Creative Corner

Gem-head lol.
Awesome! Coatl!
Altho, I have to say, any time a mysterious black Coatl shows up, I think of @Pasafatu's Lovecraftian lore....
(They're not online in general right now, b/c thesis.)
I AM REALLY EXCITED TO HEAR ABOUT THESE MAREN AND THIS COATL.

@Willowoak
Gembrow.
And Guardians are Shieldwings.
And Coatls are Hummers.
I haven't decided on the others.
Any suggestions? XD

@Moonlitmage Oh, Gembrow that sounds much more sensible. "Imitations" for Nocturnes, maybe?

Chapter 58: In His Memory [item=silver filigree tail guard][item=Enchanted Candle][item=ashfall bat][item=opheodrys serthis][item=Berserker] @VoxxVoleur @Leopardmask @luckgandor @Ximena @Galaxy99 @tigressRising @Ezmara @Solaristigres @Violetah @Willowoak @CatsAndMaths @Silverhame @Netshy @magykalwagykal @Petall ((So I had plans for the familiar draw this post. But the Death Streak for this post put that right out the window. Isn't Armona a cute little Fae girl, though? I'm really upset about the change to this post, though. It was supposed to be happier.)) One day, when they paused to rest, Absinthe sat on something that made her shout and leap up, her feathers all ruffled. Elanee roared with laughter as Kesi went to investigate what had made her Charge behave so oddly. [color=#36B507]"Stop laughing, Ela!"[/color] Absinthe commanded, rubbing her back leg. [color=#36B507]"It smarted!"[/color] [color=#60AB6D]"And no wonder,"[/color] Kesi said, turning back to her companions. [color=#60AB6D]"Look."[/color] She held up an orb that sparkled--no, it didn't sparkle, it just [i]sparked/[/i]. And it wasn't an orb, but an oblong, pale blue and almost see-through, or it seemed to be. Fascinated, Absinthe leaned down to focus her senses on the small thing. While there had been a nest after the one she herself had hatched from, she had never gotten a close look at a dragon egg. She thought, perhaps, she could feel a faint presence there, like someone was sleeping, but far away. As she peered at it, she thought she felt the presence stir, but she couldn't be sure, it was too faint. [color=#36B507]"Well, we'll have to take it home, won't we?"[/color] Absinthe decided, pleased. She glanced up at Kesi and added [color=#36B507]"Doesn't that sting? It stung me."[/color] [color=#60AB6D]"It does, actually,"[/color] the Guardian replied with a grimace, and tucked the egg gently into her bag. [color=#60AB6D]"That's a little better."[/color] [color=#623BFF]"Straight back, then?"[/color] Elanee asked, standing and stretching. [color=#36B507]"I don't want to risk it getting broken if we run into something hostile,"[/color] Absinthe agreed. They were greeted coolly upon their return, though the egg did garner some interest. How could they have forgotten? Tyrion's death was still fresh in everyone's minds. No one was sure what had happened. He had been vital and healthy one day, and simply hadn't woken up the next. No sign of illness or poison or injury. He was just dead. They had buried him less than a week ago. When Altan called a conference to decide who would raise the egg, he was met with a weary silence. He suggested that Absinthe do it, being the one who had found it, but she refused. [color=#36B507]"I have too much work to do yet for eggs, Clan Leader,"[/color] she told him. Kyndall hummed something that sounded sharp, and Absinthe hummed back, but neither interpreted for the Clan. Bentar, a slight smile on his face for what the others couldn't understand, stepped forward. [color=#004A14]"I will hatch it, Clan Leader,"[/color] the Fire dragon rumbled. [color=#004A14]"Tyrion was an adopted egg, and he would have adopted this one, were he still here. I will do so in his memory."[/color] Thus it was decided and Bentar built a Lightning-esque nest in one of the bare spots in the nesting grounds. An adorable little Fae girl hatched not two days later, and Bentar let Absinthe observe the waking of the dormant egg. [color=#004A14]"Perhaps you will want eggs soon after all?"[/color] Bentar asked, smiling down at his new daughter. He glanced up at Absinthe, the only other observer of the hatching. [color=#004A14]"After all, you seem fascinated. And Kyndall seemed to object to your refusal."[/color] [color=#36B507]"He objected to my 'heartlessness',"[/color] she replied, her crest rippling in embarrassment. [color=#36B507]"As you well know. But it wasn't heartless. When I have eggs of my own, I don't want to be running all over the territory every day. I want them to [i]know[/i] me. I don't want to be distant to them."[/color] [color=#004A14]"Perhaps you should start training an apprentice, then,"[/color] Bentar suggested gently. [color=#004A14]"Then the two of you--or more, if you wished--could take turns visiting your contacts. Give you some time off."[/color] [color=#36B507]"Maybe I will,"[/color] Absinthe replied, half thoughtful, half defiant. Certainly it was something to think about. Armona's coming of age gift was most of a set of fine silver-and-green armor from her father. It and Armona's own cheerful personality helped cheer the Clan out of its funk.

@Moonlitmage Absinthe falling for the mysterious stranger Kyndall? And Kyndall also taking an interest in her? I smell romance~ Though the curse might make things complicated... At least neither of them are Nocturnes?

@Moonlitmage
Here's a few ideas that just came off the top of my head. I'm also trying to come up with things that are different from what Selk uses, since he's a different species and all.
Nocturne - Mimic
Fae - Tiny One
Tundra - Floof Fur-bearer?
Snapper - Traveler, Crush-jaw
Spiral - Skyloop
Ridgeback - I kind of don't think they'd have a word, since Ridgebacks avoid water and all. Maybe Dryscales or something.
Wildclaw - Clawfoot or Spearfoot

And what Selk has used/would use, if you want to hear it:
Skydancer - Dancer
Guardian - Guard Dragon (comes from the Beastclan note scraps)
Tundra - Fluffy One (granted he's only known one Tundra)
Any "giant" breed - Large One

@leopardmask
I really like Skyloop and Clawfoot for Spiral and Wildclaw. And while, yes, Ridgies avoid water, there are Water Ridgies. So I think that Ridgies would be to Maren what Bigfoot is to humans....only real. XD

As for Serthis, Ilon knows Draconic well enough (and has taught it to Cori well enough, and is working on Yoras, who still mostly speaks Serthi and lets Ilon translate) that he uses the Draconic words for them, but in Serthi the words don't necissarily translate exactly. I hadn't decided what the direct translation in Serthi is for the dragon races. Thanks for the ideas!

Chapter 59: A Day in the Life (Vatrel) [item=Glowing Pocket Bauble][item=Everglade Hedgehog][item=granite chunk][item=Translucent Fins][item=ambush] @VoxxVoleur @Leopardmask @luckgandor @Ximena @Galaxy99 @tigressRising @Ezmara @Solaristigres @Violetah @Willowoak @CatsAndMaths @Silverhame @Netshy @magykalwagykal @Petall ((Somehow, this post got really long suddenly. Hope you guys like it.)) A gentle buzz woke Vatrel as his alarm stone vibrated against the stone of his bedside shelf. Luckymint had made the stones for any Clanmember that wanted them. He smiled at the thought of her, then stretched to let the dream-spirits that had visited him in the night lift from his body. They had been pleasant company while he slept, but dream-spirits and waking made for poor companions. He wondered sometimes if he should tell his Clanmates that not properly ridding themselves of dream-spirits was why they were sometimes stiff or groggy in the morning, but he doubted they would listen. He had realized at a young age that none of the Clan saw the world quite the way he did. He doubted most of them even believed in dream-spirits. How odd. Once they were away, he rose and tidied his bed, tapping the still-buzzing stone that was the only noise in his otherwise silent quarters. It went still, and he smiled again at the feel of Luckymint's magic against his paw. Though he was no mage, he could feel difference in the magics of the wielders of the Clan. It was another thing that seemed strange about him. He blinked as he noticed a vase next to the alarm stone, with a single flower in it, the same color as the edges of his wings, a deep blue, as unnatural a color in the Plaguelands as could possibly be had. Well, that was a first. He had found little gifts from someone now and then: a chocolate, a broad leaf filled with his favorite foods, the tome that he wore now and wrote his beliefs in (what some might call a grimoire). But he had never had one show up in his quarters, and certainly not while he had been asleep. And they [i]had[/i] to have come in while he was asleep, for the vase had not been there when he had gone to sleep the night before. Interesting. He shrugged and sniffed the flower while resisting the urge to eat it immediately. It smelled pleasant enough, he supposed. Certainly it made him hungry. But then, it was past breakfast time. Without a word, he made his way to the Mess Hall. No one else was awake yet, though he suspected that Lemsiel had yet to go to sleep. She usually came into the Mess for a pre-sleep snack just as he was finishing his preparations for the day. He set to work, making not one dish, but thirteen. The largest was all plants, obviously his. The others varied widely, and were much smaller, the size that would be appropriate for a hatchling, or perhaps a large Fae. One was meat, which made him crinkle his nose, but he knew someone who would appreciate it. The eleven small dishes he stacked on a special carrying rig. His own he tied by the long ends of its leaf-bag. Sure enough, just as Vatrel started for the door, a weary-looking Lemsiel stumbled in. Her face lit up at the plate on the counter, and Vatrel smiled as he walked out, hearing her wolf down the food. That brought his smile tally up to four so far, and his mysteries at only one. A good start. He carefully walked through the still empty halls, not spilling or jostling the food. To his utter surprise (and it nearly made him jump and spill the food), a large Ragamouse zipped down the hall, right between his legs and away. He would have to remind his father that his many pets wandering around the Lair was not necessarily a good thing. Odd, though, Viruk usually kept a better eye on them. He rarely left them loose. Mysteries to two, then. He moved to the Infirmary, and from there to the Ritual Room and from there, down a short hall to a door carved with an image of the Pillar of the Eleven. He pressed his nose to it and it swung open before him, only to swing shut again as he passed. He eased the carrying frame off of him and set his meal down in the center of the broad, long room the door had revealed. Eleven deep alcoves were carved in the far wall of the room. The Plaguebringer's was the largest, and directly across from the door. On the left was then Arcane, Fire, Lightning, Light and Nature. To the right were Earth, Ice, Shadow, Wind and Water. Each was simply carved with the symbol of the given flight, and a statue was carved from the rock, simple but recognizable as the god associated with that flight. At the feet of each statue was a bedroom, with a small (relative to Vatrel) bed, table, bookshelf, desk and chair, and a screen that could be pulled across for privacy. Six of the screens were pulled closed. The other five bedrooms were empty and clean. Before each alcove (and therefore bedroom) was a small table. All had articles upon them, though the Light table had the least. It looked as if his friends were not awake yet. Good, that was his preference. He laid each of his prepared dishes upon one of the tables. The smell seemed to rouse the occupants of the closed bedrooms, and the screens slowly peeled back. Each meal he had prepared was a traditional breakfast for dragons of each elemental region, from bright and fluffy scrambled grouse basilisk eggs with kippers of the Lightlands to the thick, almost soup-like butter tea that Icelanders preferred. Since learning to make it from Kyndall, Vatrel had developed a taste for it. Before that, he had made stew for the Ice shrine, not knowing what else an Icelander might like. He always like learning about the other cultures, and how to honor the spirit of the people who lived in different elemental lands. It was one way to honor the land itself. The Plague shrine was the first to open, and from it stepped a two-legged creature with scales on arms and legs, and bone plates on tail and face and sharp claws on his hands. He stood at his table and simply watched as Vatrel set the other plates down. Vatrel did him and his Lady the honor of being given the first plate, and so (or so Vatrel believed, the goblin didn't talk overmuch) Sahana did [i]Vatrel[/i] the honor of not tearing into his food as soon as it was set down, despite his natural proclivities. Next was Ivar, all golden fur and round horns. He, too, stood quietly at his table. Next was a deep red goblin, flames flickering on his back and tail and a black goblin with silvery horns and ribbed tail, little lighting bolts jumping idly from one hand to the other as he lazily dipped his hand into a bowl of date palms and nibbled one. Kayts was one of the few that gave Vatrel little respect. Of course, he did not respect his fellows much either, and he smirked at his blazing neighbor, Zjarr. A brilliantly pink goblin, with stars in his mane, came up between Zjarr and Sahana, Pulakita waited, glancing to the last closed screen. That one was new, Vatrel noted. At last, an earthy, rocky goblin emerged, dipping his head at the offering before him. All dishes laid, he returned to where his own meal, half his usual serving, sat on the floor before the Plague table. Like the shrine, it was the largest of the eleven. [color=#9E4949]"Please,"[/color] Sahana rasped, his voice rough and deep, [color=#9E4949]"Share my table."[/color] Every morning, Vatrel sat on the floor. Every morning, Sahana offered him the use of the table. Vatrel would not have assumed such an honor without being asked. It was honor enough to serve these servitors, these elemental spirits of the gods he knew watched over the world. With a smile, he moved his leaf-tray up to the table. Only then did the other goblins begin to eat, including the new one, who seemed to be taking his cue from the majority. Several weeks after the most recent holiday, ever since Ivar arrived with Bentar, one of the goblins had arrived. The first few had found him outside the lair. The others, though, seemed to contact their fellows and found their way inside without his help. This newest fellow, for instance, had certainly not been here yesterday. Vatrel would have seen him. [color=#BD8737]"This is Jiniye,"[/color] Ivar piped up when he noticed Vatrel watching the newcomer, his voice the clarion call of horns or bells.. [color=#BD8737]"He came in last night. He was quite tired, so we gave him the reserved bed."[/color] [color=#0E4599]"A pleasure to meet you, Jiniye,"[/color] Vatrel welcomed him solemnly. The pebbly goblin only nodded and continued to eat the food Vatrel had made for him. Vatrel shrugged and continued eating his own breakfast. Sometimes it took newcomers several days to say anything. [color=#694729]"Why do you make food for those not yet come?"[/color] asked a voice that sounded like smooth rocks rubbing against each other. Vatrel looked up at the new goblin (he knew all the other voices, so it must be the new one) and finished his mouthful. [color=#0E4599]"And if I had not made breakfast for those I did not [i]know[/i] were here,"[/color] the Tundra began slowly, [color=#0E4599]"Then there would be no breakfast for you, would there? Besides, I enjoy the leftovers."[/color] Having said that, Vatrel got up and went to each of the non-attended shrines, bowed respectfully and ate the small breakfast left there. That done, he then bowed respectfully to each attended shrine, ending back where he had begun, at the Plague shrine. As he bowed before each goblin, they bowed back to him, even Jiniye and Kayts. He gathered up the dirty dishes in silence, replaced them on his carry rack and paused. The goblins streamed out around him, bound to their various pursuits of the day. Vatrel bowed one last time to the statue of the Plaguebringer before he left. [color=#0E4599]"I know it is not your way, great one,"[/color] he told her, [color=#0E4599]"but I wish you and your siblings peace for the day."[/color] He returned to the Mess Hall, where Elanee was washing up from her own cooking for the Clan. How she had turned into the chef Vatrel wasn't sure, but he had to admit she was good at it. She took his dishes with a grunt as he slotted his carry rack into its storage space. A satchel in dark green was waiting for him on the counter and he took it with a polite thanks and left Elanee to her kitchen. Time for the rest of his day. What were his tallies? Five to two. Not so good. He left the Lair quietly, alone. It was against policy, but like much in his life, his Clanmates wouldn't understand what he did now. Vatrel made his way to the air, powerful wings lifting his weight. He was certain he would find again what he had found before, and it would up his tally in a beneficial way. A decent flight brought him to an enclosed clearing, surrounded by a ring of sharp rocks that projected outward. The only way in was by flight. The rock edges would slice anyone who tried to climb them. In the small clearing, big enough for a medium sized dragon, but not for the larger breeds, was a nest, a few small implements, and a satchel. It was perfectly organized and tidy. Even the inside surfaces of the rocks had been washed so that no dirt was in evidence. He had never found the owner at home, but he left the contents of his own satchel in the nest. A packet of the alchemical weirdness that Ilon swore was food (it didn't taste too bad, just didn't have the flavor of actual food) in each flavor. It kept longer than true food in the wastes, and it was always gone when he came back. He wasn't sure what the occupant did with it, but he hoped it was eaten. Food was hard to come by in the wastes at times, especially without the backing of a Clan, and this dragon was clearly alone. Six to two was a much better ratio. He returned to the Lair for lunch and to spend time with his father's pets. He helped to keep them happy and well in his own way, tending their spirits as Viruk tended their bodies. That done, he went back to the shrines and lit incense and candles at each table, tidied the offerings and dusted everything. The goblins were all still out. He stayed there, praying and meditating, until the gentle chime that was dinner call went through the lair, and he returned to the Mess hall for the one meal he ate with the Clan. He sat between his father and Kesi, almost directly across the circle from Luckymint. That brought his ratio up again. When he had finished his meal, he listened to his Clanmates. There was always something being said. Absinthe had gone back to talk to the Centaurs again. Kesi had started elementally themed pocket gardens in addition to her memorial garden. Lemsiel thought she was making progress toward breaking the curse, which made the Curse Bearers happy. Vatrel noticed then that Zahira wasn't present. It wasn't unusual, but it only then occurred to Vatrel that she was likely in the cells with her mate, sharing dinner with him. Seven to two to one, then. Smiles to mysteries to sadness. Not good, again. Vatrel sighed and rose, always the first, and went to his bed. He tapped the alarm stone, and not even the feel of Luckymint's magic on his aura made him smile. He lit a stick of incense to curry favor with the dream-spirits, and settled down. He knew, though, as his eyes fluttered shut, that they would not be as good company tonight as they had been the night before.

Ooooh, more beastclan interactions! How many beastclans have been contacted now?

@Moonlitmage I love all the interspecies diplomacy happening! I wonder if Absinthe will ever get near the Talonok... By the way, I'm not sure if there's a typo or something or I'm just not getting it, but this phrase didn't make sense to me: [quote](how Lemsiel had enchanted the bag so that the plant would fit and not get crushed was being Lemsiel[/quote]