Creative Corner
Share your own art and stories, or ask for critique.
TOPIC | [Subspecies] Necromancer Art&Lore
@Kava
Ooh, hurray for new updates! :D
I would like to add Sangria to the spotlight pool.
[url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=46929538]
[img]http://flightrising.com/rendern/350/469296/46929538_350.png[/img]
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@Princessfirefly I added you to the pinglist and Alacron to the pool :>
@EssayOfThoughts Hahah, I wouldn't expect anything less :D
@TheCell All have been added ^^ Also, the art is amazing! Would you mind if I shared it on the front page? I'm not sure if the author would allow it - of course I'll credit them.
@CosmicFalcon She's been added! And I'm happy to see you happy :D
@EssayOfThoughts Hahah, I wouldn't expect anything less :D
@TheCell All have been added ^^ Also, the art is amazing! Would you mind if I shared it on the front page? I'm not sure if the author would allow it - of course I'll credit them.
@CosmicFalcon She's been added! And I'm happy to see you happy :D
@Princessfirefly I added you to the pinglist and Alacron to the pool :>
@EssayOfThoughts Hahah, I wouldn't expect anything less :D
@TheCell All have been added ^^ Also, the art is amazing! Would you mind if I shared it on the front page? I'm not sure if the author would allow it - of course I'll credit them.
@CosmicFalcon She's been added! And I'm happy to see you happy :D
@EssayOfThoughts Hahah, I wouldn't expect anything less :D
@TheCell All have been added ^^ Also, the art is amazing! Would you mind if I shared it on the front page? I'm not sure if the author would allow it - of course I'll credit them.
@CosmicFalcon She's been added! And I'm happy to see you happy :D
Of course! Yes, an image credit to Arkenrall is all that’s necessary. I might actually contact them about doing a prize for us for RoR festivities.....need to get this Necro party started (again haha)
Edit: @CosmicFalcon inorite?! @_@
Edit: @CosmicFalcon inorite?! @_@
Of course! Yes, an image credit to Arkenrall is all that’s necessary. I might actually contact them about doing a prize for us for RoR festivities.....need to get this Necro party started (again haha)
Edit: @CosmicFalcon inorite?! @_@
Edit: @CosmicFalcon inorite?! @_@
[size=1]@3idolon @thecell @kmrikkari @horseleech @sashafiredrake @mnkn10 @essayofthoughts @bara2684 @reotheleo @wolfandcrow @stduke @shadowfire1223 @toxicsugar @vengeful @wolftrickster @scorpiontail @meilkor @turboblaze @blightwyrm @yuubi @shadowpiper @solvei @spiderfrog15 @spore @twilitraven @arborpunk @probablyskeletor @roaringspector @foxghosts @tarantulove @snowki @princessfirefly[/size]
[center][img]https://dl.dropboxusercontent.com/s/hp56gdizp19uqry/plaguetop.png[/img][/center]
[center][size=7][color=DarkRed][font=Californian FB][b]SPOTLIGHT[/b][/font][/color][/size][/center]
[center][color=DarkRed]_______________________[/color][/center]
[center][url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?p=lair&tab=userpage&id=191160][size=6][color=maroon]EssayOfThoughts'[/url][size=6][color=maroon] Iridium[/color][/size][/center]
[center][url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=48331149]
[img]http://flightrising.com/rendern/350/483312/48331149_350.png[/img]
[/url]
[/center]
[left][color=maroon]He likes Tethys. He highly doubts she’d have let him stay if he didn't, because the fact that he does is the only reason he doesn’t sow chaos more thoroughly in amongst the plague-bearing members of her flock. Oh, he still sows chaos amongst them, of course he does, he is Iridium the Trickster, cast out of his own clan for being a Natureborn who took Plague into himself, who failed as a Necromancer but succeeded as a Necromage, curing himself some far space in the future.
To be fair, Tethys’ Necromancers don’t much like him either. Aerugosanguis dislikes his tendency to encourage his granddaughter’s heresy, Pleurisy doesn’t trust him with ‘tia, Nosoi doesn't trust him at [i]all[/i], which he thinks is a bit unfair given he’s never done anything to hurt her. Then again, Nosoi is a failure and considers herself one. He supposes she recognises in him a kindred spirit.
“You shouldn't tease them.” Ondine, as ever, is quiet in her approach and quick to get her words out before her next forced exhale. That no one of the clan has yet found a cure for the condition - even with two Ghouls, four Necromancers, eight active ‘servi and five more preparing for pilgrimage and himself - surprises him. He’s always a little concerned, talking to her, that she’s about to keel over should she forget to take a breath, but then it wouldn’t be the first time he's jolted her with magic to make her inhale.
He really shouldn’t startle her so much, it’s not good for her. Even if it is amusing.
“It’s hardly teasing,” he replies, once he’s figured out what she's referring to. Eschar and Myo are easy to play with. Eschar so utterly dedicated to the goddess who left her a seeping, suppurating creature full of plague, Myo so melancholy until his moments of utter berserk rage hit. Honestly, he’s surprised no one’s put Myo down yet and with the amount of time he spends in the Infirmary, where Haema spends so much time resting, he’s shocked the two haven’t caused one another’s deaths yet. Then again, both might be Imperials but both are also Plagueborn. Unlikely they’d form an Emperor.
Shame. That could be interesting.
“Iri, you're trying to turn Eschar even more heretic than me, and you purposefully goad Myo towards anger specifically when Pestilentia and I aren't there to contain him.” She looks him in the eye, her own as bright as embers. “It’s [i]my[/i] heresy you use to goad them. I’ll thank you not to.”
Iridium smirks and coils back on himself. Ondine, for all her heresy, is still so prim and proper, precise and polite even as she speaks words and believes truths that would make the stricter Necromancers set curses on her to peel the living hide from her body. She’s rather lucky that the First Necromancer of this clan is her grandfather and that her grandmother won’t stand for it. Haema, for all her illness, wields enough influence to protect them all. He’s honestly surprised she hasn’t yet sought to oust him, given all the trickery he plays, but he’s beginning to suspect she likes him.
Haema’s strange like that. He never knows what makes her laugh and what doesn’t.
“It’s such an interesting heresy, though,” he says, and moves to curl himself around Ondine. She’s big, is Ondine, of course she is, she’s a Guardian and one of the larger in the clan for all her condition limits her reasonable growth, but he can still coil around her foreleg and part of her neck before her free hand moves to pry him off.
“Iri,” she says, with a lengthy sigh. He does like Ondine. Always so patient. If only the others were as well, but Tethys is always so busy and Jongin never has time for any but Tethys and their children and Porcelain has healing to work on. Boring.
“It’s fascinating,” he says, in earnest this time. “Truly. And more should believe it, or at least consider it. Our Lady of Plague has the means to end all of us, if she wishes, but while she has directed us to end Emperors she lets the rest of us free to decide [i]what[/i] we might be. Everyone thinks Ghouls the weakest because they cannot best the Plague, but they [i]take in[/i] all of it, become bastions of her power! And you, ‘servi, you can cure with a curse and Necromancers can just cure, they cannot specialise as you can-”
“They can,” Ondine cuts in. “Miasm is learning from Nahum.”
For a moment his mouth works. “Fine,” he says. “But still- if Our Lady saw us as weaker she could say so or show so. But the plagues in Eschar give her visions of Our Lady, did you know? And Myo’s rages make him a weapon of Her wrath, don’t you see? And you and I, your curing with a curse, my magic from curing [i]myself[/i], outside of the rules of the trials-”
Ondine’s hand clamps around his mouth.
“[i]Mmph[/i],” he says, most displeased.
“I know what you are going to say.” He tries to struggle in her grip, but, “I [i]know[/i],” she says again. “But they are still heresies. You can make people listen in ways other than … goading them in such a way as to risk their health. Eschar and Myo may be [i]bastions of her power[/i] but for all they are strong in Plague they are [i]weak in body[/i]. You do them no good to push them so. No good at all. And you know that Tethys does not like it when we fight. You know she and Jongin will step in if you keep on doing this.”
She sets him loose then, gives him back his mouth. He doesn’t uncoil from her though. She’s warm, and instead he nestles his head between the vast spread of her horns. He knows she has a point. Tethys lets him stay because… well. He likes her, and in the end he does not want to anger her. She has such a disparate bundle around her, and cares for them with such sure strength for all her small size and limited magic. She is a force of personality, and Iridium knows the power of that. He nuzzles Ondine’s horn, twisting and coiling his body up her length until his tail tickles her nose.
“Iri.”
“I’ll behave,” he says. “Fine. Maybe I should join your father writing letters. Goad other Necromancers to the heresies.” Ondine’s already frowning but oh, he likes this idea, and starts uncoiling from her with haste. “If I can make enough respected Necromancers agree, maybe your grandfather will stop sitting on porcupines. Maybe then Eschar and Myo will listen.” He flies briefly in front of Ondine and taps her on the nose. “And at the least, maybe the whole shake up will give me some [i]fun[/i]. See you, Ondy!”
As he flutters off to go and find some parchment and an inkwell that isn’t dried up from the volcanic heat he hears behind him Ondine’s exasperated cry of, “[i]Iri![/i]”
[/color]
[/left]
[left][color=maroon]by EssayOfThoughts[/color][/left]
[color=maroon]Also featuring:
[url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?p=lair&id=191160&tab=dragon&did=44519604][color=maroon]Ondine[/url]
@3idolon @thecell @kmrikkari @horseleech @sashafiredrake @mnkn10 @essayofthoughts @bara2684 @reotheleo @wolfandcrow @stduke @shadowfire1223 @toxicsugar @vengeful @wolftrickster @scorpiontail @meilkor @turboblaze @blightwyrm @yuubi @shadowpiper @solvei @spiderfrog15 @spore @twilitraven @arborpunk @probablyskeletor @roaringspector @foxghosts @tarantulove @snowki @princessfirefly
Also featuring:
Ondine
SPOTLIGHT
_______________________
EssayOfThoughts' Iridium
He likes Tethys. He highly doubts she’d have let him stay if he didn't, because the fact that he does is the only reason he doesn’t sow chaos more thoroughly in amongst the plague-bearing members of her flock. Oh, he still sows chaos amongst them, of course he does, he is Iridium the Trickster, cast out of his own clan for being a Natureborn who took Plague into himself, who failed as a Necromancer but succeeded as a Necromage, curing himself some far space in the future.
To be fair, Tethys’ Necromancers don’t much like him either. Aerugosanguis dislikes his tendency to encourage his granddaughter’s heresy, Pleurisy doesn’t trust him with ‘tia, Nosoi doesn't trust him at all, which he thinks is a bit unfair given he’s never done anything to hurt her. Then again, Nosoi is a failure and considers herself one. He supposes she recognises in him a kindred spirit.
“You shouldn't tease them.” Ondine, as ever, is quiet in her approach and quick to get her words out before her next forced exhale. That no one of the clan has yet found a cure for the condition - even with two Ghouls, four Necromancers, eight active ‘servi and five more preparing for pilgrimage and himself - surprises him. He’s always a little concerned, talking to her, that she’s about to keel over should she forget to take a breath, but then it wouldn’t be the first time he's jolted her with magic to make her inhale.
He really shouldn’t startle her so much, it’s not good for her. Even if it is amusing.
“It’s hardly teasing,” he replies, once he’s figured out what she's referring to. Eschar and Myo are easy to play with. Eschar so utterly dedicated to the goddess who left her a seeping, suppurating creature full of plague, Myo so melancholy until his moments of utter berserk rage hit. Honestly, he’s surprised no one’s put Myo down yet and with the amount of time he spends in the Infirmary, where Haema spends so much time resting, he’s shocked the two haven’t caused one another’s deaths yet. Then again, both might be Imperials but both are also Plagueborn. Unlikely they’d form an Emperor.
Shame. That could be interesting.
“Iri, you're trying to turn Eschar even more heretic than me, and you purposefully goad Myo towards anger specifically when Pestilentia and I aren't there to contain him.” She looks him in the eye, her own as bright as embers. “It’s my heresy you use to goad them. I’ll thank you not to.”
Iridium smirks and coils back on himself. Ondine, for all her heresy, is still so prim and proper, precise and polite even as she speaks words and believes truths that would make the stricter Necromancers set curses on her to peel the living hide from her body. She’s rather lucky that the First Necromancer of this clan is her grandfather and that her grandmother won’t stand for it. Haema, for all her illness, wields enough influence to protect them all. He’s honestly surprised she hasn’t yet sought to oust him, given all the trickery he plays, but he’s beginning to suspect she likes him.
Haema’s strange like that. He never knows what makes her laugh and what doesn’t.
“It’s such an interesting heresy, though,” he says, and moves to curl himself around Ondine. She’s big, is Ondine, of course she is, she’s a Guardian and one of the larger in the clan for all her condition limits her reasonable growth, but he can still coil around her foreleg and part of her neck before her free hand moves to pry him off.
“Iri,” she says, with a lengthy sigh. He does like Ondine. Always so patient. If only the others were as well, but Tethys is always so busy and Jongin never has time for any but Tethys and their children and Porcelain has healing to work on. Boring.
“It’s fascinating,” he says, in earnest this time. “Truly. And more should believe it, or at least consider it. Our Lady of Plague has the means to end all of us, if she wishes, but while she has directed us to end Emperors she lets the rest of us free to decide what we might be. Everyone thinks Ghouls the weakest because they cannot best the Plague, but they take in all of it, become bastions of her power! And you, ‘servi, you can cure with a curse and Necromancers can just cure, they cannot specialise as you can-”
“They can,” Ondine cuts in. “Miasm is learning from Nahum.”
For a moment his mouth works. “Fine,” he says. “But still- if Our Lady saw us as weaker she could say so or show so. But the plagues in Eschar give her visions of Our Lady, did you know? And Myo’s rages make him a weapon of Her wrath, don’t you see? And you and I, your curing with a curse, my magic from curing myself, outside of the rules of the trials-”
Ondine’s hand clamps around his mouth.
“Mmph,” he says, most displeased.
“I know what you are going to say.” He tries to struggle in her grip, but, “I know,” she says again. “But they are still heresies. You can make people listen in ways other than … goading them in such a way as to risk their health. Eschar and Myo may be bastions of her power but for all they are strong in Plague they are weak in body. You do them no good to push them so. No good at all. And you know that Tethys does not like it when we fight. You know she and Jongin will step in if you keep on doing this.”
She sets him loose then, gives him back his mouth. He doesn’t uncoil from her though. She’s warm, and instead he nestles his head between the vast spread of her horns. He knows she has a point. Tethys lets him stay because… well. He likes her, and in the end he does not want to anger her. She has such a disparate bundle around her, and cares for them with such sure strength for all her small size and limited magic. She is a force of personality, and Iridium knows the power of that. He nuzzles Ondine’s horn, twisting and coiling his body up her length until his tail tickles her nose.
“Iri.”
“I’ll behave,” he says. “Fine. Maybe I should join your father writing letters. Goad other Necromancers to the heresies.” Ondine’s already frowning but oh, he likes this idea, and starts uncoiling from her with haste. “If I can make enough respected Necromancers agree, maybe your grandfather will stop sitting on porcupines. Maybe then Eschar and Myo will listen.” He flies briefly in front of Ondine and taps her on the nose. “And at the least, maybe the whole shake up will give me some fun. See you, Ondy!”
As he flutters off to go and find some parchment and an inkwell that isn’t dried up from the volcanic heat he hears behind him Ondine’s exasperated cry of, “Iri!”
To be fair, Tethys’ Necromancers don’t much like him either. Aerugosanguis dislikes his tendency to encourage his granddaughter’s heresy, Pleurisy doesn’t trust him with ‘tia, Nosoi doesn't trust him at all, which he thinks is a bit unfair given he’s never done anything to hurt her. Then again, Nosoi is a failure and considers herself one. He supposes she recognises in him a kindred spirit.
“You shouldn't tease them.” Ondine, as ever, is quiet in her approach and quick to get her words out before her next forced exhale. That no one of the clan has yet found a cure for the condition - even with two Ghouls, four Necromancers, eight active ‘servi and five more preparing for pilgrimage and himself - surprises him. He’s always a little concerned, talking to her, that she’s about to keel over should she forget to take a breath, but then it wouldn’t be the first time he's jolted her with magic to make her inhale.
He really shouldn’t startle her so much, it’s not good for her. Even if it is amusing.
“It’s hardly teasing,” he replies, once he’s figured out what she's referring to. Eschar and Myo are easy to play with. Eschar so utterly dedicated to the goddess who left her a seeping, suppurating creature full of plague, Myo so melancholy until his moments of utter berserk rage hit. Honestly, he’s surprised no one’s put Myo down yet and with the amount of time he spends in the Infirmary, where Haema spends so much time resting, he’s shocked the two haven’t caused one another’s deaths yet. Then again, both might be Imperials but both are also Plagueborn. Unlikely they’d form an Emperor.
Shame. That could be interesting.
“Iri, you're trying to turn Eschar even more heretic than me, and you purposefully goad Myo towards anger specifically when Pestilentia and I aren't there to contain him.” She looks him in the eye, her own as bright as embers. “It’s my heresy you use to goad them. I’ll thank you not to.”
Iridium smirks and coils back on himself. Ondine, for all her heresy, is still so prim and proper, precise and polite even as she speaks words and believes truths that would make the stricter Necromancers set curses on her to peel the living hide from her body. She’s rather lucky that the First Necromancer of this clan is her grandfather and that her grandmother won’t stand for it. Haema, for all her illness, wields enough influence to protect them all. He’s honestly surprised she hasn’t yet sought to oust him, given all the trickery he plays, but he’s beginning to suspect she likes him.
Haema’s strange like that. He never knows what makes her laugh and what doesn’t.
“It’s such an interesting heresy, though,” he says, and moves to curl himself around Ondine. She’s big, is Ondine, of course she is, she’s a Guardian and one of the larger in the clan for all her condition limits her reasonable growth, but he can still coil around her foreleg and part of her neck before her free hand moves to pry him off.
“Iri,” she says, with a lengthy sigh. He does like Ondine. Always so patient. If only the others were as well, but Tethys is always so busy and Jongin never has time for any but Tethys and their children and Porcelain has healing to work on. Boring.
“It’s fascinating,” he says, in earnest this time. “Truly. And more should believe it, or at least consider it. Our Lady of Plague has the means to end all of us, if she wishes, but while she has directed us to end Emperors she lets the rest of us free to decide what we might be. Everyone thinks Ghouls the weakest because they cannot best the Plague, but they take in all of it, become bastions of her power! And you, ‘servi, you can cure with a curse and Necromancers can just cure, they cannot specialise as you can-”
“They can,” Ondine cuts in. “Miasm is learning from Nahum.”
For a moment his mouth works. “Fine,” he says. “But still- if Our Lady saw us as weaker she could say so or show so. But the plagues in Eschar give her visions of Our Lady, did you know? And Myo’s rages make him a weapon of Her wrath, don’t you see? And you and I, your curing with a curse, my magic from curing myself, outside of the rules of the trials-”
Ondine’s hand clamps around his mouth.
“Mmph,” he says, most displeased.
“I know what you are going to say.” He tries to struggle in her grip, but, “I know,” she says again. “But they are still heresies. You can make people listen in ways other than … goading them in such a way as to risk their health. Eschar and Myo may be bastions of her power but for all they are strong in Plague they are weak in body. You do them no good to push them so. No good at all. And you know that Tethys does not like it when we fight. You know she and Jongin will step in if you keep on doing this.”
She sets him loose then, gives him back his mouth. He doesn’t uncoil from her though. She’s warm, and instead he nestles his head between the vast spread of her horns. He knows she has a point. Tethys lets him stay because… well. He likes her, and in the end he does not want to anger her. She has such a disparate bundle around her, and cares for them with such sure strength for all her small size and limited magic. She is a force of personality, and Iridium knows the power of that. He nuzzles Ondine’s horn, twisting and coiling his body up her length until his tail tickles her nose.
“Iri.”
“I’ll behave,” he says. “Fine. Maybe I should join your father writing letters. Goad other Necromancers to the heresies.” Ondine’s already frowning but oh, he likes this idea, and starts uncoiling from her with haste. “If I can make enough respected Necromancers agree, maybe your grandfather will stop sitting on porcupines. Maybe then Eschar and Myo will listen.” He flies briefly in front of Ondine and taps her on the nose. “And at the least, maybe the whole shake up will give me some fun. See you, Ondy!”
As he flutters off to go and find some parchment and an inkwell that isn’t dried up from the volcanic heat he hears behind him Ondine’s exasperated cry of, “Iri!”
by EssayOfThoughts
Also featuring:
Ondine
[size=1]@3idolon @thecell @kmrikkari @horseleech @sashafiredrake @mnkn10 @essayofthoughts @bara2684 @reotheleo @wolfandcrow @stduke @shadowfire1223 @toxicsugar @vengeful @wolftrickster @scorpiontail @meilkor @turboblaze @blightwyrm @yuubi @shadowpiper @solvei @spiderfrog15 @spore @twilitraven @arborpunk @probablyskeletor @roaringspector @foxghosts @tarantulove @snowki @princessfirefly[/size]
[center][img]https://dl.dropboxusercontent.com/s/hp56gdizp19uqry/plaguetop.png[/img][/center]
[center][size=7][color=DarkRed][font=Californian FB][b]SPOTLIGHT[/b][/font][/color][/size][/center]
[center][color=DarkRed]_______________________[/color][/center]
[center][url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?p=lair&tab=userpage&id=51234][size=6][color=maroon]Princessflirefly's[/url][size=6][color=maroon] Alacron[/color][/size][/center]
[center][url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=49867389]
[img]http://flightrising.com/rendern/350/498674/49867389_350.png[/img]
[/url]
[/center]
[center][color=maroon]Alacron is part of a large family of Necromancers, the gifted children of the Plaguebringer able to infect and cure at Her will. The life of a Necro is what Alacron was raised to be, and he didn’t bother to fight it. This was the life of his ancestors, and it was an honor to uphold the will of the Goddess of the Plague.
So when he came of age he followed his mother’s instructions and started the trials that all Necromancers must endure.
Although he had prepared for the moment his entire life he could never be prepared for the pain of his infection. It only took a day to set in, but the infection spread so quickly his body could barely keep up.
He wasn’t keeping any food down and he was losing fluid fast. His body screamed for help, but there was no help in the trials.
Alacron was convinced he would not survive, or worse become a Ghoul and be a disappointment to his family and the Plaguebringer.
But just as it seemed his body would fail him, he started to feel better and recovered just in the nick of time. If his immune system hadn’t kicked in just then, he would have failed his trials.
His infection turned dormant. He had succeeded. He was what his mother and grandfather and siblings and cousins were: A full fledged Necromancer, a Harbringer of Her will.
Alacron specializes in radiation. His Infections are slow, and often those he infects don’t even realize they’d been infected until years later. But Alacron prefers to cure rather than Infect. He doesn’t like to see others suffer.
Currently Alacron has no clan and is currently wandering the Sunbeam Ruins on his own. He infects few while curing many dragons that he encounters.
[/color]
[/center]
[left][color=maroon]by Princessfirefly[/color][/left]
@3idolon @thecell @kmrikkari @horseleech @sashafiredrake @mnkn10 @essayofthoughts @bara2684 @reotheleo @wolfandcrow @stduke @shadowfire1223 @toxicsugar @vengeful @wolftrickster @scorpiontail @meilkor @turboblaze @blightwyrm @yuubi @shadowpiper @solvei @spiderfrog15 @spore @twilitraven @arborpunk @probablyskeletor @roaringspector @foxghosts @tarantulove @snowki @princessfirefly
SPOTLIGHT
_______________________
Princessflirefly's Alacron
Alacron is part of a large family of Necromancers, the gifted children of the Plaguebringer able to infect and cure at Her will. The life of a Necro is what Alacron was raised to be, and he didn’t bother to fight it. This was the life of his ancestors, and it was an honor to uphold the will of the Goddess of the Plague.
So when he came of age he followed his mother’s instructions and started the trials that all Necromancers must endure.
Although he had prepared for the moment his entire life he could never be prepared for the pain of his infection. It only took a day to set in, but the infection spread so quickly his body could barely keep up.
He wasn’t keeping any food down and he was losing fluid fast. His body screamed for help, but there was no help in the trials.
Alacron was convinced he would not survive, or worse become a Ghoul and be a disappointment to his family and the Plaguebringer.
But just as it seemed his body would fail him, he started to feel better and recovered just in the nick of time. If his immune system hadn’t kicked in just then, he would have failed his trials.
His infection turned dormant. He had succeeded. He was what his mother and grandfather and siblings and cousins were: A full fledged Necromancer, a Harbringer of Her will.
Alacron specializes in radiation. His Infections are slow, and often those he infects don’t even realize they’d been infected until years later. But Alacron prefers to cure rather than Infect. He doesn’t like to see others suffer.
Currently Alacron has no clan and is currently wandering the Sunbeam Ruins on his own. He infects few while curing many dragons that he encounters.
So when he came of age he followed his mother’s instructions and started the trials that all Necromancers must endure.
Although he had prepared for the moment his entire life he could never be prepared for the pain of his infection. It only took a day to set in, but the infection spread so quickly his body could barely keep up.
He wasn’t keeping any food down and he was losing fluid fast. His body screamed for help, but there was no help in the trials.
Alacron was convinced he would not survive, or worse become a Ghoul and be a disappointment to his family and the Plaguebringer.
But just as it seemed his body would fail him, he started to feel better and recovered just in the nick of time. If his immune system hadn’t kicked in just then, he would have failed his trials.
His infection turned dormant. He had succeeded. He was what his mother and grandfather and siblings and cousins were: A full fledged Necromancer, a Harbringer of Her will.
Alacron specializes in radiation. His Infections are slow, and often those he infects don’t even realize they’d been infected until years later. But Alacron prefers to cure rather than Infect. He doesn’t like to see others suffer.
Currently Alacron has no clan and is currently wandering the Sunbeam Ruins on his own. He infects few while curing many dragons that he encounters.
by Princessfirefly
[size=1]@3idolon @thecell @kmrikkari @horseleech @sashafiredrake @mnkn10 @essayofthoughts @bara2684 @reotheleo @wolfandcrow @stduke @shadowfire1223 @toxicsugar @vengeful @wolftrickster @scorpiontail @meilkor @turboblaze @blightwyrm @yuubi @shadowpiper @solvei @spiderfrog15 @spore @twilitraven @arborpunk @probablyskeletor @roaringspector @foxghosts @tarantulove @snowki @princessfirefly[/size]
[center][img]https://dl.dropboxusercontent.com/s/hp56gdizp19uqry/plaguetop.png[/img][/center]
[center][size=7][color=DarkRed][font=Californian FB][b]SPOTLIGHT[/b][/font][/color][/size][/center]
[center][color=DarkRed]_______________________[/color][/center]
[center][url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?p=lair&tab=userpage&id=273840][size=6][color=maroon]TheCell's[/url][size=6][color=maroon] Nago[/color][/size][/center]
[center][url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=40297225]
[img]https://i.postimg.cc/CMsnXj9x/Haem-Nago.png[/img]
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[center][url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1hm85bNB49U][img]http://66.media.tumblr.com/ce2e5d257dcabdcb2bc7d34bcf011442/tumblr_ocwecyWf0Z1uqbnpto8_100.gif[/img][/url][/center]
[left][color=maroon][i]A crashing noise that sounded between static and steam was interrupted intermittently by the calls of a young dragon. Its soft voice seemed distant, buried by white noise as deafening as storming rain, yet the little Mirror, slightly older than a hatchling sat attentively at the red Skydancer’s feet.
“You’re from my dream, aren’t you? I come from the Tangled Wood, guided here by visions from the Plaguebringer, Herself. Will you help take me to the Wyrmwound for the Necromancer Trials," it called again. More static. The Mirror stated something more, or at least it appeared to. Nago watched as its blunt snout flapped wordlessly and laughed, miming its movements with his own thin maw.[/i][/left]
[center]~~~[/center]
[left][color=maroon]“What’s that? I didn’t hear you? Did you say something?” The Mirror tried. The Skydancer shook his head, his face split in a silent laugh. He stepped over the young dragon and strode through the tendrils with a wobbling gate. Despite the erratic movement of his limbs, he seemed to glide over the terrain. The Mirror sprinted to catch up, and they trod on as such for a time. The Mirror should have been out paced in the foreign, angry land, yet more than once, his quiet chaperone froze mid-step. When the Mirror would reach his side he would find him staring off into the horizon for upwards of an hour, fixated on something the Mirror could not glean. It was not a blank stare, however, his eyes were so full, dancing as if something were alive all on its own behind each bloodshot iris. In these moments, the Mirror would try to engage him once more, inquiring doggedly about the Necromancer Trials, but outside of his burning eyes, the Skydancer was as a pillar. Until he was not. Abruptly, without fanfare, he would begin walking once more.
As the day began to darken, the Skydancer slackened his pace. He sat on his haunches and then collapsed to the ground, asleep. They continued like this for another two days. The Mirror had never once seen him eat. The young dragon would spend his evenings hunting the smaller fauna of the land before lying down to rest himself. On the first night he kept a wide berth between himself and the Skydancer, yet by the third day, weary from exhaustion and lonely from the absence of dragon interaction, he curled up next to his travelling companion, warmed by his body heat. In the morning, he found the Skydancer staring down at him, unmoving, but grinning, his eyes gleaming as when he would gaze off at the skyline. The Mirror said nothing. After a handful of minutes the Skydancer finally blinked and pressed his rail-like form from the earth. He did not walk onward though, but stretched out one of his bony limbs and pointed— again at the horizon.
“We’re almost there.” The Mirror concluded aloud. He realized by now that there would be no response; he did not predict the sudden weight at his back. The Skydancer had placed his claws tightly around the little Mirror’s shoulders. With a whimper, the young one looked up to see the Skydancer’s mouth moving rapidly as if engaged in the most entertaining of discussions. Before the Mirror could sputter a sentence in return, a searing pain gripped him and his knees buckled. He felt his flesh expand with disease, a nauseating torture that eroded him from his shoulders and down his back to the tip of his tail. And then he glimpsed the soles of the Skydancer’s feet as he stepped over him and walked onward.
The Mirror forced himself up. His clan’s elder had warned him that the trials were not to be taken lightly, not passed without great ardor. Perhaps they weren’t going to his Necromancer trials, perhaps the trials had already begun the moment he stepped foot into the Plaguelands. He dragged himself forward, and the Skydancer did something the Mirror had not witnessed before, he looked back at him. His body did not turn, yet his head craned his way, his face frozen in a laugh as if stuck that way. A terrible thought overwhelmed the Mirror. What if all of his dreams, his visions of the trials, and of meeting the Skydancer were not his own foresight, nor the beckoning of the Plaguebringer, but a snare laid by this beast? And he had lapped up the bait. The Mirror discarded the thought, blocking his mind from spiraling into despair. He must only focus on survival.
It may have been minutes or hours later. The Mirror could no longer sense time through the pounding of his head and rawness of his body. He could barely make out his surroundings, yet he could see the Skydancer as if a torch in the darkness, and before them all was blistering orange.
“The Wyrmwound,” the Mirror uttered weakly, “The Necromancer Trials, I’ve made it,” but his voice faded and his vision slipped into blackness. He heard a dreadful cackle that undulated between an electric hiss, the sound of rain, and a discordant shriek.
Also featuring:
[url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=46400667]Haemoskhio[/url]
[/color]
[left][color=maroon]by TheCell[/color][/left]
@3idolon @thecell @kmrikkari @horseleech @sashafiredrake @mnkn10 @essayofthoughts @bara2684 @reotheleo @wolfandcrow @stduke @shadowfire1223 @toxicsugar @vengeful @wolftrickster @scorpiontail @meilkor @turboblaze @blightwyrm @yuubi @shadowpiper @solvei @spiderfrog15 @spore @twilitraven @arborpunk @probablyskeletor @roaringspector @foxghosts @tarantulove @snowki @princessfirefly
SPOTLIGHT
_______________________
TheCell's Nago
A crashing noise that sounded between static and steam was interrupted intermittently by the calls of a young dragon. Its soft voice seemed distant, buried by white noise as deafening as storming rain, yet the little Mirror, slightly older than a hatchling sat attentively at the red Skydancer’s feet.
“You’re from my dream, aren’t you? I come from the Tangled Wood, guided here by visions from the Plaguebringer, Herself. Will you help take me to the Wyrmwound for the Necromancer Trials," it called again. More static. The Mirror stated something more, or at least it appeared to. Nago watched as its blunt snout flapped wordlessly and laughed, miming its movements with his own thin maw.
“You’re from my dream, aren’t you? I come from the Tangled Wood, guided here by visions from the Plaguebringer, Herself. Will you help take me to the Wyrmwound for the Necromancer Trials," it called again. More static. The Mirror stated something more, or at least it appeared to. Nago watched as its blunt snout flapped wordlessly and laughed, miming its movements with his own thin maw.
~~~
“What’s that? I didn’t hear you? Did you say something?” The Mirror tried. The Skydancer shook his head, his face split in a silent laugh. He stepped over the young dragon and strode through the tendrils with a wobbling gate. Despite the erratic movement of his limbs, he seemed to glide over the terrain. The Mirror sprinted to catch up, and they trod on as such for a time. The Mirror should have been out paced in the foreign, angry land, yet more than once, his quiet chaperone froze mid-step. When the Mirror would reach his side he would find him staring off into the horizon for upwards of an hour, fixated on something the Mirror could not glean. It was not a blank stare, however, his eyes were so full, dancing as if something were alive all on its own behind each bloodshot iris. In these moments, the Mirror would try to engage him once more, inquiring doggedly about the Necromancer Trials, but outside of his burning eyes, the Skydancer was as a pillar. Until he was not. Abruptly, without fanfare, he would begin walking once more.
As the day began to darken, the Skydancer slackened his pace. He sat on his haunches and then collapsed to the ground, asleep. They continued like this for another two days. The Mirror had never once seen him eat. The young dragon would spend his evenings hunting the smaller fauna of the land before lying down to rest himself. On the first night he kept a wide berth between himself and the Skydancer, yet by the third day, weary from exhaustion and lonely from the absence of dragon interaction, he curled up next to his travelling companion, warmed by his body heat. In the morning, he found the Skydancer staring down at him, unmoving, but grinning, his eyes gleaming as when he would gaze off at the skyline. The Mirror said nothing. After a handful of minutes the Skydancer finally blinked and pressed his rail-like form from the earth. He did not walk onward though, but stretched out one of his bony limbs and pointed— again at the horizon.
“We’re almost there.” The Mirror concluded aloud. He realized by now that there would be no response; he did not predict the sudden weight at his back. The Skydancer had placed his claws tightly around the little Mirror’s shoulders. With a whimper, the young one looked up to see the Skydancer’s mouth moving rapidly as if engaged in the most entertaining of discussions. Before the Mirror could sputter a sentence in return, a searing pain gripped him and his knees buckled. He felt his flesh expand with disease, a nauseating torture that eroded him from his shoulders and down his back to the tip of his tail. And then he glimpsed the soles of the Skydancer’s feet as he stepped over him and walked onward.
The Mirror forced himself up. His clan’s elder had warned him that the trials were not to be taken lightly, not passed without great ardor. Perhaps they weren’t going to his Necromancer trials, perhaps the trials had already begun the moment he stepped foot into the Plaguelands. He dragged himself forward, and the Skydancer did something the Mirror had not witnessed before, he looked back at him. His body did not turn, yet his head craned his way, his face frozen in a laugh as if stuck that way. A terrible thought overwhelmed the Mirror. What if all of his dreams, his visions of the trials, and of meeting the Skydancer were not his own foresight, nor the beckoning of the Plaguebringer, but a snare laid by this beast? And he had lapped up the bait. The Mirror discarded the thought, blocking his mind from spiraling into despair. He must only focus on survival.
It may have been minutes or hours later. The Mirror could no longer sense time through the pounding of his head and rawness of his body. He could barely make out his surroundings, yet he could see the Skydancer as if a torch in the darkness, and before them all was blistering orange.
“The Wyrmwound,” the Mirror uttered weakly, “The Necromancer Trials, I’ve made it,” but his voice faded and his vision slipped into blackness. He heard a dreadful cackle that undulated between an electric hiss, the sound of rain, and a discordant shriek.
Also featuring:
Haemoskhio
As the day began to darken, the Skydancer slackened his pace. He sat on his haunches and then collapsed to the ground, asleep. They continued like this for another two days. The Mirror had never once seen him eat. The young dragon would spend his evenings hunting the smaller fauna of the land before lying down to rest himself. On the first night he kept a wide berth between himself and the Skydancer, yet by the third day, weary from exhaustion and lonely from the absence of dragon interaction, he curled up next to his travelling companion, warmed by his body heat. In the morning, he found the Skydancer staring down at him, unmoving, but grinning, his eyes gleaming as when he would gaze off at the skyline. The Mirror said nothing. After a handful of minutes the Skydancer finally blinked and pressed his rail-like form from the earth. He did not walk onward though, but stretched out one of his bony limbs and pointed— again at the horizon.
“We’re almost there.” The Mirror concluded aloud. He realized by now that there would be no response; he did not predict the sudden weight at his back. The Skydancer had placed his claws tightly around the little Mirror’s shoulders. With a whimper, the young one looked up to see the Skydancer’s mouth moving rapidly as if engaged in the most entertaining of discussions. Before the Mirror could sputter a sentence in return, a searing pain gripped him and his knees buckled. He felt his flesh expand with disease, a nauseating torture that eroded him from his shoulders and down his back to the tip of his tail. And then he glimpsed the soles of the Skydancer’s feet as he stepped over him and walked onward.
The Mirror forced himself up. His clan’s elder had warned him that the trials were not to be taken lightly, not passed without great ardor. Perhaps they weren’t going to his Necromancer trials, perhaps the trials had already begun the moment he stepped foot into the Plaguelands. He dragged himself forward, and the Skydancer did something the Mirror had not witnessed before, he looked back at him. His body did not turn, yet his head craned his way, his face frozen in a laugh as if stuck that way. A terrible thought overwhelmed the Mirror. What if all of his dreams, his visions of the trials, and of meeting the Skydancer were not his own foresight, nor the beckoning of the Plaguebringer, but a snare laid by this beast? And he had lapped up the bait. The Mirror discarded the thought, blocking his mind from spiraling into despair. He must only focus on survival.
It may have been minutes or hours later. The Mirror could no longer sense time through the pounding of his head and rawness of his body. He could barely make out his surroundings, yet he could see the Skydancer as if a torch in the darkness, and before them all was blistering orange.
“The Wyrmwound,” the Mirror uttered weakly, “The Necromancer Trials, I’ve made it,” but his voice faded and his vision slipped into blackness. He heard a dreadful cackle that undulated between an electric hiss, the sound of rain, and a discordant shriek.
Also featuring:
Haemoskhio
by TheCell
[size=1]@3idolon @thecell @kmrikkari @horseleech @sashafiredrake @mnkn10 @essayofthoughts @bara2684 @reotheleo @wolfandcrow @stduke @shadowfire1223 @toxicsugar @vengeful @wolftrickster @scorpiontail @meilkor @turboblaze @blightwyrm @yuubi @shadowpiper @solvei @spiderfrog15 @spore @twilitraven @arborpunk @probablyskeletor @roaringspector @foxghosts @tarantulove @snowki @princessfirefly[/size]
[center][img]https://dl.dropboxusercontent.com/s/hp56gdizp19uqry/plaguetop.png[/img][/center]
[center][size=7][color=DarkRed][font=Californian FB][b]SPOTLIGHT[/b][/font][/color][/size][/center]
[center][color=DarkRed]_______________________[/color][/center]
[center][url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?p=lair&tab=userpage&id=374615][size=6][color=maroon]Kava's[/url][size=6][color=maroon] Zindiker[/color][/size][/center]
[center][url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=40875809]
[img]http://flightrising.com/rendern/350/408759/40875809_350.png[/img]
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[left][b]Day 3[/b] [color=maroon] Zindiker was born on Friday 13th. That might have been the reason why this unpleasant [url=https://docs.google.com/document/d/16G0VetFa0LNm6jIm2bNLIX8FYAAmsC-EJmpXUGlEUaM/edit]Gore[/url] wanted him so badly. He claimed that Zindiker's day of birth was somehow lucky and that he would bring glory to his new clan. Young Mirror knew what he came for. His father, [url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?p=view&id=273840&tab=dragon&did=28336986]Ichorclaw[/url] was highly respected Necromancer. He passed all three [url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/drs/2412017#post_32545841]Necromantic Trails[/url], survived an ordeal almost unimaginable to most dragons and proved his strength and devotion to the Plaguebringer. What is more, his mother [url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?p=view&id=273840&tab=dragon&did=29620597]Mina[/url] was a Necroservus and even though she failed her last trial, her touch could create all kinds of fungus and infect any dragon on her way. Having such parents was promising to the Gore. He wanted to take the young hatchling with him and, when the time was right, send him to the Wyrmwound so that he could undergo his trials. Having a Necromancer in clan is considered a great priviledge and honour. They probably wanted to secure their position by having a Necromancer among them.
Zindiker did not know why his father agreed to that, but he knew he had to obey and trust his will. And he felt pride. There he was, already wanted by other clans, already treated with respect as possible future Necromancer. He could not wait to undergo the trials, he started feeling it was just a matter of time that he passes them and pleases the Plaguebringer with his will to survive.
[center][url=http://ammoth.tumblr.com/post/110092763801][img]https://78.media.tumblr.com/aed6377eb396abbaa7338900db5baea2/tumblr_nj9kyb0AiI1r28672o9_500.png[/img][/url][/center]
[b]Day 4[/b] [color=maroon] After almost a day of travelling they finally arrived in the clan. Zindiker's new clan. It was not very numerous, which explained why they needed a Necromancer so badly. Young Mirror felt a bit intimidated by all the dragons staring at him and observing his every move. But soon he will be the one observing them, he will be feared and respected.
He was told that he would meet with the clan leader in a couple of days, since she was not in the lair at that time. Zindiker did not like that at first - his [url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=40875810]brother[/url] was already undertaking his trials. But maybe having more time will give him more strength so needed to survive what the Plaguebringer was going to send upon him. He could wait.
[center][url=http://ammoth.tumblr.com/post/110092763801][img]https://78.media.tumblr.com/aed6377eb396abbaa7338900db5baea2/tumblr_nj9kyb0AiI1r28672o9_500.png[/img][/url][/center]
[b]Day 9[/b][color=maroon] "It's time, wake up!"
Loud growl did not wake Zindiker, he had not slept at all last night. He was too excited. After 5 days spent in his new clan he was finally about to meet its leader. He immediately turned to the dragon who came to take him to their leader. "I am ready, never growl at me like that again or as soon as I pass my third trial I will make sure you do not have the vocal cords to do so." The dragon did not respond, but young Mirror could swear he noticed a bit of unease. That made him even more exctited. His sudden rush was interrupted when he noticed another hatchling, tiny [url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?p=lair&id=243715&tab=dragon&did=41054111]Skydancer[/url] shaking from fear. Zindiker gasped. How was that possible? Was he not the only hatchling taken from [url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?p=lair&tab=userpage&id=273840]The Cell's[/url] clan? His sudden anger did not stay unnoticed. "What is wrong, hatchling?" asked the dragon who escorted him - "Do you feel threatened by that pathetic grey creature? Maybe you're not so worthy of Her blessing after all." Zindiker froze. No, there was no way that scared hatchling could be a threat to him. He let the air leave his lungs as he closed his eyes and focused once again. Now he needed to prove himself not to the Plaguebringer, but to the clan leader, whom he was about to meet.
The clan leader was definitely a dragon that no one would like to encounter or make angry. As Zindiker came closer to her, he felt this strange atmosphere - other dragons surrounding their master were full of respect that was a mix of fear and gratefulness. She looked at him and the Mirror felt her gaze drilling through his soul. She stared at him for a few minutes that felt like ages. Her face did not show any emotions when she turned to another dragon and said: "He will not pass his trials. Get rid of him."
Zindiker stopped breathing. He could not move, he must have misheard what she said.
As the dragon nodded and approached him, young Mirror budged. "No!" he said much louder than he planned. The clan leader looked at him full of anger and disgust: "What did you say?"
Zindiker looked her in the eyes and said: "I can pass the trials. I am sure of that. And as soon as I come back from Wyrmwound I will serve you with honour."
[i]Or you will serve me[/i], he thought.
Clan leader did not seem convinced. "I will not risk sending any hatchling that might fail. And you certainly do not seem to have what it takes to become a Necromancer. Get rid of him," she repeated.
Before Zindiker realised what had happened, he was thrown away to the Plaguelands along with the Skydancer hatchling he met. Apparently neither of them were considered worthy to undergo the trials. He did not know what to think. Abandoned, with small, scared Skydancer following him, he could not be more miserable. For the first time in his life he felt real fear - the Plaguelands are known for their unfriendliness and for vicious and cruel clans inhabiting them. It was also the first time Zindiker did not know what to do next.
[center][url=http://ammoth.tumblr.com/post/110092763801][img]https://78.media.tumblr.com/aed6377eb396abbaa7338900db5baea2/tumblr_nj9kyb0AiI1r28672o9_500.png[/img][/url][/center]
[b]Day 10[/b][color=maroon] Having been wandering for hours, Zindiker was less and less annoyed with the small grey hatchling. It seemed even more scared than he was and at least kept him company. And if they get attacked he can fly away while the aggressors keep themselves busy with the Skydancer.
He sighed as he realised that at that point he would probably stay and at least try to protect his new friend before running away and leaving him. He suddenly noticed some strange shape in the distance. An intensively red dragon was staring at the small hatchling, who managed to bear off when Zindiker was occupied with his own thoughts. The moment he saw that other dragon, he froze. He had seen a dragon like that before and that was something he would never forget - a Ghoul. Considered cursed by the Plaguebringer Herself, those creatures were something that every dragon attempting the Trials was afraid to become. They are one of the most contaigous creatures in the Plaguelands, they spread the disease everywhere they go, slowly dying in shame of their failure. The grey hatchling was unaware of the danger, but before Zindiker managed to warn him, all of a sudden another dragon plummeted from the sky and grabbed the tiny Skydancer. Zindiker was observing as [url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?p=lair&id=374615&tab=dragon&did=40671755]female Skydancer[/url] was flying away holding the hatchling. She had most likely saved his life. But why?
The Mirror could not stay where he was alone. He decided to follow two Skydancers to wherever they were going. He looked for the very last time at the Ghoul and when their eyes met, he immediately took off.
[center][url=http://ammoth.tumblr.com/post/110092763801][img]https://78.media.tumblr.com/aed6377eb396abbaa7338900db5baea2/tumblr_nj9kyb0AiI1r28672o9_500.png[/img][/url][/center]
[b]Day 16[/b][color=maroon] After the new clan had accepted Zindiker and young Skydancer, they decided to send them back to Wyrmwound to undertake the trials - this was Shike's idea and that was the only condition for them to stay.
And this was that day.
Zindiker once again felt this confidence that ensured him that soon he will be granted the title of Necromancer. But there was a new feeling as well. When he was thinking about how how he was treated past few days he started feeling gratitude. That was something he never expected, but he knew that this new clan might be the one he and the hatchling will stay with. At least for now this seemed as the easiest option.
[/color]
[left][color=maroon]by Kava[/color][/left]
@3idolon @thecell @kmrikkari @horseleech @sashafiredrake @mnkn10 @essayofthoughts @bara2684 @reotheleo @wolfandcrow @stduke @shadowfire1223 @toxicsugar @vengeful @wolftrickster @scorpiontail @meilkor @turboblaze @blightwyrm @yuubi @shadowpiper @solvei @spiderfrog15 @spore @twilitraven @arborpunk @probablyskeletor @roaringspector @foxghosts @tarantulove @snowki @princessfirefly
SPOTLIGHT
_______________________
Kava's Zindiker
Day 3 Zindiker was born on Friday 13th. That might have been the reason why this unpleasant Gore wanted him so badly. He claimed that Zindiker's day of birth was somehow lucky and that he would bring glory to his new clan. Young Mirror knew what he came for. His father, Ichorclaw was highly respected Necromancer. He passed all three Necromantic Trails, survived an ordeal almost unimaginable to most dragons and proved his strength and devotion to the Plaguebringer. What is more, his mother Mina was a Necroservus and even though she failed her last trial, her touch could create all kinds of fungus and infect any dragon on her way. Having such parents was promising to the Gore. He wanted to take the young hatchling with him and, when the time was right, send him to the Wyrmwound so that he could undergo his trials. Having a Necromancer in clan is considered a great priviledge and honour. They probably wanted to secure their position by having a Necromancer among them.
Zindiker did not know why his father agreed to that, but he knew he had to obey and trust his will. And he felt pride. There he was, already wanted by other clans, already treated with respect as possible future Necromancer. He could not wait to undergo the trials, he started feeling it was just a matter of time that he passes them and pleases the Plaguebringer with his will to survive.
Day 4 After almost a day of travelling they finally arrived in the clan. Zindiker's new clan. It was not very numerous, which explained why they needed a Necromancer so badly. Young Mirror felt a bit intimidated by all the dragons staring at him and observing his every move. But soon he will be the one observing them, he will be feared and respected.
He was told that he would meet with the clan leader in a couple of days, since she was not in the lair at that time. Zindiker did not like that at first - his brother was already undertaking his trials. But maybe having more time will give him more strength so needed to survive what the Plaguebringer was going to send upon him. He could wait.
Day 9 "It's time, wake up!"
Loud growl did not wake Zindiker, he had not slept at all last night. He was too excited. After 5 days spent in his new clan he was finally about to meet its leader. He immediately turned to the dragon who came to take him to their leader. "I am ready, never growl at me like that again or as soon as I pass my third trial I will make sure you do not have the vocal cords to do so." The dragon did not respond, but young Mirror could swear he noticed a bit of unease. That made him even more exctited. His sudden rush was interrupted when he noticed another hatchling, tiny Skydancer shaking from fear. Zindiker gasped. How was that possible? Was he not the only hatchling taken from The Cell's clan? His sudden anger did not stay unnoticed. "What is wrong, hatchling?" asked the dragon who escorted him - "Do you feel threatened by that pathetic grey creature? Maybe you're not so worthy of Her blessing after all." Zindiker froze. No, there was no way that scared hatchling could be a threat to him. He let the air leave his lungs as he closed his eyes and focused once again. Now he needed to prove himself not to the Plaguebringer, but to the clan leader, whom he was about to meet.
The clan leader was definitely a dragon that no one would like to encounter or make angry. As Zindiker came closer to her, he felt this strange atmosphere - other dragons surrounding their master were full of respect that was a mix of fear and gratefulness. She looked at him and the Mirror felt her gaze drilling through his soul. She stared at him for a few minutes that felt like ages. Her face did not show any emotions when she turned to another dragon and said: "He will not pass his trials. Get rid of him."
Zindiker stopped breathing. He could not move, he must have misheard what she said.
As the dragon nodded and approached him, young Mirror budged. "No!" he said much louder than he planned. The clan leader looked at him full of anger and disgust: "What did you say?"
Zindiker looked her in the eyes and said: "I can pass the trials. I am sure of that. And as soon as I come back from Wyrmwound I will serve you with honour."
Or you will serve me, he thought.
Clan leader did not seem convinced. "I will not risk sending any hatchling that might fail. And you certainly do not seem to have what it takes to become a Necromancer. Get rid of him," she repeated.
Before Zindiker realised what had happened, he was thrown away to the Plaguelands along with the Skydancer hatchling he met. Apparently neither of them were considered worthy to undergo the trials. He did not know what to think. Abandoned, with small, scared Skydancer following him, he could not be more miserable. For the first time in his life he felt real fear - the Plaguelands are known for their unfriendliness and for vicious and cruel clans inhabiting them. It was also the first time Zindiker did not know what to do next.
Day 10 Having been wandering for hours, Zindiker was less and less annoyed with the small grey hatchling. It seemed even more scared than he was and at least kept him company. And if they get attacked he can fly away while the aggressors keep themselves busy with the Skydancer.
He sighed as he realised that at that point he would probably stay and at least try to protect his new friend before running away and leaving him. He suddenly noticed some strange shape in the distance. An intensively red dragon was staring at the small hatchling, who managed to bear off when Zindiker was occupied with his own thoughts. The moment he saw that other dragon, he froze. He had seen a dragon like that before and that was something he would never forget - a Ghoul. Considered cursed by the Plaguebringer Herself, those creatures were something that every dragon attempting the Trials was afraid to become. They are one of the most contaigous creatures in the Plaguelands, they spread the disease everywhere they go, slowly dying in shame of their failure. The grey hatchling was unaware of the danger, but before Zindiker managed to warn him, all of a sudden another dragon plummeted from the sky and grabbed the tiny Skydancer. Zindiker was observing as female Skydancer was flying away holding the hatchling. She had most likely saved his life. But why?
The Mirror could not stay where he was alone. He decided to follow two Skydancers to wherever they were going. He looked for the very last time at the Ghoul and when their eyes met, he immediately took off.
Day 16 After the new clan had accepted Zindiker and young Skydancer, they decided to send them back to Wyrmwound to undertake the trials - this was Shike's idea and that was the only condition for them to stay.
And this was that day.
Zindiker once again felt this confidence that ensured him that soon he will be granted the title of Necromancer. But there was a new feeling as well. When he was thinking about how how he was treated past few days he started feeling gratitude. That was something he never expected, but he knew that this new clan might be the one he and the hatchling will stay with. At least for now this seemed as the easiest option.
Zindiker did not know why his father agreed to that, but he knew he had to obey and trust his will. And he felt pride. There he was, already wanted by other clans, already treated with respect as possible future Necromancer. He could not wait to undergo the trials, he started feeling it was just a matter of time that he passes them and pleases the Plaguebringer with his will to survive.
He was told that he would meet with the clan leader in a couple of days, since she was not in the lair at that time. Zindiker did not like that at first - his brother was already undertaking his trials. But maybe having more time will give him more strength so needed to survive what the Plaguebringer was going to send upon him. He could wait.
Loud growl did not wake Zindiker, he had not slept at all last night. He was too excited. After 5 days spent in his new clan he was finally about to meet its leader. He immediately turned to the dragon who came to take him to their leader. "I am ready, never growl at me like that again or as soon as I pass my third trial I will make sure you do not have the vocal cords to do so." The dragon did not respond, but young Mirror could swear he noticed a bit of unease. That made him even more exctited. His sudden rush was interrupted when he noticed another hatchling, tiny Skydancer shaking from fear. Zindiker gasped. How was that possible? Was he not the only hatchling taken from The Cell's clan? His sudden anger did not stay unnoticed. "What is wrong, hatchling?" asked the dragon who escorted him - "Do you feel threatened by that pathetic grey creature? Maybe you're not so worthy of Her blessing after all." Zindiker froze. No, there was no way that scared hatchling could be a threat to him. He let the air leave his lungs as he closed his eyes and focused once again. Now he needed to prove himself not to the Plaguebringer, but to the clan leader, whom he was about to meet.
The clan leader was definitely a dragon that no one would like to encounter or make angry. As Zindiker came closer to her, he felt this strange atmosphere - other dragons surrounding their master were full of respect that was a mix of fear and gratefulness. She looked at him and the Mirror felt her gaze drilling through his soul. She stared at him for a few minutes that felt like ages. Her face did not show any emotions when she turned to another dragon and said: "He will not pass his trials. Get rid of him."
Zindiker stopped breathing. He could not move, he must have misheard what she said.
As the dragon nodded and approached him, young Mirror budged. "No!" he said much louder than he planned. The clan leader looked at him full of anger and disgust: "What did you say?"
Zindiker looked her in the eyes and said: "I can pass the trials. I am sure of that. And as soon as I come back from Wyrmwound I will serve you with honour."
Or you will serve me, he thought.
Clan leader did not seem convinced. "I will not risk sending any hatchling that might fail. And you certainly do not seem to have what it takes to become a Necromancer. Get rid of him," she repeated.
Before Zindiker realised what had happened, he was thrown away to the Plaguelands along with the Skydancer hatchling he met. Apparently neither of them were considered worthy to undergo the trials. He did not know what to think. Abandoned, with small, scared Skydancer following him, he could not be more miserable. For the first time in his life he felt real fear - the Plaguelands are known for their unfriendliness and for vicious and cruel clans inhabiting them. It was also the first time Zindiker did not know what to do next.
He sighed as he realised that at that point he would probably stay and at least try to protect his new friend before running away and leaving him. He suddenly noticed some strange shape in the distance. An intensively red dragon was staring at the small hatchling, who managed to bear off when Zindiker was occupied with his own thoughts. The moment he saw that other dragon, he froze. He had seen a dragon like that before and that was something he would never forget - a Ghoul. Considered cursed by the Plaguebringer Herself, those creatures were something that every dragon attempting the Trials was afraid to become. They are one of the most contaigous creatures in the Plaguelands, they spread the disease everywhere they go, slowly dying in shame of their failure. The grey hatchling was unaware of the danger, but before Zindiker managed to warn him, all of a sudden another dragon plummeted from the sky and grabbed the tiny Skydancer. Zindiker was observing as female Skydancer was flying away holding the hatchling. She had most likely saved his life. But why?
The Mirror could not stay where he was alone. He decided to follow two Skydancers to wherever they were going. He looked for the very last time at the Ghoul and when their eyes met, he immediately took off.
And this was that day.
Zindiker once again felt this confidence that ensured him that soon he will be granted the title of Necromancer. But there was a new feeling as well. When he was thinking about how how he was treated past few days he started feeling gratitude. That was something he never expected, but he knew that this new clan might be the one he and the hatchling will stay with. At least for now this seemed as the easiest option.
by Kava
@Kava Ahhhh Zindiker [emoji=heart size=1][emoji=heart size=1][emoji=heart size=1] Kava I think I told you before but I just love his relationship with the little skydancer! Their story is so heartbreaking as hatchlings, even though he's an arrogant little pup (but all good Necros should be, haha!) All I want is good things for you Zindikerrrr!
@Kava Ahhhh Zindiker 
Kava I think I told you before but I just love his relationship with the little skydancer! Their story is so heartbreaking as hatchlings, even though he's an arrogant little pup (but all good Necros should be, haha!) All I want is good things for you Zindikerrrr!
Kava I think I told you before but I just love his relationship with the little skydancer! Their story is so heartbreaking as hatchlings, even though he's an arrogant little pup (but all good Necros should be, haha!) All I want is good things for you Zindikerrrr!
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[size=1] @3idolon @thecell @kmrikkari @horseleech @sashafiredrake @mnkn10 @essayofthoughts @bara2684 @reotheleo @wolfandcrow @stduke @shadowfire1223 @toxicsugar @vengeful @wolftrickster @scorpiontail @meilkor @turboblaze @blightwyrm @yuubi @shadowpiper @solvei @spiderfrog15 @spore @twilitraven @arborpunk @probablyskeletor @roaringspector @foxghosts @tarantulove @snowki @princessfirefly @cosmicfalcon[/size]
[center][img]https://dl.dropboxusercontent.com/s/hp56gdizp19uqry/plaguetop.png[/img][/center]
[center][size=7][color=DarkRed][font=Californian FB][b]SPOTLIGHT[/b][/font][/color][/size][/center]
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[center][url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?p=lair&tab=userpage&id=236516][size=6][color=maroon]CosmicFalcon's[/url][size=6][color=maroon] Sangria[/color][/size][/center]
[center][url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=46929538]
[img]http://flightrising.com/rendern/350/469296/46929538_350.png[/img]
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[left][color=maroon] Sangria has always exhibited immense strength in character and perseverance. Unflinching when other children would run away in fear. Not necessarily the leader of the pack, but definitely the one to stick her nose in where others were to hesitant to do so. Defiance glimmers in her eyes, something that has irritated everyone who sees themselves in a higher position then her.
Adults would scoff or even scream at her when she'd stare them down. Not afraid of them or their bs claims. Older or not, that didn't make them any better then her. In fact she held grudges for when she was old enough to do something about them. Ruining quite a few lives without remorse or a second thought . People still falter when she just stares back at them, deadpan, cold and unfeeling.
Sangria was praised and picked out for her steadfast nature, groomed into a cold and cruel warden of sorts in her teens. Specifically tormenting those who had done the same to her when she was too little to dispose of them properly. For a while Sangria was quite sadistic, fixed on a sick idea of justice. More of a personalized take on vengeance. Perfectly fine with tearing down those she new in her clan, yet when it came to outsiders...that's when reality started to kick in.
Now an exhausted, bitter adult. Aiming to make up for at least some of her mistakes. Not interested in others approval of her, as that's all in the past now. She doesn't expect to be forgiven, but she won't quarrel over morals either.
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[left][color=maroon]by CosmicFalcon[/color][/left]
@3idolon @thecell @kmrikkari @horseleech @sashafiredrake @mnkn10 @essayofthoughts @bara2684 @reotheleo @wolfandcrow @stduke @shadowfire1223 @toxicsugar @vengeful @wolftrickster @scorpiontail @meilkor @turboblaze @blightwyrm @yuubi @shadowpiper @solvei @spiderfrog15 @spore @twilitraven @arborpunk @probablyskeletor @roaringspector @foxghosts @tarantulove @snowki @princessfirefly @cosmicfalcon
SPOTLIGHT
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CosmicFalcon's Sangria
Sangria has always exhibited immense strength in character and perseverance. Unflinching when other children would run away in fear. Not necessarily the leader of the pack, but definitely the one to stick her nose in where others were to hesitant to do so. Defiance glimmers in her eyes, something that has irritated everyone who sees themselves in a higher position then her.
Adults would scoff or even scream at her when she'd stare them down. Not afraid of them or their bs claims. Older or not, that didn't make them any better then her. In fact she held grudges for when she was old enough to do something about them. Ruining quite a few lives without remorse or a second thought . People still falter when she just stares back at them, deadpan, cold and unfeeling.
Sangria was praised and picked out for her steadfast nature, groomed into a cold and cruel warden of sorts in her teens. Specifically tormenting those who had done the same to her when she was too little to dispose of them properly. For a while Sangria was quite sadistic, fixed on a sick idea of justice. More of a personalized take on vengeance. Perfectly fine with tearing down those she new in her clan, yet when it came to outsiders...that's when reality started to kick in.
Now an exhausted, bitter adult. Aiming to make up for at least some of her mistakes. Not interested in others approval of her, as that's all in the past now. She doesn't expect to be forgiven, but she won't quarrel over morals either.
Adults would scoff or even scream at her when she'd stare them down. Not afraid of them or their bs claims. Older or not, that didn't make them any better then her. In fact she held grudges for when she was old enough to do something about them. Ruining quite a few lives without remorse or a second thought . People still falter when she just stares back at them, deadpan, cold and unfeeling.
Sangria was praised and picked out for her steadfast nature, groomed into a cold and cruel warden of sorts in her teens. Specifically tormenting those who had done the same to her when she was too little to dispose of them properly. For a while Sangria was quite sadistic, fixed on a sick idea of justice. More of a personalized take on vengeance. Perfectly fine with tearing down those she new in her clan, yet when it came to outsiders...that's when reality started to kick in.
Now an exhausted, bitter adult. Aiming to make up for at least some of her mistakes. Not interested in others approval of her, as that's all in the past now. She doesn't expect to be forgiven, but she won't quarrel over morals either.
by CosmicFalcon