Magic shatters, Shade devours

From mother’s throat spill deadly flowers

Disease takes no prisoners, survival of the fittest

Chains rattle then still in winter’s chill grimace

Lightning never strikes twice, so they say

The sun slowly sinks at the end of the day

Darkness seems endless but is banished on sight

By the smallest of candles; it puts up no fight

The breeze wafts away, the rivers run dry

The blistering inferno consumes - lest it die

Throughout all the lands, from mountains to moors

Throughout all of time only Earth endures

A Lullaby

Little one, dear little one,
Come lay your head to rest,
And fold your tiny, weary wings
Beneath my tender breast.
Your day was long and busy,
Your adventures far and wide,
But now's the time to close your eyes,
On dreaming-winds to ride.

Little one, sweet little one,
Someday you'll leave the nest.
You'll spread your wings and ride the wind,
And be in travels blessed.
But for now, it's time to sleep.
Adventure in your dream,
And tell me when you wake of all the wonders you have seen.

Little one, my little one,
Come curl beneath my wing.
I'll always keep you safe and warm,
Whatever life may bring.
The wind is soft and gentle,
The stars are warm and bright,
So close your tired little eyes
And sleep all through the night.

You asked, and I got BACK TO WORK. Credits to Dr. Seuss aka Theodore Geisel of course :) Also apologies to Bossdad for blatantly villainizing him in this terrible parody, and to humanity/the forums in general.


HOW THE BOSS STOLE NOCMAS


Every deity in Sornieth loved NotN a lot,
But the Stormcatcher, who lived in the Tempest Spire, did not!
The Stormcatcher hated it! The whole two week season!
Now, please don't ask why. No one quite knows the reason.
It could be that Strange Chests gave him only rocks.
It could be that last year, Steve stole all his socks.
But I think that the most likely theory of all,
May have been that his snoot was two sizes too small.

Whatever the reason, the chests or the socks,
He stood there on NoTN, hating the Nocs,
Staring down from the Spire with a cold, loathing glare,
At the flocks full of Nocs and their friends in the air.
For he knew every dragon in Sornieth had flew
Over to Baldwin's and his bubbling brew.
"AND THEY'RE MELTING THEIR TRINKETS!" he shouted with force,
"TOMORROW IS NoTN! AFTER ROLLOVER, OF COURSE!"
Then he growled, with a smile that was nearly a smirk,
"I MUST MAKE MY WORKERS... GET BACK TO WORK!"

For tomorrow, he knew, that each Tempest recruit
Would be fighting off Mimics until they dropped loot!
And then they would cheer, every Ridgeback and Fae,
and after they opened their chests, they would play!
Play, play, play!
That's the one thing he hated! The PLAY!
“IF THEY KEEP UP THE PARTY, I'M DOCKING THEIR PAY!”

And then they would SNACK! And they'd SNACK! And they'd SNACK!
On fish, plants, and insects, ninety-nine to a stack,
Which was something best saved 'til July's Thundercrack.
They'd shovel down snacks 'til their stomachs grew wide,
And then they'd do something he couldn't abide!
Every dragon in Sornieth, whatever their flight,
Be it Nature or Plague, or Shadow or Light,
They'd soar in a circle, and the Nocs would start singing!
They'd sing! And they'd sing! And they'd SING!
SING! SING SING!
And the more Bossdad thought of this whole Nocturning,
The more Bossdad thought, “I MUST STOP THIS WHOLE THING!”
“WHY, FOUR SPARKING YEARS I'VE PUT UP WITH IT NOW!”
“I MUST STOP THIS NotN FROM COMING... BUT HOW?”

Then he schemed up a plot! A crafty new plot!
The Stormcatcher schemed up a wicked, new plot!
“I HAVE THE BLUEPRINTS.” he boomed, looking smug,
And he chugged all the coffee from his favorite mug.
He convinced a new intern to craft him a guise
That the dragons of Sornieth would not recognize.
“I LOOK JUST LIKE A NOCTURNE!” he bellowed with glee,
“WITH THESE FAKE HORNS AND CLOAK, THEY WILL NOT KNOW IT'S ME!”
“ALL I NEED IS A MIMIC,” the Stormcatcher said,
“BUT OUR BUDGET IS TIGHT, SO I'LL MAKE ONE INSTEAD!”

So he called his familiar and quickly he dressed
His good Lightning Sprite friend as a fierce Mimic chest.
Then he rolled up his blueprints and folders and files
And his wires and scrap metal, his levers and dials,
And he threw all the parts in the back of a wagon.
Every Nocturne would think him a Trading Post dragon!

THEN he rolled off to the Nocturne's soirée,
And while they were sleeping, set up his doom ray.
All the dragons were dreaming, each without care
Of the thieving Stormcatcher who lurked near their lair.
He “borrowed” the muck and the slime and the goo,
And all of the sludge from the Bubbling Brew!
The candles, the capes, the masks, and the clocks!
The cobwebs, the witch hats, and even the butt rocks!
He pilfered their treasure on spindly legs,
And, in full capslock, said, “NOW I'LL STEAL ALL THE EGGS!”

But when Bossdad got to the unhatched egg heap,
He saw a young Nocturne who... wasn't asleep.
“MY WELL-CRAFTED PLAN HAS BEEN FOILED... BY A CHILD!”
The Stormcatcher shouted, as the Noc hatchling smiled.
Then she realized his scheme, and she started to cry,
And with tears in her eyes, said “Why, Bossdad, why,”
“Why are you taking our Nocturne eggs? Why?”
But, you know, the Stormcatcher is crafty and smart
So he crafted a lie that would pull at her heart!
“THESE EGGS ARE MINE, CHILD,” the Stormcatcher lied.
“I AM KEEPING THEM SAFE FROM THE BEASTCLANS OUTSIDE.”

His blatant lie worked. Then he patted her head,
And he gave her some blueprints to read before bed.
And when the young Nocturne flew off, looking bored,
The Stormcatcher leapt up and ransacked the hoard!
In the wagon he shoved all the eggs that he stole,
And to top it all off, he took their Noc scroll!
He carted off treasures! The cave was robbed clean!
But to vex them a little, he left one Smirch gene.

Then he did the same thing to the other fifteen
Leaving only glow dust and a measly Smirch gene.
It was almost rollover... Each and every last dragon,
All the dragons, asleep, when he packed up his wagon.
Packed it with chests! With apparel! With treasure!
With butt rocks! With vistas! And scrolls, for good measure!

“TARGET LOCKED,” the Boss said, nearly twirling his 'stache.
“THEY'LL ALL GET BACK TO WORK WHEN THEIR LOOT'S TURNED TO ASH!”
Then he fired his doom ray at the festive collection
And grinned as he watched SCIENTIFIC PERFECTION.
The items were glowing! They began to combust!
And in just a few seconds, they all turned to dust!
The muck and the slime, the ooze and the goo,
And all of the sludge from the Bubbling Brew!
The candles, the capes, the masks, and the clocks!
The cobwebs, the witch hats, and even the butt rocks!
Only a pile of dust glowed on the floor
As the Stormcatcher let out a triumphant roar.

“IT IS DONE!” said the deity, with great jubilation.
“TELL EVERY DRAGON... I HAVE CANCELLED VACATION.”
His Lightning Sprite shrieked, “Your plans are the best!”
“If the Nocs have no loot, then there'll be no more fest!”
The Stormcatcher bellowed. “SILENCE!” he said,
“BY NOW ALL THE DRAGONS WILL BE WAKING FROM BED.”
“I SIMPLY MUST HEAR THEIR DISMAY AS THEY FIND
“THAT THEY MUST RETURN TO THE OLD DAILY GRIND!”

So he paused. And the Boss put one claw to his ear
As, listening carefully, he started to hear
No cries of deep anguish, no sniffling, no moaning,
No whining, no sighs! Not even groaning!
The sound wasn't sorrow. For once, he was wrong!
But, listening further, he heard it! A song!

He looked over the plains in a bit of a trance,
As he heard dragonsong from the Shifting Expanse!
Every Nocturne of Sornieth, whatever their flight,
Had risen in song! This couldn't be right!
Even his Ridgebacks had joined in the fun!
“THIS CANNOT BE RIGHT!” he complained, “THEY HAVE WON?”
Despite all his wickedness, brains, and ambition
The dragons of Sornieth had thwarted his mission!
“THIS WARRANTS FURTHER RESEARCH,” said the god,
“FOR THIS FEST TO PROCEED WITHOUT TREASURE? HOW ODD.”

With a quill and some paper he puzzled things out,
And after a minute, he let out a shout,
“EUREKA!” he said, and it fell into place
Why each dragon could wear such a grin on their face.
“PERHAPS IT IS NOT ABOUT MONEY TO SPEND.”
“PERHAPS NIGHT OF THE NOCTURNE... IS BEST SHARED WITH A FRIEND.”

And what happened then? Well, it's quite hard to say,
But the Stormcatcher's snoot grew three sizes that day!
With party hat perched on the tip of his snout,
He joined in the chorus with a thundering shout.
And he brought back the eggs! And the rest of it, too!
Sure, it was dust, but, hey, WHAT CAN YOU DO...

Skydancers Can Fly

Tundras can hop
Imperials can soar
Spirals can woosh
Coatl can flutter
Faes can hover
Skydancers can fly
Snappers can try
But that's about it.