I am doing the nuzlocke challenge posted here:
http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/frd/1150203
Call me Marloosha and I thought this was probably the best place to put it.
I Don't Give Two Hecks Log #1
---
My days are numbered.
It began with the arrival of a crimson dragon. A Skydancer like me. Beautiful, with a hide made of crystal and a crest as dazzling as any other. I envied her beauty and watched her carefully from my perch. Satnen told me not to worry about a simple creature with an even simpler goal, but I could not help but stare after her, longing to tear her throat out myself.
I had reason to believe her blood was as evil as her intentions.
Kostmann was her name. She claimed that she had spoken to the Plaguemother in the flesh, but there was no way a common dragon could have spoken to her face to face.
The Plaguemother did not fraternize with those unworthy of her presence. The pustule of motherhood was a heavy burden to bear. I could only imagine what she thought about on the daily.
I...wanted her attention. I wanted her praise because I, and only I, had the power to decide who lived and who died in this clan.
ME.
Kostmann was quiet. She stayed to herself and paid her respects. Brought food and familiars to the lair on a daily basis. Kept her wings down in the dirt so she scuffed up little clouds of rotted bone meal and she never spoke a word against us. Against me.
Again, Satnen tells me not to worry. He tells me to focus on the importance of being a leader. I sorely wish I had taken his words to heart. For he was the first to go and I don’t know why.
My beautiful Satnen. I have waited for you for so long. Begged for release from the monotony of mortal form. You came to me in a dream and soon you were a reality, mystifying energy dripping from your maw.
Teeth glittering. You were gorgeous and you took a liking to me immediately. We sired children together. Demigods trapped in tiny bodies. I remember how you sat in the menagerie with Versailles and sang with the birds. I could not have asked for a better mate even if the Plaguemother had crafted one for me.
I burned you. I had to.
In front of all the clan, I had to rid us of the blood clotting disease before it spread too far. Killed many hatchlings and crushed eggs in fear. Cast off my disciples and holed myself away with the one who mattered most second to you.
Dulcidio. He was so sick, and I had to watch him suffer as I killed the clan he worked hard to keep safe from my purges. I am a monster. A heartless monster.
But I had to do what had to be done. I had to preserve what few offspring I had left and I had to destroy every trace of disease in our blood. I did not know where it came from, but Kostmann was the only one who did not seem worried. The *******.
She came from the farthest reaches of the Wastelands and she was destroying my lair. I chased her out. She cried and did not resist me, but she was the first of many I banished.
Days slid past each other and I did not move from Dulcidio’s side. His breath ragged and his wings limp, he tried to speak to me but I would hear none of it.
Silly dragon. Stupid child. Terrible namer and a terrible leader, but a loyal subject. Surely this was what it felt like to feel true remorse.
And when the last of my clan perished, I stayed still for a long time. Despite the pangs of hunger raking my insides. Despite my poisoned blood, I remained. Dulcidio did not move any longer and I used a little stored power to turn him to stone where he lay.
I must rebuild myself. And I must attack the Plaguemother for betraying me.
How dare she.
---
When I finally left my den and allowed the dim light of the overcast to spill on me, I went rummaging through the stacks of treasure and abandoned hoards. I was alone. My clothing eaten away by larvae and most of the food stores pillaged by neglected familiars.
I found an egg.
Never seen such a densely shelled egg before. Have I really been gone so long that an enemy clan has dared nest here? I would have seen this if someone had returned from scavenging with something like this.
I hated this thing immensely, but I took it back into my den, and I sat on it until a rotten creature rolled out from under me.
I Don't Give Two Hecks Log #1
---
My days are numbered.
It began with the arrival of a crimson dragon. A Skydancer like me. Beautiful, with a hide made of crystal and a crest as dazzling as any other. I envied her beauty and watched her carefully from my perch. Satnen told me not to worry about a simple creature with an even simpler goal, but I could not help but stare after her, longing to tear her throat out myself.
I had reason to believe her blood was as evil as her intentions.
Kostmann was her name. She claimed that she had spoken to the Plaguemother in the flesh, but there was no way a common dragon could have spoken to her face to face.
The Plaguemother did not fraternize with those unworthy of her presence. The pustule of motherhood was a heavy burden to bear. I could only imagine what she thought about on the daily.
I...wanted her attention. I wanted her praise because I, and only I, had the power to decide who lived and who died in this clan.
ME.
Kostmann was quiet. She stayed to herself and paid her respects. Brought food and familiars to the lair on a daily basis. Kept her wings down in the dirt so she scuffed up little clouds of rotted bone meal and she never spoke a word against us. Against me.
Again, Satnen tells me not to worry. He tells me to focus on the importance of being a leader. I sorely wish I had taken his words to heart. For he was the first to go and I don’t know why.
My beautiful Satnen. I have waited for you for so long. Begged for release from the monotony of mortal form. You came to me in a dream and soon you were a reality, mystifying energy dripping from your maw.
Teeth glittering. You were gorgeous and you took a liking to me immediately. We sired children together. Demigods trapped in tiny bodies. I remember how you sat in the menagerie with Versailles and sang with the birds. I could not have asked for a better mate even if the Plaguemother had crafted one for me.
I burned you. I had to.
In front of all the clan, I had to rid us of the blood clotting disease before it spread too far. Killed many hatchlings and crushed eggs in fear. Cast off my disciples and holed myself away with the one who mattered most second to you.
Dulcidio. He was so sick, and I had to watch him suffer as I killed the clan he worked hard to keep safe from my purges. I am a monster. A heartless monster.
But I had to do what had to be done. I had to preserve what few offspring I had left and I had to destroy every trace of disease in our blood. I did not know where it came from, but Kostmann was the only one who did not seem worried. The *******.
She came from the farthest reaches of the Wastelands and she was destroying my lair. I chased her out. She cried and did not resist me, but she was the first of many I banished.
Days slid past each other and I did not move from Dulcidio’s side. His breath ragged and his wings limp, he tried to speak to me but I would hear none of it.
Silly dragon. Stupid child. Terrible namer and a terrible leader, but a loyal subject. Surely this was what it felt like to feel true remorse.
And when the last of my clan perished, I stayed still for a long time. Despite the pangs of hunger raking my insides. Despite my poisoned blood, I remained. Dulcidio did not move any longer and I used a little stored power to turn him to stone where he lay.
I must rebuild myself. And I must attack the Plaguemother for betraying me.
How dare she.
---
When I finally left my den and allowed the dim light of the overcast to spill on me, I went rummaging through the stacks of treasure and abandoned hoards. I was alone. My clothing eaten away by larvae and most of the food stores pillaged by neglected familiars.
I found an egg.
Never seen such a densely shelled egg before. Have I really been gone so long that an enemy clan has dared nest here? I would have seen this if someone had returned from scavenging with something like this.
I hated this thing immensely, but I took it back into my den, and I sat on it until a rotten creature rolled out from under me.
I don't Give Two Hecks Log #2
---
It is excessively clear to me that scribing is not my strong suit.
I am a firm believer in reporting the changes and goings on of the state of myself and my tattered clan, however, when I went to reread my last report by a kindled fire at Dulcidio’s stony toes, I had no idea what exactly I had been thinking as I wrote. And I was sure that, should unfortunate fates befall me, no other dragon would be able to continue my legacy in the written form.
I shredded that disgusting parchment and rewrote it to a similar effect.
I last left off with the discovery of a hardened egg from a breed I had never seen before. I found it in Aadi’s old hoard, along with the crafted light metals he used to adorn himself. I miss him. My most prized creation.
Plumage as blue as the Tidelord’s lair and gold markings fitting for a little snot who was far too prideful. He reminded me of myself so much so that sometimes I couldn’t stand the way he tweaked his feathers in the sun to make himself bigger, or that he would often stick his tongue out at me instead of using his words.
But, still, I miss him.
The egg hatched in the middle of the night while I sat upon it. My stomach felt like it had been raked by the teeth of a particularly volatile Jawbreaker and the pain grew to levels I had never experienced before in all my time as a mortal dragon.
Of course, the desire for physical food was something I had to remember to deal with and it occurred to me to smash the purple shell and slurp out the hatchling to sustain myself for another day.
I failed to prey on that opportunity, and the sharp claws nicked me in my nethers because I could not be ***** to get up when I heard pitiful squeaking and felt subtle shuffling. I do so regret that decision now as I look at the living embodiment of a skin disease.
I have never seen a more rambunctious hatchling and I was there when Lemon and AlsoLemon were still young. Barely into adulthood and near twins, they ran me up the wall with their playful natures. I specifically remember AlsoLemon being the more daring one.
Oh, right. The new creature.
Little bugger bit me twice in search for food. Didn’t even hear him sneaking around. Eyes as white as a glacier and a tongue longer than Aadi’s. Gross. Hideous.
I didn’t get up until he started crying and I immediately decided that I was not going to sit around and deal with this. I remembered that the vault was filled with all kinds of trinkets from the many dragons who came and went in the years I have been here.
A lot left treasure. Some left gems they had excavated from their scavenging trips, but I found a scroll deep beneath piles and piles of fabric that was wound with a magic seal and smelled like a bull ready to mate.
Intoxicating, but not what I cared about right now. I had heard of Scrolls of Maturity, but I didn’t really think they existed and if I had had my way, I would have let the little rotten thing die off on its own.
OF COURSE I KNEW BETTER THAN THAT. I’M NOT STUPID.
I nabbed that little slithering mess by the tail. It was chubby and stout. Fat ball of flesh and looked like it had opposable thumbs covered in fine scales. It felt like I was grabbing a blobby familiar and I had to resist the urge to kill.
I pried open the scroll and stuffed it in the little hatchling’s mouth. Almost immediately, it grew into a full grown male. The process was gruesome and I nearly vomited as the flesh ball expanded until it finally unfurled wings ready to fly and a long neck. Still fat, but at least it was able to defend itself without having to call for me to come to its rescue.
I asked if he could talk. I got chirps in response. So knowledge was not immediately beamed into this idiot’s brain. Fantastic. He could come with me on scavenging trips and go out into the Training Fields to catch and fight for food, but he couldn’t communicate outside of little chirps and hums.
Beautiful. This is exactly what I wanted.
I decided to name him. Bartholomew. But I might just call him Barf for short because he disgusts me and also he just threw up all over the sleeping cave.
My army comes along swimmingly.
I don't Give Two Hecks Log #2
---
It is excessively clear to me that scribing is not my strong suit.
I am a firm believer in reporting the changes and goings on of the state of myself and my tattered clan, however, when I went to reread my last report by a kindled fire at Dulcidio’s stony toes, I had no idea what exactly I had been thinking as I wrote. And I was sure that, should unfortunate fates befall me, no other dragon would be able to continue my legacy in the written form.
I shredded that disgusting parchment and rewrote it to a similar effect.
I last left off with the discovery of a hardened egg from a breed I had never seen before. I found it in Aadi’s old hoard, along with the crafted light metals he used to adorn himself. I miss him. My most prized creation.
Plumage as blue as the Tidelord’s lair and gold markings fitting for a little snot who was far too prideful. He reminded me of myself so much so that sometimes I couldn’t stand the way he tweaked his feathers in the sun to make himself bigger, or that he would often stick his tongue out at me instead of using his words.
But, still, I miss him.
The egg hatched in the middle of the night while I sat upon it. My stomach felt like it had been raked by the teeth of a particularly volatile Jawbreaker and the pain grew to levels I had never experienced before in all my time as a mortal dragon.
Of course, the desire for physical food was something I had to remember to deal with and it occurred to me to smash the purple shell and slurp out the hatchling to sustain myself for another day.
I failed to prey on that opportunity, and the sharp claws nicked me in my nethers because I could not be ***** to get up when I heard pitiful squeaking and felt subtle shuffling. I do so regret that decision now as I look at the living embodiment of a skin disease.
I have never seen a more rambunctious hatchling and I was there when Lemon and AlsoLemon were still young. Barely into adulthood and near twins, they ran me up the wall with their playful natures. I specifically remember AlsoLemon being the more daring one.
Oh, right. The new creature.
Little bugger bit me twice in search for food. Didn’t even hear him sneaking around. Eyes as white as a glacier and a tongue longer than Aadi’s. Gross. Hideous.
I didn’t get up until he started crying and I immediately decided that I was not going to sit around and deal with this. I remembered that the vault was filled with all kinds of trinkets from the many dragons who came and went in the years I have been here.
A lot left treasure. Some left gems they had excavated from their scavenging trips, but I found a scroll deep beneath piles and piles of fabric that was wound with a magic seal and smelled like a bull ready to mate.
Intoxicating, but not what I cared about right now. I had heard of Scrolls of Maturity, but I didn’t really think they existed and if I had had my way, I would have let the little rotten thing die off on its own.
OF COURSE I KNEW BETTER THAN THAT. I’M NOT STUPID.
I nabbed that little slithering mess by the tail. It was chubby and stout. Fat ball of flesh and looked like it had opposable thumbs covered in fine scales. It felt like I was grabbing a blobby familiar and I had to resist the urge to kill.
I pried open the scroll and stuffed it in the little hatchling’s mouth. Almost immediately, it grew into a full grown male. The process was gruesome and I nearly vomited as the flesh ball expanded until it finally unfurled wings ready to fly and a long neck. Still fat, but at least it was able to defend itself without having to call for me to come to its rescue.
I asked if he could talk. I got chirps in response. So knowledge was not immediately beamed into this idiot’s brain. Fantastic. He could come with me on scavenging trips and go out into the Training Fields to catch and fight for food, but he couldn’t communicate outside of little chirps and hums.
Beautiful. This is exactly what I wanted.
I decided to name him. Bartholomew. But I might just call him Barf for short because he disgusts me and also he just threw up all over the sleeping cave.
My army comes along swimmingly.
