Welcome to Hemoflora, my first attempt at a Pinkerlocke. Hoping it goes well.
Quote:
- A death in the coliseum means that dragon must be exalted. This is the most essential rule of a nuzlocke.
- There are no restrictions about applying apparel to your dragons. Do whatever makes sense to you. Same goes for familiars.
- All nuzlocke activity corresponds with the loot you obtain daily from Pinkerton's plundered pile!
Optional sentimental rule:
If Roshan dies, he's considered critically injured and goes back to the main lair. Any dragon who reaches level 25 will join the lair permanently.
Drops of Fate:
Food: Coliseum time!
Plants: 10-20 matches
Insects: 20-30 matches
Seafood: 30-40 matches
Meat: 40-50 matches
Materials: Write at the least 1000 words for the nuzlocke.
Trinkets: Do some art of these dragons and their stories.
Familiars: Roll a d20, rerolling if you get a number above 14. This is the breed. Then roll a d4, and this is the page number. Roll a d10, and this is the dragon you must purchase for TREASURE. Apply familiar to the dragon.
1. Fae
2. Guardian
3. Mirror
4. Pearlcatcher
5. Ridgeback
6. Tundra
7. Spiral
8. Imperial
9. Snapper
10. Wildclaw
11. Nocturne
12. Coatl
13. Skydancer
14. Bogsneak
Apparel: Breed two of the dragons or, if none are rtb, wait but write a romance between a pair, preferably the planned breeding pair. For every hatchling, you must flip a coin. If tails, the dragon died during the hatching process or died swiftly after birth.
Battle items:
Flip a coin.
Heads = Food poisoning! Dragons who eat a rolled food type become sick and unable to battle. Roll a d4 to pick the poisoned food type, from insects/seafood/meat/plants.
Tails = Nothing happens.
Personal rules:
- If I find an egg during scavenging or in the Coliseum, I may add the dragon to the story, if I feel it works.
- If I pull a trinket, I cannot guarantee art. It may happen, or I might work on bio boxes, or write more, or whatever I'm in the mood for.
- There are no restrictions about applying apparel to your dragons. Do whatever makes sense to you. Same goes for familiars.
- All nuzlocke activity corresponds with the loot you obtain daily from Pinkerton's plundered pile!
Optional sentimental rule:
If Roshan dies, he's considered critically injured and goes back to the main lair. Any dragon who reaches level 25 will join the lair permanently.
Drops of Fate:
Food: Coliseum time!
Plants: 10-20 matches
Insects: 20-30 matches
Seafood: 30-40 matches
Meat: 40-50 matches
Materials: Write at the least 1000 words for the nuzlocke.
Trinkets: Do some art of these dragons and their stories.
Familiars: Roll a d20, rerolling if you get a number above 14. This is the breed. Then roll a d4, and this is the page number. Roll a d10, and this is the dragon you must purchase for TREASURE. Apply familiar to the dragon.
1. Fae
2. Guardian
3. Mirror
4. Pearlcatcher
5. Ridgeback
6. Tundra
7. Spiral
8. Imperial
9. Snapper
10. Wildclaw
11. Nocturne
12. Coatl
13. Skydancer
14. Bogsneak
Apparel: Breed two of the dragons or, if none are rtb, wait but write a romance between a pair, preferably the planned breeding pair. For every hatchling, you must flip a coin. If tails, the dragon died during the hatching process or died swiftly after birth.
Battle items:
Flip a coin.
Heads = Food poisoning! Dragons who eat a rolled food type become sick and unable to battle. Roll a d4 to pick the poisoned food type, from insects/seafood/meat/plants.
Tails = Nothing happens.
Personal rules:
- If I find an egg during scavenging or in the Coliseum, I may add the dragon to the story, if I feel it works.
- If I pull a trinket, I cannot guarantee art. It may happen, or I might work on bio boxes, or write more, or whatever I'm in the mood for.
Roshan was always an adventurous young dragon, always getting into trouble. “This clan is booooring, Forester!” he always complained to his older brother, one of the big fighters in the clan. “Isn’t there anything better to doooooo?”
“Help around or go to the trading post. That’s up to you,” he always coughed through his mask, tending to the eggs left by his and his mate’s surrogate. Roshan puffed up his cheeks and hissed before stomping off on his little legs, the gembond on his shoulders slowing his pace.
---
The trading post was bustling as ever, dragons off all sorts pawning off their wares and food. Some hatchlings looked up sadly at Roshan as he passed, not much younger than he was. Poor things, but he couldn’t afford them on the little money Accipiel had given him. He could’ve saved them from being thrown to...whatever. He was almost in the same situation as they were. He just hoped they got saved beforehand.
A small bit of giggling behind him, and he jumped, gathering stares from the various dragons around him. He slinked towards the back, keeping his coin purse tightly against his side with his wing in fear of theft. He hissed.
“What’s wrong, dear?” a snapper lady said, her four wings pressed tightly to her back. “You seem verrrrry frightened!”
He looked at her. A short, stout snapper was no surprise to him. She smiled sweetly at him, the golden yellow markings on her hide shifting and swirling in color. He blinked at her.
“What? Never seen a snipsnap before?” she pruumed as she circled around him. He tucked his tail close to him. “Aww, don’t be afraid Roshan! I’m not one to hurt for fun. That’s my brother. He’s kind of a jerk.”
“You’re...who are you?”
“Trickseya, sweetheart. Heard you’ve been having some distress with being Forester’s lonely little brother. No mate, no friends. Can’t be trusted on the battlefield. It must be soooo frustrating!”
“It...is….” he mumbled. The snapper stopped in front of him.
“I can change that, if you wish.” She put her snout quite close to his, a small grin on her face. “On one condition.”
“W-what condition?”
“You come with me. And join me in the fight against my brother,” she said with an almost sarcastic smile. Roshan gulped as he nodded, feeling as if he couldn’t control his reaction.
Phlox was on the run again, blood dripping from his mouth along with the tiny body of a mirror pup, its limp body still warm as he took to the skies above the Hewn City. The pack was chasing after him, no doubt, but he needed this hatchling, he swears by it. It had strayed away from its siblings and the rest of the pack, so surely they couldn’t have cared too much for it, would they? Besides, eggs weren’t as tasty, especially the fertilized ones. They didn’t settle well in his stomach.
Once in the forests of the Viridian Labyrinth, he landed and dug into his meal. His clan, and his birth clan, and any other clan before him had thrown him to the wolves after their hatchlings begun vanishing, the suspicious smell of blood on his scales and feathers. He couldn’t help it at this point. They were far too easy prey, even if it pained him to take their lives. But was it better to live a few hours and days and not understand the pain of life, of being sacrificed as soldiers of the gods? Or being sold to a dragon five times their age as a...mate. He felt bile rise in his mouth.
He buried the bones and left a marker on the grave, grooming the blood from his feathers and scales. He had to move quickly to find some bugs to fill out the meal. He wasn’t a mirror, and he wasn’t one to let himself starve by only eating meat. He picked some from the leaves until his belly was full, and then he let himself mourn over the child.
He hated the urge. He hated the lack of control. But it had to be done.
“Oh Phlox…” a pruuming voice came from the trees. “You poor, poor little thing.”
He whipped his head around, standing and ready to flee.
“Oh don’t worry, I know your secret.” A small cat jumped down in front of him, slowly morphing into a brown snapper with golden swirls that flickered and moved like smoke. She gave him a small smile. “Join me, and there will forever be a way to...satisfy that urge.”
And that’s the story of how he ended up with an adolescent Coatl and a demigod on the Training Fields, ripping into the flesh of dead mice and birds and miths. It didn’t quite taste right to him, though.
“Help around or go to the trading post. That’s up to you,” he always coughed through his mask, tending to the eggs left by his and his mate’s surrogate. Roshan puffed up his cheeks and hissed before stomping off on his little legs, the gembond on his shoulders slowing his pace.
---
The trading post was bustling as ever, dragons off all sorts pawning off their wares and food. Some hatchlings looked up sadly at Roshan as he passed, not much younger than he was. Poor things, but he couldn’t afford them on the little money Accipiel had given him. He could’ve saved them from being thrown to...whatever. He was almost in the same situation as they were. He just hoped they got saved beforehand.
A small bit of giggling behind him, and he jumped, gathering stares from the various dragons around him. He slinked towards the back, keeping his coin purse tightly against his side with his wing in fear of theft. He hissed.
“What’s wrong, dear?” a snapper lady said, her four wings pressed tightly to her back. “You seem verrrrry frightened!”
He looked at her. A short, stout snapper was no surprise to him. She smiled sweetly at him, the golden yellow markings on her hide shifting and swirling in color. He blinked at her.
“What? Never seen a snipsnap before?” she pruumed as she circled around him. He tucked his tail close to him. “Aww, don’t be afraid Roshan! I’m not one to hurt for fun. That’s my brother. He’s kind of a jerk.”
“You’re...who are you?”
“Trickseya, sweetheart. Heard you’ve been having some distress with being Forester’s lonely little brother. No mate, no friends. Can’t be trusted on the battlefield. It must be soooo frustrating!”
“It...is….” he mumbled. The snapper stopped in front of him.
“I can change that, if you wish.” She put her snout quite close to his, a small grin on her face. “On one condition.”
“W-what condition?”
“You come with me. And join me in the fight against my brother,” she said with an almost sarcastic smile. Roshan gulped as he nodded, feeling as if he couldn’t control his reaction.
Phlox was on the run again, blood dripping from his mouth along with the tiny body of a mirror pup, its limp body still warm as he took to the skies above the Hewn City. The pack was chasing after him, no doubt, but he needed this hatchling, he swears by it. It had strayed away from its siblings and the rest of the pack, so surely they couldn’t have cared too much for it, would they? Besides, eggs weren’t as tasty, especially the fertilized ones. They didn’t settle well in his stomach.
Once in the forests of the Viridian Labyrinth, he landed and dug into his meal. His clan, and his birth clan, and any other clan before him had thrown him to the wolves after their hatchlings begun vanishing, the suspicious smell of blood on his scales and feathers. He couldn’t help it at this point. They were far too easy prey, even if it pained him to take their lives. But was it better to live a few hours and days and not understand the pain of life, of being sacrificed as soldiers of the gods? Or being sold to a dragon five times their age as a...mate. He felt bile rise in his mouth.
He buried the bones and left a marker on the grave, grooming the blood from his feathers and scales. He had to move quickly to find some bugs to fill out the meal. He wasn’t a mirror, and he wasn’t one to let himself starve by only eating meat. He picked some from the leaves until his belly was full, and then he let himself mourn over the child.
He hated the urge. He hated the lack of control. But it had to be done.
“Oh Phlox…” a pruuming voice came from the trees. “You poor, poor little thing.”
He whipped his head around, standing and ready to flee.
“Oh don’t worry, I know your secret.” A small cat jumped down in front of him, slowly morphing into a brown snapper with golden swirls that flickered and moved like smoke. She gave him a small smile. “Join me, and there will forever be a way to...satisfy that urge.”
And that’s the story of how he ended up with an adolescent Coatl and a demigod on the Training Fields, ripping into the flesh of dead mice and birds and miths. It didn’t quite taste right to him, though.
