[center][size=0][size=0][size=0][size=0]@3idolon @thecell @kmrikkari @horseleech @sixcrows @mnkn10 @essayofthoughts @rosielin @reotheleo @wolfandcrow @stduke @shadowfire1223 @toxicsugar @vengeful @wolftrickster @scorpiontail @meilkor @persist @caathedral @yuubi @shadowpiper @spiderfrog15 @spore @twilitraven @arborpunk @probablyskeletor @roaringspector @foxghosts @tarantulove @teahorse @princessfirefly @cosmicfalcon @delotha @artemisaeternity @cartographic @wyldangel @wolfandcrow @featherfalls @noxextractum @frankenfood @kalicokat @godofmesses @validemotions @cinamonpizza @kwozmotis @dathomir @shadari @mnkn10 @sylvanlady @mako @firebirdsuite @clockworkeclipse @antisense @psittacidae @serpentineoracle @londor @bxy26 @inkfrog @fatbingo @levantera @elysifish @amezrou @finalflight @mothermalice @flyteofheart @sonjmir @tendervulture @adaejha @berceuse @ichorapotheosis @taejin @geist @rampant[/size][/size][/size][/size][/center]
[center][img]https://dl.dropboxusercontent.com/s/hp56gdizp19uqry/plaguetop.png[/img][/center]
[center][size=7][color=DarkRed][font=Californian FB][b]SPOTLIGHT[/b][/font][/color][/size][/center]
[center][color=DarkRed]_______________________[/color][/center]
[center][url=https://flightrising.com/main.php?p=lair&tab=userpage&id=191160][size=6][color=maroon]EssayOfThoughts'[/url][size=6][color=maroon] Parabola[/color][/size][/center]
[center][url=https://www1.flightrising.com/dragon/57619091][img]https://www1.flightrising.com/rendern/350/576191/57619091_350.png[/img][/url][/center]
[left][color=maroon]
Her left-side hip eye warns her first, catching a glimpse of movement. With a flick of her tail she angles more eyes towards it, and sees them. Plague Reavers, skittering down the skin of the bank, agile, nimble mirror forms dodging and darting around and over each other, quick as cats.
They've come to attack her again. She knows well [i]why[/i], with what she can do now and can hardly blame them. Few wish for plague to take them, after all.
Still. She herself, she Parabola, she does not wish to die. With nary a thought she flicks the plague that floats around her in their direction and they fall, coughing and choking. She steps with care around them.
She has a long way to go.
- - -
She knew she was going to fail the trials. Even with her eyes - so very many of them - she was never meant to even take the trials. She was waterborn, intended for a gentler, calmer apprenticeship, a scholarly study of seering and scrying.
Riddled with plague as she now is, she laughs. Not [i]seering[/i] after all but searing, something that burns through her veins and any she gets close to, a fire in opposition to the waters of her birth. She wonders if the Tidelord, where-ever he now is, is laughing at that.
She does not know who it was, the strange dragon that found her and drugged her and dragged her to the Wyrmwound. She just knows that it's because of them that she's this.
- - -
She rests, that night, beneath a blasted tree. It offers little shelter, but she has little care to give. Besides, it's not the tree that she wanted. There, in the little shelter it offers, where it's roots curl around flesh-soil and create a sore in the half-living ground of the Plaguelands, is a pool of dark, clear water. Parabola can see from surface to skin-soil beneath and no flakes from the fleshwinds mark the surface. Beneath the waters' skin eels twist, gulping down any insects that land on the surface.
Carefully, she reaches a claw out. Plague over her brow, water over her heart and then, clawtip gently touching, she etches an Eye onto the water's surface.
She watches, she waits.
In time she [i]sees[/i].
- - -
Every time she scries she sees the same thing. Every time she casts her mind out, sends all her eyes that she can to look not just at the world around them but at her [i]future[/i] she sees the same.
She has a long way to go, and she does not think her wings have the strength to carry her.
She knows, too, that she has no option but. This is what fate has chosen for her - these trials, that failure, this future. If she does not make it the weave of the whole world will be off...
Or will it? She supposes, too, that she is but one dragon. It is prideful - hubristic, even - to think the whole weave of the whole world might depend on her. So perhaps it will not be off. Perhaps it will simply be different.
As it happens, she'd like to see what the weave of the world is like with her still in it.
- - -
There is an eel in the pool of water she finds that evening - just the one, and a handful of it's squirming elvers, and she scoops them up in one claw, plucking them out of her palm one by one to devour.
It is little food she has eaten these past few days, though she knows with strange certainty that her appetite is changed, both less and more than once it was. At times she is furiously hungry, at others, she feels no hunger at all.
She supposes that whatever else the Plaguelands' strange ritual trials have done to her, this is one she can be certain of.
She suspects, when she has a chance, she ought spend some time scrying [i]within[/i]. She has no idea what other mutations it might have gifted her and as she has always thought: her eyes alone are enough. Anything more, she does not think she'd know how to deal with it.
- - -
Plague Reavers again, driving her off, but there's a Necromancer with these ones, casting her plague back and lacing it with something dark and terrible, a thorny mass within her own weave of water. For a moment it claws at her veins, tears at her, burrows through her body as though to sprout from her skin but it takes a moment and a moment only for her to twist her perspective, look at it with a different eye and to see how it works.
She adapts, taking on Shadow's perspective as well as Water's, as well as Plague's. She suspects, to survive, she is going to have to learn every last one of them, and Shade and Mimicry as well to boot.
Well. Mimicry she already does on her own, and she grins.
The plagues that twist out of her, that she laces into the spit she directs like a waterjet, are a sea-bramble, an urchin, an anemone, the stings of a million jellyfish.
The Necromancer stumbles and falls, the Reaver's rushing to their ally's side and Parabola rises, twisting her shoulders.
With two flaps of her wings she is gone, laughing as she goes.
She has, she knows, a very long way left to go.
[left][color=maroon]by EssayOfThoughts[/color][/left]
SPOTLIGHT
_______________________
Her left-side hip eye warns her first, catching a glimpse of movement. With a flick of her tail she angles more eyes towards it, and sees them. Plague Reavers, skittering down the skin of the bank, agile, nimble mirror forms dodging and darting around and over each other, quick as cats.
They've come to attack her again. She knows well why, with what she can do now and can hardly blame them. Few wish for plague to take them, after all.
Still. She herself, she Parabola, she does not wish to die. With nary a thought she flicks the plague that floats around her in their direction and they fall, coughing and choking. She steps with care around them.
She has a long way to go.
- - -
She knew she was going to fail the trials. Even with her eyes - so very many of them - she was never meant to even take the trials. She was waterborn, intended for a gentler, calmer apprenticeship, a scholarly study of seering and scrying.
Riddled with plague as she now is, she laughs. Not seering after all but searing, something that burns through her veins and any she gets close to, a fire in opposition to the waters of her birth. She wonders if the Tidelord, where-ever he now is, is laughing at that.
She does not know who it was, the strange dragon that found her and drugged her and dragged her to the Wyrmwound. She just knows that it's because of them that she's this.
- - -
She rests, that night, beneath a blasted tree. It offers little shelter, but she has little care to give. Besides, it's not the tree that she wanted. There, in the little shelter it offers, where it's roots curl around flesh-soil and create a sore in the half-living ground of the Plaguelands, is a pool of dark, clear water. Parabola can see from surface to skin-soil beneath and no flakes from the fleshwinds mark the surface. Beneath the waters' skin eels twist, gulping down any insects that land on the surface.
Carefully, she reaches a claw out. Plague over her brow, water over her heart and then, clawtip gently touching, she etches an Eye onto the water's surface.
She watches, she waits.
In time she sees.
- - -
Every time she scries she sees the same thing. Every time she casts her mind out, sends all her eyes that she can to look not just at the world around them but at her future she sees the same.
She has a long way to go, and she does not think her wings have the strength to carry her.
She knows, too, that she has no option but. This is what fate has chosen for her - these trials, that failure, this future. If she does not make it the weave of the whole world will be off...
Or will it? She supposes, too, that she is but one dragon. It is prideful - hubristic, even - to think the whole weave of the whole world might depend on her. So perhaps it will not be off. Perhaps it will simply be different.
As it happens, she'd like to see what the weave of the world is like with her still in it.
- - -
There is an eel in the pool of water she finds that evening - just the one, and a handful of it's squirming elvers, and she scoops them up in one claw, plucking them out of her palm one by one to devour.
It is little food she has eaten these past few days, though she knows with strange certainty that her appetite is changed, both less and more than once it was. At times she is furiously hungry, at others, she feels no hunger at all.
She supposes that whatever else the Plaguelands' strange ritual trials have done to her, this is one she can be certain of.
She suspects, when she has a chance, she ought spend some time scrying within. She has no idea what other mutations it might have gifted her and as she has always thought: her eyes alone are enough. Anything more, she does not think she'd know how to deal with it.
- - -
Plague Reavers again, driving her off, but there's a Necromancer with these ones, casting her plague back and lacing it with something dark and terrible, a thorny mass within her own weave of water. For a moment it claws at her veins, tears at her, burrows through her body as though to sprout from her skin but it takes a moment and a moment only for her to twist her perspective, look at it with a different eye and to see how it works.
She adapts, taking on Shadow's perspective as well as Water's, as well as Plague's. She suspects, to survive, she is going to have to learn every last one of them, and Shade and Mimicry as well to boot.
Well. Mimicry she already does on her own, and she grins.
The plagues that twist out of her, that she laces into the spit she directs like a waterjet, are a sea-bramble, an urchin, an anemone, the stings of a million jellyfish.
The Necromancer stumbles and falls, the Reaver's rushing to their ally's side and Parabola rises, twisting her shoulders.
With two flaps of her wings she is gone, laughing as she goes.
She has, she knows, a very long way left to go.
by EssayOfThoughts
@
Kava When you have time could you let me know which of my necros are in the pool for features? It's been an age and I want to add more but don't want to repeat submissions on you.
@
Kava When you have time could you let me know which of my necros are in the pool for features? It's been an age and I want to add more but don't want to repeat submissions on you.
@
Wyldangel Right now I have Guilt, Dyshidr, and Igraine. I'll also make a google doc soon, so that everyone can see, add, and remove their dragons freely, so hopefully that'll make it all work a bit smoother
@
Wyldangel Right now I have Guilt, Dyshidr, and Igraine. I'll also make a google doc soon, so that everyone can see, add, and remove their dragons freely, so hopefully that'll make it all work a bit smoother
@
Kava thanks! I'll message you about some others soon!
@
Kava thanks! I'll message you about some others soon!
[center][size=0][size=0][size=0][size=0][size=0]@3idolon @thecell @kmrikkari @horseleech @sixcrows @mnkn10 @essayofthoughts @rosielin @reotheleo @wolfandcrow @stduke @shadowfire1223 @toxicsugar @vengeful @wolftrickster @scorpiontail @meilkor @persist @caathedral @yuubi @shadowpiper @spiderfrog15 @spore @twilitraven @arborpunk @probablyskeletor @roaringspector @foxghosts @tarantulove @teahorse @princessfirefly @cosmicfalcon @delotha @artemisaeternity @cartographic @wyldangel @wolfandcrow @featherfalls @noxextractum @frankenfood @kalicokat @godofmesses @validemotions @cinamonpizza @kwozmotis @dathomir @shadari @mnkn10 @sylvanlady @mako @firebirdsuite @clockworkeclipse @antisense @psittacidae @serpentineoracle @londor @bxy26 @inkfrog @fatbingo @levantera @elysifish @amezrou @finalflight @clairedamercy @flyteofheart @sonjmir @tendervulture @adaejha @berceuse @ichorapotheosis @taejin @geist @mxferal[/size][/size][/size][/size][/size][/center]
[center][img]https://dl.dropboxusercontent.com/s/hp56gdizp19uqry/plaguetop.png[/img][/center]
[center][size=7][color=DarkRed][font=Californian FB][b]SPOTLIGHT[/b][/font][/color][/size][/center]
[center][color=DarkRed]_______________________[/color][/center]
[center][url=https://flightrising.com/main.php?p=lair&tab=userpage&id=466850][size=6][color=maroon]MxFeral's[/url][size=6][color=maroon] Dolion[/color][/size][/center]
[center][url=https://www1.flightrising.com/dragon/66921476][img]https://www1.flightrising.com/rendern/350/669215/66921476_350.png[/img][/url][/center]
[left][color=maroon]
[i]Many years ago[/i]
"You are by far the strangest creature I have ever seen. Are there more out their like you?"
Dolion, chained from his waist to his wings, stared eerily at the Carnage-Ichor sitting in front of his cell. He resisted the urge to growl at him.
[i]"...It speaks too much. Silence it!"[/i]
At the sound of the voice in his head, he immediately shifted to the side.
"...Ooh scary, tell me does it talk to you?" The Carnage asked, their face shifting to a smile that can only be called evil.
If the Carnage wanted his attention they now had it full force. Standing tall, he ignored the stinging sensation of the chain digging deeper into his flesh as he lunged at the cell doors, filling intending to burst through them. A loud bang sounded but the cell door didn't even budge and the foolish creature that was overseeing him was already in his face as if ready to take him on! To make matters worse, it was smirking like he was an idiot, like he wasn't someone who massacred an entire village for science.
[i]"...It needs to die..."[/i]
"When we get out of here, we'll kill you!" He whispered, murderously.
These creatures, these Carnage-Ichor are nothing but nuisances! He is sick and tired of them, especially this one.
"You have the blessed eyes of Plaguebringer. Powerful and unyielding like herself. I always wondered if necromancers possessed certain abilities with different eye types like us Ichor." They said before glaring deep into his own. Suddenly his body was spasming and twitching as a sudden flash of pain flared all throughout his nerves. He fell, hitting the floor hard with a thud and continued to seize as the harsh pain flood through him.
"Mines, while only Uncommon, allows me to test your pain tolerance or in your case intolerance, heh. If I wanted to I could leave you whethering here for hours in the most imaginable pain." Suddenly the pain stopped and the Carnage stepped away from his cell with a deep dramatic sigh.
"But I won't, why? Because I'm not your enemy."
Gritting his teeth as Dolion quickly gathered his bearings and scrambled into a sitting position as the Carnage continued to talk. He spoke but it wasn't his voice only his partner's. "What do you want from us?"
As if waiting for this moment it gave him a grin before grabbing the bars to his cell. His bright red coat flickered black for moment, making Dolion wonder if his eyes were playing tricks on him.
"Nothing yet but how would you feel about getting out of this cell, Dolion?"
Now it was his turn to grin. "...Were listening, Asura..."
[left][color=maroon]by MxFeral[/color][/left]
[color=maroon]Dragons mentioned: [url=https://www1.flightrising.com/dragon/60768216][color=maroon]Asura[/url][/color]
SPOTLIGHT
_______________________
Many years ago
"You are by far the strangest creature I have ever seen. Are there more out their like you?"
Dolion, chained from his waist to his wings, stared eerily at the Carnage-Ichor sitting in front of his cell. He resisted the urge to growl at him.
"...It speaks too much. Silence it!"
At the sound of the voice in his head, he immediately shifted to the side.
"...Ooh scary, tell me does it talk to you?" The Carnage asked, their face shifting to a smile that can only be called evil.
If the Carnage wanted his attention they now had it full force. Standing tall, he ignored the stinging sensation of the chain digging deeper into his flesh as he lunged at the cell doors, filling intending to burst through them. A loud bang sounded but the cell door didn't even budge and the foolish creature that was overseeing him was already in his face as if ready to take him on! To make matters worse, it was smirking like he was an idiot, like he wasn't someone who massacred an entire village for science.
"...It needs to die..."
"When we get out of here, we'll kill you!" He whispered, murderously.
These creatures, these Carnage-Ichor are nothing but nuisances! He is sick and tired of them, especially this one.
"You have the blessed eyes of Plaguebringer. Powerful and unyielding like herself. I always wondered if necromancers possessed certain abilities with different eye types like us Ichor." They said before glaring deep into his own. Suddenly his body was spasming and twitching as a sudden flash of pain flared all throughout his nerves. He fell, hitting the floor hard with a thud and continued to seize as the harsh pain flood through him.
"Mines, while only Uncommon, allows me to test your pain tolerance or in your case intolerance, heh. If I wanted to I could leave you whethering here for hours in the most imaginable pain." Suddenly the pain stopped and the Carnage stepped away from his cell with a deep dramatic sigh.
"But I won't, why? Because I'm not your enemy."
Gritting his teeth as Dolion quickly gathered his bearings and scrambled into a sitting position as the Carnage continued to talk. He spoke but it wasn't his voice only his partner's. "What do you want from us?"
As if waiting for this moment it gave him a grin before grabbing the bars to his cell. His bright red coat flickered black for moment, making Dolion wonder if his eyes were playing tricks on him.
"Nothing yet but how would you feel about getting out of this cell, Dolion?"
Now it was his turn to grin. "...Were listening, Asura..."
by MxFeral
Dragons mentioned: Asura
@
Kava
Hi I have a
few several Necros/variants to add to the Spotlight pool:
Hereditary, TaiFeng, Tumang, Actaea, Seren, and Vagori
Thanks!
@
Kava
Hi I have a
few several Necros/variants to add to the Spotlight pool:
Hereditary, TaiFeng, Tumang, Actaea, Seren, and Vagori
Thanks!
@
Kava THANK YOU
Edit: It seems to still be private/you shared your link and not a sharing link?
@
Kava THANK YOU
Edit: It seems to still be private/you shared your link and not a sharing link?
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No one can live your life for you. That means they can't tell you who you are - what you are - either. Question others. Question yourself. Come to your own conclusions.
??? Pronouns. UK Time.
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@
EssayOfThoughts Aa, thanks! I changed it to public, it should be working right now
@
EssayOfThoughts Aa, thanks! I changed it to public, it should be working right now