Podsvetia

Chipskink Familiar No acorn or insect resembling an acorn is safe. 1500 Snowflake Urchin Seafood Every one of these urchins is unique in their own way, and each thinks they're better than the last. 75 5 Might Fragment Augment Stone When assigned, this fragment empowers one dragon of any element with +1 Strength. 100 Required Level: 5 Leaf Bolt Ability Stone A vengeful surge of earthen energy and vegetation. Deals Nature damage to one target. May only be used by nature dragons. 500 Required Level: 5

________________________________________________________________ Podsvetia ________________________________________________________________ Prince A Kingdom's Growth. Threads of Silver and Threat | And the son of the mad king in Arcane has begun himself to go mad. -Has a chipskink named Bandit, which is entirely too trusting of dragons. -From a young age, he has believed that it would come to a fight between himself (his father) and his sister (his mother) for the throne. -He still believes this even now. He tries to prove himself more worthy than her. -As a child he believed he would wait for her to strike first; as an adult, it is less certain that he will do so. -Half-believes that every relative hates him, particularly. -Prone to obsessive behaviors; the need to prove himself is strong, the need to show that he's better, because he knows it, but he does not know that his father knows it. -Underestimates everyone, or perhaps overestimates himself. He needs to be better than others. It is safer to believe he is better than others. -Conqueror, for if he cannot conquer, then who would say he is fit to rule? -Resentful of his rule in Lightning, as it is another test; it is not a place he wishes to be. He conquered to prove himself, but this was not enough. -Serania is a strange thing. He believes, or wants to believe, that she will help him. She does not seem to care.

---

Failure
Peklo

---

In the far reaches of the twisting stone spires of her kingdom, a child sleeps.
With eyes wide open to the mock battle that happens out her window, the game of swords her siblings play, she dreams.
She can do little else.

Night and day blur together, when there’s nothing she’s allowed to do. It’s night, and she means to prove herself not weak.
A quick dash into the armory- she’s familiar with the plan of the castle, even if it’s not her lot in life to walk it. Her siblings are there too; Peklo freezes as the brutish duo turn to her.
“What’s she doing here?”
Podsvetia shakes his head. He stands, taller than any of them, with a sword taken from the rack- Anapto carries a shorter blade, though one no less lethal.
“I’m going outside.”
“You?”
Peklo nods, steel resolve and cutting gaze. Without taking her eyes from either sibling, she walks along the opposite wall. One hand reaches for something, anything, which she could rely on. Defend herself with.
“Think you can use that?” She holds a small staff, one meant as a supplement to a hand-to-hand combat style, one that neither of her older siblings would find much interest in. She nods.
“We’re not really going to let her do this, are we?”
A look passes between the two- one that says nothing less than “she hardly matters anyways.”
Her grip on the staff tightens, eyes narrowed against the force of her anger.

The pearlcatcher walks out beyond the walls of pink stone she’s known her whole life. Hears a world of motion, commotion, the sound of creatures small and large that lurk beyond.
One step and another and another.
Something flies towards her, and with little thought, she strikes- an unpracticed and fearful blow. The sparrowmouse is thrown to the ground, and she runs to it. She reaches for it, but it cheeps, indignant, with one wing at a wrong angle.
She stands over it, quietly. Eyes that see without seeing, she reaches for it again, bearing its sharp cutting beak without notice of the blood it draws.

It is dead by the time she brings it back to her tower. Wordlessly, she buries it, feeling the taunting words of her siblings, her parents, everyone she knows. Taunting her. She couldn’t kill it and she couldn’t save it- a failure in both respects.

Its body feeds the rosebush beneath her tower.

---

Presently, Future King
Podsvetia

---

It had crawled onto him from a low-hanging branch. The little chipskink seemed too familiar, as though it had known dragons before, had no fear of them.

Here was this little creature, when he’d worn himself to the bone, and it climbed onto his shoulder and sat there and had the audacity to seem to smile at him. As though it were doing nothing wrong, as though it had every right to be there and not be attacking the prince.

“Ah, a bandit,” he eventually commented, lying down in the grass and letting himself breathe. The chipskink made no move to leave him, instead curling up on his chest. “Shall I have to give up my treasures to the little highwayman?” There was no response; to be expected, of course. “Ne’er you mind. If it’s not my treasures you seek, then what?”

Podsvetia had been impressed with it. Most of the little things that dwelt in the fields and lesser woods were afraid of dragon kind, attacked or ran from the many breeds of draconic creatures. He’d been catching them himself, as food and as training for the more difficult areas of the world, the places his father had promised to take him in the future.

He wasn't looking at it anymore, just up into the clouds. Bandit, as he’d decided to name it, didn’t answer except by way of pushing its face under one of Podsvetia’s hands. “My affection? My, what manner of creature are you? To approach a prince for his company, as if he were merely a common man.”

He sighed, standing, focusing on the pressure of his claws against his palm, to pull his attention from the ache that had filled his every muscle. “Does the Bandit wish to join me in contest with the rest of the world?”

-

The prince had been in the fields, on the edge of the woods on his own. He had free rein of all his father’s territory, and after all, why shouldn’t he do what he thought would benefit him? His sister had become more... Certain? No. Arrogant? Maybe. She had become more impassioned, more sure of her own chance to ascend to the throne.

He fought wildly, without weapon or armor. The sun began to set, and still he fought.

He’d come to the conclusion that it would very likely become a contest of force, and if it did, then he should be the one to win it. So he was in the fields, in contest with whatever creatures he could find, and running himself ragged trying to prove (to himself? To someone else?) that he was the inevitable winner of the future battle he already knew must be set.

He would wait, of course, for Anapto to attack him, but when she did, he’d be sure she paid the price.

---

Better than They
Podsvetia

---

"-And surely, they- that is to say, my sister and mother, surely they despise me. Has Anapto not come bragging to me that Mother believes she will be the rising queen? What purpose does it serve, then, if not to force me to prove myself?" He hissed, bringing his great sword down against the three he now attacked with all his fury. He put a foot to the trunk, putting his full body to work in retrieving his weapon. He understood, to some extent, that perhaps Anapto was merely happy to have acquired her trinket, or the love of the mother that was only half-present for either of them, but it was easier to believe that everything was an attack- an attack on him, on his right as defined by their father, on what he had to be.

"Must I prove myself to them? Do I need to demonstrate that I've the power not only to rule, but to conquer?" The Bandit sat in one of the adjacent trees, a little too far for the wildly swinging sword to feel fear. "So be it, I'll prove that I am just as capable as anyone else- more than that, that I am better equipped than Anapto, that she shan't be the ruler. Father will see that I am better than her, if I have to fight the Shade itself to prove it."

---

A Kingdom's Growth
Podsvetia

---

The three grew quickly, and it was not long at all before the two guardians were adults in their own rights. To some extent, this implied that they would need to go on and find their charges soon- though neither was keen on leaving first. Each favored by one of the parents, and each resenting the need to prove self to the other.
Podsvetia was the first to leave- under pretense of finding his charge. He was sure that the kingdom would be his, he did not feel the need to search for a different charge- not really. To get his rule, however, he would necessarily prove himself to his mother- who would surely otherwise veto his ascension. Certainly he could aim for her death, but where would that place him, if not under suspicion of his sister? So he needed prove himself to mother dearest.

What better way to prove himself fit to rule than to conquer territory outside of his family’s domain? Gain control of a different territory, then who would tell him that he was wrong? That he was unfit to rule?
Then it was settled in his mind- he must take for himself a separate territory, prove his ability to rule, and from there he could easily demonstrate to his parents both the fitness he had for the task of ruling the homeland.

He was away for many moons; one does not find one’s “Charge” in a fortnight, after all.

And in the quiet of night, he returned- a full year into the task. A tattered lightning banner on his person, eyes glowing with victory and vitality, despite his many scars. He set the shreds of teal before the king.
“My son returns at long last.”
“Indeed, Father,” his voice was louder, fiercer- what must have happened in those months of battle? “The land of the Stormcatcher is ours. I’ve had a castle constructed for our family.”
“For how long have they been in your control?”
“Some few months. Not long, admittedly, but we now have-.”
“Return to them.”
“… Father?”
“Return to them, keep control of that domain. Is it not most suitable that you, who took them, should also rule them?”
“I,” he paused, inhaled- “I would be most happy to do so, Father.”

He had not expected to return to the desert of the mechanics, the barren wastes that some creatures had carved out lives in for themselves. He hadn’t wished to do so much. But so be it, he supposed, landing on the spire he’d taken as stronghold; so be it Father. I will keep a branch of the house of Augurs here- I will grow it into its own kingdom if I must. I’m sure you meant me no slight by it. After all, you grant me a territory of my own, to keep until you determine I am worthy of the homeland itself.
Surely, you mean still to grant me that.

---

Threads of Silver and Threat

---

She had no loyalty to him, but perhaps that was not necessary after all; further conversation revealed- for she kept few secrets, that what she guarded was Ancient Evil, and that, if she found it necessary, she could call upon her brethren to hunt down other great threats, add them to this prison she maintained.

Then it would only require that I tell her that some other dragons are infected with this evil; perhaps I find for myself a silver tongue who can weave such tales; I do not know that I am so skilled. But if I find such a dragon, then with this Gaoler and a silver-tongue, I would have no trouble stopping the forces of enemies- might that silver tongue also play the role of a spy-master? Why not; one who weaves stories might also easily keep track of lies and subterfuge, be able to dispose of enemies and bring allies closer.




"Venomous Tongues"

---

Golden Theia, who fought the old plague, and lost herself in that battle.
Veles, of oceans born, will claim to have washed the world of the illness, and yet it was he who washed the world's memory of you.

Months, he had spent in the lightning city. Months, with that Gaoler Serania, who was to him somehow perfect. Perfect in some ways, perfect in others. She was flowers and teeth, soft and sharp in the same breath. She was perfect, in that way. He almost thought she was beautiful- or maybe that was because he believed she was useful.
Months, he'd been thinking of the best way to convince her to enact his plot. For he trusted her, for reasons he did not know and so did not trust themselves; her, he trusted.
Months, he'd spent earning her trust. Now, his aim would be played out.
"Serania."
"Podsvetia; what do you wish?"
"Your help." He gave a short dip of the head, and she gave only a nod in turn. "You've told me that your role, here, is the guard of this, your ancient prison."
"And?"
"And that you could- either yourself or through your allies- hunt down other evils, to either contain or kill them."
"Then I take it this is all to say you believe you have found such an evil."
"Whether it is of a magnitude like that which you guard, or one greater, I know a family my own has been in conflict with before."
"You exaggerate."
"Their matriarch, to hear the tales I heard as a child, may well be shade-touched, or else a vile mage in her own right. My father barely kept her at bay once before, and protected the land of the Youngest God when she was near at hand. She is near us now- it is my job, son as I am to the one who fought her before, to keep her family from spreading."
"And through me?"
"If you will aid me."
"You have many subjects here. Why not call upon one of them?"
"I'd trust you over any of the rest." A half-glance, half-smile; "I believe we both look forward to the ending of evils in any form."
"Ha."
But he had seen that she was beginning to agree, at least by parts, that it would be good to investigate this family that was called vile, to perhaps act in agreement with his own plans.