That was honestly what was so fun about writing it, is that there's no side that's 100% in the right! On one hand, Pomona is rightly angry about what happened to her father, and Scoril cannot deny responsibility for that, even if its on somebody else's orders. But on the other hand, it's not fair to villianize Jett and Scoril completely when Heaven is the mastermind here and they were both so young and easily influenced. Plus Pomona really doesn't know anything about Jett and Scoril other than what she's heard from other dragons, because Jett was dethroned when she was still a baby. It's a complex situation, with no easy answers.
That was honestly what was so fun about writing it, is that there's no side that's 100% in the right! On one hand, Pomona is rightly angry about what happened to her father, and Scoril cannot deny responsibility for that, even if its on somebody else's orders. But on the other hand, it's not fair to villianize Jett and Scoril completely when Heaven is the mastermind here and they were both so young and easily influenced. Plus Pomona really doesn't know anything about Jett and Scoril other than what she's heard from other dragons, because Jett was dethroned when she was still a baby. It's a complex situation, with no easy answers.
Was that the plague hospital pinkerlocke? I think I read that one too! I had forgotten about that!
I've been wanting to incorporate them for a while, but I didn't want to do it without purpose, and I wanted to ensure that each one got paired with a pinkerlocke dragon. I finally figured out how to make it all work, and who should get each one, so its time to get this rolling!
Was that the plague hospital pinkerlocke? I think I read that one too! I had forgotten about that!
I've been wanting to incorporate them for a while, but I didn't want to do it without purpose, and I wanted to ensure that each one got paired with a pinkerlocke dragon. I finally figured out how to make it all work, and who should get each one, so its time to get this rolling!
Also, I just remembered that some people might have a bit of an unfair advantage at the whole lightning gem guardian mystery thing, so if you want answers, I wrote a chapter over here on Monday that might have something to do with it...
Also, I just remembered that some people might have a bit of an unfair advantage at the whole lightning gem guardian mystery thing, so if you want answers, I wrote a chapter over here on Monday that might have something to do with it...
Yeah, it was that one! I suppose I could have guessed that you'd read at least some of it, considering that we did a crossover between theirs and mine that one time...
Yeah, it was that one! I suppose I could have guessed that you'd read at least some of it, considering that we did a crossover between theirs and mine that one time...
Ohhh I did read the Windkeep Tower lore but I thought you weren't updating it anymore. Damnit Thorburn, how on earth did you manage to steal that from an inhabited kingdom???
Ohhh I did read the Windkeep Tower lore but I thought you weren't updating it anymore. Damnit Thorburn, how on earth did you manage to steal that from an inhabited kingdom???
I'm updating it from time to time! There aren't anymore big arcs or anything, but I'm planning on writing the occasional update when the motivation hits.
I'm updating it from time to time! There aren't anymore big arcs or anything, but I'm planning on writing the occasional update when the motivation hits.
@Petall Finally we're getting some action! --Well, maybe "drama" would be closer, but I'm sure you know what I mean. xD I'm always a big fan of how you manage to include familiars in your lore. It's easy to forget about them even though they're super-common in-game.
She had been expecting some all-powerful mage, not a young and nervous dragon who couldn’t meet her eye. Yet, somehow, that made the skydancer all the more terrifying, like she was a child unable to control her magic.
O_o Mmf. I'd never looked at it that way, but this is a very good point. Really loving the confrontation between Pomona and Scoril, btw. That was really intense.
And speaking of intense, Coldstorm's moodboard is amazing! It's so dramatic and vibrant. (Also when I saw the middle picture, my inner MCU fan immediately thought of Captain America grumbling, "I know, I know." XD) For art pulls, maybe you can also try doing some quick sketches? They're pretty good for on-the-spot exercises, and they don't need to be particularly polished, either.
@Petall Finally we're getting some action! --Well, maybe "drama" would be closer, but I'm sure you know what I mean. xD I'm always a big fan of how you manage to include familiars in your lore. It's easy to forget about them even though they're super-common in-game.
She had been expecting some all-powerful mage, not a young and nervous dragon who couldn’t meet her eye. Yet, somehow, that made the skydancer all the more terrifying, like she was a child unable to control her magic.
O_o Mmf. I'd never looked at it that way, but this is a very good point. Really loving the confrontation between Pomona and Scoril, btw. That was really intense.
And speaking of intense, Coldstorm's moodboard is amazing! It's so dramatic and vibrant. (Also when I saw the middle picture, my inner MCU fan immediately thought of Captain America grumbling, "I know, I know." XD) For art pulls, maybe you can also try doing some quick sketches? They're pretty good for on-the-spot exercises, and they don't need to be particularly polished, either.
Hecc, I missed some stuff. Oh- Happy Zappy Baby is missing! Oh noes!
Pinkerlocke? Not now, but one day...
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[center][b][u]Day 55: All I See Are Shadows[/u][/b]
[item=satin pocketmouse]
Sentence: New Dragon[/center]
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The neverending clang of metal on metal rang out from the forge, sending shivers down Pomona’s spine. She had, of course, heard her father working before, but this time was different. This time, she was going to go in and see him face to face.
Despite herself, she cast a quick glance to Scoril for comfort. The skydancer offered nothing. She too seemed to have a haunted expression reflecting out of her many eyes. Pomona was on her own. She had always expected that when the day came that she was brave enough to face her father that she would have her friends by her side. Instead, she had the very dragon who broke him.
Taking a deep breath, she pushed open the door, gesturing for Scoril to stay put for a moment. The skydancer nodded, and Pomona stepped into her father’s forge.
Khepri had clearly been busy. The large building was filled to the brim with metal creations that had not yet left to see the light of day. Upon closer inspection, Pomona could even see that some of the creations had electrical components, surging with what looked to be an incredibly high voltage. The forge was so full, she could hardly make her way through to the source of the noise.
At one point, she heard rustling behind her, but it turned out to only be some sort of spirit holding a fiery gemstone. It disappeared into the mess as soon as it met her eye.
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Finally, she turned a corner, and there he was.
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Her father had his back to her as he worked. His hammer hit the metal he was shaping with such perfect rhythm, it seemed to Pomona he was hardly more than a well oiled machine. She was about to call out to him when something caught her eye that made her breath catch in her throat. A model of her mother’s hung on the wall of her father’s workspace, looking down at him with glittering eyes. It reminded Pomona of the statue that held her mother’s ashes curled around one of the palace gardens, but her beauty had been greatly exaggerated. It hardly even looked real.
Suddenly, there was a clang as something metal clattered to the floor behind Pomona. She whirled to see Scoril apologetically lifting things back into place with her magic. That was when Pomona realized that her father’s steady beat had stopped, and she turned to face him once more.
The snapper was facing the two newcomers, but his gaze was fixed on Scoril, eyes ablaze with unadulterated fury. Pomona suddenly felt very frightened. This wasn’t how she had imagined this would go.
“Dad,” Pomona said quietly. As she spoke, the snapper whipped his head to face her. He looked utterly confused. “Dad, it’s me, Pomona, your daughter.”
“Daughter?” Khepri echoed. His gaze was blank, and Pomona felt her heart drop. It was as if he couldn’t see her. She suddenly understood why Age and Virtue had kept her from him all these years.
“Yeah,” Pomona said, mouth growing dry. “I’m Nevaeh’s kid.”
“So she kept you from me,” Khepri’s gaze darkened. “I knew she never loved me. If she loved me, she wouldn’t have kept you from me.” The snapper glanced around the forge. “Where is she and why did you bring that abomination with you.” He fixed his gaze pointedly at Scoril.
“Dad, Mom died, remember?” Pomona asked, choking up a little. She swallowed her tears, desperately wanting to appear strong. She couldn’t let on how much this was breaking her. “She died when I was a baby. I’m sorry.”
“And now you’ve come to torture me again,” Khepri growled, still glaring at the skydancer.
Pomona desperately looked at Scoril in a plea for help. The skydancer stepped forward.
“I’m not here to hurt you,” The skydancer’s voice shook as she spoke. “I’m sorry for what happened, and I want to help.”
Scoril took a step closer, and Khepri took a step back, finding himself dangerously close to the forge fire. The skydancer stopped, took a deep breath, and closed her eyes. As she did, pure arcane energy shot out of the lids and towards Khepri. The snapper screamed and collapsed to the ground.
Pomona watched in horror as her father writhed. Scoril too began to grow more agitated, and her magic grew more untamed. She was losing control.
“Scoril, stop!” Pomona screamed. The skydancer’s eyes shot open in response, and the magic faded, leaving Khepri on the floor. Pomona raced to her father’s side. He was shaking, eyes closed.
“I’m sorry,” Scoril whispered, almost too quiet for Pomona to hear, but the snapper wasn’t listening.
“Dad!” Pomona wailed. “Please speak to me, Dad! Are you alright?” She desperately hoped that Scoril’s magic had helped, but deep down, she knew that it couldn’t be that easy.
Khepri’s eyes slowly opened, looking in Pomona’s direction. They didn’t seem fixed on anything, like he was in some sort of a trance. Slowly, he got to his feet, turned, then went back to work.
“What did you do to him?!” Pomona demanded, turning on Scoril.
“I’m truly sorry! I wanted to help, but he’s too far gone! I can’t fix it!” The skydancer wailed, looking so terrified that Pomona almost felt a pang of pity for her. Almost. “Wh-when I used my magic on him in the prison, I only enhanced what was already there. The most I could do was shut off that part of his brain for a little while. I can’t make him better, I’m sorry.”
“Just go,” Pomona turned away. She wasn’t mad at the skydancer anymore. She believed she was telling the truth. But Scoril had been her only hope of fixing her father and having a real family again, and as reality crashed back into her, it threatened to crush her. She didn’t want to appear that broken in front of her.
The skydancer didn’t need to be old twice. Pomona immediately heard Scoril turn and leave, and Pomona was alone with her father. The snapper took a deep breath, looked into her mother’s too-perfect face, and turned and left. There was no point in trying to talk to him if Scoril had shut off a part of his brain.
“Pomona,” Khepri said. Pomona turned, unable to believe what she had heard, though was disappointed to see her father still working away.
“Dad?” She asked, feeling a surge of hope, despite herself.
“Pomona,” Khepri said again, still turned away from her. Pomona could tell that he was still in his trance, and there was no use talking to him. Still, something had clearly gotten through.
Maybe there was hope for healing after all.
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Bailaduel cursed. She had just rounded a corner that she had thought was on the edge of the city, only to find herself walking down another street and facing the palace. For months, she had been trying to leave The Forgotten Kingdom. No matter what she tried, she found herself back on some other street. It was as if the city still had a hold on her, and didn’t want her to leave.
Her stomach growled with hunger. Hunting was scarce in these parts, and that only made Bailaduel more irritable. She was almost ready to admit that she was going to die here. At least, she would have, if she were the sort of dragon to give up. She would just have to keep trying.
Turning away from the palace, she marched down the streets for another hour, only to find herself back facing the palace again. She cursed again, and tried to run the opposite direction, but her hunger was making her grow dizzy. She slowed just in time to slump down to the ground and slip into unconsciousness.
Her sleep was restless. Dark shadows lurked on the edge of her vision. Her dream-self pushed through them, desperately trying to break free. As she moved closer, some of the shapes seemed to be almost familiar. Ground formed beneath her feet, swirling with a murky mist. Thorn walls grew around her, like the ones surrounding the magic district. In the distance, she could hear the heavy breathing of a large dragon.
A hulking shape appeared out of the void, ragged and heaving. It took a little while for Bailaduel to recognize it as draconic, and even longer to place its identity. After all, she had only seen Heaven on a few occasions, and the imperial’s health had deteriorated significantly since the day she had been supposed to wed Jett. She was covered in wild leaves and feathers, and there seemed to be some sort of dark liquid dripping from her, as if she contained a force too powerful for one body to hold.
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The imperial turned to look at Bailaduel, eyes dark and blank. Her breathing grew louder, and Bailaduel felt a tightness in her chest, like the way the curse took hold in a dragon if they were without a lantern. It threatened to overwhelm her, but she stood her ground and stared back. Eventually, Heaven lowered her head. Whatever it was, Bailaduel had won.
The imperial suddenly seemed very tired. The power seemed to have seeped from her posture, to be replaced by a shaking husk of a dragon.
“Don’t make my mistakes. If it whispers to you, do not listen,” Heaven rasped. Her body was suddenly overtaken by coughs, as if something was trying to stop her from speaking. “It will tell you of all you can gain, but will not warn you of what you will lose. You have let your heart harden, I can feel it within you, cold for the ones who care for you the most. You may think it makes you strong, but even that cannot protect you from the day when they inevitably fall.”
“What happened to you?” Bailaduel asked. Her heart beat rapidly in her chest, but the wildclaw was not about to let on that she was more terrified than she had ever been in her entire life.
Heaven just laughed, her laughter devolving into another fit of coughing. Bailaduel moved forwards, her anger driving her to want to beat the information out of her, but before she could reach the imperial, she found herself being shaken awake. She opened her eyes to see the red eyes of a nocturne, and have a hunk of meat jerky suddenly shoved in her mouth.
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“Where are you going?”
Coldstorm turned to see Boo yawning and wiping his beary eyes as he opened the door to the wildclaw’s room.
“What does it matter to you?” Coldstorm asked, immediately feeling guilty for his harshness. Boo was just checking in on him, as he usually did. He didn’t mean to interrupt the wildclaw before he leaped from a window in the dead of night to go for a flight.
“I’m sorry. I just heard you moving around and wanted to know that everything’s okay,” Boo said, his mouth stretching wide with another yawn.
“I’m fine, go back to sleep,” Coldstorm shrugged, looking out the open window and feeling the inviting night air chill his scales.
“Okay, if you say so,” Boo said, closing the door. Coldstorm paused while he heard the mirror’s footsteps grow quieter, concluded by the sound of a closing door.
Coldstorm took a deep breath, flared his wings, and took into the night sky. He could feel the buzz of electricity from his stormclaws, fed from the energy in his coat. Most dragons didn’t know of the armor he had commissioned from Khepri. He hadn’t wanted to put anyone else in danger.
All he knew was that there was evil brewing in the kingdom, and that it had to be stopped. He had felt it, surging around and mingling with the other mysterious forces that the city held. He knew it had hurt dragons, and killed others. He knew it had ripped apart families and stolen the minds of dragons. It had to be stopped, and while his grandparents’ efforts were honorable, evil wouldn’t be quashed by meetings and laws.
In the night air, he felt free. His mask fixed to his face, allowing him to become who he wanted. The training his father had given him flared in his memory, sharpening his senses and preparing his muscles. So far, on his nightly patrols, he hadn’t come across anything of interest, but he was certain it was only a matter of time.
Suddenly, the shifting of two unfamiliar dragons in the street below caught his attention. One seemed to be slumped on the ground, the other hunched over them. A dark aura surrounded the dragons, though they were too close to tell who it originated from. Feeling a growl rise in his throat, Coldstorm banked for a landing. As he got closer, he could make the two dragons out to be a nocturne and a wildclaw. As he pulled in and hit the ground with a run, the nocturne looked up surprise turning to relief.
“Oh, thank the dieties! Y’all ain’t alone out here!” She sighed. “I found this here lady out like a light! She’s half starved, and she looks like she could use a real good meal.”
“Don’t call me a lady,” The wildclaw grumbled, seeming a little out of sorts.
“Wait, so you didn’t just attach her in a dark alley with an intent to kill?” Coldstorm asked. Then what had that aura of darkness been?
“Now why would I do a thing like that?” The nocturne asked, appearing utterly baffled. “Now I may be plague, born and raised, but even I know you gotta look out for those around you. Otherwise we’re no better than beasts.”
Coldstorm felt a surge of respect for the nocturne. He was glad he had decided to check in on these two. He’d be able to help a dragon in need, and he had made what was sure to be a valuable acquaintance.
“Let’s get her to the palace. We can get her all the help she needs there. I’m Coldstorm, by the way,” He held out a hand. The nocturne took it.
“I’m Cantarelli! It’s a delight to meet you!” The nocturne grinned. “I feel like you and I are going to get on quite alright.”
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[center][url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/qnc/2698754/49#post_40521250]Next[/url][/center]
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[center]@CleverDual @HauntedWhale @Disillusionist @AlchemyFox @Tirtouga678 @catmeow1 @Leopardmask @Midwinter @chantric @Dynami @ShinyDecidueye @tigressRising @FallenEclipse @Stitched @Willnotgogently @Sabariel @MisterMylez @Skystrider @Starongie @icetail0912 @myriadofstars @Aetherstorm @Weredogalism @Nargeorgicorn @WeaverofLies @herobrinna @secretlylying[/center]
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Woot! This ended up being a lot more epic of a chapter than I was expecting, but it feels good to get some of these scenes done. I have so many characters that a part of me is wondering how I'm going to get to everything.
We have a new dragon now though! I was finally able to get my C mate for my alphabet legacy challenge, and there is nothing that excites me more than new alphabet legacy dragons!
The neverending clang of metal on metal rang out from the forge, sending shivers down Pomona’s spine. She had, of course, heard her father working before, but this time was different. This time, she was going to go in and see him face to face.
Despite herself, she cast a quick glance to Scoril for comfort. The skydancer offered nothing. She too seemed to have a haunted expression reflecting out of her many eyes. Pomona was on her own. She had always expected that when the day came that she was brave enough to face her father that she would have her friends by her side. Instead, she had the very dragon who broke him.
Taking a deep breath, she pushed open the door, gesturing for Scoril to stay put for a moment. The skydancer nodded, and Pomona stepped into her father’s forge.
Khepri had clearly been busy. The large building was filled to the brim with metal creations that had not yet left to see the light of day. Upon closer inspection, Pomona could even see that some of the creations had electrical components, surging with what looked to be an incredibly high voltage. The forge was so full, she could hardly make her way through to the source of the noise.
At one point, she heard rustling behind her, but it turned out to only be some sort of spirit holding a fiery gemstone. It disappeared into the mess as soon as it met her eye.
Finally, she turned a corner, and there he was.
Her father had his back to her as he worked. His hammer hit the metal he was shaping with such perfect rhythm, it seemed to Pomona he was hardly more than a well oiled machine. She was about to call out to him when something caught her eye that made her breath catch in her throat. A model of her mother’s hung on the wall of her father’s workspace, looking down at him with glittering eyes. It reminded Pomona of the statue that held her mother’s ashes curled around one of the palace gardens, but her beauty had been greatly exaggerated. It hardly even looked real.
Suddenly, there was a clang as something metal clattered to the floor behind Pomona. She whirled to see Scoril apologetically lifting things back into place with her magic. That was when Pomona realized that her father’s steady beat had stopped, and she turned to face him once more.
The snapper was facing the two newcomers, but his gaze was fixed on Scoril, eyes ablaze with unadulterated fury. Pomona suddenly felt very frightened. This wasn’t how she had imagined this would go.
“Dad,” Pomona said quietly. As she spoke, the snapper whipped his head to face her. He looked utterly confused. “Dad, it’s me, Pomona, your daughter.”
“Daughter?” Khepri echoed. His gaze was blank, and Pomona felt her heart drop. It was as if he couldn’t see her. She suddenly understood why Age and Virtue had kept her from him all these years.
“So she kept you from me,” Khepri’s gaze darkened. “I knew she never loved me. If she loved me, she wouldn’t have kept you from me.” The snapper glanced around the forge. “Where is she and why did you bring that abomination with you.” He fixed his gaze pointedly at Scoril.
“Dad, Mom died, remember?” Pomona asked, choking up a little. She swallowed her tears, desperately wanting to appear strong. She couldn’t let on how much this was breaking her. “She died when I was a baby. I’m sorry.”
“And now you’ve come to torture me again,” Khepri growled, still glaring at the skydancer.
Pomona desperately looked at Scoril in a plea for help. The skydancer stepped forward.
“I’m not here to hurt you,” The skydancer’s voice shook as she spoke. “I’m sorry for what happened, and I want to help.”
Scoril took a step closer, and Khepri took a step back, finding himself dangerously close to the forge fire. The skydancer stopped, took a deep breath, and closed her eyes. As she did, pure arcane energy shot out of the lids and towards Khepri. The snapper screamed and collapsed to the ground.
Pomona watched in horror as her father writhed. Scoril too began to grow more agitated, and her magic grew more untamed. She was losing control.
“Scoril, stop!” Pomona screamed. The skydancer’s eyes shot open in response, and the magic faded, leaving Khepri on the floor. Pomona raced to her father’s side. He was shaking, eyes closed.
“I’m sorry,” Scoril whispered, almost too quiet for Pomona to hear, but the snapper wasn’t listening.
“Dad!” Pomona wailed. “Please speak to me, Dad! Are you alright?” She desperately hoped that Scoril’s magic had helped, but deep down, she knew that it couldn’t be that easy.
Khepri’s eyes slowly opened, looking in Pomona’s direction. They didn’t seem fixed on anything, like he was in some sort of a trance. Slowly, he got to his feet, turned, then went back to work.
“What did you do to him?!” Pomona demanded, turning on Scoril.
“I’m truly sorry! I wanted to help, but he’s too far gone! I can’t fix it!” The skydancer wailed, looking so terrified that Pomona almost felt a pang of pity for her. Almost. “Wh-when I used my magic on him in the prison, I only enhanced what was already there. The most I could do was shut off that part of his brain for a little while. I can’t make him better, I’m sorry.”
“Just go,” Pomona turned away. She wasn’t mad at the skydancer anymore. She believed she was telling the truth. But Scoril had been her only hope of fixing her father and having a real family again, and as reality crashed back into her, it threatened to crush her. She didn’t want to appear that broken in front of her.
The skydancer didn’t need to be old twice. Pomona immediately heard Scoril turn and leave, and Pomona was alone with her father. The snapper took a deep breath, looked into her mother’s too-perfect face, and turned and left. There was no point in trying to talk to him if Scoril had shut off a part of his brain.
“Pomona,” Khepri said. Pomona turned, unable to believe what she had heard, though was disappointed to see her father still working away.
“Dad?” She asked, feeling a surge of hope, despite herself.
“Pomona,” Khepri said again, still turned away from her. Pomona could tell that he was still in his trance, and there was no use talking to him. Still, something had clearly gotten through.
Maybe there was hope for healing after all.
Bailaduel cursed. She had just rounded a corner that she had thought was on the edge of the city, only to find herself walking down another street and facing the palace. For months, she had been trying to leave The Forgotten Kingdom. No matter what she tried, she found herself back on some other street. It was as if the city still had a hold on her, and didn’t want her to leave.
Her stomach growled with hunger. Hunting was scarce in these parts, and that only made Bailaduel more irritable. She was almost ready to admit that she was going to die here. At least, she would have, if she were the sort of dragon to give up. She would just have to keep trying.
Turning away from the palace, she marched down the streets for another hour, only to find herself back facing the palace again. She cursed again, and tried to run the opposite direction, but her hunger was making her grow dizzy. She slowed just in time to slump down to the ground and slip into unconsciousness.
Her sleep was restless. Dark shadows lurked on the edge of her vision. Her dream-self pushed through them, desperately trying to break free. As she moved closer, some of the shapes seemed to be almost familiar. Ground formed beneath her feet, swirling with a murky mist. Thorn walls grew around her, like the ones surrounding the magic district. In the distance, she could hear the heavy breathing of a large dragon.
A hulking shape appeared out of the void, ragged and heaving. It took a little while for Bailaduel to recognize it as draconic, and even longer to place its identity. After all, she had only seen Heaven on a few occasions, and the imperial’s health had deteriorated significantly since the day she had been supposed to wed Jett. She was covered in wild leaves and feathers, and there seemed to be some sort of dark liquid dripping from her, as if she contained a force too powerful for one body to hold.
The imperial turned to look at Bailaduel, eyes dark and blank. Her breathing grew louder, and Bailaduel felt a tightness in her chest, like the way the curse took hold in a dragon if they were without a lantern. It threatened to overwhelm her, but she stood her ground and stared back. Eventually, Heaven lowered her head. Whatever it was, Bailaduel had won.
The imperial suddenly seemed very tired. The power seemed to have seeped from her posture, to be replaced by a shaking husk of a dragon.
“Don’t make my mistakes. If it whispers to you, do not listen,” Heaven rasped. Her body was suddenly overtaken by coughs, as if something was trying to stop her from speaking. “It will tell you of all you can gain, but will not warn you of what you will lose. You have let your heart harden, I can feel it within you, cold for the ones who care for you the most. You may think it makes you strong, but even that cannot protect you from the day when they inevitably fall.”
“What happened to you?” Bailaduel asked. Her heart beat rapidly in her chest, but the wildclaw was not about to let on that she was more terrified than she had ever been in her entire life.
Heaven just laughed, her laughter devolving into another fit of coughing. Bailaduel moved forwards, her anger driving her to want to beat the information out of her, but before she could reach the imperial, she found herself being shaken awake. She opened her eyes to see the red eyes of a nocturne, and have a hunk of meat jerky suddenly shoved in her mouth.
“Where are you going?”
Coldstorm turned to see Boo yawning and wiping his beary eyes as he opened the door to the wildclaw’s room.
“What does it matter to you?” Coldstorm asked, immediately feeling guilty for his harshness. Boo was just checking in on him, as he usually did. He didn’t mean to interrupt the wildclaw before he leaped from a window in the dead of night to go for a flight.
“I’m sorry. I just heard you moving around and wanted to know that everything’s okay,” Boo said, his mouth stretching wide with another yawn.
“I’m fine, go back to sleep,” Coldstorm shrugged, looking out the open window and feeling the inviting night air chill his scales.
“Okay, if you say so,” Boo said, closing the door. Coldstorm paused while he heard the mirror’s footsteps grow quieter, concluded by the sound of a closing door.
Coldstorm took a deep breath, flared his wings, and took into the night sky. He could feel the buzz of electricity from his stormclaws, fed from the energy in his coat. Most dragons didn’t know of the armor he had commissioned from Khepri. He hadn’t wanted to put anyone else in danger.
All he knew was that there was evil brewing in the kingdom, and that it had to be stopped. He had felt it, surging around and mingling with the other mysterious forces that the city held. He knew it had hurt dragons, and killed others. He knew it had ripped apart families and stolen the minds of dragons. It had to be stopped, and while his grandparents’ efforts were honorable, evil wouldn’t be quashed by meetings and laws.
In the night air, he felt free. His mask fixed to his face, allowing him to become who he wanted. The training his father had given him flared in his memory, sharpening his senses and preparing his muscles. So far, on his nightly patrols, he hadn’t come across anything of interest, but he was certain it was only a matter of time.
Suddenly, the shifting of two unfamiliar dragons in the street below caught his attention. One seemed to be slumped on the ground, the other hunched over them. A dark aura surrounded the dragons, though they were too close to tell who it originated from. Feeling a growl rise in his throat, Coldstorm banked for a landing. As he got closer, he could make the two dragons out to be a nocturne and a wildclaw. As he pulled in and hit the ground with a run, the nocturne looked up surprise turning to relief.
“Oh, thank the dieties! Y’all ain’t alone out here!” She sighed. “I found this here lady out like a light! She’s half starved, and she looks like she could use a real good meal.”
“Don’t call me a lady,” The wildclaw grumbled, seeming a little out of sorts.
“Wait, so you didn’t just attach her in a dark alley with an intent to kill?” Coldstorm asked. Then what had that aura of darkness been?
“Now why would I do a thing like that?” The nocturne asked, appearing utterly baffled. “Now I may be plague, born and raised, but even I know you gotta look out for those around you. Otherwise we’re no better than beasts.”
Coldstorm felt a surge of respect for the nocturne. He was glad he had decided to check in on these two. He’d be able to help a dragon in need, and he had made what was sure to be a valuable acquaintance.
“Let’s get her to the palace. We can get her all the help she needs there. I’m Coldstorm, by the way,” He held out a hand. The nocturne took it.
“I’m Cantarelli! It’s a delight to meet you!” The nocturne grinned. “I feel like you and I are going to get on quite alright.”
Woot! This ended up being a lot more epic of a chapter than I was expecting, but it feels good to get some of these scenes done. I have so many characters that a part of me is wondering how I'm going to get to everything.
We have a new dragon now though! I was finally able to get my C mate for my alphabet legacy challenge, and there is nothing that excites me more than new alphabet legacy dragons!
