The rules of this challenge are very similar to the Legacy of War challenge. You start with a triple basic Gen 1 and breed until you're left with a triple limited or rare gened plentiful. nra40 came up with some really interesting mechanics for the coliseum selection process that makes it really easy to write fun lore from one generation to the next.
Basically, there are more roles for dragons to fill aside from Heir, Mate, and Monarch, letting siblings interact and potentially usurp each other's positions.
Generation 0
Following the rules for nra40's challenge, I've selected a gen1 I've had in my lair for a thousand years and still haven't bred or done anything with at all. I'm pretty sure he was an egg that I scavenged and then hatched, so I'll be recording his cost as 0 treasure.
I present to you my first Monarch:
Generation 0
- Name: Tigaudon
- Cost: 0 treasure
- Date: 11/10/18
- Genes: Basic/Basic/Basic
- Colors:
Storm/Leaf/Avocado Gloom/Iris/Storm (...oops?)
- Eyes: Common Shadow
Introductory Lore:
In the dank and drafty halls of the Tangled Palace, the King of Thorns sighed on his throne. The Tarot spun in agitation around him, the cards shuffling as they twisted through the air. Tigaudon had been King for approximately two and half hours and already found himself slipping into anxious ennui.
He didn't want to be King. He was a warrior first and a leader second. Politics didn't even enter into it; let alone
bureaucracy. But when all was said and done, he had been the face of the rebellion, a leader to a people so angry and ill-treated that even a young and nameless grunt in the Emperor's army could inspire them to rise up. He had been in charge of war councils held around campfires, led troops into battles they should not have won, and shaken helplessly in the face of what they had set out to do - were doing. At the end of it all, killing the Emperor had felt almost anti-climactic. Picking up the pieces in the aftermath even more so. He didn't feel like a King, but the people and the Tarot had spoken.
That had been especially surreal. The Tarot, said to have been given to the first Emperor of their people by the gods themselves, had been locked away in the Royal Treasury. The cards hadn't been seen in generations, and many thought them to be symbolic, taken out only during coronations and special occasions for the Emperor or Empress to shuffle and read from. No one had expected to see them fly from their simple wooden case and fan out around Tigaudon like a host of pixies to welcome him. After that moment, his comrades would hear no more of his protests: he was the rightful King.
Since then it had been nothing but paperwork and meetings. The most exciting thing to happen was a speech he gave at his coronation, which had been a long and somewhat stuffy affair made better by the presence of people from all over the kingdom. They all had looked at him with such hope and pride, a man of the people leading them to honor and glory at last. Wryly, Tigaudon hoped he could live up to their expectations, if only for something to
do.
The Queen of Swords, passing in front of his eyes just then, flipped back and forth as if she were winking.
Tigaudon, Rebel King
Tigaudon is the new King of an old nation. The empire has long suffered under the lazy, decadent rule of tyrants who glut on the labor of their people. Once a soldier in His Majesty's army, Tigaudon expected a quick death when he stood against the cruel orders of his superior officer; he did not expect his comrades to stand with him. Soon he and a full tenth of the army had defected from His Majesty's service and started to free the townships and villages from His influence.
Months passed, and the rebellion gained more and more ground as young folk came to lend their claws and swords to the cause. Military men and women, no longer able to justify the oaths they made to an Emperor who does not care, also came to support the rebellion. Tigaudon could not have imagined the chain of events he had inadvertently set in motion; two years after Tigaudon refused to slaughter innocents as criminals, the Emperor lay dead at his feet.
Savannah, Desert Light
She’s going to hate me.
It’s the only thing Tigaudon can think as he paces back and forth in his office. The curtains on the windows are flung wide open, letting the cheerful noon light shine on the fine, plush carpet he’s currently wearing thin. Outside the closed door, he can hear one of the guards shuffle back and forth, their armor and lance clanking as they await the upcoming shift change. A light breeze from the open window carries the faint scent of roses from the gardens. On his desk, which he’s trying not to look at, sits a damningly innocuous little box.
She’s going to laugh, and then she’s going to think I’m giving her no choice, and then she’s going to hate me.
He flops onto the couch by the far wall. The Tarot scatter before resuming their agitated circles above his head, the Lovers taunting him as they pass, and he shuts his eyes with a tight sigh. He hates this. How is it that after the rebellion, after leading slapdash and haggard troops into battle, after halting and stealing from organized supply lines, after sneaking into heavily guarded fortresses, after everything they fought and almost died for –
this is what terrifies him? Savannah deserves better.
The thought of her makes him smile, helplessly, even if she is the current cause of his anxiety. Gods, but she is just so – bright. When Tigaudon was made King he had floundered a little on the strange new battlefield on which he’d been thrust. And the Tangled Palace
is a battlefield, complete with opponents to square up against. As the common-born son of a city guard, Tigaudon was little prepared for the intricately woven wordplay that passed for skirmishes in a noble’s world; as the son of a scholar, he was a quick study.
He had just been getting used to the idea of it all when his advisors jumped him with that coronation ball thing – a solid month after the fact. To him, it had seemed a little late for a Coronation Ball. He then learned that the invitations had been sent shortly after he was crowned. A month, his staff sternly informed him, was just enough time for his furthest vassals to receive the invitations, make preparations, and then arrive in time for an event in the capital.
Feeling sufficiently cowed after that refresher on elementary logistics, Tigaudon had let his team organize the Ball with very little oversight from him. So when he was informed that he would be giving a speech at the Ball a night before the fact, it caught him by surprise. He was both irritated and proud of his advisors for their cutthroat tactics. They knew him well, the dastards.
He can’t even be mad at them anymore. If they hadn’t sprung that speech on him, he wouldn’t have tried to hide from it, and then he wouldn’t have quite literally run into the best thing that’s ever happened to him. After a month of verbal sparring with people who say one thing and mean three others in addition, Savannah was like water in a treacherous, tiresome desert. She said what she meant, and if she weren’t saying anything then her face would tell you. Tigaudon didn’t have to
guess with Savannah, and frankly, she’d be offended if he did. She’s wonderful.
After a small miscommunication that was quickly cleared up, they hit it off. Savannah talked endlessly of her desert city – the markets full of spiced foods and colorful banners, the white stone and yellow brick buildings that baked in the sun, the glittering shores of the river that wound its way further south to the sea. She had made it seem as though she could have left for it at any moment. Instead, she had stayed the full week of celebrations, and then for another two weeks afterwards on his invitation.
They had spent much of that time together. When they weren’t together, Savannah had always been at the back of his mind. She was sharp, and beautiful, and loved her people dearly; so much so that she preferred their company to that of other nobles. Tigaudon was simultaneously contemptuous of and thankful for her uncle, a greasy, scheming sycophant without whom they never would have met. His advisors had eyed their progressing relationship with something approaching glee and had dropped not-so-casual hints about “stabilizing his rule”. His friends had never been subtle.
And now he’s going to ask her to marry him. So what if he’s been officially courting her for the past three months? It might be too soon. She might not really want him. She might be going along with it to get her uncle off her back. She might be going along with it because he’s the
King. The thought that she might feel pressured even the smallest amount is enough to make him feel sick. Oh, she’s going to
hate him –
“Gau!”
The door to his office opens with a bang, startling Tigaudon out of his anxious thoughts. Heart in his throat, he looks up to see the love of his life march into the center of his office.
“Savannah, I – um,” he says, sitting up.
“Gau, what are you doing on the –? Nevermind,” she says, shaking her head. “That’s not important right now. Have you seen these reports?” She shakes a fistful of papers he hadn’t noticed before. “The southwest region is still facing a drought, but I think if we divert resources from the western provinces –“
“Marry me, please,” he blurts before he can stop himself.
She pauses.
“I’m sorry, what?”
He covers his face with his hands. “Please marry me.”
When the silence grows to unbearable lengths, he peeks out between his claws. She’s staring at him, jaw dropped, reports forgotten. Oh no.
“I mean you don’t have to, obviously, it’s just I think you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I can talk to you about everything, and the month you left after the coronation was the longest month of my life and I never want to be without you again,” he rambled, oh gods, what is he even saying, shut up, shut
up. “Oh, and I’m in love with you. In case I hadn’t made that one clear. I love you, er, very much. Will you marry me?”
At least he ended on a strong note.
“Ah!” Realizing that the stupid box is still on his desk, Tigaudon jerks up off the couch and scrambles over to pick it up. “Oh, I’ve screwed this up
royally,” he mutters to himself, and turns to Savannah, offering her the open box.
She blinks down at the glittering citrine ring inside, and he can see the gears start to spin again.
“Oh,” she says softly, and the papers flutter to the floor. His hands feel clammy. He’s not sure if he’s breathing. She reaches into the box.
“Gau, this is – “ She’s holding the ring up to the light, and the shine off the yellow gemstone reminds him of her eyes. It’s why he chose it. She seems to be having trouble forming words. “Gau, I – “
He starts deflating a little. Oh gods, he was right, she hates it. “It’s alright if,” he tries. “You don’t have to – I can – “
“Yes.”
His heart stops.
“What?”
“Yes,” she’s smiling, she’s
smiling, “yes, yes, of course yes!” She laughs, airy and light and throws her arms around him. His arms come up automatically, hugging her to him. He blinks.
“Yes?”
“Yes!”
“Yes! Okay! Yes!” He’s grinning and laughing with her now, and he spins them around. “Yes!”
He stops.
“Wait, you’re not saying yes just because I’m the King, right?”
She hits him.
“No!” She shoves the ring into his hands, and for one heart stopping moment he thinks he screwed up
for real, until she’s pointedly offering her own hand for him to slip the ring onto her finger. Her scowl softens into a beatific smile.
“I’m saying yes because I want to, because I love you too, you idiot.”
He feels the grin on his face go goofy and he doesn’t care.
“Oh, okay. Good.”
“Good.”
“Great.”
“Fantastic.”
“Marvelous.”
“Lovely.”
He rubs a claw over the ring on her finger. “Yes,” he says, looking at her. “Lovely.”
And his mate:
Generation 0
- Name: Savannah
- Cost: 6700t
- Date: 11/10/18
- Genes: Clown/Eye Spots/Thylacine
- Colors: Aubern/Cinnamon/Clay
- Eyes: Uncommon Light
Introductory Lore:
Sunlight glinted in the eyes of a city guard, blinding him at precisely the right moment.
A guardian girl on the cusp of adulthood darted around the corner, stolen food clutched in her grasp. A small jackelope sprinted alongside her, a similar bundle in its mouth. Behind her she heard the stuffy old merchant exclaim in alarm, and she smirked. Dodging through stalls and around other citygoers, Savannah left the angry skinflint behind to shout at guards who would never find her. Savannah laughed, wild and free on the sandy streets of her desert city. Ducking into a nondescript alley, Savannah was greeted enthusiastically by other dragons, all younger than her.
"Savannah!"
"Savannah, you're back!"
"Did you bring food?"
"Yes, yes you little monsters, I've got food for you," she said with a gruff tone that fooled no one.
Sharing her haul, Savannah smiled and laughed and talked the day away with her friends. After they ate, they ran around the city, pulling pranks and stealing bits and bobs; getting lectures and food from den mothers and affectionate pats on the head. The sun slunk across the sky like a satisfied cat, until finally it slipped below the horizon and Savannah had to go.
With a fond smile, Savannah bid her friends a good night and turned the corner. She loved this city. Breathing it in, she caught the smell of spices and street food on the night air, the sound of families calling to each other as children played in the dusty streets. Sometimes she could even believe that she was truly part --
"My Lady!"
Savannah sighed.
"My Lady, I have been looking everywhere for you! What do you think you're doing out here? At this hour, and without a chaperone!"
Savannah's minder, a particularly nervous skydancer, had found her. She knew it was pointless, but still she tried, "I was just--"
"Never mind, you're coming back with me, and straight away. Lady Savannah, as the heir to your House, you must assume certain responsibilities. Running about in the streets like one of the common rabble - it is beneath your station! You have certain duties to fulfill. The Emperor has made his point clear..."
Rolling her eyes the moment her minder turned around, Savannah tuned her out as she reluctantly followed. She didn't care whether her blood was blue. She'd never be comfortable in the courts of high born nobles, especially the court of that fat, callous dragon sitting on the throne in the north.
It didn't matter what the royalty wanted from her; Savannah would never leave her city.
Meet Cute
The King is holding a ball.
All the nobles in the land have been called to attendance, to swear fealty and pay respect to their new monarch, and Savannah doesn’t want to go. She
is going, but it took her uncle several weeks to convince her. When threats and commands did not work, he resorted to bribery – if she came to this ball, played nice with the other nobles and swore fealty like a good head of house, he would promise never to force her into an arranged marriage. Since this was a point she’d been fighting for since she was young enough to be considered for marriage, she accepted. Her uncle probably assumes (correctly) that this is the only function he’ll be able to get her to, and is going to cash in on that
hard. Potential suitors are going to be paraded about in front of her all night under the pretense that they’re all here to pay respect to the new King. She’s dreading the experience already.
While at the party, Savannah sticks to the back walls as much as possible, seeking any avenue of escape from the crowds of pompous blue bloods. Her uncle is sticking close by, giving her disappointed looks in-between his flattery of other guests. The night has barely begun, and already she’s had to fend off the advances of more than one dandy looking for a way to get ahead or get in her pants. She’s growing desperate.
After an hour of exceedingly boring two-faced conversation, at last she sees an opportunity. She trips a server carrying a tray of food, who proceeds to spill the entire contents of said tray all over her uncle. She disappears in the confusion that follows, ducking down a servant's passage and through the kitchens out into a garden.
Grinning at her success and heaving a sigh of relief, Savannah hums as she snacks on a pastry she snagged from a baker’s tray and strolls through the empty garden. The stars are bright in the sky, and a warm summer breeze brings the scent of flowers to her nose. It's not the streets of her city, but it soothes her just the same. Appreciating the lack of company as she turns a corner, she abruptly bumps into someone who is moving rather quickly.
"Oh, excuse me -" says a gruff baritone, a clawed hand coming up to steady her.
She makes an indignant noise and pushes it off, eyeing up the gray guardian who nearly knocked her over. He's tall and broad, wearing fine clothes that suit his form and match the deep blue-violet of his wings. Dark steel thorns twine over his forearms, ending in an elegant set of rings set with pink stones. Internally, she groans. Another noble.
"Watch where you're going, would you?" She huffs, mood gone sour at the interruption to her solitary walk. "What's got you in such a hurry?"
He casts a furtive glance back around the corner before looking back at her with dark purple eyes. Suddenly she feels off-balance. "Sorry, sorry. Just trying to lose some people who won't take no for an answer," he says sardonically.
"Well, lose them somewhere else," she snaps, trying to cover it up. "You're not the only one trying to get away."
Something about that sharpens his gaze, and she feels heat rush up to her face. "I'm not?" He asks, looking at her intently. "I'd have thought every noble in the land would want to be in there right now. There hasn't been an opportunity to needle at each other like this since the old cow was in charge."
"Not everyone's so eager to trip over their own tails nosing up the rear ends of dragons without enough sense to split between them," she says, no small of amount of bitterness coming through. "And if every noble wants to be in there so much, why aren't you?"
"I'm not much of a brown-noser," he says dryly.
She looks at him sweetly. "Of course not. That would be whoever's following you. Now, if you'll excuse me – “
He opens his mouth indignantly as she starts striding around him, but they both freeze when they hear muffled voices calling from around the corner. They glance at each other, then dash away together further into the maze-like garden.
"Quit following me," she hisses as they run.
"
You quit following
me!" He hisses back.
"
I’m not following anyone!"
"Me neither - this is the best path through the garden!"
"Fine! I'll just take the next fork."
"Fine!"
She takes the next fork, and after a long stretch and another twisting turn, she crashes into him again, knocking them both to the ground in a pile of flailing limbs.
"Ack –!"
"Ow!"
Rubbing at her snout, which had smacked painfully against his chest ridge, she looks down to see him groaning, wings akimbo. He opens his eyes and they share several seconds of tense eye contact before they both start cracking up.
"I can't - believe -
ha ha!" she's saying between her giggling.
"It's a -
ha - circle - I should have -" he manages before losing the thread to more laughter.
After they've calmed down, they help each other up, smiling.
"Well whoever they are, I think we lost them," she says, a peace offering.
"Me too." He takes it. They start walking, not running anymore; just enjoying the garden. "My name is Tigaudon, by the way."
"Savannah."
"Thank you for escaping with me, Savannah." He says with mock gravitas. "It has been an honor."
He gives a sweeping bow that makes her smother a laugh, and she returns it with a dainty curtsy.
"The pleasure is all mine, I assure you," she says, affecting a haughty air. "I made my own daring escape barely five minutes before witnessing yours - it was the least I could do."
They pass by elegantly shaped greenery, hedges trimmed neatly and flowers lining the path. It really is a beautiful garden; multiple fountains are dispersed throughout the maze-like structure, small pockets of interest with their own particular themes and color schemes. Twisting brambles twine around the centerpieces, and roses are everywhere.
"If I may be so bold, why did you leave the party?” Tigaudon asks. “I can hardly imagine you having a hard time shutting down unwanted attention."
She sighed, stopping for a moment to examine the pink roses at their feet.
“It’s…a little cowardly.”
He snorts. “I doubt that.” She narrows her eyes at him, but huffs and gives in.
"My uncle wants me married off. Preferably to someone with more ties in the capital, so he'll have an excuse to move us here away from my city. He's been sending eager young bachelors to harass me all evening, and I doubt it would ever end. I wanted some time to myself."
His expression softens in sympathy. "I'm sorry you've had to put up with that. My parents married for love, and have always encouraged us to do the same. I can't imagine being put under that kind of pressure from family."
"Yes, well," she coughs, trying to hide what that murky gaze was doing to her insides. "It could be worse. After tonight he's promised to stop trying and let me make my own decisions. About marriage anyway."
They continued walking. "What about you?" she asks. "Who were you escaping from?"
He sighs, so long-suffering that she winces pre-emptively. "My friends," he says, grinning over at her. "They have certain notions about how I should be behaving, especially at a party like this one."
"Oh no, not
friends with
notions,” she says, a small part of her a little appalled at herself, but what the heck. That grin is infectious.
"They are...well-meaning. But I think they want me to give a speech," he says with a grimace.
She groans, her turn for sympathy. "Anything but that. We're bound to get one from the King anyway, why make us sit through another?" He looks a little taken aback, and she reexamines what she said before hastily backpedaling. "Not that I'm saying you'd give a bad speech, but -"
"Tigaudon!"
They're interrupted by a scowling snapper heading their way from - the entrance to the garden. Dang it, how had they gotten back here? Oh, right. It’s a circle.
"Tigaudon, you blasted snake, quit running away and get back in there! You’re due to speak any minute now, and Zeit didn’t work on that speech for
weeks just for you to squirm out of it now!”
Tigaudon sighs. “Alright, alright, just a minute. I’ll be right there.” He turns back to look at her with a soft, little smile. “Duty calls.”
Mind blanking, she nods helplessly, and he reaches down to take her hand. He brushes his mouth over the back of it, and her heart skips a little. “It has been a pleasure, Savannah. I hope to see you again soon.”
“It’s been- uh, me too.” Why can’t she talk like a normal person?
He smiles at her, a terrible, beaming thing, and turns to follow the snapper back toward the party.
“All done flirting?” She hears snickering as they go around the corner, and can’t help ducking her head to grin when Tigaudon grumbles a furtive “Shut up!” back at him.
But then her grin freezes in place when she hears: “Oh, I’m sorry, all done flirting,
Your Majesty?”
What.
An icy feeling like betrayal coursed through her almost despite herself –
come on, you knew he was a noble the whole time, you talked for maybe an hour, why is this such a surprise–
Savannah darts after them, rounding the corner just in time to see them encircled by palace guards who fall in step with them as easily as breathing. The snapper and Tigaudon – the
King – disappear into the palace with their entourage, leaving her staring.
In a daze, she makes her way back inside. As she walks back onto the floor, her uncle comes striding up to her, displeasure all over his face.
“Savannah! Where have you been – “
Before she can even think about answering, he’s cut off by a trumpeting sound. Looks like the King is about to give his speech.
“Now presenting, His Royal Majesty, Tigaudon, King of Thorns!”
She feels light-headed.
Tigaudon steps out onto the dais, walking confidently to the center. She can see the Tarot slide out from underneath his clothes to come whirling in tight circles around him.
I fell on top of the Tarot, she thinks giddily, with something close to hysteria.
The King looks out over the crowd, looking handsome and regal, until his gaze lands on her and he does a nervous, almost guilty shuffle. She stares blankly back at him, wide-eyed and full of emotions she can’t name right now. He clears his throat before his gaze moves on and she has to look down at her feet and breathe for a moment. He starts to speak.
She’s sure he says something monumental. Something extraordinary, yet down-to-earth in a way that shakes the room, because she sees her uncle look mildly taken aback partway through and he’s the sort of noble who dismisses ideas like “serving the people” and
noblesse oblige as quaint notions that speak to naivety and inexperience. And yet, their new King appears to value such notions, and from the sound of things he intends to see it practiced with extreme prejudice. She’s sure he says something like that, something ending on a confident note that makes the people around her hold their heads a little higher, something that makes them believe they can and will be better for their country and their people – if she could hear anything over the roaring in her own ears.
The King.
Watching him nod to the room before stepping down to mingle with his vassals – oh, wow, she’s one of his
vassals – Savannah comes to several conclusions.
First, regardless of what’s happened tonight, she’s leaving after the festivities are over for her city, where she can forget the whole thing and start living the rest of her life on her
own terms.
Second, tonight she will go before her new King, bow and swear fealty, and it will be one of the most awkward things in the world. For both of them.
Third, she doesn’t
want to go home and forget the whole thing because her new King has some
explaining to do, and there’s no way she’s leaving until she hears it.
“I hope to see you again soon.” What! Oh, come on, that jerk, he knew he’d be seeing her again when she was
swearing fealty at his feet -
Taking a steadying breath, Savannah steels herself for the long night ahead of her, and wades into the crowd to meet her King. Again.
Update: Tigaudon and Savannah have had their nest! Heir selection will be straightforward this time around. I'm HYPE for sibling interaction to begin OvO
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