Art Sales

1860

February 03, 2016 17:55:34

@StygianForm

Woo! Finally got a chance to work on this! Here's what I did for Rune, it's sort of a cross between origin and story, so best of both worlds. I tried to mix in as many of his personality elements as I could, let me know if this works okay for you!

Quote:

Rune

I never asked for this, he thinks, as yet another dragon waylays him, asking for his opinion on yet another trivial matter. With a sly, quiet grin he provides advice, echoing the same words he told another just hours before. He knows, with his guidance, the two will come to a peaceful resolution that suits them and the clan just fine. The dragon skips away, pleased. Soon the conflict will be resolved, and for the better. Both parties will think they have won the argument, not realizing he has orchestrated their peace. Rune shakes his head.

I never asked for this, he howls as the healer spreads ointment over the deep gashes in his shoulder. He coughs, then spits, dislodging a tooth and a clot of blood. He swears under his breath at the Hippalectryon who sliced him to ribbons in the Pools, swears at the dragon who convinced him a foray into the Coliseum was a grand idea, swears at himself for listening. The salve stings in his wounds and he bristles. His magic was no match for the creature, his carefully crafted glamours and illusions. The healer applies a thick pad of bandage and heavy pressure. Rune groans.

I never asked for this, he calls as he gallops through the shadowy undergrowth surrounding his lair, two burly dragons hot on his tail. It isn't his fault they blundered into his work, tripping the mechanisms and leaving both soaked in sticky, clinging fluid. He glances back over his shoulder and hoots with laughter. Both dragons are now covered in bits of leaf and twig, clutching firmly into the gummy goo dripping from wings and tails. That will teach them to stay out of his alchemical workshop, won't it? Rune puts on another burst of speed.

I never asked for this, he realizes as he walks through the crowd that has gathered. All around him, heads bow in deference. His name dances on lips, cartwheels on the wind. Rune, it whispers. Rune is wise. He is understanding. He will help us. Dragons nod to one another, those that have quarreled with one another, have sought his wisdom. Those that have battled at his side against beasts and monsters. Those who have wondered at his magic, laughed at or been deceived by his trickery. Rune smiles.

Code:

Lore by: [url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/art/1532188/1]Hatterlet[/url]

Last edited on Feb 03, 2016 20:16:10 by hatterlet

@Leremis Aaaand here's Thunderseeker. He was a lot of fun to write, actually. I hope you enjoy! [quote][center]Thunderseeker[/center] The Shifting Expanse is a hard mistress, even to her children. Born high on the Mesas, with sharp, sparking turquoise eyes and an energy unlike any other coursing through his veins, Thunderseeker still felt lost. He found no comfort in the hot sands, the crackling air. He flinched and cringed away from the sky-shattering explosions that came from the distant Tempest Spire, the booming bellows of his god. He knew, with a thunderous ache in his heart that one day he too, like his family and friends before him, would serve that terrifying master. And he was afraid. His brothers had long since abandoned the nest of their childhood, seeking fortunes and fame elsewhere. His parents grew weary of the single hatchling, tethered by fear and worry to his birthplace. They began to push and prod, pleading with him to find a purpose. At times he felt as though they wished his egg had not hatched, had been a dud. He looked down at his crystalline feathers, the thick growths of sparkling rock that spread along his wings, and despaired. None of his clutchmates had inherited his disease. He was flawed, and he knew it. Many days he spent walking the edge of his Flight's land, near the soft beaches and pools of the Tidelord's domain. He found the soft sound of the lapping waves peaceful, a respite from the never ending thunder of his home. The sand here was softer, too, and picked out with shells and bits of coral, not the glassy ridges and razor-sharp bits that littered his Mesa. Lightning and Sand did not mix. As he grew more bold, he drew closer to the water, every day shuffling a bit farther into the surf. He found that the warm salt water soothed his skin, washed at the pain and horrific itch that came with his sickness. And one day, she was there. Perched on a rock, watching him pick his way through the foam. Her skin glittered gold in the sun, just like his, but she seemed to take no issue with it. Blue fins sprouted from behind her ears and gills fluttered occasionally along her neck. Her name was Marina, she said, and she had watched him for some time. Would he like to come and see her home beneath the waves? Bravery bloomed within his coward's heart. Eagerly, he joined her in the pounding ocean, holding his breath as he dove into the blue darkness. He never returned to the sands of the Expanse. Instead he stands by Marina's side, his love for her secret but strong. No other female could replace her in his heart. For her he learned bravery, courage, honor. For her he learned the art of the sword, the spear. His fear has turned to determination, a steadfast refusal to see anyone in his new home harmed. In the warm waters of the Leviathan Trench he is at peace. He will never let anyone take that from him again. [/quote] [code]Lore by: [url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/art/1532188/1]Hatterlet[/url][/code]

hatterlet

1860

February 04, 2016 06:43:03

@Leremis

Aaaand here's Thunderseeker. He was a lot of fun to write, actually. I hope you enjoy!

Quote:

Thunderseeker

The Shifting Expanse is a hard mistress, even to her children. Born high on the Mesas, with sharp, sparking turquoise eyes and an energy unlike any other coursing through his veins, Thunderseeker still felt lost. He found no comfort in the hot sands, the crackling air. He flinched and cringed away from the sky-shattering explosions that came from the distant Tempest Spire, the booming bellows of his god. He knew, with a thunderous ache in his heart that one day he too, like his family and friends before him, would serve that terrifying master. And he was afraid.

His brothers had long since abandoned the nest of their childhood, seeking fortunes and fame elsewhere. His parents grew weary of the single hatchling, tethered by fear and worry to his birthplace. They began to push and prod, pleading with him to find a purpose. At times he felt as though they wished his egg had not hatched, had been a dud. He looked down at his crystalline feathers, the thick growths of sparkling rock that spread along his wings, and despaired. None of his clutchmates had inherited his disease. He was flawed, and he knew it.

Many days he spent walking the edge of his Flight's land, near the soft beaches and pools of the Tidelord's domain. He found the soft sound of the lapping waves peaceful, a respite from the never ending thunder of his home. The sand here was softer, too, and picked out with shells and bits of coral, not the glassy ridges and razor-sharp bits that littered his Mesa. Lightning and Sand did not mix. As he grew more bold, he drew closer to the water, every day shuffling a bit farther into the surf. He found that the warm salt water soothed his skin, washed at the pain and horrific itch that came with his sickness.

And one day, she was there. Perched on a rock, watching him pick his way through the foam. Her skin glittered gold in the sun, just like his, but she seemed to take no issue with it. Blue fins sprouted from behind her ears and gills fluttered occasionally along her neck. Her name was Marina, she said, and she had watched him for some time. Would he like to come and see her home beneath the waves? Bravery bloomed within his coward's heart. Eagerly, he joined her in the pounding ocean, holding his breath as he dove into the blue darkness.

He never returned to the sands of the Expanse. Instead he stands by Marina's side, his love for her secret but strong. No other female could replace her in his heart. For her he learned bravery, courage, honor. For her he learned the art of the sword, the spear. His fear has turned to determination, a steadfast refusal to see anyone in his new home harmed. In the warm waters of the Leviathan Trench he is at peace. He will never let anyone take that from him again.

Code:

Lore by: [url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/art/1532188/1]Hatterlet[/url]

@Drachenschwinge Your dragons are so beautifully fleshed out, I sometimes have trouble finding something new to say about them! I thought I'd play with Beelzebub's and Malphas' relationship, especially in how Malphas sort of gives his dreams to his friend. Hope this works for you! [quote] [center]Malphas and Beelzebub[/center] The dream was pleasant, thought Malphas, as he sat atop the highest precipice in the Reedcleft Ascent of his childhood. He held one claw gently on the back of his familiar, the blue mottled skin of the Dreameater seeming to warp and shift in the dream. He smiled. From far below he could see tiny dragons, memories of his friends and nest-mates tumbling and tussling in the soft green grass. The Dreameater murmured but didn't move - this dream was far too enjoyable to consider consuming. Even if Malphas was enjoying it, it would provide no flavor or sustenance to his familiar. On the horizon there was a flicker of shadowy lightning, the sharp blue-white tainted with darkness. The laughter and frolicking in the valley below ceased instantly, as the tiny dream-dragons scattered into the bamboo. Malphas watched calmly, his eyes never leaving the dark stain that spread along the sky. The Nightmare King was coming. Shadows spilled over the vibrant Ascent, dulling it's bright colors with blacks and violets. The playful breeze was replaced with a chattering, chilling wind. Then, from the void, came a great gaping maw, swallowing up the vista. Hatchlings tumbled from the copse of bamboo, trying to flee the mouth that pursued them. Instead they were consumed. Malphas continued to watch impassively as his dream was eaten from below. Slowly the mouth crept closer, the ridge disappearing into an invisible throat as it approached his resting place. For a moment it seemed to hang there, immobile, as the world behind him collapsed into nothing. The peaceful day had turned to darkness, the sky an impossible shade of both red and black. The laughter had become hellish screams, his memories disappearing into visions of torture and pain. The scent of fear hung in the air. "Hullo, 'Bub." Malphas said, addressing the consuming mouth. It paused, then canted at an angle as though it looked querulously at Malphas. The Imperial smiled gently. The set of jaws closed slowly, then seemed to fold in on themselves. Within moments they had compressed into nothing, which disappeared with a pop. In it's place stood a dark-colored Wildclaw. "Malphas." Beelzebub said, his voice dark and grim, with the sounds of screams and weeping running through. His eyes glittered, but with a friendly light. "How was this one?" Malphas asked, glancing about at the nightmare-scape he inhabited. "Very good. I enjoyed the realism, and the memory figures were a nice addition. Very tasty." The Wildclaw licked his lips in an exaggerated fashion. Malphas chuckled, then stood. He stretched his long body and gave a massive yawn. "Well then. I'm glad you liked it. He's getting a bit hungry, though, and I'm quite ready for some real sleep." Malphas nodded at the Dreameater, who quivered in anticipation. "Thank you, Malphas." Beelzebub seemed to shimmer in midair, beginning to fade out. Before he disappeared completely, he added "Sweet Dreams." With a sardonic cackle, he vanished. Malphas smiled faintly, his eyelids drooping. He turned to his familiar, stroking it's long trunk with a gentle claw. "Alright, old friend. Go to work." The Dreameater sprang into action, galloping up an invisible rise. As he went, the pulsing red and black environment calmed, it's colors dissipating into nothingness. He began to take great bites of the sky, leaving holes of the same nothing. He made short work of the nightmare, the screams and cries growing silent and the red horizon fading into the aether. Malphas yawned again. Slowly he began to drift into sleep, a true sleep, unburdened by the dreams Beelzebub found so appetizing and the nightmares his familiar craved. As the last speck of terror vanished he held out his arms. The Dreameater bounded across the void and leapt into Malphas' embrace, and both vanished. In his lair, Malphas shifted, his breathing finally settling into the deep, slow pattern of restful sleep. Beside him the Dreameater curled in a tight knot. Beelzebub lifted his claw from Malphas' head. "Sleep well, friend."[/quote] [code]Lore by: [url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/art/1532188/1]Hatterlet[/url][/code]

hatterlet

1860

February 12, 2016 08:24:49

@Drachenschwinge

Your dragons are so beautifully fleshed out, I sometimes have trouble finding something new to say about them! I thought I'd play with Beelzebub's and Malphas' relationship, especially in how Malphas sort of gives his dreams to his friend. Hope this works for you!

Quote:

Malphas and Beelzebub

The dream was pleasant, thought Malphas, as he sat atop the highest precipice in the Reedcleft Ascent of his childhood. He held one claw gently on the back of his familiar, the blue mottled skin of the Dreameater seeming to warp and shift in the dream. He smiled. From far below he could see tiny dragons, memories of his friends and nest-mates tumbling and tussling in the soft green grass. The Dreameater murmured but didn't move - this dream was far too enjoyable to consider consuming. Even if Malphas was enjoying it, it would provide no flavor or sustenance to his familiar.

On the horizon there was a flicker of shadowy lightning, the sharp blue-white tainted with darkness. The laughter and frolicking in the valley below ceased instantly, as the tiny dream-dragons scattered into the bamboo. Malphas watched calmly, his eyes never leaving the dark stain that spread along the sky. The Nightmare King was coming.

Shadows spilled over the vibrant Ascent, dulling it's bright colors with blacks and violets. The playful breeze was replaced with a chattering, chilling wind. Then, from the void, came a great gaping maw, swallowing up the vista. Hatchlings tumbled from the copse of bamboo, trying to flee the mouth that pursued them. Instead they were consumed. Malphas continued to watch impassively as his dream was eaten from below. Slowly the mouth crept closer, the ridge disappearing into an invisible throat as it approached his resting place. For a moment it seemed to hang there, immobile, as the world behind him collapsed into nothing. The peaceful day had turned to darkness, the sky an impossible shade of both red and black. The laughter had become hellish screams, his memories disappearing into visions of torture and pain. The scent of fear hung in the air.

"Hullo, 'Bub." Malphas said, addressing the consuming mouth. It paused, then canted at an angle as though it looked querulously at Malphas. The Imperial smiled gently. The set of jaws closed slowly, then seemed to fold in on themselves. Within moments they had compressed into nothing, which disappeared with a pop. In it's place stood a dark-colored Wildclaw.

"Malphas." Beelzebub said, his voice dark and grim, with the sounds of screams and weeping running through. His eyes glittered, but with a friendly light.

"How was this one?" Malphas asked, glancing about at the nightmare-scape he inhabited.

"Very good. I enjoyed the realism, and the memory figures were a nice addition. Very tasty." The Wildclaw licked his lips in an exaggerated fashion. Malphas chuckled, then stood. He stretched his long body and gave a massive yawn.

"Well then. I'm glad you liked it. He's getting a bit hungry, though, and I'm quite ready for some real sleep." Malphas nodded at the Dreameater, who quivered in anticipation.

"Thank you, Malphas." Beelzebub seemed to shimmer in midair, beginning to fade out. Before he disappeared completely, he added "Sweet Dreams." With a sardonic cackle, he vanished.

Malphas smiled faintly, his eyelids drooping. He turned to his familiar, stroking it's long trunk with a gentle claw.

"Alright, old friend. Go to work."

The Dreameater sprang into action, galloping up an invisible rise. As he went, the pulsing red and black environment calmed, it's colors dissipating into nothingness. He began to take great bites of the sky, leaving holes of the same nothing.

He made short work of the nightmare, the screams and cries growing silent and the red horizon fading into the aether. Malphas yawned again. Slowly he began to drift into sleep, a true sleep, unburdened by the dreams Beelzebub found so appetizing and the nightmares his familiar craved. As the last speck of terror vanished he held out his arms. The Dreameater bounded across the void and leapt into Malphas' embrace, and both vanished.

In his lair, Malphas shifted, his breathing finally settling into the deep, slow pattern of restful sleep. Beside him the Dreameater curled in a tight knot.

Beelzebub lifted his claw from Malphas' head.

"Sleep well, friend."

Code:

Lore by: [url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/art/1532188/1]Hatterlet[/url]

@hatterlet Aaaah, that's awesome, thank you so much <3

Drachenschwinge

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February 13, 2016 00:58:07

@hatterlet Aaaah, that's awesome, thank you so much <3

@QuickSilvr Okay, as promised, it's finally done! I hope this works for you! [quote][center]Aeron[/center] [i]Where were they?[/i] Aeron clutched at his mane, his claws tangling in the dark fur. Piles of scrolls lay scattered about him, broken bits of wax seals and ribbon ties dripping from the parchment. He grasped at a random scroll, unfurling it and tearing it in his haste. Four hatchlings, destined for exaltation, due to be escorted to the Lightweaver. Gone. He groaned. [i]Cosmic would have never lost a clutch of hatchlings.[/i] He could hear their voices. The golden Imperial, his shining mane glittering in the bright sun, admired in clans of all flights. [i]"You should have let me take care of it," he would assure his adoring crowd. "Besides, the poor dears would be much better off, adopted into loving homes, learning the mysteries of all eleven flights. Instead you trust your children to that charlatan, send them off to be 'exalted' to some 'god'. Aeron could be doing anything with them."[/i] Aeron could feel their eyes boring into him, their minds filled with Cosmic's honeyed voice, his reassuring size and bulk a bulwark against any disbelief. Aeron, small and insignificant beside the golden glory of Cosmic, could not compare. The heat around him was oppressive, and Aeron panted as he sifted through the pile of parchment. His cavern chamber was the warmest in the Taloncry clan, a special cave reserved for visitors and emissaries. It was a blessing for most Fire dragons, accustomed to extreme warmth but Aeron, used to the light breezes of his home in the Windswept Plateau, simply suffered. He twitched a bit of paper aside and was startled as it burst into flame. He jumped and batted at it ineffectually, watching as the delicate scroll disappeared into ash. "I HATE this place!" he cried, planting one foot into the pile of soot. His voice echoed in the chamber, wrapping around his head and battering his ears. To his surprise, though, as his voice faded away it was replaced by another. "Be careful with these - " he heard, before it disappeared. The never ending ringing of the hammers and forges swept back in, resuming their rhythmic pounding that had momentarily ceased at his exclamation and drowning out the distant but familiar voice. "Cosmic?" Aeron murmured, perplexed. The voice had not come from the wide opening to his cavern, but seemed to echo from the ceiling. He scrambled to his feet and, fitting his claws into thin cracks and fissures in the wall, pressed his ear against the rock arching overhead. "This batch must be delivered by dusk tomorrow. Do you understand?" he heard Cosmic's voice, usually dulcet and smooth, now rough and harsh. There was a muffled cry, then a metallic rattling. "Keep them silent. Gag them if you must, but keep them quiet. Someone will investigate crying hatchlings." Aeron gulped, his mouth suddenly dry. "I understand, Cosmic." This was a different, unknown voice. "Good. Perhaps this delivery will be more to your clan leader's taste. I understand child slaves are so much easier to train. A pity about the last set. Such a waste." The metallic noise was repeated, and this time Aeron could hear what sounded like a sob, followed by a ringing slap. The sob was silenced, then reappeared as a faint whimper. Aeron threw himself away from his precarious perch and pelted out of the doorway. "Where does Cosmic live?" he bellowed at the first dragon he saw, a female who sat running a freshly-forged spearhead over a whetstone. She glanced up at him, her eyes sparking. "Why should I help you find him, [i]exalter[/i]?" she asked, spitting the last word at him like a curse. Even though he was small compared to Cosmic, Aeron was still an Imperial, capable of dwarfing nearly any other dragon. With a roar Aeron grasped her by the shoulders and shook her. "He is doing something dark and twisted and you insist on insulting me?! WHERE IS HE?!?" The dragon stared at him, then simply extended a claw. Aeron released his grasp and let the dragon slide to the rocky floor. Aeron galloped through the twisting tubes of the Taloncry cavern lair, his feet pounding against the rocky floor. Cave after cave blinked past, firelight spilling out from within and casting long shadows against the glassy obsidian walls. Finally his breath gave out and he halted, his sides heaving. He heard the sound again, the rattling of chains now clear amongst the metallic clattering. He proceeded, now creeping silently, his ears tuned to the smallest sound. Then, a light bloomed out into the corridor. "Take them. Now!" Aeron threw himself into the chamber. A strange dragon, her eyes red and unblinking, clutched an iron cage in her back claws, four tiny Fae hatchlings trapped within. Cosmic glanced up, his claws busy fastening iron chains to her legs and the cage. "Go!" he shouted, as the dragon launched herself into the air. She faltered for a moment, then shot up a chimney-like tube concealed in the darkness of the ceiling. "No!" shouted Aeron, reaching for the cage. His claws nearly clasped the iron bars before Cosmic caught his wing. "Now, now, old friend. Can't be disrupting my business." Aeron could only watch helplessly as the massive dragon held him captive, watch the four sets of orange eyes disappear into the darkness. Watch his missing hatchlings be stolen away. "Your own clan, Cosmic." Aeron spat, struggling to be free and gasping as Cosmic squeezed him in his powerful embrace, forcing the air from his lungs. "Your own clan's hatchlings, sold into slavery!" Cosmic chuckled, then gave another squeeze. Aeron felt several of his ribs groan, perhaps snap. Then, the pressure released as Cosmic released him. Aeron slid to the floor, helpless. "You'll never be able to prove it, [i]exalter[/i]." With a final laugh, he swept out of the chamber. Aeron gasped in pain, tears streaming from his eyes in agony and despair. Cosmic was right. No one would believe him. Not yet, at least. [/quote] [code]Lore by: [url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/art/1532188/1]Hatterlet[/url][/code]

hatterlet

1860

February 22, 2016 20:11:55

@QuickSilvr

Okay, as promised, it's finally done! I hope this works for you!

Quote:

Aeron

Where were they?

Aeron clutched at his mane, his claws tangling in the dark fur. Piles of scrolls lay scattered about him, broken bits of wax seals and ribbon ties dripping from the parchment. He grasped at a random scroll, unfurling it and tearing it in his haste. Four hatchlings, destined for exaltation, due to be escorted to the Lightweaver. Gone. He groaned.

Cosmic would have never lost a clutch of hatchlings. He could hear their voices. The golden Imperial, his shining mane glittering in the bright sun, admired in clans of all flights.

"You should have let me take care of it," he would assure his adoring crowd. "Besides, the poor dears would be much better off, adopted into loving homes, learning the mysteries of all eleven flights. Instead you trust your children to that charlatan, send them off to be 'exalted' to some 'god'. Aeron could be doing anything with them." Aeron could feel their eyes boring into him, their minds filled with Cosmic's honeyed voice, his reassuring size and bulk a bulwark against any disbelief. Aeron, small and insignificant beside the golden glory of Cosmic, could not compare.

The heat around him was oppressive, and Aeron panted as he sifted through the pile of parchment. His cavern chamber was the warmest in the Taloncry clan, a special cave reserved for visitors and emissaries. It was a blessing for most Fire dragons, accustomed to extreme warmth but Aeron, used to the light breezes of his home in the Windswept Plateau, simply suffered. He twitched a bit of paper aside and was startled as it burst into flame. He jumped and batted at it ineffectually, watching as the delicate scroll disappeared into ash.

"I HATE this place!" he cried, planting one foot into the pile of soot. His voice echoed in the chamber, wrapping around his head and battering his ears. To his surprise, though, as his voice faded away it was replaced by another.

"Be careful with these - " he heard, before it disappeared. The never ending ringing of the hammers and forges swept back in, resuming their rhythmic pounding that had momentarily ceased at his exclamation and drowning out the distant but familiar voice.

"Cosmic?" Aeron murmured, perplexed. The voice had not come from the wide opening to his cavern, but seemed to echo from the ceiling. He scrambled to his feet and, fitting his claws into thin cracks and fissures in the wall, pressed his ear against the rock arching overhead.

"This batch must be delivered by dusk tomorrow. Do you understand?" he heard Cosmic's voice, usually dulcet and smooth, now rough and harsh. There was a muffled cry, then a metallic rattling. "Keep them silent. Gag them if you must, but keep them quiet. Someone will investigate crying hatchlings." Aeron gulped, his mouth suddenly dry.

"I understand, Cosmic." This was a different, unknown voice.

"Good. Perhaps this delivery will be more to your clan leader's taste. I understand child slaves are so much easier to train. A pity about the last set. Such a waste."

The metallic noise was repeated, and this time Aeron could hear what sounded like a sob, followed by a ringing slap. The sob was silenced, then reappeared as a faint whimper. Aeron threw himself away from his precarious perch and pelted out of the doorway.

"Where does Cosmic live?" he bellowed at the first dragon he saw, a female who sat running a freshly-forged spearhead over a whetstone. She glanced up at him, her eyes sparking.

"Why should I help you find him, exalter?" she asked, spitting the last word at him like a curse. Even though he was small compared to Cosmic, Aeron was still an Imperial, capable of dwarfing nearly any other dragon. With a roar Aeron grasped her by the shoulders and shook her.

"He is doing something dark and twisted and you insist on insulting me?! WHERE IS HE?!?" The dragon stared at him, then simply extended a claw. Aeron released his grasp and let the dragon slide to the rocky floor.

Aeron galloped through the twisting tubes of the Taloncry cavern lair, his feet pounding against the rocky floor. Cave after cave blinked past, firelight spilling out from within and casting long shadows against the glassy obsidian walls. Finally his breath gave out and he halted, his sides heaving. He heard the sound again, the rattling of chains now clear amongst the metallic clattering. He proceeded, now creeping silently, his ears tuned to the smallest sound. Then, a light bloomed out into the corridor.

"Take them. Now!" Aeron threw himself into the chamber. A strange dragon, her eyes red and unblinking, clutched an iron cage in her back claws, four tiny Fae hatchlings trapped within. Cosmic glanced up, his claws busy fastening iron chains to her legs and the cage. "Go!" he shouted, as the dragon launched herself into the air. She faltered for a moment, then shot up a chimney-like tube concealed in the darkness of the ceiling.

"No!" shouted Aeron, reaching for the cage. His claws nearly clasped the iron bars before Cosmic caught his wing.

"Now, now, old friend. Can't be disrupting my business." Aeron could only watch helplessly as the massive dragon held him captive, watch the four sets of orange eyes disappear into the darkness. Watch his missing hatchlings be stolen away.

"Your own clan, Cosmic." Aeron spat, struggling to be free and gasping as Cosmic squeezed him in his powerful embrace, forcing the air from his lungs. "Your own clan's hatchlings, sold into slavery!"

Cosmic chuckled, then gave another squeeze. Aeron felt several of his ribs groan, perhaps snap. Then, the pressure released as Cosmic released him. Aeron slid to the floor, helpless.

"You'll never be able to prove it, exalter." With a final laugh, he swept out of the chamber.

Aeron gasped in pain, tears streaming from his eyes in agony and despair. Cosmic was right. No one would believe him. Not yet, at least.

Code:

Lore by: [url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/art/1532188/1]Hatterlet[/url]

@Hatterlet Wow, I think that's my favourite one yet! Are you up to do another one for me? [s]I swear you know my lore better than me at this point XD[/s] edit: it would probably be this girl: You can read her bio to see if you'd be inspired to do something up for her. Probably a slice of life story, but whether it was before or after she came to the clan, your choice. [url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=3813778] [img]http://flightrising.com/rendern/350/38138/3813778_350.png[/img] [/url]

StoriesInTheWind

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February 22, 2016 21:50:31

@Hatterlet

Wow, I think that's my favourite one yet! Are you up to do another one for me?
~~I swear you know my lore better than me at this point XD~~

edit:
it would probably be this girl: You can read her bio to see if you'd be inspired to do something up for her. Probably a slice of life story, but whether it was before or after she came to the clan, your choice.

Last edited on Feb 22, 2016 22:08:53 by StoriesInTheWind

@QuickSilvr

I like your lore! It's very intricate, and I enjoy all the interesting relationships and interactions.

Thalassa looks like a lot of fun. Do her pirates actually exist somewhere, with names and breeds to refer to, or do they only exist in lore?

hatterlet

1860

February 23, 2016 06:14:43

@QuickSilvr

I like your lore! It's very intricate, and I enjoy all the interesting relationships and interactions.

Thalassa looks like a lot of fun. Do her pirates actually exist somewhere, with names and breeds to refer to, or do they only exist in lore?

@hatterlet
will you write bio for a dragon that without any personality or background info? /w\

Kiryo

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February 23, 2016 06:34:46

@hatterlet
will you write bio for a dragon that without any personality or background info? /w\

@Kiryo

I have written for dragons with no information in the past, but it is very subjective and I can't promise how close it will be to your clan lore. Which dragon are you interested in me writing for, and I can take a look and let you know?

hatterlet