@Panderz
Please put me on the pinglist for the story :33
Please put me on the pinglist for the story :33
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Flight Rising Discussion
Discuss everything and anything Flight Rising.
TOPIC | [MJ] Mistral Jamboree 2018 Main hub
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@Panderz
Please put me on the pinglist for the story :33
Please put me on the pinglist for the story :33
Day one - An adventure begins
With the recent whisperings upon the wind-addled home of the Cloudsong, it was of little wonder that Eris found herself in high excitement. She grazed the pleasant warmth of the gusts that stroked her wings and pondered over recent public musings with private ones of her own.
The shifting winds, the hushed, eager mumblings of the Windsinger’s return. All things to send The Windswept Plateau into a dizzying crescendo of chatterings and speculation. It oozed into the conversations across Sornieth. The deities arose, stories swapped, the tense anticipation for something grand became a well-rooted bud in the hearts of Sornieth’s population. And Eris was no exception. The seedling in her heart began to bloom to life within her very spirit, gaze tilted upward at the faint streams of clouds, heart heavy with hope to see a well and true miracle. Her wings stretched and she found her every step aided by the comforting nudge of the winds. It was as if the Windsinger himself was urging her to join him in the infinite sky.
The Cloudsong’s famous kites shuddered in the wind. Eris found herself daydreaming, slipping into a state of wakeful morphean bliss, large eyes glossed over and deep in thought. She wondered, perhaps, if these rumours were nothing more than such. Words. Days passed with little more information to offer. The Windsinger offered no more tantalising secrets, and Eris’s head lost its eager tilt to the sun and sky.
But the seedling in her heart refused to wilt. Her innate devotion to her deity had her travel upwards to rest among the kites and balloons. How connected she felt, soul, swelling with a relieved throb of contentedness. So high, where the wind could lap at her throat and claw tips, spiraling body sailing like a corkscrew in a smooth, winding sweetness. Eris blurted out a childish laugh. She thought herself such a silly thing, to be so giddy about playing with the wind.
She saw him. A spiral, like her. A pale green body and eyes that seemed to catch the sun and swallow its effulgent beams. He coiled in the wind and seemed to become it. And for a moment, Eris seemed confused. She did not recognize him among the clan of dragons in which she made her home. She did not recognize him at all. But her body soon stopped in a vicious halt, rippling with a tingling of recalling the rumors cast back when the world began to change. A spiral that seemed to vanish, seemed to speak of the Windsinger. The courier made mention of it all across his travels in Sornieth. Was this him?
All at once the realization brought her eyes to widen. Her wings stretched, she burst forward in a bid to catch the spiral. The dragon seemed to laugh, enjoying the chase. He rode the wind in a manner that Eris simply could not. The wind began to push against her, where it aided him. He controlled the wind around him, and Eris began to open her mouth to speak against the growing gusts.
“Wait-!”
She cried out, claws outstretched as if she could will him closer. But the winds were growing harsh, her wings bowing back with its bid to keep her away. She spiraled down onto the short, trimmed grass of the plains below and coughed. Eris’s adrenaline spiked, and she snarled, cursing herself for her inability to catch the stranger. Her claws met the ground with a harsh smack, eyes filling with regretful tears. She shook her head, staving off her broken heart.
The wind slowed. Eris watched the clouds drift idly as she scoured the skies in search of the infamous creature she had tried to capture. He was nowhere to be found, and despite her immense disappointment, she felt oddly ecstatic. It must have been him! It could not have been anyone else. She was sure of it. She stood herself up, no longer content to be crumpled up on the grass wallowing in self-pity.
“Alright!” She started, “No more- hmm?”
Her attention was snagged, firm gaze weakening from its skyward stance to lower to the grassy plains by her feet. A piece of yellowed, torn parchment rolled and stroked the short field’s dry soil, caught only by the silk attached to Eris’s ankles. Sharp claws tugged it free of its confines, her head tilted.
The words were written in something ancient. Something strange and faded. Pictures depicting utensils used for cooking were drawn in an ink that seemed to blot the parchment at various intervals. Eris stood in bemused curiosity, straining to understand.
“I think someone’s cookbook has been mangled,” She began to laugh. “Poor soul.”
Eris primed herself to let go of the paper, offering it to the wind to take from her grasp. Her shock came to her in crashing waves, upon watching the wind slow and settle the paper in front of her, as if refusing to move. Eris’s eyes flew wide, mystified. She searched for anyone nearby to seek confirmation that she was truly seeing such a thing, and was met with Him.
Him, that spiral, with his elongated green body, and his sharp, loving gaze. He grinned, as a nymph fluttered about his tail, watching Eris closely. Eris found her breath stolen, watching him wink and laugh, before taking to the skies once more.
All at once she scrambled for the parchment, and the winds returned to a pleasant breeze. She poured over its writings before an overwhelmed scream left her lips.
“This!” She began, voice pitching with her joyous revelation. “This is Windsinger’s! He wants us to make this!”
All thoughts came rushing into her mind. A special potion to create winds? A brew in which to change the very course of the crescendo? A summoning broth to bring the Windsinger back from the Wyrmwound? Eris’s eyes began to weep with unbridled joy. She lunged herself into the wind and shouted with furious excitement back to her clan.
“Well?” Came the voice of a curious dragon, body sat and eyeing Eris. “We can’t read it. Gift or no, how can we begin to offer him such a thing when we don’t even know how to make it?”
The clan grew quiet with its mumblings, but Eris’s strong determination had her clutch the parchment.
“I’ll go out and find help! This world is ever so big,” She nodded, glancing upward. “Someone will know. Lots of us might know. We’ll need a lot of help. Fetching ingredients, translating, by the deities, we are going to have to do a lot of scouring! But isn’t that part of the adventure? This was a sign! A gift from the Windsinger! We must honor it!”
“And who will be organizing such an event, Eris?” The dragon seemed to sneer, unswayed by Eris’s bright enthusiasm.
“I will.” Eris returned to the dragon with a steely gaze, lips curled into a smile. The clan seemed to grow in its excitement. Eris grinned, fluttering past the dragons to take her place on a well-mounted stone. She stood herself tall, gazing over the clan.
Her heart leaped with a fearful jubilation. In her hands held the key to the Windsinger. A recipe, something so simple, but it filled her with an excitement she had never known before.
“Hear me, all of you!” Eris shouted, eyes filling with an adventurous shine. “I will travel all of Sornieth! I will gather help from every clan and dragon I possibly can! And when I return, I shall do so with our father in tow!”
The dragons shifted from an awed silence to uproarious cheer. They celebrated, as Eris settled in her small den to prepare. Inside of her dimly lit home, she pondered. Could she possibly do such a thing? Could she bring about such a thing? What if she could not? The thought of failing such an important task filled her with dread. But she scoffed.
“No, Eris,” She huffed, “Can’t be thinking of such things yet. You’ve not even started!”
Eris spent the night collecting trinkets. For luck, for prosperity, for health. She looked at her canine companion, who offered her an oblivious bark, nudging its snout into her palm.
“I’ll be back soon, I promise.” She whispered. The dog seemed to sit, and droop. She cupped its chin in her claws and pressed her nose to its cold snout.
And with the slow, tired crawl of sunlight, came the morning wind. And upon it, she flew, parchment in hand, setting about her adventure.
Story Characters so far:
Eris - wind sprial
Story list:
@catgame21234 @girlgirlDragon @browncoatparadox @Ophionyx @Tomata @Tomata @TinnaMinor @mine @ClockworkEclipse @IronPen @Lundlaeva @ThornOfStorm130 @candynagisa @Skyfire7 @Deladria @Scurvy @Corycia @oramutato @fidothehoarder @Fluffdoge @L1BR4 @Raewyn @Zombrigit @BizarreKitten
Day one - An adventure begins
With the recent whisperings upon the wind-addled home of the Cloudsong, it was of little wonder that Eris found herself in high excitement. She grazed the pleasant warmth of the gusts that stroked her wings and pondered over recent public musings with private ones of her own.
The shifting winds, the hushed, eager mumblings of the Windsinger’s return. All things to send The Windswept Plateau into a dizzying crescendo of chatterings and speculation. It oozed into the conversations across Sornieth. The deities arose, stories swapped, the tense anticipation for something grand became a well-rooted bud in the hearts of Sornieth’s population. And Eris was no exception. The seedling in her heart began to bloom to life within her very spirit, gaze tilted upward at the faint streams of clouds, heart heavy with hope to see a well and true miracle. Her wings stretched and she found her every step aided by the comforting nudge of the winds. It was as if the Windsinger himself was urging her to join him in the infinite sky.
The Cloudsong’s famous kites shuddered in the wind. Eris found herself daydreaming, slipping into a state of wakeful morphean bliss, large eyes glossed over and deep in thought. She wondered, perhaps, if these rumours were nothing more than such. Words. Days passed with little more information to offer. The Windsinger offered no more tantalising secrets, and Eris’s head lost its eager tilt to the sun and sky.
But the seedling in her heart refused to wilt. Her innate devotion to her deity had her travel upwards to rest among the kites and balloons. How connected she felt, soul, swelling with a relieved throb of contentedness. So high, where the wind could lap at her throat and claw tips, spiraling body sailing like a corkscrew in a smooth, winding sweetness. Eris blurted out a childish laugh. She thought herself such a silly thing, to be so giddy about playing with the wind.
She saw him. A spiral, like her. A pale green body and eyes that seemed to catch the sun and swallow its effulgent beams. He coiled in the wind and seemed to become it. And for a moment, Eris seemed confused. She did not recognize him among the clan of dragons in which she made her home. She did not recognize him at all. But her body soon stopped in a vicious halt, rippling with a tingling of recalling the rumors cast back when the world began to change. A spiral that seemed to vanish, seemed to speak of the Windsinger. The courier made mention of it all across his travels in Sornieth. Was this him?
All at once the realization brought her eyes to widen. Her wings stretched, she burst forward in a bid to catch the spiral. The dragon seemed to laugh, enjoying the chase. He rode the wind in a manner that Eris simply could not. The wind began to push against her, where it aided him. He controlled the wind around him, and Eris began to open her mouth to speak against the growing gusts.
“Wait-!”
She cried out, claws outstretched as if she could will him closer. But the winds were growing harsh, her wings bowing back with its bid to keep her away. She spiraled down onto the short, trimmed grass of the plains below and coughed. Eris’s adrenaline spiked, and she snarled, cursing herself for her inability to catch the stranger. Her claws met the ground with a harsh smack, eyes filling with regretful tears. She shook her head, staving off her broken heart.
The wind slowed. Eris watched the clouds drift idly as she scoured the skies in search of the infamous creature she had tried to capture. He was nowhere to be found, and despite her immense disappointment, she felt oddly ecstatic. It must have been him! It could not have been anyone else. She was sure of it. She stood herself up, no longer content to be crumpled up on the grass wallowing in self-pity.
“Alright!” She started, “No more- hmm?”
Her attention was snagged, firm gaze weakening from its skyward stance to lower to the grassy plains by her feet. A piece of yellowed, torn parchment rolled and stroked the short field’s dry soil, caught only by the silk attached to Eris’s ankles. Sharp claws tugged it free of its confines, her head tilted.
The words were written in something ancient. Something strange and faded. Pictures depicting utensils used for cooking were drawn in an ink that seemed to blot the parchment at various intervals. Eris stood in bemused curiosity, straining to understand.
“I think someone’s cookbook has been mangled,” She began to laugh. “Poor soul.”
Eris primed herself to let go of the paper, offering it to the wind to take from her grasp. Her shock came to her in crashing waves, upon watching the wind slow and settle the paper in front of her, as if refusing to move. Eris’s eyes flew wide, mystified. She searched for anyone nearby to seek confirmation that she was truly seeing such a thing, and was met with Him.
Him, that spiral, with his elongated green body, and his sharp, loving gaze. He grinned, as a nymph fluttered about his tail, watching Eris closely. Eris found her breath stolen, watching him wink and laugh, before taking to the skies once more.
All at once she scrambled for the parchment, and the winds returned to a pleasant breeze. She poured over its writings before an overwhelmed scream left her lips.
“This!” She began, voice pitching with her joyous revelation. “This is Windsinger’s! He wants us to make this!”
All thoughts came rushing into her mind. A special potion to create winds? A brew in which to change the very course of the crescendo? A summoning broth to bring the Windsinger back from the Wyrmwound? Eris’s eyes began to weep with unbridled joy. She lunged herself into the wind and shouted with furious excitement back to her clan.
“Well?” Came the voice of a curious dragon, body sat and eyeing Eris. “We can’t read it. Gift or no, how can we begin to offer him such a thing when we don’t even know how to make it?”
The clan grew quiet with its mumblings, but Eris’s strong determination had her clutch the parchment.
“I’ll go out and find help! This world is ever so big,” She nodded, glancing upward. “Someone will know. Lots of us might know. We’ll need a lot of help. Fetching ingredients, translating, by the deities, we are going to have to do a lot of scouring! But isn’t that part of the adventure? This was a sign! A gift from the Windsinger! We must honor it!”
“And who will be organizing such an event, Eris?” The dragon seemed to sneer, unswayed by Eris’s bright enthusiasm.
“I will.” Eris returned to the dragon with a steely gaze, lips curled into a smile. The clan seemed to grow in its excitement. Eris grinned, fluttering past the dragons to take her place on a well-mounted stone. She stood herself tall, gazing over the clan.
Her heart leaped with a fearful jubilation. In her hands held the key to the Windsinger. A recipe, something so simple, but it filled her with an excitement she had never known before.
“Hear me, all of you!” Eris shouted, eyes filling with an adventurous shine. “I will travel all of Sornieth! I will gather help from every clan and dragon I possibly can! And when I return, I shall do so with our father in tow!”
The dragons shifted from an awed silence to uproarious cheer. They celebrated, as Eris settled in her small den to prepare. Inside of her dimly lit home, she pondered. Could she possibly do such a thing? Could she bring about such a thing? What if she could not? The thought of failing such an important task filled her with dread. But she scoffed.
“No, Eris,” She huffed, “Can’t be thinking of such things yet. You’ve not even started!”
Eris spent the night collecting trinkets. For luck, for prosperity, for health. She looked at her canine companion, who offered her an oblivious bark, nudging its snout into her palm.
“I’ll be back soon, I promise.” She whispered. The dog seemed to sit, and droop. She cupped its chin in her claws and pressed her nose to its cold snout.
And with the slow, tired crawl of sunlight, came the morning wind. And upon it, she flew, parchment in hand, setting about her adventure.
Story Characters so far:
Eris - wind sprial
Story list:
@catgame21234 @girlgirlDragon @browncoatparadox @Ophionyx @Tomata @Tomata @TinnaMinor @mine @ClockworkEclipse @IronPen @Lundlaeva @ThornOfStorm130 @candynagisa @Skyfire7 @Deladria @Scurvy @Corycia @oramutato @fidothehoarder @Fluffdoge @L1BR4 @Raewyn @Zombrigit @BizarreKitten
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FR +3
*Wind Council*Bamboo buying 
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"Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past, I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone, there will be nothing. Only I will remain."
they/them |
 
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