Creative Corner

[center][img]https://orig00.deviantart.net/7a6d/f/2018/270/e/9/6997_main_by_soenkan-dcny66e.png[/img] [i]The way is long and this day has been longer. Thankfully there's rest in store as the sun begins to set. The caravan pulls to a halt on some isolated track of road. Those who spent the day aloft land for a much needed break. Those bottled up on the carts and barges take to the wing. Meanwhile the senior traders gather around their infant camp fire. They joke and shout and, upon seeing you, beckon you over. Would you like to hear a story?[/i][/center] -------------------------------------- Welcome to my lore thread, everyone! The barge runners and caravan workers of the South Shore Trading Company travel all over the continent delivering their wares. Along their long journeys they collect stories and memories of the places they visit. Sit with them a while and let them spin you a tale. This is very much experimental for me. I've got a rather ambitious plan with this and, hopefully, you'll enjoy what I have in store. Regardless, I appreciate your patience. Pinglists are available upon request.

[center][size=5][b]Table of Contents[/b][/size][/center] [center][img]https://orig00.deviantart.net/d7b3/f/2018/270/c/4/6999_toal_by_soenkan-dcny5dz.png[/img][/center] The Tale of a Lord: Lord Kadrobal of Ruveren has a dark secret TW: * - Violence; ^ - Death Mention; Chapters [url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/cc/2537353/1#post_35558159]Prologue[/url]* ^ [url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/cc/2537353#post_35558208]1[/url] - [url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/cc/2537353#post_35558411]2[/url] - [url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/cc/2537353#post_35558514]3[/url] - [url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/cc/2537353#post_35559411]4[/url] - [url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/cc/2537353/2#post_35565879]5[/url] - 6 [center][img]https://orig00.deviantart.net/2a51/f/2018/270/d/f/6996_toah_by_soenkan-dcny77x.png[/img][/center] The Tale of a Hunter: A troubled tundra searches for a loved one TW: * - Death Mention Chapters [url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/cc/2537353#post_35558648]Prologue [/url]* 1

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[columns][img]https://orig00.deviantart.net/050b/f/2018/270/7/7/6998_toal_badge_by_soenkan-dcny5e6.png[/img] [nextcol] [size=5][b]The Champion The Tale of a Lord: Prologue[/b][/size] TW: Violence; Death Mention; [/columns] “Behold!” The pearlcatcher rose to the podium, their voice echoing in the silent ruin. He leaned out over the arena floor with a grin, hoisting a struggling fae over his head by the tail. “Behold the Champion of Sundial, the great warrior Tohren!” The fae struggled in his grasp, swinging in the air as he was jolted and shaken about with near every word, “Lightweaver’s chosen! The Golden Sun of the Land of Light! Ruler of Dragons! Slayer of Kings!” Tohren himself had nearly passed out once again by the time the world stilled. He held his breath to keep from vomiting again. Blurry vision slowly cleared to reveal the empty stands of the ruined coliseum. Empty with the exception of a single imperial, bedraggled and in chains. Hodhel? His gut twisted once more, this time in shame, before he found himself in freefall. He twisted through the air, his new body achy to say the least as he tried and failed to slow the approach of the dusty ground. Delicate wings snapped outward in a last attempt and pain shot through his chest with the now familiar crack of snapped bone. He peeled himself from the ground, eyes searching while his captor continued to shout. The cranking of the arena’s iron gate fought with the distant voice in his ears, “...in a small contest of strength!” The roc’s call rang out from all too close, setting Tohren to motion. Scrambling to his feet, he limped away, only making it a few steps before he was sent sprawling. His face met metal with a dull clatter. It was all he could do to lay there and wait for his vision to clear, and when it had he wished it hadn’t. Shoving away with his arms, he choked down bial yet again. The image of the golden sun blazed bright upon his own breastplate along with the rest of his armor strewn across the dusty floor. He squeezed his eyes shut pushing the nauseating image from his mind until another angry call dragged him back to reality. It was nearly free. He had to do something. Anything. Face set in determination, he wrapped his arms around the handle of his sword, pulling at the leather grip until the crack in his rib screamed at him to stop. A quick glance upward showed his audience had long since turned away. He tugged again and again, frills flattening against his neck as he slumped to the ground. “What’s the matter, Champion?” his captor called from above, craned over the railing with one hand on the banister and the other clutching his pearl, “You once slayed ten roc’s with that very blade! Surely only one won’t send you running!” Tohren grimaced in a mix of anger and fear. Something anything. He took another glance to the gate, then up to where his tormentor leaned with that same eager grin. So little time left. He heaved himself forward, this time diving beneath that breastplate, scrambling through cloth and metal as quickly as his injuries allowed, praying it was still there. Finally he emerged with a single knife, long and needle thin. It took both hands to heft it, but he managed, setting his jaw as he began to spin. His whole body was alight with hot pain, the stress tugging at his wounds. The blade trailed around him leaving circles in the dirt, lifting up, higher and higher, fast and faster, then release. It flew through the air as the roc burst free and began to charge. Tohren watched it arc upward, landing home just as he was swept up by the angry creature. He barely stood a chance, yet he smiled at the sickening thunk of steel against opalescent pearl. The strangled gasp his tormentor made as it struck. He smiled. And he let himself go.

[columns][img]https://orig00.deviantart.net/050b/f/2018/270/7/7/6998_toal_badge_by_soenkan-dcny5e6.png[/img] [nextcol] [size=5][b]The Tale of a Lord: 1[/b][/size] TW: [/columns] It… hurt… No… Hurt? Burned? [i]Gripped.[/i] No… It was unpleasant. Empty… not quite empty. Certainly not full. Not good. Drobal settled on ‘not good’ as he rolled over on the stone. Predawn light had already begun to drown out the stars as he reached out to his side for his pearl. He clutched the familiar, beloved weight of it to his chest, lightly spinning it as he lay in the dirt. He traced his claw across the slender crack in its perfect surface, ringing idly around the deep, narrow hole the knife’s blade had left. He should probably get back before true dawn else- He stopped. His thumb pressed against that hole again as his eyes went wide and his stomach twisted in knots. Not quite empty. Certainly not full. Not good. [i]Not Good.[/i] The way back to the keep was long and made even longer when taken at a sprint. Drobal took every shortcut he could think of, slogging through the waterways at as high a speed as he could manage. All the while, his pearl bounced in its pouch at his side with a regular thump that set his teeth on edge. His wing pulled in tight with pain as he clipped the wall in an overzealous leap, a deluge of rainwater drowning out the tears as he begins the final stretch up the storm pipe and into the keep. From there his pace is more measured. Anyone could come around the corner now and his dripping mane and lack of clothes was already a bit much to explain. Not to mention the- He shivered as he swept into his own chambers, letting the heavy door fall shut behind him. As soon as that final click sounded, he rushed to the balcony, prying open the curtains to let in the orange light of dawn. The morning bells began their chiming. He slipped his hand into the satchel at his waist. His thumbclaw slipped snug into the hole. The gap in his being. His voice was barely a whisper as the clang of bells swelled. Light turned from orange to gold and the world sang its rising song as he chanted. “Too far. Too far. Too far...”

[columns][img]https://orig00.deviantart.net/050b/f/2018/270/7/7/6998_toal_badge_by_soenkan-dcny5e6.png[/img] [nextcol] [size=5][b]The Tale of a Lord: 2[/b][/size] TW: [/columns] It came up a little bit at a time. Adrenaline pumped through him as he sped toward his chambers in the night, another wave of liquid memory threatening to burst from his lips at any moment. He couldn’t swallow it back down. Not anymore. He could feel months worth heavy in his gut and there was so much more, the cruelty and pain he’d inflicted in the past hours foul on his tongue. He doubled over as black ichor dibbled down his chin, shambling the last few steps and out of the public eye. Iridescent goop dripped to the floor and tears streamed from Drobal’s eyes. Not the pearl. No these were tainted memories. Though he longed to further mend the flaw that marred its surface, these dark moments were not a part of him. He refused to let them become so. Another shudder went through him as another wave of experiences rose up from his belly. He wiped them from his nose and mouth, a palm clapped over his snout as he moved to the edge of the room. It took little effort to chip away a bit of stone. Taking it in his hand, he began to let those thoughts flow, the black mass building up in the shape of a small sphere. All he’d done flowed out of him and into it. They hardened to an ugly greenish brown, an unshapely thing to be certain, barely the size of a large marble. He slipped it into the pocket of his robe. There was much to be done come morning.

[columns][img]https://orig00.deviantart.net/050b/f/2018/270/7/7/6998_toal_badge_by_soenkan-dcny5e6.png[/img] [nextcol] [size=5][b]The Tale of a Lord: 3[/b][/size] TW: Death Mention; [/columns] “Because,” he said slowly, “I hate you.” He shrunk back at the words, the restraints tugging at his wrist and the bindings tight around his wrists. A claw brushed beneath his eye as his captor continued, “I hate you more than anything in the world. More than death or evil I hate you.” He felt himself say the words now. Not just form them on his lips but know them and mean them as he circled about his victim. “and I plan to make you well aware of that fact,” he grabbed the pearlcatcher by the mane and hoisted them up until their eyes met. Until his eyes met his own. A gangly thing, blue with white spots and gold eyes. Too clean and too ragged all at once. “I will take everything from you. I will take every last tear you have.” “And then I will take your life” There was another knock at the door. Harder this time. “Lord Kadrobal? Are you alright?” Drobal sat up in bed, clutching his broken pearl to his chest, “I’m…. yes everything is fine.” “Are you certain? I thought I heard you cry out,” the guard responded. “Everything is fine. Return to your post.” “Yes, my lord.”

[columns][img]https://orig00.deviantart.net/76ab/f/2018/270/c/0/6995_toah_badge_by_soenkan-dcny78a.png[/img] [nextcol] [size=5][b]Blizzard Season The Tale of a Hunter: Prologue[/b][/size] TW: Death Mention; [/columns] Wind whipped and snow drove down from the darkening sky and Ghelne’s tears froze in streaks from his eyes and into his mane. He lowered his head to the fresh snow once again. Every moment not moving forward was wasted time. His next breath filled his lungs with the empty tang of ice and ozone. It shot through him like knives and sent a shiver up from his core. Nothing new. He turned, the smallest sweep of angle he could manage pressing himself down again. The wind shifted around him. This time there was more. The snow’s taste on his tongue was joined by another much warmer scent however faint it was. His spirits Rose for just a moment. “Ghelne!” The call came quiet, whipped away by the blizzard. The tundra’s stance slumped. Rorik’s bulky form crashed to the ground in a powdery plume. Their body was more a mass of furs and cloth than anything recognizable as a dragon. “Ghelne-Ayel,” the said once again, brushing the snow from his cheek, “thank the gods we found you.” as they spoke, two other forms clambered from their back, a wildclaw and tundra. He smiled despite himself, huffing a thank you as they draped a mostly dry fur over his shoulders. Luda nodded solemnly, standing at his cousin's side while handing one of his own furs to Kastik seeing as she lacked a fur coat of her own. Rorik's continued through it all, beginning to ramble about the storm and the mountains and how worried they'd been all up until Ghelne spoke, “I'm not going home.” The guardian stopped in their tracks. “You know that. I told you all that. I'm not going home until she's with me. I have to find her.” The wind filled the silence between them. All the fear and righteous anger of a guardian in peril washed through Rorik's features, pinching their face as their whole body shuddered in the driving snow. “Ghelne-Ayel please. The clan needs you safe. I need you safe.” “I'm the best tracker we have. That's why I-” “That's why we can't afford to lose you too!” They raised their voice with every word now. Luda laid his claws noisily in the snow, stamping out a simple rune: 'protection’ Ghelne drew up the furs around himself. The smell of the three of them together was more than enough to bring the warmth and safety of home to mind and he longed for it. He ached for it. But there was a hole there. A missing piece of the puzzle, it's absence bright in his mind's eye. “I'm going to find her even if none of you will help me.” Now came Kastik’s turn, her voice bitter with desperation. “You can't just walk away from us. It's Deaths End. Height of Earth! Winter is here, Ghel!” She reached out and turned his face to hers. “Do you know that? I don't care if your iceborn. I don't care about your coat or your lineage or any of that! This mountain will kill you. Like it will kill all of us. Like it killed Naka-” “Don't you dare!” Tears welled up and froze as the wind pulled them from his face. “don't you dare finish that sentence! Don't you say her name!” He shoved her away, stumbling back as the three of them stared on. Three sets of white eyes in the dark. “She's my sister. She's my sister and she's alive somewhere and I have to save her!” He bent down in the snow, a sob wracking his body. “Just go of you won't help! Go all of you!” Luda raised to his hinds once again, this time with with a twist of his wrist and a breath of icy air. The contused Ghelne fell to the ground. Rorik rushed in to scoop him from the snow, withholding the tinge of anger they felt as they turned to Luda. 'Home’ the tundra signed in the air.

[columns][img]https://orig00.deviantart.net/050b/f/2018/270/7/7/6998_toal_badge_by_soenkan-dcny5e6.png[/img] [nextcol] [size=5][b]The Tale of a Lord: 4[/b][/size] TW: [/columns] A smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. With the way he squinted in the sunlight it almost looked genuine. Unfortunately, Liren saw through the veil rather easily. “What’s bothering you, Dro?” she leaned over to be heard over the wind. Drobal leaned back in his seat, glancing back and forth between the pearl between his palms and the sparring match below.“Nothing,” he lied, “I only wish this were more exciting. The same knight wins every time.” Now he let a sneer press his muzzle, letting himself get lost in the perfect rounded smoothness of his pearl, rather than the imperial with the sun on his breastplate. “Don’t be that way, he’s an excellent fighter,” Liren bumped his shoulder playfully, “So graceful. But you were never one for grace were you?” “He’s not so special. I don’t see why everyone loves him,” He looked up once again, watching the combatants as they rose into the air once again, “I doubt he’d be so smooth and perfect in a real… battle…” A chill sunk through his body with a tingle that sent his whiskers rising with alarm. It took all he had to suppress the a whimper of knowing fear. The two warriors dove through the air, the clang of their swords ringing out in the clear air. Two innocent dragons. Warriors of the land. Honorable. And Drobal could feel himself latch onto them, their names. “How long will they be here?” he said quietly, “...before they move on? They are probably due elsewhere soon. Have true fights… better things to do than entertaining stiff nobles, yes?” “Sir Tohren and Sir Hodhel?” Liren said, also caught up in the movement, “They should be a few days longer. It’s low season and-” “They should leave sooner.” he cut her off, nearly shaking now, “it would be better that way.”