Hodges

Hodges grew up in the Wild Orchard clan in the Viridian Labyrinth. His parents were fighters, and he learned early in his life to not only control nature magic, but also to fight and fell foes far larger than himself. Though fae are usually quite sensitive creatures, Hodges seemed gifted with an extra sight. He could often glean where unseeable foes could be struck to harm them, and he proved himself time and again a useful and helpful member of the clan.

However, the constant harrowing of the Wild Orchard by an almost revolving door of threats caused him to be jaded and exhausted. So, on an exchange, he traveled to Dragonhome to visit the Wild Orchard's allies in Oakrest, far to the West.

Back then, Oakrest's main entrance was in the box canyons by Greatwyrm's Breach. It was a small community of fighters, helping to stem the assaults from the local longneck populace, as well as an occasional craftsdragon if they could convince one to stay. Led by Bordeaux and his Stonetouched mate, Chandra, there was little of remark about the community.

Hodges relished in the opportunity to relax. Sure, longnecks were a pain, but they weren't arcane-laced megalith beasts roaring up from the undergrowth to eat hatchlings. This was easy. And while Hodges sometimes leant his skills to the guards, he often instead spent his time with Murphy, a wildclaw that was working on sustainable gardening to feed the clan.

Where other dragons would have taken this opportunity to find a mate, Hodges simply didn't feel the drive to reproduce. And while he enjoyed the companionship of friends, the idea of taking a mate seemed repulsive to him. He didn't slight others for doing so, but for him it filled him with such an unpleasant feeling he knew it was not the path he was meant to take. Instead, he enjoyed his work thoroughly with Murphy and frequently took time to explore the canyons of Dragonhome and see what new wonders he could discover.

Then, one day, the archaeologist Clancy unlocked an enormous and ancient door that had been unearthed in one of the recently-dug tunnels. News that the doors led to an ancient tomb spread fast, and Hodges was fascinated and intrigued. In this land of dirt where the dragons revered their ancestors, how was it a whole tomb could be lost?

Hodges was among the first to enter what would become known as the tunnels to Cairnstone. It became obvious that what had been assumed to be one room was, instead, an enormous entryway to a serpentine network of sepulchers.

He gazed with the other scholarly dragons at the enormous, well-carved statues, which Clancy observed were symbolically shaped as guardians. And no sooner had he explained that than the first shifted its weight, and Hodges saw the mark to strike it to deal a killing blow.

Clancy and the others fled, leaving Hodges and a surprisingly nimble green-eyed snapper to deal with the threat. Hodges had lived a life of evasion among the Shrieking Wilds, and this threat was no different. And Torch, the quick-footed snapper, dodged and feinted in a way that was eerily familiar.

The two dispatched the statues as they animated, each one falling to rubble before the next awoke. And after a time of silence, Torch volunteered to take watch. After all, snappers did not sleep.

When Hodges awoke, they were still alone in the vast doorway. And it was there that Hodges learned Torch was the son of the founders of Hodges' home clan. He simply hadn't recognized him, as the snapper had been a mirror when last they met.

In time, the dragons of Oakrest came back to investigate the tomb and ensure it was safe. And though the council considered closing the tunnels, Torch was the one who argued to keep them open and to learn what they could about what lay in the deepest parts. And Hodges was right beside him.

He had forgotten the simple thrill of the hunt, and he soon became Torch's constant companion. The two delved deeply into Cairnstone more times than they could count, and Hodges' gift of Sight and his knack for acting before explaining himself have saved both their lives as often as Torch's strength and determination have.

It wasn't the first time Hodges was glad that the scarves Shula had enchanted were still working. The imperial had passed only weeks ago, but their enchantments had worn out many times more quickly than this. He sat, as always, atop Torch's head. Behind them, Ink and Drusilla trailed, quietly conversing in coatl.

They were heading deeper than many of them had dared venture before. Sixten, one of the more sensitive among the Oakrest Hunters, had marked a space beyond which he did not dare to travel. And it was only by firelight and Ink's dim light magic that they were not stumbling blindly through the winding paths.

Hodges sorted through his gear again, hearing his father remind him one could never be too thorough. The vials of sprouted vines were still tucked neatly within his bag. A blessing, really, as he and Torch were both nature dragons, and no roots from the desert above drove this deeply within the earth.

It was cold down here, but not perternaturally so. The group traveled with the ease of those who know themselves safe.

They stopped to rest several times at supply caches that had been set up along their route in preparation for this journey. They had already been gone for days, and they may well be gone for weeks or months. No one knew quite how deeply the trouble lay, but each of them knew they would die to protect their clan if that were necessary.

After a final rest, the four found Sixten's wards. Drusilla inspected them, the stone-etched runes shimmering in the dim light like the crystals within geodes. "He went no farther," she said. "Be alert."

Then, she carved another rune, and the wall that errupted behind them was visible for only a moment before it faded in the darkness.

The group, secure in the knowledge that whatever Sixten had sensed would not be able to broach Drusilla's wall, continued. It was a long hike before Hodges patted Torch on the forehead. "I feel it," he said as quietly as he could.

They were silent for a time before Ink spoke up, her common deeply accented. "As do I," she said.

The silent air grew oppressive and heavy. The blackness grew so cold it felt it might shatter the marrow in Hodge's bones. And far ahead, a single light burst into radient existence.

A low, soft laugh, like scree bouncing down the mountainside, echoed through the tunnels towards them.

"Speaking my language," Torch said, squaring his shoulders and striding forwards.

"Caution," Ink advised. "We don't know what it is."

Drusilla swept ahead, her nimble fingers and quick eyes investigating the land for runes and other traps. And by the time Torch's lumbering gait approached, Drusilla's work was already done, and the path was clear.

They paused at the edge of the light. It was clear from here that the source was a greenish flame set upon a stand deep within the chamber ahead. Hodges uncorked a vine and let it fall to the earth below. There, Torch's magic let it grow rapidly, sweeping towards the greenish light.

And when it touched it, it curled upon itself. As Torch encouraged it further, the vine progressed, but it was clear the little plant was enfeebled. The laugh struck again.

"Why don't you come in, young ones?" a voice hissed through the air. It twisted and hissed like smoke upon the breeze. And it was only after that Hodges noticed that the words spoken were not the same common that they spoke today. Some spell had twisted the spoken words so they could understand them.

Ink stepped forward and cast a magic bolt of light at the ensconced green flame. The light source flickered, then went out. Ink shot another bolt of light, this time towards the ceiling, and let it burst and shine like a chandelier.

"It should be safer now," she whispered.

The laugh again. "I grow tired of waiting, little ones. Let us begin our game."

Torch stomped his feet hard to settle them more surely in his gauntlets. "Let's go," he muttered, and the rest of them nodded in silent agreement.

Hodges took flight above his friend, and the two coatls sped in like lizards to the safety of a crevice. Torch himself charged in, and Hodges hurled several more vines to coat the floor.

"Only the four of you?" The owner of the voice was visible at last. An ancient creature, fleshless with a mouth like knives, sat enthroned upon a dais. At his feet, the skeletal remains of some unfortunate dragon had been crushed to powder beneath enormous feet that looked an awful lot like Torch's.

"Four's plenty," Torch snarled, and he charged.

The ancient creature laughed, and while Drusilla and Ink worked magic from the back and Torch soaked what got through the walls, Hodges cast his gaze upon the monstrous being. He could see the Shade struck through its mortal remains, preserved against time by the infernal pact that had been struck.

And he knew, suddenly, that there was nothing here that would destroy this creature. Hodges drew the vines up, trying to bind it. They took purchase, and for a moment it seemed to work.

Torch drew close enough to clamp his flame-blessed jaws upon the fiend, and all it did was laugh. The vines started to wither as they touched the fiend's flesh.

Torch drew away with a maw full of papery flesh. He spat it to the ground before rearing up to strike with his mighty claws. And though the blow landed upon this being of dust and whispers, the bones beneath it seemed to coalesce and heal whatever chunk Torch had taken from its form.

The being laughed harder and deeper. "Very good, young ones," it snarled. "But now it's my turn!"

It chanted in a tongue Hodges had never known before, and from the earth a howl erupted. Then, an enormous wyrm flashed forwards from the stone beneath their feet. Its narrow face ended in a piglike snout, and eyes like blue flames erupted into terrifying life. It howled again, and the bones that made up its body shook loose to reveal a phantasmal form.

It plowed into Torch, who stumbled hard before the fiend. Then it turned towards Ink, but Drusilla's wards glowed brightly before flickering out as the beast thrashed against it.

Torch drew to his feet, and Hodges swept down. "We should withdraw," Hodges shouted over the din as the phantasm thrashed towards the coatls. "We need to regroup!"

Torch glanced at his friends, then nodded. "I'll hold him. The three of you, back to the tunnels!"

Hodges took flight again as Torch once more charged the fiend, who only laughed again. Hodges hurried to the coatls. "We have to withdraw. Back to the tunnels!" he shouted, waving them towards the way they had come.

"Let it hunt you there!" the fiend spat, and a blackened sphere began to form between the fiend's wings. "But not before I take this one to nourish my form!"

Hodges saw it coming. He did the only thing he knew to do. He hurled the vines beneath Torch and shoved him out of the way.

The blackened bolt passed over the snapper's prone body. And it struck Hodges in the chest.

For a moment, everything felt like ice. He coughed hard as his fragile body struck the earth.

He saw his friends turn towards him, horror on their faces. And he reached up a hand that swiftly turned to ash.

And for a moment - just once - he heard Shula's voice echo through his head. "Not this time, friend. Not today."

And in a puff of wind, he was nothing.

Time passed like the ringing in his ears. Then, as if he had fallen from the Behemoth itself, he struck the earth one final time, his body whole and the wind forced from his lungs. An arcane sigil of teleportation still faded on the earth beneath him, and it took some time to get his wind again.

And when he could at last stand and take his bearings he realized: he had no idea where he was at all.

Original lore by ixris / 26035

His disorientation did not last long, however. The familiar stench of death saw to that. With a hair-raising sensation of doom-agony-despair washing over him, Hodges instinctively threw himself to the side. A long, serrated claw larger than his entire body smashed down on where he had been, reducing the wooden stage to splinters. The creature that possessed it was dark and oily, its shape ever changing. A thousand eyes stared at him in judgment. In a blink, he swore that he saw each one open up into a thousand hungry mouths.

Hodges fled, feeling teeth gnash over the space right beside his head. From one cave to another, that at least had not changed. But as he dodged the unmoving lumps dotting the corridors, he marveled terrifically at the realization that they were the rotting corpses of other dragons. Other dragons, he hoped, who had not been any more prepared than him. There had to be an entrance somewhere. He just had to survive long enough to find it.

The shadows were no deterrence at all to that abomination. Nearly crashing into the walls once or twice himself, Hodges could tell doing so meant nothing to it as well. Briefly, he wished that Shula's enchantments had been stronger, more suited for blasting. Explosives probably would have been helpful then. Or maybe they would have just made the thing even more insane for his blood.

But Hodges was a Hunter for a reason and even being completely out of his league as he was then, he at least still had a cool head. He could be a pessimist, sure, but there was no place for that in life-or-death situations. Thinking quickly, he realized that one advantage he had over the creature was size. He was smaller and therefore faster than it. As long as it could be outrun, he would be fine.

All instinct cried out to keep flying. Hodges did the opposite. Once he was sure he was a decent distance away, even though he was in sight, he stopped. Stopped, looked around, went right back to flying desperately. It was after a few rounds of this that he noticed that he was seeing the same lumps and cavern formations the first time around.

Ah, so the place was circular, then. All the better for him. Now instead of having to double back, he could simply keep looking forward. He forced himself to scan the entire place much more slowly. Distantly, he was aware that he was still being chased but the idea was simply there, fluttering in the back of his mind. His entire body had gone cold, robotically performing the actions that his mind told it to do, ignoring all tiredness for the time.

There. At last, he saw a faint outline along one of the walls. Hoping, praying that it was a tunnel instead of an odd spot of discoloration, he flew towards it. Being able to actually pass through it was a pleasant surprise; he had given himself a 50/50 chance of going splat against a wall. Optimistic thoughts.

Now that he was in it, he could tell that the tunnel was huge, definitely enough to comfortably fit an imperial. The growls from behind him were less echoing now - what had changed, he wondered? Were the stones different? Were there-

Something lashed out at him. He flinched as his wing was grazed by a sailing rock and dropped lower towards the ground, trying to regain his momentum. There was light in the distance and a din in his ears. He would make this, he would.

So preoccupied with actually surviving the encounter, he was taken aback by the sight of something abruptly eclipsing that full moon of light at the end of the tunnel. As he came closer, he could make out the long, grey nose of a ridgeback. Hodges tensed in anticipation but the other dragon merely stared in his direction as the distance between them closed.

Finally, "You, duck."

Without thinking, Hodges did. Something behind him exploded with a loud, messy boom.

lore by Eulerian / 258000

Maserift was an interesting place. By which Hodges meant, it was a Hunter's worst nightmare. The clan was infested with mages of all sorts and despite the fact that they were ostentatiously friendly, he drew the line at the one who lived in the crypt and his necromancer mate. He refused to feel bad about it, even if they were the grandchildren of one of the dragons who had saved him from the terror. Many nights were spent with one eye open.

Still the sight of familiar faces was like balm to the heart. Out of all the places, he had never thought he would find Jupiter and Calque here. As far as he had known, they were still at Oakrest, after all.

"How are things back home?" Hodges had asked after their generally confused greetings were done with.

When the two imperials traded looks, he knew it would be a long story.

And, somehow, the story became even longer. Very quickly, it became apparent to Hodges that for all it was on the other side of Dragonhome, there was something about Maserift that made it a beacon for dragons of Oakrest descent. First was Shula's son, Melchior -who didn't even kow her, gods- and then came a grandson. Another grandson. Great-grandchildren. So many great-great grandchildren. Even one of Chandra's children appeared one day and simply never left.

But what really did it for Hodges was the arrival of a familiar looking snapper named Morris, one of his best friend's sons. That was the point that he knew he had to return some day soon. Torch thought that he was dead. How could he let him believe that?

He was still healing, however. Ironically, it hadn't been the abomination which had injured him, no, though the clipped wing was painful. It was the fact that he had crashed into a wall immediately after the Maserift dragons had blasted the thing to kingdom come.

Inwardly, he cursed himself for his recklessness. Maserift was fine and all (with the exception of, you know, the necromancer) but it just wasn't Oakrest.

lore by Eulerian / 258000