@
Megeara
Not late at all! I'm counting the First Prompt open for entry into the daily participation prize until the second prompt is posted!
@
Megeara
Not late at all! I'm counting the First Prompt open for entry into the daily participation prize until the second prompt is posted!
And for those of you worried about your word count: don't be! It's a soft-limit for a reason, I won't be disqualifying any entries that exceed it, I just didn't want the contest to turn into a more words=more points system, so trying to keep everyone in the same ballpark.
Because it seems to be a bit constraining for some though, I am leaning towards upping the limit to 500 to give people more breathing room but I will wait until the second prompt is posted to make the official change so all Prompt 1 entries will be on the same level.
And for those of you worried about your word count: don't be! It's a soft-limit for a reason, I won't be disqualifying any entries that exceed it, I just didn't want the contest to turn into a more words=more points system, so trying to keep everyone in the same ballpark.
Because it seems to be a bit constraining for some though, I am leaning towards upping the limit to 500 to give people more breathing room but I will wait until the second prompt is posted to make the official change so all Prompt 1 entries will be on the same level.
Aequor, in all his days of travel, had never seen anything as horrifyingly beautiful as this creature.
The first thing he noticed was its head. It was five times as long as its body. Studded spikes decorated the cheeks, catching seaweed on the side and pulling it along. Two blind, slitted eyes on either side of its flat head were a milky white from living in the depths too long. Its flimsy jaw opened and closed regularly in the same fashion of a fish, leaving its floppy, grayish-pink tongue exposed and probing.
The second most intruding thing in the Guardian's mind was the murky green body. For starters, it entangled into the seaweed dragged by the spikes on its face. The creature's eel-like shape was about as thick as his tail, using it to glide through the sea like a whip. It cracked and snapped every time the monster twisted left and right. Underneath its build were millions of small yellow bristles. A closer look would've told the observer that they were not hairs, but legs. This was how the being adjusted its speed.
Aequor, as fearless as he was, decided this wasn't something he wanted to tangle with, no matter how interested he was in it.
Aequor, in all his days of travel, had never seen anything as horrifyingly beautiful as this creature.
The first thing he noticed was its head. It was five times as long as its body. Studded spikes decorated the cheeks, catching seaweed on the side and pulling it along. Two blind, slitted eyes on either side of its flat head were a milky white from living in the depths too long. Its flimsy jaw opened and closed regularly in the same fashion of a fish, leaving its floppy, grayish-pink tongue exposed and probing.
The second most intruding thing in the Guardian's mind was the murky green body. For starters, it entangled into the seaweed dragged by the spikes on its face. The creature's eel-like shape was about as thick as his tail, using it to glide through the sea like a whip. It cracked and snapped every time the monster twisted left and right. Underneath its build were millions of small yellow bristles. A closer look would've told the observer that they were not hairs, but legs. This was how the being adjusted its speed.
Aequor, as fearless as he was, decided this wasn't something he wanted to tangle with, no matter how interested he was in it.
[columns][size=4][b]Prompt 2: [/b]Now that we have an idea of what this creature looks like, I think we'll need a name to call it by. Name your creature and show how it earned its name! [/size] [nextcol][img]https://i.imgur.com/Kx4vQxJ.png[/img]
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If you responded to the first prompt, I've automatically added you to the pinglist for the second prompt, if you'd like off please let me know. I'm also increasing the soft limit to 500 words since it seems like 250 was a little too constraining, but the limit is really only to keep entries from getting novel-length and stepping into future prompt territory so I won't be disqualifying any entries to go a little over.
[quote][size=1]@Keryth @Dragonartist24 @Raedeshe @browncoatparadox @Hisscale @Avene @LadySiren @RaikuKawisa @ArcticFire @excessnight @Shadowdawn199 @Megeara @Kaimon @fuwafuwa @Akeva @SariStar @dividedAnimus @IzzyWizzy @TwilightStars @Keryth @DazzlingSnek @Ithelweex @Scatterspark @Leopardmask @riseandshine @BrookInTheMeadow @InkedMyths @queenmedusozoa @SunstonePhoenix @ArtemisAgrotera @ThisOneIsBlue @ArcticFire
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Prompt 2: Now that we have an idea of what this creature looks like, I think we'll need a name to call it by. Name your creature and show how it earned its name!
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If you responded to the first prompt, I've automatically added you to the pinglist for the second prompt, if you'd like off please let me know. I'm also increasing the soft limit to 500 words since it seems like 250 was a little too constraining, but the limit is really only to keep entries from getting novel-length and stepping into future prompt territory so I won't be disqualifying any entries to go a little over.
[url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=40571470]
[img]http://flightrising.com/rendern/350/405715/40571470_350.png[/img]
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My comrades and I observed the creature for the next hour and took note of anything different. The creature didn't do much except watch us back with it's big, bulging red eye. I could have sworn that its fangs, not its mouth, curved upwards in a grin at one point, but as soon as I blinked it was gone. I supposed it could have been my imagination, and it's teeth looked vaguely like a smile already.
We continued to watch it move about the tank as explored the tank's sides and run its tendrils across it. Every time it moves, it makes this awful squishing noise like some dragon stepping in mud.
Not much else happened until about a half hour in, one of my comrades, a spiral, got bored decided to stick his claws in the tank. A horrible idea on his part; I don't know who let that guy in here. But he did and the creature instantly wrapped its tendrils around his arm. Instead of shocking him like one might expect, they dug deep into his arm. Later, we noticed from the deep holes in his arm that it's tendrils had started to slip inside like a worm and take root there like a vein. We quickly pulled it away, which was hard since the thing was completely covered in tendrils, and got it back in its tank. It's there now, watching us.
We wrapped up the spirals arm and gave him some medicine we hope would stop any kind of infection. But I can't stop thinking about the creature and glancing back at it, even though it's still being watched. I wonder if it's calculating, waiting for the right moment to strike. Or is it just curious? Or looking for a way out? I would, too. It seems harsh to assume it's benevolent. Shortly after the spiral was bandaged up, we tried giving it some small fish to eat and it did the same thing it did to the spiral to its prey before opening a huge dripping maw and devouring the fish in one bite, bones and all. We decided to call it a Clinger, since that's how it seems to grab things and eat them as well as potentially be some way of defense? Or attack? We're not sure yet, and further evaluation is needed.
My comrades and I observed the creature for the next hour and took note of anything different. The creature didn't do much except watch us back with it's big, bulging red eye. I could have sworn that its fangs, not its mouth, curved upwards in a grin at one point, but as soon as I blinked it was gone. I supposed it could have been my imagination, and it's teeth looked vaguely like a smile already.
We continued to watch it move about the tank as explored the tank's sides and run its tendrils across it. Every time it moves, it makes this awful squishing noise like some dragon stepping in mud.
Not much else happened until about a half hour in, one of my comrades, a spiral, got bored decided to stick his claws in the tank. A horrible idea on his part; I don't know who let that guy in here. But he did and the creature instantly wrapped its tendrils around his arm. Instead of shocking him like one might expect, they dug deep into his arm. Later, we noticed from the deep holes in his arm that it's tendrils had started to slip inside like a worm and take root there like a vein. We quickly pulled it away, which was hard since the thing was completely covered in tendrils, and got it back in its tank. It's there now, watching us.
We wrapped up the spirals arm and gave him some medicine we hope would stop any kind of infection. But I can't stop thinking about the creature and glancing back at it, even though it's still being watched. I wonder if it's calculating, waiting for the right moment to strike. Or is it just curious? Or looking for a way out? I would, too. It seems harsh to assume it's benevolent. Shortly after the spiral was bandaged up, we tried giving it some small fish to eat and it did the same thing it did to the spiral to its prey before opening a huge dripping maw and devouring the fish in one bite, bones and all. We decided to call it a Clinger, since that's how it seems to grab things and eat them as well as potentially be some way of defense? Or attack? We're not sure yet, and further evaluation is needed.
Apologies for length.
The blade flashes in the moonlight as you scream.
It hurts more than you could've imagined, more than anything you've felt in your life. You sink into the shallows. The salt and the cold are new agonies you are too weak to escape.
You are crying. It is raining. One or the other or both.
Your last sight is of the blood glinting on the water.
The knife scrapes against her scales, cutting her free from the thing sprawled on the beach, and she comes back to herself, gasping and shaking.
She closes her eyes and it comes back to her. The darkness and the terror, and --
That sword. Such an old design. A single hunk of tarnished metal. Something that would shatter against today's shields.
"It's a legend," says her friend, brushing against her shoulder. "I heard from the elders. Ships caught in a red tide, pulled into the depths. Swimmers screaming when they drown. A bad omen."
"What is it?" she asks, but the answer to that lies in another one. "How did it begin?"
"Not the children," you plead. "Spare the children, spare them, I'll do anything--"
You have to watch, and there is so much blood, so much, a river flowing into the warning-red of the sunrise sea.
She sits in the library with books and records strewn around her. Her earlier fervor has faded into a sort of pensiveness.
"Do you know," she says abruptly, "there is a sort of fish, that goes to die where it was born--"
"Why can't someone see--" The red is so bright, like a beacon, why does no one see, the screams are an orchestra but no one is listening and no one will until the echoes and ripples fade away. "Why does it end like this -- it's not fair -- they can't just get away with it."
The huts are burning. He turns to you with dull eyes. "They're the victors. They'll tell a story to their children that they took back what was theirs, and their children will grow up fat on ocean treasures, and everything is bright in the world above our graves."
No.
"No," you raise your voice and he fights to restrain you, fights to buy you just a few more minutes of life, "you won't forget us! Your world will be bright, but you'll never wash our blood out of the sands!" You curse them, with the foulest words you know, until all you can do is sob, and then they find you.
"Come away," the knife is cutting the poisoned skin from her scales again, "have you been coming down here every day? You can't keep torturing yourself like this. Sometimes the sea spits out mysteries best left unsolved."
"No," she breathes. "No. I found the answer. I know what it is."
"Oh, you have a name?"
"Massacre," she says with sharp, vicious triumph, "it's a massacre."
"What do you mean?"
She laughs and laughs. Her reply, when it comes, is choked.
"Did I ever tell you how our town was born?"
The warning horns sound in the distance. Her friend jerks to alert. "Something's wrong. We have to go."
She only shakes her head, watching the red seep into the sands.
In the bloody morning after it coalesces and drifts gracefully into the depths of the ocean. Sometimes it will surface to claim a price of blood.
The world is bright, but sometimes it is dangerous to sail and swim.
Like the spawning fish it spends the span of its life in the ocean, but the massacre remembers where it was born.
It will return to die.
It will return to birth another.
Apologies for length.
The blade flashes in the moonlight as you scream.
It hurts more than you could've imagined, more than anything you've felt in your life. You sink into the shallows. The salt and the cold are new agonies you are too weak to escape.
You are crying. It is raining. One or the other or both.
Your last sight is of the blood glinting on the water.
The knife scrapes against her scales, cutting her free from the thing sprawled on the beach, and she comes back to herself, gasping and shaking.
She closes her eyes and it comes back to her. The darkness and the terror, and --
That sword. Such an old design. A single hunk of tarnished metal. Something that would shatter against today's shields.
"It's a legend," says her friend, brushing against her shoulder. "I heard from the elders. Ships caught in a red tide, pulled into the depths. Swimmers screaming when they drown. A bad omen."
"What is it?" she asks, but the answer to that lies in another one. "How did it begin?"
"Not the children," you plead. "Spare the children, spare them, I'll do anything--"
You have to watch, and there is so much blood, so much, a river flowing into the warning-red of the sunrise sea.
She sits in the library with books and records strewn around her. Her earlier fervor has faded into a sort of pensiveness.
"Do you know," she says abruptly, "there is a sort of fish, that goes to die where it was born--"
"Why can't someone see--" The red is so bright, like a beacon, why does no one see, the screams are an orchestra but no one is listening and no one will until the echoes and ripples fade away. "Why does it end like this -- it's not fair -- they can't just get away with it."
The huts are burning. He turns to you with dull eyes. "They're the victors. They'll tell a story to their children that they took back what was theirs, and their children will grow up fat on ocean treasures, and everything is bright in the world above our graves."
No.
"No," you raise your voice and he fights to restrain you, fights to buy you just a few more minutes of life, "you won't forget us! Your world will be bright, but you'll never wash our blood out of the sands!" You curse them, with the foulest words you know, until all you can do is sob, and then they find you.
"Come away," the knife is cutting the poisoned skin from her scales again, "have you been coming down here every day? You can't keep torturing yourself like this. Sometimes the sea spits out mysteries best left unsolved."
"No," she breathes. "No. I found the answer. I know what it is."
"Oh, you have a name?"
"Massacre," she says with sharp, vicious triumph, "it's a massacre."
"What do you mean?"
She laughs and laughs. Her reply, when it comes, is choked.
"Did I ever tell you how our town was born?"
The warning horns sound in the distance. Her friend jerks to alert. "Something's wrong. We have to go."
She only shakes her head, watching the red seep into the sands.
In the bloody morning after it coalesces and drifts gracefully into the depths of the ocean. Sometimes it will surface to claim a price of blood.
The world is bright, but sometimes it is dangerous to sail and swim.
Like the spawning fish it spends the span of its life in the ocean, but the massacre remembers where it was born.
It will return to die.
It will return to birth another.
New reports came flooding in after the release of the information regarding the creature. Sardonia could hardly keep up with them, and she certainly couldn't tell if all of them were real. There was no way they could be, it would of had to be in so many different places at the same time...
A small fae (were they an intern. she couldn't remember) came in and cleared their throat to get her attention. She turned her weary head to them with a nod.
"The institute wants an official release."
"Eleven above, already? We just released the preliminary findings!" She turned back to her desk, running a hand through her mane in agitation.
"All we need is a name and then we can fabricate something."
"Alright, alright, um..." Sardonia looked down at her notes in thought. She was a scientist, creating names wasn't her thing, why did this thing have to fall to her? Her eyes suddenly caught an old book open under the piles of scrawlings. A book of myths, of fairy tales ands legend.
"Siren. Call it Siren."
The scouts keep losing its trail. They might have been forced to give up on further study, except that the beast keeps returning to attack. Two scouts have fallen prey to it, but the rest can dodge its claws well enough to stay alive. Any attempts to recapture will result in a torn net or a broken cage, and the beast fleeing once again. This is both a blessing and a curse, for it then requires more tracking, but at least it won't be attacking the scouts for a little while. If it gave up on us as prey, it could have been lost to us long ago. For its continued evasion from study, we have dubbed the beast Zokitar, an
Ursegal word meaning "escapee".
The scouts keep losing its trail. They might have been forced to give up on further study, except that the beast keeps returning to attack. Two scouts have fallen prey to it, but the rest can dodge its claws well enough to stay alive. Any attempts to recapture will result in a torn net or a broken cage, and the beast fleeing once again. This is both a blessing and a curse, for it then requires more tracking, but at least it won't be attacking the scouts for a little while. If it gave up on us as prey, it could have been lost to us long ago. For its continued evasion from study, we have dubbed the beast Zokitar, an
Ursegal word meaning "escapee".
Gods, I don't know why you want me to name it, that will only give it power...its already in my head, do you want it in yours too?? Still, I guess you're right - I have a duty to warn others to stay away from that monster, and I guess naming it will help somehow. To be honest, I already had a name in mind - the one word I could think of as I watched it rip apart my companion. With its bulbous eyes reeling and scales flashing in a stunning and terrifying display, all I could think was that it was a lie,with a dragon's face, a DragonLie. The beautiful colors, the dancer-like movements, even the diminutive size, it was all just a lie just to draw us in. But once we drew closer, we could see its snout - as if a dragon had been taken and made to be something...corrupted.
Gods, I don't know why you want me to name it, that will only give it power...its already in my head, do you want it in yours too?? Still, I guess you're right - I have a duty to warn others to stay away from that monster, and I guess naming it will help somehow. To be honest, I already had a name in mind - the one word I could think of as I watched it rip apart my companion. With its bulbous eyes reeling and scales flashing in a stunning and terrifying display, all I could think was that it was a lie,with a dragon's face, a DragonLie. The beautiful colors, the dancer-like movements, even the diminutive size, it was all just a lie just to draw us in. But once we drew closer, we could see its snout - as if a dragon had been taken and made to be something...corrupted.
She/Her ~ On fr time
@
Krycelli
May I be on the pinglist please?
@
Krycelli
May I be on the pinglist please?
