SkyeMyst's Clan

Two kingdoms, equal in might,
One of darkness and one of light.
The edges of black and white blur in grey
As relations between them begin to fray.
Justice and righteousness unfold in strife;
Distorted by willingness to take a life;
Though, all may not be as it seems.
Who shall fight?
Who shall win?
This war cannot be won through normal means.

From black blade tinted red
To white blade hovering over the dead
From blind faith and ignorant belief
To jaded hearts and unwanted grief
Both are dragged down into the abyss
Tied at the neck, unknowingly amiss
And the edges of both worlds begins to grey.
When will it stop?
When can we rest?
Is what every warrior is too scared to say.
~~
Kings and tyranny,
Tyranny and blood.
My regret only ripples the world beneath my feet.
The blood there
Is worthless.
What is the difference between the rich noble
And the dust-like, meaningless peasant?
Only they know my steel, only they know my justice,
But only blood knows my regrets.
Ahhh,
My loyalties and my duties are great and terrible things.
~~
From far away,
I heard someone playing a lyre.
Like the snow-white lily shaking off the morning's dew;
Like the transient coolness of mountain's morning mist;
Like the alabaster feathers of a swan singing morning's aria;
Like the sweetly sharp edge of an ebony blade stained with blood,
Those graceful fingers beautifully plucked away
Their happiness.
From far away,
I heard someone dying quietly, not painlessly.
Like the midnight dahlia prospering in mud,
Like the enigmatic chill of a moonlit lake,
Like the common crow fading back into shadows,
Like the smooth white robe stained brilliant crimson,
Those trembling hands firmly stole
Your happiness.
~~
One.
One voice.
That's all it takes.
Lips unwilling to speak
Are worse than a tongue severed.
Yet...
Great tragedy
Best fuels a clear cry.
Tragedy that the one resounding voice
Will strive to prevent.
Then, one and one only.

Two.
Two eyes.
That's what you have.
Lacking a voice, lacking confidence,
Eyes are a poor substitute for clear words.
But...
From passion burning brown or blue or green
To the assassin's gaze of society
It is unquestionable.
Indomitable.
Two is greater than zero.

Welcome to Clan Skye! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:・ﾟ✧

Formally know as the Clan of Sky Mist, Clan Skye is dedicated to serving the Icewarden and have sent many dragons to him. The dragons who live here may seem mostly unfeeling and unfriendly in their demeanor at first, but to a perceptive eye, they are as warm and passionate as ones from the Ashfall Waste itself. Beware of arousing their ire; enemies of the clan will be given no mercy.

Will rent nests for food :3

Tales from Ice (Exclusive to Ice Flight)
Tales from the Ice (Open to all)

Project Feathers: This group of dedicated, fierce she-dragons are out to bring justice and goodness to the land!
1. Feathered wings+tail feathers
Crimson
Sapphire
Cloudy
Inkwell
Lemongrass
Sunburst
Wavespun
Chestnut
2. Plague, water, ice, shadow, wind, fire, lightning, earth female wildclaw dragons corresponding to wing colors(currently only need replacement for water)
3. Appropriate apparel and lore

Wishlist: Ripple and shimmer scroll for Icebound
1 ice emblem
Apparel for Project Feathers!!!!!!!1
Cherub/Peregrine/Glimmer, Grey/Splash/Navy, Ice eyes female fae Tiger/Eyespots/Glimmer, Obsidian/Obsidian/Lemon, Light eyes fae

Oct. 14, 2014 - Moved to Snowsquall Tundra
Dec. 29, 2014 - Moved to Cloudscrape Crags

Pairs:
Prophecy x Fate
Crystalshard x Dawnbreeze

I like randomly posting on peoples' clan profiles ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

Notes to self:
This is an example
Bluespine slug ;)

I don't know where else to put this, so... here's a story I spontaneously decided to write!

... The brush was useless.

Well, another one went down the drain. She carelessly tossed it into the trash, among many others. The canvas was still, not surprisingly, blank. She growled in frustration and was about to reach for another victim when there was a soft knock at the door.

Taking a deep breath, she stood up and went to see who it was. When she opened the door, she met somebody she had never seen in her life. The stranger was a star-cloaked mage from the academy... She felt disgusted. Ugh, those whelps who lord themselves over others just because they can set things on fire.

"Who are you?" she said suspiciously.

The stranger did not utter a word, but from the depths of the starry cloak, he... she? The person reached out a pale hand to her. In the hand was a smooth black case, a small rectangular box.

It seemed plain at first glance, but as she bewilderedly took the box from the mage(who disappeared, show-off), she was incredibly curious as to what was inside.

She sat back at her chair and unlatched the silver hook keeping the box closed. The lid lifted smoothly and soundlessly. Nestled in deep blue satin... was...

A paintbrush? Her bewilderment only grew. Upon closer inspection, the brush looked simply like a normal brush, except that the bristles were pure white and the wooden handle had numerous unintelligible runes carved into it. They even glowed slightly. This was the weirdest paintbrush she had ever seen.

Oh well, one less brush she had to go out and buy. Ever since her last birthday, brushes had been breaking like wet paper under her grip. Not that her grip was exceptionally strong, though she was not a weak person either. It was strange. Stranger still, strokes she made would not leave any paint on the canvas. It was as if she had just been waving it around in the air like an idiot.

Maybe this one was special. Though, it seemed extremely suspicious that any mages were meddling in her affairs. Shrugging, she dipped the pure white bristles into a blotch of paint.

Her fingers tingled warmly as brush met canvas... or was that just her? The colors surprisingly stayed there, more vibrant than they should have been. Magical paintbrush or not, she could use it, so she began to paint.

As the afternoon trickled away, a scene started to appear. The picture was of a lone figure walking on a snowy mountain, lined with cliffs the color of grey steel. The figure held a lantern, the only light in the harsh blizzard.

She had been painting scenes from a world she'd been imagining lately. Two countries were at war, and the fighting disturbed a large roost of dragons. Seeing this, a group of people rebelled against their kings and attempted to make peace. That is, attempted.

As she put the finishing touches on the now-complete painting, she noticed that a cold wind started to blow in her house; cold flakes of snow bit at her skin. Startled, she stood up, knocking the chair over. The winds intensified. Her hair whipped around wildly as paper and many other small objects started flying around the room. Then, suddenly, the winds gathered up and sent her, flailing, into the painting itself.

She landed ungracefully in a snowdrift of the mountain she had just painted. The stranger heard the crunch of snow, and turned around swiftly, holding the lantern high in front of them.

"Who's there?!" a decidedly male voice shouted, though their face was hidden under a cloak - fabric the color of ashes, clasped with a simple silver brooch - the cloak she designed. "Explain yourself!"

She picked herself up, shivering, and dusted the snow off of her pants. "Uhh... I don't know what I'm doing here. Who are you?"

The man lifted his face. He looked young but gaunt, with straight brown hair that framed his face and dark chestnut eyes that cut through the blizzard. He sighed impatiently and said harshly, "So you're just an apprentice who flubbed up her teleportation spell... just my luck. Can you get back? I'm very busy here!"

She shrugged awkwardly and replied, "I... don't... think so. Sorry. I'm Kylara."

He frowned even more darkly. "Fine. Then come with me. I may be incredibly busy, but I'm not cruel enough to just walk away. I'm Alex." He turns around, expecting her to follow.

She skittered after him. "Uh... Alex? What are you doing, exactly?"

Alex traipsed on as he said curtly, "The battle of Whitegate is about to start. I must be there."

"So you're a scout or a soldier or something?"

He pursed his lips in response, obviously unwilling to answer any further questions in this vein.

"Okaaay... moving on. Do you have any spare clothes in that pack of yours?" she asked, more than a little awkwardly.

He turned and looked at her critically. "You're a mage, do some magic. I didn't bring anything extra because I wasn't expecting a foolish apprentice to fall at my feet!"

Geez, this man was short-tempered. And she wasn't a mage, so she had no such magic of any kind. But if she told Alex that, then there would be the problem of her being the creator of this world... In the end, she decided to tough it out, freezing as it is. She was wearing warm clothes, though not winter attire.

As they started going down the mountain, Kylara caught a bird's eye-view of the bustling town of Whitegate. People, like tiny ants from so far away, bustled about the streets. On either sides of the town, encampments of the soldiers - preparing for the battle, no doubt - could be seen. Kylara felt a warm breath of wind as she and Alex crossed the tree line.

They descended the mountain, making quick time. Suddenly, at a small break in the trees, Alex stopped. Off in the direction of Whitegate, battlecries and the almost inaudible sound of clanging steel drifted towards their ears.

Alex went slightly pale. "The battle has started. Aargh, I was too slow!" He punched a tree in frustration.

"What do you mean?" Kylara asked confusedly.

He glared at her. "This is partly your fault, you know. If I had just been a few minutes sooner... The battle wouldn't have started if I were there!"

Kylara was even more confused at this, saying, "Wait, explain to me what's going on! What were you going to do?"

He looked away. "I have some power within one of the warring nations. I told some of my people to wait at the battlefield for my signal so that I could come and talk some sense into the armies. But we see how well that worked out! I had to cross a mountain, the only direction not swarming with soldiers, and for what?!" Alex groaned in disgust. "Find your own way home, apprentice. Whitegate's just over there. I'm going."

With that, he stormed off into the bushes. "Wait!" Kylara called, running after him, but the forest was simply too thick. Only a little light filtered in at the darkest parts, and finding him was now a lost cause. Kylara also happened to be lost.

She sighed. What would she do now? Almost an hour in this exciting new world, and she was already stranded in the middle of nowhere. There was also the problem of getting back to her own world... Maybe it had something to do with the paintbrush, but she had no paint or paper! Kylara walked off, deciding that to keep moving would be the best way to find a break in the trees.

Instead of a break, however, she found something else. Something that promised to be much more dangerous than a way home. There was something intriguing about it, though, something that seemed to pull her to it...

In the shadow of a large boulder, something large slumbered, something as big as a house. Kylara slowly walked up to it, making sure not to make any noise. Upon closer inspection, she saw snatches of the creature's body. A thick, scaly leg... a broad, leathery wing... a tail ridged with wicked spines.

She had her suspicions. But she had no time to think about this as the creature woke up, out of nowhere. It lifted a head thrice as large as her and stared her in the face.

Kylar kept utterly still and calmly stared back at the creature, though her instincts prickled up her back and told her to run, now! A hot puff of wind assailed her as the creature snorted.

"Who are you?" Kylara felt herself say.

It chuckled deep in its throat. An amused male voice spoke into her mind: "Lost, aren't you, Kylara?"

She shrugged. "Yeah."

The creature heaved to its feet and walked out of the boulder's shadow. Kylara saw what he truly was - a sparkling green forest dragon, bringing with it the scent of mint and juniper berries. Two intelligent, yellow-green eyes peered down at her. Two wings the hue of seafoam were folded neatly at his sides; shiny grey was the color of his horns, spines, and claws.

Kylara was awestruck, but she retained her words and said, "Are you going to eat me now? I'm not afraid." And it was true.

The dragon looked offended. "Excuse me?! Why would I eat you? That's a filthy stereotype. Humans don't taste that good, and risking other vengeful humans coming after me is hardly worth the hassle. Don't flatter your species. But you... nobody's going to come after you, am I right? Not in this world." He grinned menacingly, showing teeth like daggers.

She stood her ground and glared at him. "How do you-"

He burst out laughing, spiked tail slapping the ground in humor. "I'm just joking! I wouldn't eat you, not in a thousand years. The name's Nimriel, by the way."

Kylara folded her arms. "I feel insulted."

Nimriel cast her a pleading look. "Hey, hey, I didn't say that you're too repulsive to eat or something. It's just that I would never eat the mother of this world."

"What?" she replied, irritation forgotten.

"You know," Nimriel said, as if it was obvious. "The paintbrush. You created everything the moment you painted this world with the legendary White Bristles."

Kylara was even more awestruck by this dragon. "Wait, so you know?! How come others don't?"

Nimriel studied a claw, trying but failing not to look proud of his knowledge. "Dragons are beings more intelligent than you realize. We are deeply connected with magic... and so are you. We swim in the same river, in other words. You're not a mage, though, I see. Hmm. Interesting."

"What do you mean? Can you explain all of this mess to me?"

Nimriel sighed sympathetically. "If you don't know already, you're not supposed to know yet." His voice grew misty and distant. "The fates have ordained that you must come and resolve the hatred in this world... Haha, just kidding. But seriously. All I can tell you is that that brush is more than you think it is."

Kylara looked at him frustratedly. Then, as the sounds of the battle at Whitegate in the distant grew louder, she grew thoughtful. "Nimriel. Can you help me with something?"

"Of course. I would do anything for the mother of all dragons. I'm at your service!"

"Then... could you help me stop that battle going on over there? I know it's a big request, but I feel like I have to do this."

Nimriel inclined his glittering head. "Get on my back. We have two armies to stop!"

Kylara climbed onto his smooth scales, seating herself at the base of his neck. Wrapping her arms around a silvery spine taller than her, Kylara barely had time to get comfortable before Nimriel took off with a mighty flap of his wings. He ascended quickly and was at Whitegate in a few minutes.

She then asked him, "Um... how should we go about doing this?" The soldiers hadn't spotted them yet, but a great big dragon coming out of the clouds would probably be attacked.

"Don't worry about me. No arrow can pierce my hide, and we dragons are resistant to magic. Just watch out for yourself - I'm sure your squishy flesh would bleed easily."

Kylara nodded, taking a deep breath. She commanded, "Go on."

Down below, the battle raged on. Blood mixed with dirt and bodies as swords met shields and steel found its way into armor. The soldiers were exhausted, but with the pride of their kingdoms in mind, they fought on.

Then, something blotted out the sun.

They stopped their fighting momentarily and looked up. A large, winged shadow fell upon them, and as it swiftly drew near, the soldiers saw the green scales of a dragon. A strange sight around civilization, but stranger still was the wild-looking girl on its back! They only caught glimpses of her, but she had a fierce, determined look about her.

She rode into battle on the back of an indomitable dragon, to all appearances some proud goddess of war. The soldiers all fell to their knees and prayed for their lives. Those who had been too awed to move soon followed suit.

"Well, I wasn't expecting that to happen," Nimriel exclaimed delightedly to his companion. The corner of her mouth twitched, but she remained stoic as Nimriel landed with a thud. All she and Nimriel saw was the bowed heads of men and women, quaking in their boots.

Kylara swallowed. Then she straightened and called out, "Everybody! Stop your pointless fighting and return to your home countries! If not, then you shall answer to me!" It was a bluff, but a good one given that Nimriel was there. He punctuated her words with a snarl.

One of the commanders, without getting up, answered Kylara fearfully: "Do not be angry at us, great one! We fight for our country, Cressenth, for which we will give our lives to defend. We will heed your words, whoever you are, but if our king orders us to fight... then we have no choice."

Kylara realized that she had no idea why the kingdoms were fighting; she had not thought of that yet. Perhaps the gaps had been filled in? Feeling a little more precarious in her position, Kylara replied authoritatively, "Very well. Go on your ways. However, I cannot promise that we will not come to stop you again. Maybe I shall have a talk with both your kings."

The commander nodded as Nimriel took off, leaving the soldiers to gloomily retreat back to their kingdoms.

"What will you do now?" Nimriel asked Kylara once they were a fair distance away.

She stared off in the direction of Whitegate. A little more serious than before she had met Nimriel, she said, "Can you tell me about the war?"

Nimriel blew a cloud into small puffs of white. "Some petty human dispute, like all the others. The reason eludes me, but even I know that the two kingdoms, Cressenth and Ethira, used to be good friends. Now they're going for each other's throats. What fickle creatures," he sighed.

Ethira and Cressenth. The names sounded strangely familiar, like something long-forgotten. Ethira... Kylara knew it to be a country of mostly dry deserts. Cressenth, on the other hand, was its opposite - a fertile, forested land of copious rivers and lakes. Whitegate was a part of Cressenth.

"Let's go to the kingdom of Cressenth," Kylara said. "Maybe we can find out more about everything when the soldiers report what happened to them at Whitegate."
---
"This is as far as I can take you!" Nimriel said as he dropped Kylara off in a copse outside the gates to the city. "It would hardly be auspicious for your first sight of Cressenth to be screaming people, running from a dragon."

"Thank you for everything," she said gratefully. "Let's meet again sometime!"

"Aw, shucks," he said. "Let me tell you this: if you come across any dragon, they will help you. They know their place, from the craziest killer to the gentlest den mother. Good luck!" With that, Nimriel was off. His green-tinged silhouette soon faded to a dot on the horizon.

Kylara emerged from the trees and watched the small but steady line of people streaming in and out of the capital of Ethira. There were guards stationed on either side of the great stone gates.

She quickly slipped into the line of people filing into the gates - peasants leading ox-driven carts, nobles on horses, and even some weary adventurers looking for the nearest tavern.

When Kylara finally entered within the walls of the capitol, the name of which was still unknown to her, she was struck by the noise, the amount of people, the ever-present vibrant colors.

The gates opened onto some kind of main street