Crash

Shock Ability Stone Shocks the enemy with electricity. Has a chance to apply Paralysis. (The target has a chance to be prohibited from using abilities.) May only be used by lightning dragons. 500 Required Level: 12

Crash "You only live once. I have no such limits. That ought to be good for something."

Memento Mori Generation 1 Fortuna Caeca Est restless | erratic | compassionate

Memento mori (Latin: "remember that you have to die") is the medieval Latin Christian theory and practice of reflection on mortality, especially as a means of considering the vanity of earthly life and the transient nature of all earthly goods and pursuits. Memento mori has been an important part of ascetic disciplines as a means of perfecting the character by cultivating detachment and other virtues, and by turning the attention towards the immortality of the soul and the afterlife. This curse would be traced down his lineage. All Acanthus' children were destined to die, like any dragon. But they would be given a second chance. It was up to the children if they would accept the bargain.

---

In the gathering gloom, leaves rustled across the strait. Crash turned his head into the wind, the trailing edge of his wings fluttering. A storm was rolling in. He breathed a sigh of relief and launched himself into the twilight.

Below him, dragon clans and beastclans took themselves under cover. He flew low over the Colonnades, listening to the rippling of awnings and tents, rustling banners, the whip-crack of flags. The land seemed paradoxically still and silent, but also uneasy and restless in the wind. Then he flapped, rising into the gale, leaving even these sounds below, until there was nothing left except himself and the storm.

At peace at last, his conscious mind stilled as his unconscious mind took over the task of correcting for gusts. The first heavy raindrops sank into his fur, the weight another factor to consider. His caruncles tingled, alerting him to a charge of energy in the air; he banked left, avoiding the first flare of cloud-to-cloud lightning. His geist galloped alongside him, silent except for the impossible thunder of hoof-beats in the buffeting air, rain falling unimpeded through its insubstantial body.

His first time in a storm like this, he had been young and brash and ambitious. He'd had some tom-fool idea of an alchemical contraption that would harness the energy in the storm. He'd meant to propel himself into the region of rarified air - perhaps even above it, where the Astrolab had once flown. He'd wanted a thrill and a view... and almost ended as a oily smear on the ocean west of Dragonhome.

His bloodline had given him a Second Chance, but there were so many others who never got one. While he was down there amongst the monotony and minutiae he could never focus - his mind would scatter in a thousand directions, fidgeting and fretting. Especially with The Long Ride driving him restlessly onward, as if condemned to an eternal chase. In some ways a scattershot mind that leapt from trace to track could be a benefit when trying to relate to ghosts. But if you only ever thought like a ghost, then your thoughts stayed trapped like theirs, and you couldn't help them escape.

Now, with his body straining to navigate the storm, he could think through their dilemmas plainly. The Dunhoof Filly now, what she needed but couldn't ask for was the comfort of parents. Her actual parents were long dead, of course, but his clan had an ambassador from the Dunhooves in residence. He'd have inquiries made; see who could be found to step in. Justice for the Old Snapper now, that was a trickier matter. He wondered whether he should bring Brooke in, in case of complications, or if that would invite escalation...

Crash stayed inside the thunderhead, battling the tempest, until the trailing edge of the storm passed the clan's holdings in Greatwyrm's Breach. He emerged from the murk into a gathering night, the clouds' bulk blocking sunset's last light. Pattering drops and rivulets trickled into the canyon, as a pale figure emerged from the sheltering walls. That would be one of the clan's sentinel Statues - Xia, by the size. Good. She would know which members of the Krewe were in residence tonight.

Crash alighted beside her, sodden, wings quivering with exhaustion, but easy in his mind. In time, the restlessness would return. The Long Ride's urging, the scattered thoughts, an Advocate's guilt for the ones he couldn't help would drive him out to seek quiet in another storm. But tonight, the rustling of feathered wings welcomed him home.

---