Examples
One of Khepri’s first memories, as she recalls it, is watching Spitfire race across the sky, carrying goods for dragons far beyond lands she thought she’d ever see. When she asked questions about the dragon high above their heads, her clan mates told her Spitfire was a courier- carrying food and supplies to clans further from marketplaces than most, and that the three Couriers of Sornieth had great speed and great stamina.
Once Khepri’s wings grew to fit her body, there was little her clan mates could do to stop her taking to the air, and so they learned to use this to their advantage. If a dragon was out hunting or scavenging, they’d have her take important messages to them. When a dragon was holed up in their dens, she’d bring them food from the hoard. When a dragon was shopping in the auction house, they’d have her fly the list to them.
Even on the ground she wasn’t slow moving by any means, challenging others to races day in and day out. Perhaps, even, someday she could challenge Sornieth’s Couriers to a race- but for now she’s the clan’s courier, moving what needs to be moved when and how it needs moved.
Refuge’s den is calming, a small stream runs through the far end of the small cavern she’s made home, and minnows dance in the flow of the water- providing snacks and entertainment. Small flames also hover in various areas around the room, hovering near the ceiling and dripping wax on the floor. Small succulents line the ledges, flowering slowly and letting their vibrant petals drink in the sun rushing in through a small window in the opposite wall.
Perhaps it’s all of these factors, along with the soft grass mats on the floor, that make Refuge’s den so calming to Xol, and why she can often be found there- silent and thinking or maybe even partway through a boardgame with Refuge.
In fact, since Xol arrived she’s refused to sleep anywhere else, and as much as Refuge loves her wildclaw friend there are times where she’d like her room to herself. Which is why, unbeknownst to Xol, Refuge is building a den similiar to her own for the Wildclaw. A small spring houses several Guppies in the center of the small cave, and ornamental bushes line the walls. Grass mats are scattered around the room, and Refuge is working on finding her friends favorite candle scent. Soon, she hopes, the room will be done- and she’s sure Xol will love it.
The oranges. They're coming.
I hereby record all instances of hilarity and other shenanigans in the scroll tied to her face. Times and dates will be synced to Sornieth time.
December 30th 18:53
'Twas her turn in battle
Mulling it over in her head
The tundra decided it was high time
To scratch the enemy in the face
As her two trainers witnessed in gloom
The damage done
It was only one
The harpy chortled with glee
Her trainers looked over
they inquired as to what pitiful hit that was
Being a tundra she looked at them confused
And said only 'What was what? Did you say my name?'
December 30, 19:06
Away from the roost
Into the Mire
They sit among the gnarled trees
From the brush emerge croakers
Hit magically by 2
The mighty tundra fell
Her companion said to the other
'Don't look now, but I think she's dead'
December 30, 19:16
Out of the murk appeared a Wartoad. Her trainers C and LS told her to keep out of the way, the wartoad managed to sneak in a turn and aimed for the tundra. Having been distracted by a pillbug, the blow was dodged. "Nice one" came a call from LS. The tundra looked over and she said 'What? I was distracted by a pillbug. Hey, where'd the wartoad come from?'
December 30, 20:00
Oh no, shes done it. She's found the Baldwin goos. We found her in the hoard covered in all sorts of colors, from red to purple. It was like a disorganized forgetful rainbow. That was also furry. She looked us straight in the eye, while glowing, and said I am a master of stealth. A dragon that mentioned the incident to her later got confused stares. Evidently she's more forgetful that the average tundra.
December 31, 7:00
Her fur still glows, we don't know when it'll wear off. The hatchlings are all fascinated and are searching for the Baldwin materiaks so they can glow. We've hidden the materials. The leader has started to suspect something has haopened. The tundra is now obsessed with oranges. Oranges are everywhere. Everywhere she goes the citrus smell follows. Only 1 has remained safe, an orange named Bob. She refuses to eat Bob and has drawn a face on his side. We may have to stage an intervention.
December 31, 7:04
Bob has been eaten by the tundra. Apparently Bob bit a hatchling, the hatchling claims she merely tripped over him. Oranges are now the enemy, the tundra has started attempting to build an army to fight the oranges. She now makes aggressive duck noises at every orange she sees. There are still many oranges.
January 1, 16:48
She's a very distracted little girl, but may turn out to be a decent battler. If we can get her to stop eating **** bugs in harpy's roost. She also seems to have developed a love for Clouddancer pelts.
Aolkien is a dragon that belongs to Moonlace, and I only did the part shown below his image here.
Aolkien trudged through the snow that had fallen into the Windsinger's realm. The other hunters in his clan weren't used to snow like he was, and had little luck hunting. However he, even being a tundra who's usual diet was plants, could just as easily find other types of food for his clan. This skill lead to his current position as head hunter.
Aolkien sniffed the air, recognizing the fresh scent of elk. The carnivores of his clan would eat well today. He followed the smell and extra sense his second creator that the tundra herself gifted him with. Saying a quick prayer to both the Icewarden and the mighty Tundra he continued with his hunt.
It was a short time between his prayer and his discovery of the tracks, which made the hunt significantly easier for him. He was grateful, the sooner the food came the sooner his clan could eat. He followed the tracks into a forest, molded and shaped into graceful twists by the winds that blew through this area of Sornieth.
As the smell of the large beast became stronger, so did his senses. He became more alert and more aware, ready to fell the elk as food for his clan. No part would be wasted, no that was not the way of his clan, not the way.
Up ahead several branches snapped, and a startled noise was heard. Aolkien crouched low into the snow, the head of his wolf cape hidden. It would do no good to scare the elf this close, not that it would cause to much trouble for him. He sucked toward the noise, and came upon a huge beast with a rack of antlers beyond the size of any other he'd seen. The elk laid eyes on him, and deeming Aolkien harmless to him let out a snort before continuing its meal. This was an advantage to Aolkien, who strode casually closer.
Soon, he told himself
but not too soon. It would do only the elk any good if I sprang too early. The manner of walk he used to approach the elk was one that showed no threat to the beast. After he came within a foot of the elk, he felled in one swoop. It was best that way, save the elk any pain and take it out quickly.
As soon as the elk was dead he pulled out a rope, making a harness out of it and tying the elks legs together. He began to pull the creature back to his clan. His clan leader would be proud, oh yes, but so would the tundra. She would be proud of her child, bringing down such a beast with so much skill. He whispered a thanks to the wind, grateful for the skills the tundra gave him as a dragon. Grateful for these skills that helped him feed his clan.
