as of march 26th 2021 this thread is open for business
howdy y'all, i wanna write some stuff and i know you want some lore, so show me your dragons, tell me about them, and i'll write something for you. might be one sentence, might be a lot more. it's whatever inspires me. please ping me R E I Y N
i won't do them all, just whatever really strikes me :)
if you wanna actually order lore from me, check out my shop :)
click here
edit: don't tell me to look through your lair, because i won't.
examples from this thread (not all pieces will be this long):
howdy y'all, i wanna write some stuff and i know you want some lore, so show me your dragons, tell me about them, and i'll write something for you. might be one sentence, might be a lot more. it's whatever inspires me. please ping me R E I Y N
i won't do them all, just whatever really strikes me :)
if you wanna actually order lore from me, check out my shop :)
click here
edit: don't tell me to look through your lair, because i won't.
examples from this thread (not all pieces will be this long):
Tau wrote:
Tau peered cautiously around the corner. The corridor was empty. A smile spread across his face. He quickly rounded the corner and sprinted down the spacious hall. His richly adorned claws clicked on the marble floors. His riches clung to him like ivy. Flower petals and leaves flitted around him and occasionally dropped to the ground, leaving a trail of nature. Tau turned another corner. The doors were so close. No one was around.
"Prince Tau!" A maid snatched Tau and turned him around. "Prince Tau! You know your father doesn't want you leaving the palace! You must stay inside, where it's safe."
Tau pouted. "What's so bad out there? The researchers? The Starfall Isles are a kingdom of knowledge, not of war. Please. Please let me go."
"Sorry your highness, but I have my orders. You are to stay in palace until you are of age." The maid smiled at Tau's pouting face. "Think of it from your father's point of view. You are his only heir. He's doing it out of love."
"It's not fair! All the other kids get to play and have fun! I've never so much as touched grass or swam in a river. I'm not a prince, I'm a prisoner." Tau pulled himself out of the maid's grasp and stalked away.
Night fell quickly. Tau rushed to his window and looked out. The palace stood high above everything and his tower was the highest. From his tower, he could see everything, even all the way to the Viridian Labyrinth. He wondered what the air was like there. Was it warm? Maybe humid? Did leaves get stuck in dragon's manes? Did they play in streams and swim in the rivers? He looked at Dragonhome. It looked so warm. He heard that dragons lived underground there. What did the mud feel like? Was it cold underground? What did the dirt do to their scales?
Tau sighed and sat heavily on the plush rug. His life felt like a fairy tale. If only some well dressed knightly dragon would come to his rescue. He laid on his back and imagined everything he would do if he were free. He wanted to feel mud and snow and rivers and the ocean. Were there really fish as big as imperials? What were beastclans like? He wondered what love was like. The maids said they loved and cared for him. His father said he loved him. But Tau had read about romantic love before. He wanted to know what it felt like. Was it warm? Was it all consuming?
Too bad Tau didn't know any knights.
But he did know a well dressed dragon. He turned and looked at himself in the mirror. He was a very attractive dragon. He flexed his wings a little bit. No one had ever taught him how to fly, but it couldn't be that hard. It had to be like second nature.
Tau climbed out the window and perched himself on the sill. It was a long way down. Plenty of time to figure out how to fly. He took a deep breath and leapt off the edge. He fumbled with unfurling his wings. The wind caught his feathered wings and he began to soar. Laughter tore from Tau's throat. He started to flap his wings and tilt.
He played in the air for the first time ever.
Tau looked back at the palace. He would never return there. If this was what freedom tasted like, he would never give it up.
"Prince Tau!" A maid snatched Tau and turned him around. "Prince Tau! You know your father doesn't want you leaving the palace! You must stay inside, where it's safe."
Tau pouted. "What's so bad out there? The researchers? The Starfall Isles are a kingdom of knowledge, not of war. Please. Please let me go."
"Sorry your highness, but I have my orders. You are to stay in palace until you are of age." The maid smiled at Tau's pouting face. "Think of it from your father's point of view. You are his only heir. He's doing it out of love."
"It's not fair! All the other kids get to play and have fun! I've never so much as touched grass or swam in a river. I'm not a prince, I'm a prisoner." Tau pulled himself out of the maid's grasp and stalked away.
Night fell quickly. Tau rushed to his window and looked out. The palace stood high above everything and his tower was the highest. From his tower, he could see everything, even all the way to the Viridian Labyrinth. He wondered what the air was like there. Was it warm? Maybe humid? Did leaves get stuck in dragon's manes? Did they play in streams and swim in the rivers? He looked at Dragonhome. It looked so warm. He heard that dragons lived underground there. What did the mud feel like? Was it cold underground? What did the dirt do to their scales?
Tau sighed and sat heavily on the plush rug. His life felt like a fairy tale. If only some well dressed knightly dragon would come to his rescue. He laid on his back and imagined everything he would do if he were free. He wanted to feel mud and snow and rivers and the ocean. Were there really fish as big as imperials? What were beastclans like? He wondered what love was like. The maids said they loved and cared for him. His father said he loved him. But Tau had read about romantic love before. He wanted to know what it felt like. Was it warm? Was it all consuming?
Too bad Tau didn't know any knights.
But he did know a well dressed dragon. He turned and looked at himself in the mirror. He was a very attractive dragon. He flexed his wings a little bit. No one had ever taught him how to fly, but it couldn't be that hard. It had to be like second nature.
Tau climbed out the window and perched himself on the sill. It was a long way down. Plenty of time to figure out how to fly. He took a deep breath and leapt off the edge. He fumbled with unfurling his wings. The wind caught his feathered wings and he began to soar. Laughter tore from Tau's throat. He started to flap his wings and tilt.
He played in the air for the first time ever.
Tau looked back at the palace. He would never return there. If this was what freedom tasted like, he would never give it up.
Styx wrote:
"It's okay, I've got you." Styx held a shivering pearlcatcher tight to his chest. "I promise, you won't ever be cold again."
A single tear rolled down Styx's snout. He had pulled the pearlcatcher from a freezing river. She had fallen in and drowned. It was Styx's duty to take her safely to the afterlife. Her eyes followed his flowers, his candles, his bird. A small smile perched on her her face. She opened her mouth, but Styx hushed her. He smiled warmly at her. She was so small and frail. Barely grown. He wondered what family might be missing her. Something clenched in his chest. A familiar sadness that held him eternally captive.
Styx landed gently on a golden platform. He set the pearlcatcher down. "You'll be safe here, I promise," he spoke softly. The pearlcatcher smiled. She flung her arms around his neck. "Thank you so much," she whispered into his mane. Styx gently patted her head before pushing her away and leaping off of the golden platform.
He returned to the river where he had found her. Her body floated on the surface and her pearl sat nestled in the bottom. Styx pulled her body out. It was cold and dripping wet. Ice clung to her fur and delicate eyelashes. He gently closed her eyes, may she never see terror again. With a flick of his wrist, a grave opened up in the ground. He placed her body in and turned back to the river. He fished the pearl out and placed it in her talons before closing up the grave. A candle flitted past his face and landed on top of the grave. It would remain eternally lit and keep her body safe.
The scene reminded Styx of his own death. It was the dead of winter and it was freezing cold. He had been with his parents, but a storm blew in. It was a white out blizzard. He had lost his way and was separated from them. Styx remembered trying to stay warm with only his silks. The wind bit at his scales and pulled at his mane. His tears froze to his face and clouded his vision. He fell to the ground, unable to move. Then, someone appeared. A big, golden imperial. He offered his hand to Styx and helped him up.
"It's okay, I've got you." The imperial said. "I promise, you won't ever be cold again."
Styx fell into the larger dragon's arms. The imperial ran his talons through Styx's mane. He lifted Styx and placed him between his shoulder blades before pushing off the ground. Styx held tight to the imperial's mane. The imperial landed on a golden platform and set Styx on the ground. Then, without another word, he took off again. Styx turned around to see a dragon shrouded in darkness. He couldn't tell what kind of dragon they were. They held out their paw to Styx. He took it gently. The dragon picked him up and set him in a boat. The dragon stepped in and started to paddle away from the golden platform. The water was black and murky. Beneath the surface, ghostly dragons swam.
"I bet you have a lot of questions," the shrouded dragon said. "You died. I don't know how, that's not my business, but it is my job to make you an offer. You have two options. You can either accept your fate and go to the afterlife or you can become a grim reaper. Grim reaper are like that imperial who brought you here. They have physical bodies and can remain in the physical world, but their job is to bring the souls of the dead here."
Styx thought for a moment. "Does everyone who dies get this choice?"
"Yes. Everyone gets this choice, but most choose to accept fate. To become a grim reaper is to give up your eternal peace."
"But the grim reapers help other dragons. They give up their eternal peace to help other dragons attain eternal peace."
"That's correct."
"Then, I want to be a grim reaper. I want to help other dragons forever."
Styx blinked. It wasn't often that he remembered that day. His death had been cold, but the golden imperial was so warm. He wanted to be like that. He looked down at the simple grave of the pearlcatcher. There was no time to linger, more dragons needed his help. But he allowed himself to linger. Tears flowed down his snout. He mourned the pearlcatcher.
And he mourned himself.
Everything he did was for those he cared for. Everything he did was to bring comfort to others. He no longer lived for himself. He didn't live for himself anymore. His life was not his own. But he wouldn't change his decision for anything. The eternal sadness was worth it.
A single tear rolled down Styx's snout. He had pulled the pearlcatcher from a freezing river. She had fallen in and drowned. It was Styx's duty to take her safely to the afterlife. Her eyes followed his flowers, his candles, his bird. A small smile perched on her her face. She opened her mouth, but Styx hushed her. He smiled warmly at her. She was so small and frail. Barely grown. He wondered what family might be missing her. Something clenched in his chest. A familiar sadness that held him eternally captive.
Styx landed gently on a golden platform. He set the pearlcatcher down. "You'll be safe here, I promise," he spoke softly. The pearlcatcher smiled. She flung her arms around his neck. "Thank you so much," she whispered into his mane. Styx gently patted her head before pushing her away and leaping off of the golden platform.
He returned to the river where he had found her. Her body floated on the surface and her pearl sat nestled in the bottom. Styx pulled her body out. It was cold and dripping wet. Ice clung to her fur and delicate eyelashes. He gently closed her eyes, may she never see terror again. With a flick of his wrist, a grave opened up in the ground. He placed her body in and turned back to the river. He fished the pearl out and placed it in her talons before closing up the grave. A candle flitted past his face and landed on top of the grave. It would remain eternally lit and keep her body safe.
The scene reminded Styx of his own death. It was the dead of winter and it was freezing cold. He had been with his parents, but a storm blew in. It was a white out blizzard. He had lost his way and was separated from them. Styx remembered trying to stay warm with only his silks. The wind bit at his scales and pulled at his mane. His tears froze to his face and clouded his vision. He fell to the ground, unable to move. Then, someone appeared. A big, golden imperial. He offered his hand to Styx and helped him up.
"It's okay, I've got you." The imperial said. "I promise, you won't ever be cold again."
Styx fell into the larger dragon's arms. The imperial ran his talons through Styx's mane. He lifted Styx and placed him between his shoulder blades before pushing off the ground. Styx held tight to the imperial's mane. The imperial landed on a golden platform and set Styx on the ground. Then, without another word, he took off again. Styx turned around to see a dragon shrouded in darkness. He couldn't tell what kind of dragon they were. They held out their paw to Styx. He took it gently. The dragon picked him up and set him in a boat. The dragon stepped in and started to paddle away from the golden platform. The water was black and murky. Beneath the surface, ghostly dragons swam.
"I bet you have a lot of questions," the shrouded dragon said. "You died. I don't know how, that's not my business, but it is my job to make you an offer. You have two options. You can either accept your fate and go to the afterlife or you can become a grim reaper. Grim reaper are like that imperial who brought you here. They have physical bodies and can remain in the physical world, but their job is to bring the souls of the dead here."
Styx thought for a moment. "Does everyone who dies get this choice?"
"Yes. Everyone gets this choice, but most choose to accept fate. To become a grim reaper is to give up your eternal peace."
"But the grim reapers help other dragons. They give up their eternal peace to help other dragons attain eternal peace."
"That's correct."
"Then, I want to be a grim reaper. I want to help other dragons forever."
Styx blinked. It wasn't often that he remembered that day. His death had been cold, but the golden imperial was so warm. He wanted to be like that. He looked down at the simple grave of the pearlcatcher. There was no time to linger, more dragons needed his help. But he allowed himself to linger. Tears flowed down his snout. He mourned the pearlcatcher.
And he mourned himself.
Everything he did was for those he cared for. Everything he did was to bring comfort to others. He no longer lived for himself. He didn't live for himself anymore. His life was not his own. But he wouldn't change his decision for anything. The eternal sadness was worth it.
Icarus wrote:
The sun was so close. He could feel the heat on his scales. It warmed him straight to his core. Hot wax rolled down his back, leaving trails of bubbling burns. It didn't matter though. He reached up to touch the light. It filtered through his talons. He was so close. And then, he wasn't. The sun grew further and further from him. He scrabbled desperately, attempting to catch hold of the light and keep it with him. So, Icarus fell, drops of wax and tears following him down. A scream tore from his throat. A scream of desperation and of anguish and of regret. He had been so close. He had been too close.
Cold water splashed up and surrounded Icarus. For just a moment, he could still see the light and feel the warmth on his scales. Then, the waves crashed over him. He was tossed and turned and thrown around. He couldn't tell which way was up or down. All he felt was icy coldness. The water seemed to hold him captive and drag him down to the bottom. His tears mixed with the salty sea water; for all he knew, he had cried the whole ocean. He allowed the water to pull him down. His back hit the sandy bottom. All he saw was darkness. Darkness and drops of wax floating to the bottom.
Icarus closed his eyes and let the darkness take him. The light had forsaken him and so the dark would too.
Warmth surrounded Icarus. His snapped open. He was surrounded by light and warmth. Sunlight streamed in gently through a small window. Confusion overwhelmed him. He died. He knew he did. And yet, here he was. He looked down at himself. His bones jutted out of his scales. He stood up carefully and inspected his surroundings. It was so clean and comforting and warm. Tears welled up in Icarus' eyes. He had been given a second chance and he wouldn't waste it.
Cold water splashed up and surrounded Icarus. For just a moment, he could still see the light and feel the warmth on his scales. Then, the waves crashed over him. He was tossed and turned and thrown around. He couldn't tell which way was up or down. All he felt was icy coldness. The water seemed to hold him captive and drag him down to the bottom. His tears mixed with the salty sea water; for all he knew, he had cried the whole ocean. He allowed the water to pull him down. His back hit the sandy bottom. All he saw was darkness. Darkness and drops of wax floating to the bottom.
Icarus closed his eyes and let the darkness take him. The light had forsaken him and so the dark would too.
Warmth surrounded Icarus. His snapped open. He was surrounded by light and warmth. Sunlight streamed in gently through a small window. Confusion overwhelmed him. He died. He knew he did. And yet, here he was. He looked down at himself. His bones jutted out of his scales. He stood up carefully and inspected his surroundings. It was so clean and comforting and warm. Tears welled up in Icarus' eyes. He had been given a second chance and he wouldn't waste it.
Kintsugi wrote:
The sculptor worked around his piece carefully. He chipped away the precious marble, slowly revealing the beautiful gaoler within. A small hatchling with a flowing mane and small horns. The sculptor worked tirelessly for days, weeks. He wanted it to be perfect. He wanted the stone to look soft and to flow. After months of hard work, the piece was done. It was perfect. Even the eyes looked soft and innocent, just as a hatchling should be. The sculptor kept his creation safe. Keeping it behind a case, not wanting anyone to break it or scratch the smooth surface. The sculptor struggled to find a drive to sculpt anything else after finishing the gaoler. Nothing would ever be as good as that.
One day, as the sculptor was polishing the statue, he bumped into the pedestal. He tried to catch the statue, but it hit the ground and shattered. The sculptor was heart broken. His most prized possession, his most perfect creation, destroyed. Months of work, shattered in seconds. The sculptor gathered up all the pieces he could and set them aside. He would fix the statue. He had to. The sculptor went to the nearby market and bought some gold. He found it in the form of earrings, but his intention was to melt it down and fix the statue. His intention became a reality. He melted down the gold and filled in the cracks of his shattered statue. He reattached pieces and filled in gaps with gold.
The marble began to move. The mane startled to fall victim to gravity. Flakes of dust drifted off of the statue, leaving behind soft fur interrupted only by smooth gold. The statue shook out his leg and stretched out his back. The sculptor reached out and gingerly touched the statue. It, no he, still felt cold and smooth, like marble, and yet he also felt soft. It was as though every strand of his fur was made of marble. The statue nuzzled the sculptor's paw and smiled. The sculptor picked up the statue, he was much heavier than he looked, and placed him softly in front of the fire. The statue made quick work to grab blankets and snuggle in deep.
The sculptor kept the statue as his own son, but made sure to keep him safe. The sculptor always told the statue, "my son, you must be careful. You cannot fall or be hit. You must not let plants grow on you, so you must stay clean. Do not let animals or bugs on you, they could damage you. You must be very careful my son. You were not made for a world of dragons. You should stay inside, next to the fire, where you can be safe and warm."
The statue listened to his father and always stayed by the fire. He loved the fire. And he loved his blankets. And he loved when other dragons sat with him. Although, other dragons did make him a tad bit nervous. Nearly everything made him nervous, but he knew he had to stay cautious, his father had told him so. So, the statue stayed by the fire where it was warm and safe.
One day, as the sculptor was polishing the statue, he bumped into the pedestal. He tried to catch the statue, but it hit the ground and shattered. The sculptor was heart broken. His most prized possession, his most perfect creation, destroyed. Months of work, shattered in seconds. The sculptor gathered up all the pieces he could and set them aside. He would fix the statue. He had to. The sculptor went to the nearby market and bought some gold. He found it in the form of earrings, but his intention was to melt it down and fix the statue. His intention became a reality. He melted down the gold and filled in the cracks of his shattered statue. He reattached pieces and filled in gaps with gold.
The marble began to move. The mane startled to fall victim to gravity. Flakes of dust drifted off of the statue, leaving behind soft fur interrupted only by smooth gold. The statue shook out his leg and stretched out his back. The sculptor reached out and gingerly touched the statue. It, no he, still felt cold and smooth, like marble, and yet he also felt soft. It was as though every strand of his fur was made of marble. The statue nuzzled the sculptor's paw and smiled. The sculptor picked up the statue, he was much heavier than he looked, and placed him softly in front of the fire. The statue made quick work to grab blankets and snuggle in deep.
The sculptor kept the statue as his own son, but made sure to keep him safe. The sculptor always told the statue, "my son, you must be careful. You cannot fall or be hit. You must not let plants grow on you, so you must stay clean. Do not let animals or bugs on you, they could damage you. You must be very careful my son. You were not made for a world of dragons. You should stay inside, next to the fire, where you can be safe and warm."
The statue listened to his father and always stayed by the fire. He loved the fire. And he loved his blankets. And he loved when other dragons sat with him. Although, other dragons did make him a tad bit nervous. Nearly everything made him nervous, but he knew he had to stay cautious, his father had told him so. So, the statue stayed by the fire where it was warm and safe.
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Tobias | He/Him | 
