative. It’s just...technology.” I was proud of the breathing apparatus; I’d developed it myself. I’d had to, for my siblings had scattered across the planet and my parents had strongly indicated it was time I test my mettle, too. But I have to say that this reception was not what I’d been hoping for.
The Tundra stretched her neck still longer. This time, she sniffed my shoulders. “You smell funny!”
Even I knew that this was a very tactless remark. Still, I maintained my silence. An Alete Princess must maintain her graciousness and dignity...
“You’re not a dragon! Are you some type of fairy?” And the Tundra’s hair flattened suddenly, gleaming silkily in the light. “You glow very prettily, ma’am.”
“Thank you.”
The dragon sat down on the sand. She licked a paw, smoothed it over her head. “I’m Aurelie,” she said, and she continued grooming herself, oblivious to my annoyance. “It is very nice to meet you, Madam Lightning Dancer.”
“I’m not a Lightning Dancer. I’m an Aletebri, an extraterrestrial.” Father had advised me to be transparent in my dealings. This world had so many anomalies; he felt one more wouldn’t hurt. “I don’t live out here. I was looking for my ship. It crashed at the bottom of the sea.”
“So that was why you came out of the water. Oh! Ohhh.” Aurelie frowned so hard, I could see the wrinkles beneath her fur. “She lives out in the desert, surrounded by dunes and crags of rock....I guess you’re not her, after all.”
I shook my head. It could be hard, adjusting to life on this strange new planet, but I did not envy the Lightning Dancer. It was probable that many of her visitors were more obnoxious than this Tundra.
Aurelie sat for a long moment, frowning at the sea. I considered uttering something, telling her to move aside, perhaps...and then she flicked her tail and said, “Eh, it doesn’t look that deep; I bet some of my clanmates could dive down there. You’ll complete your whatever-thing in no time. G’bye, Lady!” And she stood up and plodded off across the sand.
I was all ears then, and I raced to get ahead of her. “Wait—you know someone who can dive into Leviathan Trench and retrieve my ship?”
“Weeeeell, I dunno ’bout that...but I’ve got some pals who dived into the ocean once; they rescued our Chief of Security from a siren. I don’t like ’em both: he’s grumpy and she’s nasty.” She stuck out her tongue. “That yucky, icky siren.”
I made my decision: “Take me to those people.”
“What, our Security Chief and the siren? But he’s a real grouch, and the siren’s off somewhere sailing on our ship—”
“No, I mean, to your fellows who can dive into the deep abyss. I am looking for people who can assist me in getting my family’s ship back!”
She yawned. “Oh, well, it’ll probably be kinda expensive,” and then her eyes lit upon my breathing apparatus, “but hey, you could probably work for us, sell stuff or blah blah. That looks wicked cool. Do you have a name, Glow-glow Lady?”
I told her my name was Rilivi. I did not appreciate the appellation “Glow-glow Lady”.
Upon my arrival at the Sunbeam Ruins, I contacted my father and informed him of the recent developments. He gently reminded me that there was no point in retrieving the ship, as it had been damaged beyond repair and was completely incapable of launching us beyond the stratosphere again. I was deeply put out when I remembered that. I forget details sometimes.
“But it sounds like you’ve fallen in with a nice, hardworking clan! Why not make the most of these circumstances? Perhaps your mother and I will come and visit....”
We had left the ship together some months before, though I had made additional trips since then to attempt further salvage operations. They had all been unproductive, for structural damage meant that the ship had become a dangerous environment, likely to fall into the abyss at any given moment. The trip after which I met Aurelie has so far been my last.
It suited me to attach myself to the Disillusionists. Others among my kin had settled in the Sunbeam Ruins, so I was at least not isolated. The Disillusionists were a rapidly expanding clan in need of many officers, and I had had some experience in that line of work before. After some discussion, it was decided that I would function as a Dispatch Officer.
Our translation equipment helps us understand Sornieth’s natives to some degree, though some incompatibilities still exist. In this case, I was momentarily confused by the word “dispatch”. It did not translate well to the Alete language.
Gyordan, the Guardian tasked with orienting me, had been rapidly growing frustrated. At my question, he tossed his head up, frills flattened in despair, and groaned, “Just look it up!” And he turned and lumbered away.
So I did, and as it turns out “Dispatch Officer” is a good label for my job. The Commercial Wing opens at 6:00 a.m. and closes for the night at 10:00 p.m. Many dragons come and go. When they are off the clan grounds, they keep in touch with me, apprising me of their movements and locations. I receive, report, and reply to these notifications as needed.
“The Exaudi is en route to the harbor; please be prepared to receive a shipment of six ensorcelled spirit-vessels, extra-large.”
“A storm has been recorded moving across Windswept Plateau. Courier Khamsin is grounded in Cloudsong; all Wind deliveries to go with Heavy Transport Keilim instead.”
“Order of metal sheets from the Ashfall Waste has been waylaid by harpies and the cargo has been lost. Please advise.”
And so on and so forth.
Although I remain in my office for most of the day, with only the comm systems in front of me, I find this very exciting. The dragons’ reports offer glimpses of the world abroad and the challenges they face. It is also a very good way to start learning how commerce and economics work.
Paradoxical as it is, this, too, is a good way to begin building rapport with my clanmates. Many of them know me as a figure distantly glimpsed atop the panopticon; they find it comforting if they can link my voice with my form. And I am very helpful, if I do say so myself. So even when I give them orders, sending them here or there, they generally follow instructions without complaint. At the end of the day, before all operations are shut down for the night, my signing-off message is the last one they hear.
dispatch (verb, tr.)
1. to send something, especially goods or a
message, somewhere for a particular purpose
Credits: The Aletebri subspecies was created by KallyPaige. Special thanks to her for the additional info as well!
