Jademask wasn't a scavenger by nature, but he was also a forest dragon, born and raised under the wing of the Gladekeeper. Out here in this wasteland, he was out of his depth. Food was food, even in the carcass of an unidentifiable mouse.
Crossing the borders showed big ambition on Centurion's part. Their clan, newly instated into the great boughs of the Behemoth, had started their warlike expansion in neighbourhood tiffs and, eventually, minor invasions. The Gladekeeper smiled on their growing strength, and Centurion had drawn out of Monster everything she had heard from their patron in the recent past. Plague had the upper hand again. The Gladekeeper was worried.
Centurion had decided on a bold move. To please their patron - and it
would - they would start their efforts against the stinking wasteland of Plague. They had ignored Monster's protests. Kyzag, Dyatus - they were all dead and gone now, and the Clan was making a new name for itself. What was Plague, if not an enemy?
Jademask had had his own doubts. The Clan had always listened to the Seer, past, present and future, and she was the last remaining dragon to remember the days of Cavern and Tuolos. It made him uneasy to brush aside her warnings and protests, but Centurion knew what she was doing. It must be the case.
He grimaced unhappily at the carcass. It would have been a meal for a Fae, but he wouldn't even notice it going down his throat. Was this the extent of it, in this place? He was used to the abundant food of the Shrieking Wilds, especially since it was summer, but here he could hear barely anything indicating prey.
The sky, though - the sky! He hadn't had much experience with deserts, wastelands, wide open spaces. The sky was clear and open, and he could almost see a whole galaxy above him. It was almost beyond him, that dragons here saw this every night.
He shook his head. Centurion would have scorned his thoughts. Romanticism, she said, was for puppies and baby faes. All the same, it was hard not to admire.
He was out to scout the area before they made any moves. Find out who was here, what the border clans were like, what there was to gain from a fight. What their defenses were like, too, but as far as he'd gone Jademask had found next to nothing. Nothing but bones, at least. This place stank of plague.
He blended nicely into the night, even with his massive bulk. Admittedly a far or spiral would have made a better scout - scratch the latter, on second thoughts - but he made up for his size with skill and timing. His colours merged him well with the reddish dusk, and he rarely went out in the day. The distant signs and landmarks of his home flight had been dissolved in the twilight. He must be quite a way from home, now.
@
Kosz (I'm sorry it's bad for a start, I hope it's not too bad though)
Jademask wasn't a scavenger by nature, but he was also a forest dragon, born and raised under the wing of the Gladekeeper. Out here in this wasteland, he was out of his depth. Food was food, even in the carcass of an unidentifiable mouse.
Crossing the borders showed big ambition on Centurion's part. Their clan, newly instated into the great boughs of the Behemoth, had started their warlike expansion in neighbourhood tiffs and, eventually, minor invasions. The Gladekeeper smiled on their growing strength, and Centurion had drawn out of Monster everything she had heard from their patron in the recent past. Plague had the upper hand again. The Gladekeeper was worried.
Centurion had decided on a bold move. To please their patron - and it
would - they would start their efforts against the stinking wasteland of Plague. They had ignored Monster's protests. Kyzag, Dyatus - they were all dead and gone now, and the Clan was making a new name for itself. What was Plague, if not an enemy?
Jademask had had his own doubts. The Clan had always listened to the Seer, past, present and future, and she was the last remaining dragon to remember the days of Cavern and Tuolos. It made him uneasy to brush aside her warnings and protests, but Centurion knew what she was doing. It must be the case.
He grimaced unhappily at the carcass. It would have been a meal for a Fae, but he wouldn't even notice it going down his throat. Was this the extent of it, in this place? He was used to the abundant food of the Shrieking Wilds, especially since it was summer, but here he could hear barely anything indicating prey.
The sky, though - the sky! He hadn't had much experience with deserts, wastelands, wide open spaces. The sky was clear and open, and he could almost see a whole galaxy above him. It was almost beyond him, that dragons here saw this every night.
He shook his head. Centurion would have scorned his thoughts. Romanticism, she said, was for puppies and baby faes. All the same, it was hard not to admire.
He was out to scout the area before they made any moves. Find out who was here, what the border clans were like, what there was to gain from a fight. What their defenses were like, too, but as far as he'd gone Jademask had found next to nothing. Nothing but bones, at least. This place stank of plague.
He blended nicely into the night, even with his massive bulk. Admittedly a far or spiral would have made a better scout - scratch the latter, on second thoughts - but he made up for his size with skill and timing. His colours merged him well with the reddish dusk, and he rarely went out in the day. The distant signs and landmarks of his home flight had been dissolved in the twilight. He must be quite a way from home, now.
@
Kosz (I'm sorry it's bad for a start, I hope it's not too bad though)
((Sorry if this post is a bit dodgy. It's my first dragon RP))
It was hard not to notice the aviator’s presence in the twisting tunnels of the Bedlam. Kazu, the clan leader, could hear Oliver’s footsteps as soon as he set a heavy foot on the outermost corridor of the Bedlam, despite his usually elusive nature. Everyone knows that a Bogsneak means business when it makes itself heard, so the leader already knew that Oliver was waiting patiently outside her work room without having to raise a single crimson eye.
“Yes?” she asked, an invitation to enter. Oliver stepped into the clan leader’s niche. No matter how many times he’d been inside it (for better or worse), the room entranced him. Perhaps it was the gruesome rack of skulls and Baldwin’s concoctions adorning the red-rock wall that caught his curious glance. Or was it the shelf that covered the entire back wall of the room, stocked to the brim with books of crisp, yellowing pages that held the aviator’s interest? Maybe it was the shadows that the flickering, swinging lightbulb cast on small, Plaguebringer statue on the dusty-red stone desk. It could even very well be the Pearlcatcher herself that held his attention, whose presence emitted a vibe of elegance, power, and authority all at once.
Oliver greedily stole a few more glances before his gaze finally settled on Kazu. “An Imp, from Nature - here. By the borders, I mean. Saw the ‘lil bugger on my scout today. Could rec’nize those green eyes from miles away.” No matter how smug or loud he was, you had to admit that the aviator had one of the sharpest eyes in the entire Wandering Contagion.
The Bogsneak saw no concern in the Pearlcatcher’s eyes. As always, they were cold and calculating. “An invasion?”
“Possibly. I mean, those grass-loving b*stards are always up ta no good. Prob’ly tryn’a get back for the recent happ’nins.”
“Tell the hunters to hunt by that area. He can’t stay if he starves. Make sure they don’t interact with him. Go tell Hisoki to up the patrols.”
“Will do, ma’am,” Oliver replied, turning back towards the tunnels. “If ya need me, just gimme a call.”
Kazu simply nodded as the aviator walked away. No one ever expected a thanks from the Pearlcatcher. Her gratitude was an honour.
((Sorry if this post is a bit dodgy. It's my first dragon RP))
It was hard not to notice the aviator’s presence in the twisting tunnels of the Bedlam. Kazu, the clan leader, could hear Oliver’s footsteps as soon as he set a heavy foot on the outermost corridor of the Bedlam, despite his usually elusive nature. Everyone knows that a Bogsneak means business when it makes itself heard, so the leader already knew that Oliver was waiting patiently outside her work room without having to raise a single crimson eye.
“Yes?” she asked, an invitation to enter. Oliver stepped into the clan leader’s niche. No matter how many times he’d been inside it (for better or worse), the room entranced him. Perhaps it was the gruesome rack of skulls and Baldwin’s concoctions adorning the red-rock wall that caught his curious glance. Or was it the shelf that covered the entire back wall of the room, stocked to the brim with books of crisp, yellowing pages that held the aviator’s interest? Maybe it was the shadows that the flickering, swinging lightbulb cast on small, Plaguebringer statue on the dusty-red stone desk. It could even very well be the Pearlcatcher herself that held his attention, whose presence emitted a vibe of elegance, power, and authority all at once.
Oliver greedily stole a few more glances before his gaze finally settled on Kazu. “An Imp, from Nature - here. By the borders, I mean. Saw the ‘lil bugger on my scout today. Could rec’nize those green eyes from miles away.” No matter how smug or loud he was, you had to admit that the aviator had one of the sharpest eyes in the entire Wandering Contagion.
The Bogsneak saw no concern in the Pearlcatcher’s eyes. As always, they were cold and calculating. “An invasion?”
“Possibly. I mean, those grass-loving b*stards are always up ta no good. Prob’ly tryn’a get back for the recent happ’nins.”
“Tell the hunters to hunt by that area. He can’t stay if he starves. Make sure they don’t interact with him. Go tell Hisoki to up the patrols.”
“Will do, ma’am,” Oliver replied, turning back towards the tunnels. “If ya need me, just gimme a call.”
Kazu simply nodded as the aviator walked away. No one ever expected a thanks from the Pearlcatcher. Her gratitude was an honour.
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He ate without much more fuss than his internal monologue, his crow-feather mask fixed tightly to cover any recognisable features of his face, save his eyes. It had been an oversight of Centurion's, an amusing one; "let's give you a mask. It's a brand and it's perfect for a scout." Yes, if everyone he met was blind to colours, size and genes. As a result, the mask was purely a brand; the item that marked him as one of the three siblings.
Once he was finished, he shook himself off, pushing himself up and spreading his wings, taking some effort to lift his bulky body into the air. Enough time in this wasteland was enough to drive any dragon crazy; just touching the ground made his stomach turn. How anyone could owe allegiance to what was quite literally disease, he would never know. He was out to find any signs of whatever clan lived here, but so far his efforts had been met with frustration. He was used to looking for lairs as they were built in the Labyrinth, twisting up, around and inside trees, nestled into undergrowth, under roots and overgrown stones, but here there was none of that to look for. They had the resources to build lairs completely differently here.
A quick once-over revealed nothing new. No prey, no lairs, no dragons. Just the same, disgusting- what even was it? Plague, disease in moving form. It made him anxious to see it encroaching its borders, the disgusting pustules of the Plaguebringer threatening his beautiful homeland. Perhaps Centurion was onto something, attacking first.
A second try revealed nothing new. He set down to rest his wings and stretch, frustration eating at him. Maybe it was true that no clan would bother making a den in this place. Maybe they were all further in. If that was the case, what would be the point in marching in just to get their claws dirty? He would have to bring that up with Centurion.
He wasn't being the subtlest he could be. He was far more used to the forest, his ability to go unnoticed in the thick undergrowth, but here he was worried to even touch the... growths, let alone hide in them. A fae would have been better for this survey, but they were so vulnerable, especially out in the open.
A thought occurred to him, and he huffed lightly. Perhaps the lairs were all underground here, and only came up in entrances further in? Maybe that was where all the prey was, and they lived out their lives underground, like Darvena used to describe of her own original clan. In that case, he would find nothing. He couldn't go underground, surely, not with his size. Maybe he should leave and return with a smaller clanmate, but that would take him a while, and he wasn't so sure about taking the time.
He ate without much more fuss than his internal monologue, his crow-feather mask fixed tightly to cover any recognisable features of his face, save his eyes. It had been an oversight of Centurion's, an amusing one; "let's give you a mask. It's a brand and it's perfect for a scout." Yes, if everyone he met was blind to colours, size and genes. As a result, the mask was purely a brand; the item that marked him as one of the three siblings.
Once he was finished, he shook himself off, pushing himself up and spreading his wings, taking some effort to lift his bulky body into the air. Enough time in this wasteland was enough to drive any dragon crazy; just touching the ground made his stomach turn. How anyone could owe allegiance to what was quite literally disease, he would never know. He was out to find any signs of whatever clan lived here, but so far his efforts had been met with frustration. He was used to looking for lairs as they were built in the Labyrinth, twisting up, around and inside trees, nestled into undergrowth, under roots and overgrown stones, but here there was none of that to look for. They had the resources to build lairs completely differently here.
A quick once-over revealed nothing new. No prey, no lairs, no dragons. Just the same, disgusting- what even was it? Plague, disease in moving form. It made him anxious to see it encroaching its borders, the disgusting pustules of the Plaguebringer threatening his beautiful homeland. Perhaps Centurion was onto something, attacking first.
A second try revealed nothing new. He set down to rest his wings and stretch, frustration eating at him. Maybe it was true that no clan would bother making a den in this place. Maybe they were all further in. If that was the case, what would be the point in marching in just to get their claws dirty? He would have to bring that up with Centurion.
He wasn't being the subtlest he could be. He was far more used to the forest, his ability to go unnoticed in the thick undergrowth, but here he was worried to even touch the... growths, let alone hide in them. A fae would have been better for this survey, but they were so vulnerable, especially out in the open.
A thought occurred to him, and he huffed lightly. Perhaps the lairs were all underground here, and only came up in entrances further in? Maybe that was where all the prey was, and they lived out their lives underground, like Darvena used to describe of her own original clan. In that case, he would find nothing. He couldn't go underground, surely, not with his size. Maybe he should leave and return with a smaller clanmate, but that would take him a while, and he wasn't so sure about taking the time.
Kazu paced back and forth. Oliver was right - that Nature Imperial couldn’t possibly have good intentions. Tensions were tight between the Plaguebringer and the Gladekeeper, especially after Mother had (rightfully) expanded her domain. The mere thought of those tree-hugging freaks left a bad taste in her mouth.
Her claws rapped on the stone desk. If the stranger brought back his green-eyed friends, what were they to do?
~~~
Hisoki grumbled as Oliver entered his room, dismissing one of the artisans as the aviator stepped inside. “What?” he grumbled, his neck raising so he easily towered over the Bogsneak. The smaller dragon, however, was not fazed by the Imperial’s show of dominance. It had happened too many times for it to take effect.
“Kazu’s told me to tell ya to up the patrols by the border. Some Nature Imp’s gone scoutin’. Gotta make sure they don’t get near the Bedlam.”
“Why couldn’t she do it herself?”
“Dunno, I think she’s tryn’a scheme somethin’. Got that look on her face, ya know?”
“She’s always got that look on her face, you mutt.” Hisoki waved an arm dismissively, though he didn’t continue to retaliate. No matter how much he himself wanted to be Clan Leader, he had to admit that Kazu’s mind was incredible and her presence never failed to command respect. “Get lost in the skies, aviator. Maybe you’ll finally land in the Windsinger’s domain, where you can finally leave me alone.”
“Yessir,” Oliver replied in mock respect, even bowing his head before turning tail and plodding off.
Hisoki had decided to go out himself. He’d been stuck inside for a long time, anyway, and the arid air of the Scarred Wasteland would be a nice change. He slinked outside, thankful to be able to fly again. Though there was plenty of room within the catacombs, a flying Imperial was still likely to cause devastating damage. Red dust gathered in his maroon-blue wings, turning him into the same colour as the wasteland below. He flew in circles around the clan, keeping an eye out for the Nature dragon. Though his vision wasn’t as sharp as Oliver’s, it wasn’t hard to spot viridescent eyes amongst the embodiment of disease.
Kazu paced back and forth. Oliver was right - that Nature Imperial couldn’t possibly have good intentions. Tensions were tight between the Plaguebringer and the Gladekeeper, especially after Mother had (rightfully) expanded her domain. The mere thought of those tree-hugging freaks left a bad taste in her mouth.
Her claws rapped on the stone desk. If the stranger brought back his green-eyed friends, what were they to do?
~~~
Hisoki grumbled as Oliver entered his room, dismissing one of the artisans as the aviator stepped inside. “What?” he grumbled, his neck raising so he easily towered over the Bogsneak. The smaller dragon, however, was not fazed by the Imperial’s show of dominance. It had happened too many times for it to take effect.
“Kazu’s told me to tell ya to up the patrols by the border. Some Nature Imp’s gone scoutin’. Gotta make sure they don’t get near the Bedlam.”
“Why couldn’t she do it herself?”
“Dunno, I think she’s tryn’a scheme somethin’. Got that look on her face, ya know?”
“She’s always got that look on her face, you mutt.” Hisoki waved an arm dismissively, though he didn’t continue to retaliate. No matter how much he himself wanted to be Clan Leader, he had to admit that Kazu’s mind was incredible and her presence never failed to command respect. “Get lost in the skies, aviator. Maybe you’ll finally land in the Windsinger’s domain, where you can finally leave me alone.”
“Yessir,” Oliver replied in mock respect, even bowing his head before turning tail and plodding off.
Hisoki had decided to go out himself. He’d been stuck inside for a long time, anyway, and the arid air of the Scarred Wasteland would be a nice change. He slinked outside, thankful to be able to fly again. Though there was plenty of room within the catacombs, a flying Imperial was still likely to cause devastating damage. Red dust gathered in his maroon-blue wings, turning him into the same colour as the wasteland below. He flew in circles around the clan, keeping an eye out for the Nature dragon. Though his vision wasn’t as sharp as Oliver’s, it wasn’t hard to spot viridescent eyes amongst the embodiment of disease.
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Jademask could sense it before he could see it; movement in the Wastes. He was cautious to allow himself a moment to celebrate, as yet unsure if he'd hit the jackpot, but as he eased into the skill of silent flight it became clear the sight was a dragon. Another imperial, just like himself, with the stench of plague on his wings. His adversary was smaller, better adjusted to quick flight than him, with a larger wingspan compared to length. He was out on a scouting mission, to report back to Centurion, but the mere atmosphere of plague was making him ready to fight.
Monster had been against it. Monster was against anything warlike unless they were pushed to their last resort. For that very reason Centurion disliked the Seer; her own bloodthirsty drive and Monster's quiet, never-ending patience clashed like orange and blue. Monster had been granted long life by the Gladekeeper, had been with the clan through Lachtan's disgrace and Cavern's betrayal, had seen Tuolos die and Mika follow after, watched the Third Age of Technology come and go and ease into the Age of War - Treacherous as it was, Jademask couldn't help but think Centurion should listen to her sometimes.
All the same, they couldn't leave all the border battles for the warrior clans rallying for dominance. Centurion was sick of infighting; it was time to do something about Plague. Sick, pestilent plague, which scoffed at the Behemoth with its very pungent existence, and dared to encroach on their beautiful lands.
He had angled himself; he was coming from above, silent on the wing, hoping the dragon wouldn't notice his claws until it was too late, when a voice by his ear said 'boo'. He tried to pull up out of the dive, startled, hitting the ground and skidding for several metres, raising a cloud of dust as he did. As the red cloud settled around him, a tiny fae poked his head out from behind his ear.
"Whoa!"
"Cave!" He snarled, about to swat the hatchling off his ear before remembering he'd just grounded himself metres from the enemy he'd proposed to attack. "Damn you!" He automatically straightened his mask, heaving himself to his feet, a battle-ready stance he had tried to perfect from Centurion. "Who are you and why are you here? Tell me or I'll attack!" He could hear the juvenile touch to his voice that he'd tried so hard to eliminate while practicing his growl, but never truly could.
"That dragon has pretty eyes. Why don't you have pretty eyes like that, brother?"
"So help me, when we get home I'll get your mother to ground you for life!" The hatchling must have ventured out of his nest to catch a lift like a stowaway from home. Hatchlings had gone missing that way before, and this was plague. He cursed himself for not noticing before.
Jademask could sense it before he could see it; movement in the Wastes. He was cautious to allow himself a moment to celebrate, as yet unsure if he'd hit the jackpot, but as he eased into the skill of silent flight it became clear the sight was a dragon. Another imperial, just like himself, with the stench of plague on his wings. His adversary was smaller, better adjusted to quick flight than him, with a larger wingspan compared to length. He was out on a scouting mission, to report back to Centurion, but the mere atmosphere of plague was making him ready to fight.
Monster had been against it. Monster was against anything warlike unless they were pushed to their last resort. For that very reason Centurion disliked the Seer; her own bloodthirsty drive and Monster's quiet, never-ending patience clashed like orange and blue. Monster had been granted long life by the Gladekeeper, had been with the clan through Lachtan's disgrace and Cavern's betrayal, had seen Tuolos die and Mika follow after, watched the Third Age of Technology come and go and ease into the Age of War - Treacherous as it was, Jademask couldn't help but think Centurion should listen to her sometimes.
All the same, they couldn't leave all the border battles for the warrior clans rallying for dominance. Centurion was sick of infighting; it was time to do something about Plague. Sick, pestilent plague, which scoffed at the Behemoth with its very pungent existence, and dared to encroach on their beautiful lands.
He had angled himself; he was coming from above, silent on the wing, hoping the dragon wouldn't notice his claws until it was too late, when a voice by his ear said 'boo'. He tried to pull up out of the dive, startled, hitting the ground and skidding for several metres, raising a cloud of dust as he did. As the red cloud settled around him, a tiny fae poked his head out from behind his ear.
"Whoa!"
"Cave!" He snarled, about to swat the hatchling off his ear before remembering he'd just grounded himself metres from the enemy he'd proposed to attack. "Damn you!" He automatically straightened his mask, heaving himself to his feet, a battle-ready stance he had tried to perfect from Centurion. "Who are you and why are you here? Tell me or I'll attack!" He could hear the juvenile touch to his voice that he'd tried so hard to eliminate while practicing his growl, but never truly could.
"That dragon has pretty eyes. Why don't you have pretty eyes like that, brother?"
"So help me, when we get home I'll get your mother to ground you for life!" The hatchling must have ventured out of his nest to catch a lift like a stowaway from home. Hatchlings had gone missing that way before, and this was plague. He cursed himself for not noticing before.
Hisoki smiled to himself when he spotted the Nature Imperial, who had suddenly skidded across the carcass-ridden floor. The dark-winged Imperial took advantage of his foe’s distraction, landing noiselessly behind him. A small puff of red dirt rose beneath his feet.
“Why thank you, little fae,” he chuckled playfully, though his voice was low and taunting. He shook his head, allowing his cowl to fall from his face. With his face fully visible, the Advisor’s eyes shone like rubies under the moonlit sky. “I must say...your green eyes are so very enchanting. May I have them?” Instead of waiting for an answer, he chuckled again, then slinked in front of the other Imperial, spreading his wings. It was both a welcome gesture and a barricade, preventing the duo from moving further.
“My, my, what pretty red wings you have. What a shame you’ve pledged allegiance to an overgrown leaf, Mother would have loved them.” Hisoki was more snake than dragon. His movements seemed to be a slither rather than a stomp, his voice more of a hiss than a growl. His movements were graceful and silent, as if he was preparing to ambush.
“What brings you to the Scarred Wasteland? Has your dignity stooped low enough for you to enter our hellhole?” he inquired, circling slowly around the dragons. Though Hisoki was smaller than the other Imperial, his presence was far more threatening. His dark colours blended in with the night sky, as if he had become one with the darkness itself.
Hisoki smiled to himself when he spotted the Nature Imperial, who had suddenly skidded across the carcass-ridden floor. The dark-winged Imperial took advantage of his foe’s distraction, landing noiselessly behind him. A small puff of red dirt rose beneath his feet.
“Why thank you, little fae,” he chuckled playfully, though his voice was low and taunting. He shook his head, allowing his cowl to fall from his face. With his face fully visible, the Advisor’s eyes shone like rubies under the moonlit sky. “I must say...your green eyes are so very enchanting. May I have them?” Instead of waiting for an answer, he chuckled again, then slinked in front of the other Imperial, spreading his wings. It was both a welcome gesture and a barricade, preventing the duo from moving further.
“My, my, what pretty red wings you have. What a shame you’ve pledged allegiance to an overgrown leaf, Mother would have loved them.” Hisoki was more snake than dragon. His movements seemed to be a slither rather than a stomp, his voice more of a hiss than a growl. His movements were graceful and silent, as if he was preparing to ambush.
“What brings you to the Scarred Wasteland? Has your dignity stooped low enough for you to enter our hellhole?” he inquired, circling slowly around the dragons. Though Hisoki was smaller than the other Imperial, his presence was far more threatening. His dark colours blended in with the night sky, as if he had become one with the darkness itself.
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Jademask shook himself off, straightening his wings and starting to take advantage of his size over the other imperial. Plague was made up of evil snakes, rotting carcasses that somehow managed to lug themselves around and eat carrion, as the stories for the hatchlings went. Cave was barely three days out of the nest, fresh to the world and completely oblivious to their pungent existence.
He reached his dark little head over the big ear of the juvenile imp, big green eyes fixed on their opponent. He spread his little frills out in an expression of amazement. His entire three-day life had been spent in his comfortable nest in the Behemoth, with the view of their emerald labyrinth spreading out below. This place was a whole new world.
"Speak for yourself, plague-for-breath," Jademask spat at the smaller imp. He wasn't Centurion, and he knew it. His older sister and brother were far better at this than him; he was a scout at heart and a scout from training, and wasn't likely to win in a brawl. "I had more dignity than your rotten claws when I was still inside an egg. Turns out, Mother wants your stinking pustules away from her Glade."
"Jade-brother was going flying! I want to fly. Isn't it cool?" The baby fae stretched out his underdeveloped wings as though showing that he had them.
You're ruining my flow, Jademask growled internally, but couldn't bring himself to admonish the curious hatchling out loud. "Where's your clan, rotgut?"
"Ooh! Ooh! You have brothers too!"
"Shut up." Jademask was more concerned about the child drawing attention to himself from a hostile, but his inability to pick up the mood was also getting to him. He wasn't the type to be left in charge of hatchlings, even at home.
Jademask shook himself off, straightening his wings and starting to take advantage of his size over the other imperial. Plague was made up of evil snakes, rotting carcasses that somehow managed to lug themselves around and eat carrion, as the stories for the hatchlings went. Cave was barely three days out of the nest, fresh to the world and completely oblivious to their pungent existence.
He reached his dark little head over the big ear of the juvenile imp, big green eyes fixed on their opponent. He spread his little frills out in an expression of amazement. His entire three-day life had been spent in his comfortable nest in the Behemoth, with the view of their emerald labyrinth spreading out below. This place was a whole new world.
"Speak for yourself, plague-for-breath," Jademask spat at the smaller imp. He wasn't Centurion, and he knew it. His older sister and brother were far better at this than him; he was a scout at heart and a scout from training, and wasn't likely to win in a brawl. "I had more dignity than your rotten claws when I was still inside an egg. Turns out, Mother wants your stinking pustules away from her Glade."
"Jade-brother was going flying! I want to fly. Isn't it cool?" The baby fae stretched out his underdeveloped wings as though showing that he had them.
You're ruining my flow, Jademask growled internally, but couldn't bring himself to admonish the curious hatchling out loud. "Where's your clan, rotgut?"
"Ooh! Ooh! You have brothers too!"
"Shut up." Jademask was more concerned about the child drawing attention to himself from a hostile, but his inability to pick up the mood was also getting to him. He wasn't the type to be left in charge of hatchlings, even at home.
Hisoki wiped the spit off him and smiled again, flashing his razor-sharp, ivory-white teeth. It was a dangerous smile, one that only few dragons were unfortunate enough to see. That bigger Imperial p*ssed him off alright, and that wouldn’t go by unnoticed. Aside from being an Advisor, the red-eyed Imp was a warrior. He was born, raised, and trained under the wing of a great Imperial soldier. He’d fought alongside the Clan’s head warrior, Lyune, dozens upon dozens of times, coliseum enemies laying dead at their feet, or on their knees in a final, futile beg for mercy. This other dragon was clearly a scout, and a scout only. No matter how much he gloated and spat, he wouldn’t be able to meet the Advisor’s prowess in battle.
He ignored the smug Imp’s comments and spoke to the fae instead. Hisoki genuinely liked the little dragon. He was definitely much more friendly than his sibling. “Yeah, I do have brothers. And sisters too! Jade-brother may fly well, but I bet I can fly higher, and faster. See my wings?” He spread them out again, birdskulls clicking. “I may be smaller than brother, but that just makes me faster!”
The Advisor smiled genuinely this time, and took a careful step forward. Suddenly, his stance was friendly, though he made sure that his position would allow him to easily dodge any unwelcome attacks. “You can hop on, if you want. Back in my clan, we’ve got tons of cool stuff! And I’m sure you must be starving, huh, kiddo? We’ve got a bunch of food back home, and even some fruit like the ones from the Everbloom Gardens. Just make sure brother here doesn’t follow us ‘kay? He’s been real mean to me, don’cha think?”
Hisoki eyed the other imperial, sending him a sly grin, before turning his attention back to the little fae. He legitimately meant no harm to the hatchling, despite his grim and unfriendly demeanour.
Hisoki wiped the spit off him and smiled again, flashing his razor-sharp, ivory-white teeth. It was a dangerous smile, one that only few dragons were unfortunate enough to see. That bigger Imperial p*ssed him off alright, and that wouldn’t go by unnoticed. Aside from being an Advisor, the red-eyed Imp was a warrior. He was born, raised, and trained under the wing of a great Imperial soldier. He’d fought alongside the Clan’s head warrior, Lyune, dozens upon dozens of times, coliseum enemies laying dead at their feet, or on their knees in a final, futile beg for mercy. This other dragon was clearly a scout, and a scout only. No matter how much he gloated and spat, he wouldn’t be able to meet the Advisor’s prowess in battle.
He ignored the smug Imp’s comments and spoke to the fae instead. Hisoki genuinely liked the little dragon. He was definitely much more friendly than his sibling. “Yeah, I do have brothers. And sisters too! Jade-brother may fly well, but I bet I can fly higher, and faster. See my wings?” He spread them out again, birdskulls clicking. “I may be smaller than brother, but that just makes me faster!”
The Advisor smiled genuinely this time, and took a careful step forward. Suddenly, his stance was friendly, though he made sure that his position would allow him to easily dodge any unwelcome attacks. “You can hop on, if you want. Back in my clan, we’ve got tons of cool stuff! And I’m sure you must be starving, huh, kiddo? We’ve got a bunch of food back home, and even some fruit like the ones from the Everbloom Gardens. Just make sure brother here doesn’t follow us ‘kay? He’s been real mean to me, don’cha think?”
Hisoki eyed the other imperial, sending him a sly grin, before turning his attention back to the little fae. He legitimately meant no harm to the hatchling, despite his grim and unfriendly demeanour.
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"Kidnapping hatchlings now? And I thought plague could sink no lower," He growled from the back of his throat. "Come on Cave, we've learned enough."
Cave was fascinated by everything the plague dragon was saying, his big eyes fixed on the huge imperial. Both of them were giants to him. "I'm gonna fly good too!" He said proudly, climbing up from behind Jademask's ear onto his forehead, balancing on one of the feathers making up the mask. "Show me! Show me!"
"We're going." Jademask turned away from the enemy imp, unsure exactly what he had to report, only that he'd met a dragon and he'd bring back several just to stamp him into the earth. Centurion would be more than happy to go on that.
It took several tried to lift off, his wings still not used to his bulk; he was still a juvenile, and with all his efforts and training he still had things to learn. He didn't take any notice of the tiny fae hopping off the crow feather and tumbling to the pestilent ground as he set off into the sky and back towards the distant silhouette of the Behemoth, and home. He didn't notice the tiny absence until the great boughs were around him once again.
Cave watched everything with eyes so wide it seemed he was trying to swallow everything he looked at with them. He didn't notice Jademask fly away, nosing towards a frond of... something that was twice his size, his expressive frills stretched out in fascination. He wasn't going to go home yet. He had exploring to do!
At ground level, this place was just as much a jungle for the tiny fae to traverse as the shrieking wilds; it took him a huge amount of struggling to cross three centimetres of ground, looking up at everything with his big eyes. He was trying to find the big dragon that had been talking to him; he hadn't seemed that far away from Jademask's ear. From down here, he couldn't see him at all.
"Kidnapping hatchlings now? And I thought plague could sink no lower," He growled from the back of his throat. "Come on Cave, we've learned enough."
Cave was fascinated by everything the plague dragon was saying, his big eyes fixed on the huge imperial. Both of them were giants to him. "I'm gonna fly good too!" He said proudly, climbing up from behind Jademask's ear onto his forehead, balancing on one of the feathers making up the mask. "Show me! Show me!"
"We're going." Jademask turned away from the enemy imp, unsure exactly what he had to report, only that he'd met a dragon and he'd bring back several just to stamp him into the earth. Centurion would be more than happy to go on that.
It took several tried to lift off, his wings still not used to his bulk; he was still a juvenile, and with all his efforts and training he still had things to learn. He didn't take any notice of the tiny fae hopping off the crow feather and tumbling to the pestilent ground as he set off into the sky and back towards the distant silhouette of the Behemoth, and home. He didn't notice the tiny absence until the great boughs were around him once again.
Cave watched everything with eyes so wide it seemed he was trying to swallow everything he looked at with them. He didn't notice Jademask fly away, nosing towards a frond of... something that was twice his size, his expressive frills stretched out in fascination. He wasn't going to go home yet. He had exploring to do!
At ground level, this place was just as much a jungle for the tiny fae to traverse as the shrieking wilds; it took him a huge amount of struggling to cross three centimetres of ground, looking up at everything with his big eyes. He was trying to find the big dragon that had been talking to him; he hadn't seemed that far away from Jademask's ear. From down here, he couldn't see him at all.
((i’m hoping that cave willingly following hisoki isn’t considered godmodding))
Hisoki watched the juvenile fly off into the distance, smirking to himself when the green-eyed Imp failed. He’d noticed the fae hop off, but didn’t say a word when the Nature dragon finally flew away. Keeping the miniature dragon could prove to be a good asset on his clan’s behalf. Surely, not even the filthiest of Nature dragons (there were plenty of them) would let any harm be done to a hatchling, especially one of their own kind.
“Hey there, ‘lil bud,” Hisoki said, gently coaxing the little Fae onto his large claws. He propped Cave - he’d heard the Jade dragon call him that - between his ears, nestled on a small tuft of his mane. The Imperial then drew his cowl over his head, so the little dragon could stay nice and snug during the flight. “We’re gonna have a lot of adventures together, you and me.” He laughed again before taking flight, headed back to the catacombs.
~~~
“You what?”
“Be silent, Archmagus.” Kazu, as always, was cool as the Icewarden. On the other hand, Archmagus, the Engineer, sat stunned beside her. His golden monocle had slipped off his face, and was now hanging by the collar of his coat. The two had been discussing the state of the warrior’s quarters when the Advisor walked in, a hatchling, a nature hatchling, sitting happily on his head.
“So, you found the Nature Imperial and kidnapped one of their clans’.... hatchlings?” the sanguine Pearlcatcher tilted her head, in curiosity rather than shock.
“I wouldn’t call it stealing, Kazu. After all, our little friend is just going on an adventure. Isn’t that right, Cave?” Hisoki’s red eyes glanced up at the fae sitting between his great antlers.
The yellow-runed Engineer watched incredulously. He’d barely ever seen the advisor acting so gently, let alone towards a child. The Imp was always growling and snarling. A happy smile did not belong on his face.
((i’m hoping that cave willingly following hisoki isn’t considered godmodding))
Hisoki watched the juvenile fly off into the distance, smirking to himself when the green-eyed Imp failed. He’d noticed the fae hop off, but didn’t say a word when the Nature dragon finally flew away. Keeping the miniature dragon could prove to be a good asset on his clan’s behalf. Surely, not even the filthiest of Nature dragons (there were plenty of them) would let any harm be done to a hatchling, especially one of their own kind.
“Hey there, ‘lil bud,” Hisoki said, gently coaxing the little Fae onto his large claws. He propped Cave - he’d heard the Jade dragon call him that - between his ears, nestled on a small tuft of his mane. The Imperial then drew his cowl over his head, so the little dragon could stay nice and snug during the flight. “We’re gonna have a lot of adventures together, you and me.” He laughed again before taking flight, headed back to the catacombs.
~~~
“You what?”
“Be silent, Archmagus.” Kazu, as always, was cool as the Icewarden. On the other hand, Archmagus, the Engineer, sat stunned beside her. His golden monocle had slipped off his face, and was now hanging by the collar of his coat. The two had been discussing the state of the warrior’s quarters when the Advisor walked in, a hatchling, a nature hatchling, sitting happily on his head.
“So, you found the Nature Imperial and kidnapped one of their clans’.... hatchlings?” the sanguine Pearlcatcher tilted her head, in curiosity rather than shock.
“I wouldn’t call it stealing, Kazu. After all, our little friend is just going on an adventure. Isn’t that right, Cave?” Hisoki’s red eyes glanced up at the fae sitting between his great antlers.
The yellow-runed Engineer watched incredulously. He’d barely ever seen the advisor acting so gently, let alone towards a child. The Imp was always growling and snarling. A happy smile did not belong on his face.
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