Creative Corner

4505

October 16, 2020 06:34:25

Please don't ping me, I'm subbed.

Paused for now so I can work on commissions(don't worry, I'll catch up on everyone who signed up... eventually. If i skip you by accident, just post again.)

All you need to do is:
1. Use the form
2. Send a link/image to your dragon
3. Add anything you have in mind for them(pointers, stuff to/not to include, relationships with others if possible)

Credit unnecessary but appreciated, as are tips. (If you're feeling generous, however, please give me some gems... I spent them all on his dumb butt...

Form:

Quote:

1. Username
2. Dragon BBCode
3. Notes?

Done:

One day, will these too become but distant memories?
. . .
Yes, in the blink of an eye.

Last edited on Apr 12, 2021 14:03:35 by Coincidence

@Coincidence any of these plsss?? [url=https://www1.flightrising.com/dragon/15006155][img]https://www1.flightrising.com/rendern/350/150062/15006155_350.png[/img][/url] [url=https://www1.flightrising.com/dragon/14729970][img]https://www1.flightrising.com/rendern/350/147300/14729970_350.png[/img][/url]

dragonfrosts

0

93

237

3107

October 18, 2020 11:12:39

@Coincidence any of these plsss??

Wishlist

@dragonfrosts sure thing. Their lores are entwined since they look nice together; I hope you don't mind.

Equinox, despite his breed and element, isn't one for song and dance, especially those taking place in the sky. In fact, he suffers from an unfortunately placed fear of heights after a spell went awry in his youth. Instead, he pours his passion into making art for other dragons, especially those directly on their scales and fur. To him, they're much more permanent-- much more predictable, and by definition much more safe-- than the ephemeral patterns of the wind. Where his own markings stem from the explosion of his magical capabilities during that fateful incident, the work he does for others is meticulously etched in ink and immortalized with magic.

Cloudsong had been rather small as a hatchling, especially for an imperial. Due to his size, he was picked on by other, more boisterous hatchlings, and learned to stand up for himself early on. That will to protect himself soon translated into an urge to protect others, which he put to use when a hatchling smaller than he-- Equinox-- cast himself too high into the air to maneuver after a spell gone wrong. Where bullying earned him his confidence, this act of altruism earned him a longtime friend. Although both he and Equinox are much older now, they still find time to have some tea in the steppes and watch the sun pick over the blades of grass, the silks and ribbons of Cloudsong trail behind him as he does the weaving and swooping in between the clouds for the both of them.

Coincidence

4505

October 18, 2020 14:19:23

@dragonfrosts sure thing. Their lores are entwined since they look nice together; I hope you don't mind.

Equinox, despite his breed and element, isn't one for song and dance, especially those taking place in the sky. In fact, he suffers from an unfortunately placed fear of heights after a spell went awry in his youth. Instead, he pours his passion into making art for other dragons, especially those directly on their scales and fur. To him, they're much more permanent-- much more predictable, and by definition much more safe-- than the ephemeral patterns of the wind. Where his own markings stem from the explosion of his magical capabilities during that fateful incident, the work he does for others is meticulously etched in ink and immortalized with magic.

Cloudsong had been rather small as a hatchling, especially for an imperial. Due to his size, he was picked on by other, more boisterous hatchlings, and learned to stand up for himself early on. That will to protect himself soon translated into an urge to protect others, which he put to use when a hatchling smaller than he-- Equinox-- cast himself too high into the air to maneuver after a spell gone wrong. Where bullying earned him his confidence, this act of altruism earned him a longtime friend. Although both he and Equinox are much older now, they still find time to have some tea in the steppes and watch the sun pick over the blades of grass, the silks and ribbons of Cloudsong trail behind him as he does the weaving and swooping in between the clouds for the both of them.

One day, will these too become but distant memories?
. . .
Yes, in the blink of an eye.

Last edited on Oct 18, 2020 14:20:57 by Coincidence

ahhh tysm its so cute ahhh <<33

dragonfrosts

0

93

237

3107

October 18, 2020 15:28:50

ahhh tysm its so cute ahhh <<33

Wishlist

@Coincidence Think you would be okay with this? You can see my other dragons in the tab their under for any inspiration. [url=https://www1.flightrising.com/dragon/62424912][img]https://www1.flightrising.com/rendern/350/624250/62424912_350.png[/img][/url]

CrowDazzle

386

87

688

2755

October 18, 2020 16:22:38

@Coincidence

Think you would be okay with this? You can see my other dragons in the tab their under for any inspiration.

@Coincidence thanks for the opportunity! Please can you do some lore of any dragon you want in my lair :0€?

Flumeo

139

350

635

2409

October 18, 2020 16:42:47

@Coincidence thanks for the opportunity! Please can you do some lore of any dragon you want in my lair :0€?

Free Daily gen 1 Raffle pinglist

@CrowDazzle

I love your lore, honored to contribute to it even if for a moment.

Lost, he was deemed, when Badar first saw him on the bone-barren wastes and offered a claw. Lost, he absolutely was. Weak, from wandering days, weeks, maybe months now-- it was hard to tell under the haze that tasted of rot-- certainly too weak to resist the offer. As much as he valued his ego, he valued his life more. He was one to act first and ask later; Badar and his warboys could see it in his eyes, quite literally. What sort of Shadow skydancer would leave the comfort of the Wood's nooks and crannies for this unforgiving plain, where brute force ruled all? Not one who's right in the head. Badar knew as much; putting up with those not right in the head was a chore, but they were the only ones who tolerated him to the level that they did.

By some miracle of complete mediocrity Lost found himself patrolling the Citadel lands, a task which sounded a lot harder than it actually was. The warlord's influence was wide and just about as scary as he was. In fact, he's dealt with more rebellious weeds than actual intruders in the approximate dragon form. There are many abominations wandering the wastes, but they made for better war pup chew toys than targets for him. There is the occasional ravenous-- or stupid, but it made no difference-- wanderer, but they're never naught but quick work. Surprisingly, for this he's quite grateful, as it leaves him more time in the gardens instead of outside the borders. The glinting sun was harsh, especially for a dragon accustomed to darkness, but the plants reminded him of home. They reminded him of normal.

The Citadel was definitely not normal, but it was necessary. Lost found that to be the case for most of the Plague territory, but the greenery made it a little easier for him to wander in his mind. Lost, he mouths in disgust. He would rather be destined to wander instead of being in the company of these gold-clad savages, but survival has no place for destiny.

Coincidence

4505

October 18, 2020 17:38:22

@CrowDazzle

I love your lore, honored to contribute to it even if for a moment.

Lost, he was deemed, when Badar first saw him on the bone-barren wastes and offered a claw. Lost, he absolutely was. Weak, from wandering days, weeks, maybe months now-- it was hard to tell under the haze that tasted of rot-- certainly too weak to resist the offer. As much as he valued his ego, he valued his life more. He was one to act first and ask later; Badar and his warboys could see it in his eyes, quite literally. What sort of Shadow skydancer would leave the comfort of the Wood's nooks and crannies for this unforgiving plain, where brute force ruled all? Not one who's right in the head. Badar knew as much; putting up with those not right in the head was a chore, but they were the only ones who tolerated him to the level that they did.

By some miracle of complete mediocrity Lost found himself patrolling the Citadel lands, a task which sounded a lot harder than it actually was. The warlord's influence was wide and just about as scary as he was. In fact, he's dealt with more rebellious weeds than actual intruders in the approximate dragon form. There are many abominations wandering the wastes, but they made for better war pup chew toys than targets for him. There is the occasional ravenous-- or stupid, but it made no difference-- wanderer, but they're never naught but quick work. Surprisingly, for this he's quite grateful, as it leaves him more time in the gardens instead of outside the borders. The glinting sun was harsh, especially for a dragon accustomed to darkness, but the plants reminded him of home. They reminded him of normal.

The Citadel was definitely not normal, but it was necessary. Lost found that to be the case for most of the Plague territory, but the greenery made it a little easier for him to wander in his mind. Lost, he mouths in disgust. He would rather be destined to wander instead of being in the company of these gold-clad savages, but survival has no place for destiny.

One day, will these too become but distant memories?
. . .
Yes, in the blink of an eye.

Last edited on Oct 18, 2020 17:40:08 by Coincidence

@Flumeo I decided to do Rose, hope that's ok. I added some settings which may contradict those of your clan's but that's because I have nothing to work off of.

Rose often ponders why no one dances with her when asked. Is it because of her frost-tipped claws? Or maybe her glinting eyes, hateful, mad? She's a perfectly reasonable dragon under that mask. Maybe it's the mask itself? Although it does make her favorite activity of stopping to smell the flowers a bit hard, it keeps her muzzle warm. So do her gloves, but they bring out the ice in her claws. No amount of warmth could make that melt, she has decided, after countless fruitless attempts. If only there was something perfectly in the middle, between warmth and comfort, and grace.

No matter, she concludes. She pulls the mask off to reveal a slender jaw soon covered in flowers, eyes still glinting. She's perfectly capable of dancing on her own. Her legs trace a line in the ice of the frozen pond she likes visiting, and her eyes idly trace the path of the petals taking flight on the wind. Soon there will be more floating onto the water, but that will come in the spring. In the meantime, she'll wait for it to come. In the meantime, she'll wait for the perfect dragon to come-- one either brave or stupid enough to dance with death herself.

Coincidence

4505

October 18, 2020 18:41:14

@Flumeo I decided to do Rose, hope that's ok. I added some settings which may contradict those of your clan's but that's because I have nothing to work off of.

Rose often ponders why no one dances with her when asked. Is it because of her frost-tipped claws? Or maybe her glinting eyes, hateful, mad? She's a perfectly reasonable dragon under that mask. Maybe it's the mask itself? Although it does make her favorite activity of stopping to smell the flowers a bit hard, it keeps her muzzle warm. So do her gloves, but they bring out the ice in her claws. No amount of warmth could make that melt, she has decided, after countless fruitless attempts. If only there was something perfectly in the middle, between warmth and comfort, and grace.

No matter, she concludes. She pulls the mask off to reveal a slender jaw soon covered in flowers, eyes still glinting. She's perfectly capable of dancing on her own. Her legs trace a line in the ice of the frozen pond she likes visiting, and her eyes idly trace the path of the petals taking flight on the wind. Soon there will be more floating onto the water, but that will come in the spring. In the meantime, she'll wait for it to come. In the meantime, she'll wait for the perfect dragon to come-- one either brave or stupid enough to dance with death herself.

One day, will these too become but distant memories?
. . .
Yes, in the blink of an eye.

@Coincidence Would you like to give her a story? She's mute [url=https://www1.flightrising.com/dragon/63511749][img]https://www1.flightrising.com/rendern/350/635118/63511749_350.png[/img][/url]

Temere

669

530

975

4470

October 20, 2020 10:22:34

@Coincidence

Would you like to give her a story? She's mute

G1's for Sale

@Temere oops! clicked on your notification but it just flew out of my mind and I forgot until now. sorry about the wait.

In instances where one loses a sense, their remaining ones are amplified, leading to superdragon levels of skill in some mysterious cases. Although this adage applies most commonly to those who have lost their sight, it's what most closely coincides with Graeip's special talent.

Indeed, even though it makes almost no sense, it's the only line of reasoning that demystifies Graeip's prowess in the musical arts. She can bewitch any violin or organ to play hauntingly real tunes, or so bystanders say. In fact, those who listen close enough even claim to hear whispers, alluding to something forbidden in a twisted sort of Draconian. When receiving comments on it, however, she always laughs and shakes her head in denial. No investigations have turned out successful, however, as when probed she will simply refuse to play and her writing is nigh illegible. Most dragons tend to avoid her and give her the peace of playing her haunting melodies alone-- after all, most dragons are smart enough to avoid what whispers of symphonic danger.

Coincidence