It's right in the name. This is a place to hold short stories I write set in-universe and for my dragons.
Any story that doesn't say "the end" at the end is a wip. I will update these stories as often as I can.
Feel free to comment!
Directory:
Skyrunner
It's right in the name. This is a place to hold short stories I write set in-universe and for my dragons.
Any story that doesn't say "the end" at the end is a wip. I will update these stories as often as I can.
Feel free to comment!
Directory:
Skyrunner
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[url=https://www1.flightrising.com/dragon/67516012][img]https://www1.flightrising.com/rendern/350/675161/67516012_350.png[/img][/url]
[img]https://i.ibb.co/vjhwBh9/skyrunner-name.png[/img]
It had been longer than Skyrunner could count since he had gotten a full, restful night of sleep. He was a very holy child, and a very angry adult, so he had never dedicated any time to learning to build. And if you don’t at least know how to stack up some wood and throw some leaves over top, when you’re out in the swamps in the tangled wood, which Skyrunner decidedly did not, you weren’t going to get a lot of very restful sleep.
It was almost always raining out here, and always cold. He had dressed himself in metal when he left his home in the Turrets of Goldensparc. There, as close to the Stormcatcher as one could be, everyone wore all cloth so as to avoid attracting a loose shot of lighting and getting electrocuted. Out here in the swamps though, if you weren’t fully outfitted for battle any of the beasts that made their home in this damp might stab you in your sleep.
So there Skyrunner lay, on the cold, wet ground, in the rain, trying to get comfortable enough to fall asleep. He had lit a fire hours ago, only for the rain to put it right back out. Now the only thing lighting up the dark woods were the bioluminescent mushrooms and the occasional firebugs that drifted by.
His stomach growled, loudly enough that he was sure any talonok or sethris who might be in the woods nearby would have surely heard it. In all his time away from home, he had depended on the kindness of the dragons in the small villages that dotted this swamp to keep him from going hungry. He had made it his mission to defend the people here from the various beasts that made their homes in the swamps, which, along with how unskilled Skyrunner was at anything that wasn’t fighting, left him with almost no time or ability to catch fish for himself. You might think he would be good at hunting, but all his training was done in an arena deep in the Turrets against other dragons. All his time fighting as a child was either in honor of the Stormcatcher, or for the right to be exalted and go join the Stormcatcher’s army. So he was not very good at being quiet, and he only knew the areas you would aim for to kill a dragon, not any of the creatures out here.
There were plenty of bugs, and he could catch them pretty easily, but they were crunchy and bitter and generally not very filling. And he had been sick from eating the wrong bug before, so he was fairly weary of eating them again. He had not yet tried eating the plants. The Turrets were a mighty thing of smoke and metal and wires, and all the area around them was a barren wasteland. The carrion canyons and charged barrens had, so it is said, once been fertile and flourishing, filled with green things and life. The gods and their warring had stripped all of that away.
The land around his old home was not kind to him when he left. The only plants that could survive there were tough and barely more than scrub. Any water that fell was eagerly sucked up and stored away, leaving nothing for any dragon that might be wandering through. There was no way any one dragon, or even many of them working together, could force enough water down into the parched ground to allow plants that could sustain the city to grow. The only viable source of consistent food for the Turrets was the ocean that beat upon the edges of the island Goldensparc sat on. When he was young, in the few moments where he was unsupervised, he would go running right to the one bit of land in all of the expanse that had not had all it’s greenery wiped away: the cliff at the very of the city, overlooking the deep blue ocean below. He would sit on the very edge, his hind legs just dangling over. He could smell the salt and feel the spray on his bare face. He would sometimes think of what it might be like to just lean forward a bit more, and just sink down into the cold depths below. He could never entertain that kind of thing for very long, though.
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It had been longer than Skyrunner could count since he had gotten a full, restful night of sleep. He was a very holy child, and a very angry adult, so he had never dedicated any time to learning to build. And if you don’t at least know how to stack up some wood and throw some leaves over top, when you’re out in the swamps in the tangled wood, which Skyrunner decidedly did not, you weren’t going to get a lot of very restful sleep.
It was almost always raining out here, and always cold. He had dressed himself in metal when he left his home in the Turrets of Goldensparc. There, as close to the Stormcatcher as one could be, everyone wore all cloth so as to avoid attracting a loose shot of lighting and getting electrocuted. Out here in the swamps though, if you weren’t fully outfitted for battle any of the beasts that made their home in this damp might stab you in your sleep.
So there Skyrunner lay, on the cold, wet ground, in the rain, trying to get comfortable enough to fall asleep. He had lit a fire hours ago, only for the rain to put it right back out. Now the only thing lighting up the dark woods were the bioluminescent mushrooms and the occasional firebugs that drifted by.
His stomach growled, loudly enough that he was sure any talonok or sethris who might be in the woods nearby would have surely heard it. In all his time away from home, he had depended on the kindness of the dragons in the small villages that dotted this swamp to keep him from going hungry. He had made it his mission to defend the people here from the various beasts that made their homes in the swamps, which, along with how unskilled Skyrunner was at anything that wasn’t fighting, left him with almost no time or ability to catch fish for himself. You might think he would be good at hunting, but all his training was done in an arena deep in the Turrets against other dragons. All his time fighting as a child was either in honor of the Stormcatcher, or for the right to be exalted and go join the Stormcatcher’s army. So he was not very good at being quiet, and he only knew the areas you would aim for to kill a dragon, not any of the creatures out here.
There were plenty of bugs, and he could catch them pretty easily, but they were crunchy and bitter and generally not very filling. And he had been sick from eating the wrong bug before, so he was fairly weary of eating them again. He had not yet tried eating the plants. The Turrets were a mighty thing of smoke and metal and wires, and all the area around them was a barren wasteland. The carrion canyons and charged barrens had, so it is said, once been fertile and flourishing, filled with green things and life. The gods and their warring had stripped all of that away.
The land around his old home was not kind to him when he left. The only plants that could survive there were tough and barely more than scrub. Any water that fell was eagerly sucked up and stored away, leaving nothing for any dragon that might be wandering through. There was no way any one dragon, or even many of them working together, could force enough water down into the parched ground to allow plants that could sustain the city to grow. The only viable source of consistent food for the Turrets was the ocean that beat upon the edges of the island Goldensparc sat on. When he was young, in the few moments where he was unsupervised, he would go running right to the one bit of land in all of the expanse that had not had all it’s greenery wiped away: the cliff at the very of the city, overlooking the deep blue ocean below. He would sit on the very edge, his hind legs just dangling over. He could smell the salt and feel the spray on his bare face. He would sometimes think of what it might be like to just lean forward a bit more, and just sink down into the cold depths below. He could never entertain that kind of thing for very long, though.
