-----[center][size=5][font=book antiqua][b][u]Day 17
[item=Black Masked Lovebird]-----
Usul flew over the briars, vague curiosity over the other flight regions in mind.
A mangled form beneath him. Slowing, hovering; the figure of the fae he'd met.
And it really was a mangled mess. The sort of thing that might have happened if a warcat had met the fae and used him as a toy. Battered, broken, allowed to try and flutter free, only to be caught and toyed with more.
He supposed it was childish thinking that every story, dragon or beast, would have a happy or classically comic ending.
Deepest regret filled him as he retrieved the fae- as if it was his fault for this loss of life. It was not, he knew this, he understood this.
Still he felt himself miserable.
Usul flew over the briars, vague curiosity over the other flight regions in mind.
A mangled form beneath him. Slowing, hovering; the figure of the fae he'd met.
And it really was a mangled mess. The sort of thing that might have happened if a warcat had met the fae and used him as a toy. Battered, broken, allowed to try and flutter free, only to be caught and toyed with more.
He supposed it was childish thinking that every story, dragon or beast, would have a happy or classically comic ending.
Deepest regret filled him as he retrieved the fae- as if it was his fault for this loss of life. It was not, he knew this, he understood this.
Still he felt himself miserable.
-----[center][size=6][font=book antiqua][b][u]Chapter 2: Winds of Change
[/size][size=5][font=book antiqua][b][u]
Day 1
[item=Speckled Savanna Pelt]-----
Vampires were creatures of myth and legend. A common trope, known by all the iterations of civilization, with key features- the most striking of which is the need to consume the blood of their fellows.
Being creatures of myth and legend, there should have been no concern for any of those in the land of the Windsinger. Most people had forgotten such myths- not necessarily because these creatures didn't exist, but because this little locale of the plateau hadn't seen necromancers or other monsters from beyond the grave in centuries.
Lamia fled from her castle in the dark of the night, uncharacteristically frightened. Her home burnt to the ground, fire wrapping around her castle and eating away the woods and furnishings she'd had forever.
She hadn't eaten in a few days, and there were always hatchlings. She didn't understand- most families would sell their young regardless.
She'd heard tales of necromancers to the far north of the region, in the steppes. Perhaps she'd travel there, if she didn't get killed by sun or dragon on her way.
-----
[img]https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/418197091572252672/567107029714337792/unknown.png[/img]
Once thought to be a natural pattern, it has been discovered that the spots along the hide of this type of ampelope are a residual discoloration caused by small arcs of electrical energy connecting different hairs.
33
Vampires were creatures of myth and legend. A common trope, known by all the iterations of civilization, with key features- the most striking of which is the need to consume the blood of their fellows.
Being creatures of myth and legend, there should have been no concern for any of those in the land of the Windsinger. Most people had forgotten such myths- not necessarily because these creatures didn't exist, but because this little locale of the plateau hadn't seen necromancers or other monsters from beyond the grave in centuries.
Lamia fled from her castle in the dark of the night, uncharacteristically frightened. Her home burnt to the ground, fire wrapping around her castle and eating away the woods and furnishings she'd had forever.
She hadn't eaten in a few days, and there were always hatchlings. She didn't understand- most families would sell their young regardless.
She'd heard tales of necromancers to the far north of the region, in the steppes. Perhaps she'd travel there, if she didn't get killed by sun or dragon on her way.
LF :: nests of
-----[center][size=5][font=book antiqua][b][u]Day 2
[item=Berserker]
[i]Landed on tails. Phew.[/i]-----
There was a fire ahead- voices ahead. She saw the fire before she heard the voices, and stayed just out of range of sight of the dragons gathered around it. They spoke of the necromancer, the witch- her name given as [url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?p=lair&id=350722&tab=dragon&did=41532017]Mererid[/url].
[i]What an odd name.[/i]
She skirted around the camp, continuing her path to the north.
All that really mattered was putting distance between herself and the clan that had once played host to her peculiar hungers- the clan which had burnt her castle down.
Landed on tails. Phew.
There was a fire ahead- voices ahead. She saw the fire before she heard the voices, and stayed just out of range of sight of the dragons gathered around it. They spoke of the necromancer, the witch- her name given as Mererid.
What an odd name.
She skirted around the camp, continuing her path to the north.
All that really mattered was putting distance between herself and the clan that had once played host to her peculiar hungers- the clan which had burnt her castle down.
LF :: nests of
-----[center][size=5][font=book antiqua][b][u]Day 3
[item=Ghastly Houndskull]
[i]Pinkerton, fix your glitch I swear to Arcanist. I would have gone and drawn again like I did last freaking time.[/i]-----
Where night and its host of monsters might have frightened others, Lamia felt nothing but wonder. She supposed it was because she was herself a creature of the night.
She turned a quarter to glance at her ghostly companion- a violin possessed. He was playing something... [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YyknBTm_YyM]familiar[/url] to her. "You call yourself Legato and this is what you play?"
It seemed to smile, or otherwise seemed to laugh.
"So it goes. Play on, I certainly can't control you."
So it did.
In traveling, a fragment of a creature once living floated about; fixed them with a stare, hollow and cold, but ignored them after. Lamia would have ignored it, but the fiddle was adamant- as much so as a fiddle can be adamant.
The ghost dropped the fiddle for just a moment- for just a moment, Lamia could see the shape of a male humanoid as it approached the skull, which had been piecing itself together from the few other bones in the area.
She sat aloof as her ghostly familiar played with a creature that shared the lack of life in common with all of them.
Still capable of animation long after its host body has been destroyed, the best tactic for dispatching these airborne skulls is with a swift projectile.
47
Pinkerton, fix your glitch I swear to Arcanist. I would have gone and drawn again like I did last freaking time.
Where night and its host of monsters might have frightened others, Lamia felt nothing but wonder. She supposed it was because she was herself a creature of the night.
She turned a quarter to glance at her ghostly companion- a violin possessed. He was playing something... familiar to her. "You call yourself Legato and this is what you play?"
It seemed to smile, or otherwise seemed to laugh.
"So it goes. Play on, I certainly can't control you."
So it did.
In traveling, a fragment of a creature once living floated about; fixed them with a stare, hollow and cold, but ignored them after. Lamia would have ignored it, but the fiddle was adamant- as much so as a fiddle can be adamant.
The ghost dropped the fiddle for just a moment- for just a moment, Lamia could see the shape of a male humanoid as it approached the skull, which had been piecing itself together from the few other bones in the area.
She sat aloof as her ghostly familiar played with a creature that shared the lack of life in common with all of them.
LF :: nests of
-----[center][size=5][font=book antiqua][b][u]Day 4
[item=Berserker]
[i]Landed on heads. Cursed.[/i]-----
It was, at the very least, something she was extraordinarily happy about- her ability to drain from other entities the magic of life, to heal herself with their fatal wounds.
She'd never been much one for the philosophical, the questions of what makes it right for her to survive on the blood of those around her.
She didn't mean to start now- what mattered was that she could, and she did, use the life of those creatures in the woods to feed herself, and to protect herself.
Legato had been quiet that day.
The forest seemed to come alive with hunters, dragons hell-bent on killing her. For trespassing, or for her falseness of form, she didn't know, and she didn't care. They provided her with the life that she hadn't had in some few days, and that was the matter of it.
Landed on heads. Cursed.
It was, at the very least, something she was extraordinarily happy about- her ability to drain from other entities the magic of life, to heal herself with their fatal wounds.
She'd never been much one for the philosophical, the questions of what makes it right for her to survive on the blood of those around her.
She didn't mean to start now- what mattered was that she could, and she did, use the life of those creatures in the woods to feed herself, and to protect herself.
Legato had been quiet that day.
The forest seemed to come alive with hunters, dragons hell-bent on killing her. For trespassing, or for her falseness of form, she didn't know, and she didn't care. They provided her with the life that she hadn't had in some few days, and that was the matter of it.
LF :: nests of
-----[center][size=5][font=book antiqua][b][u]Day 5
[item=Extinguished Jackalope Pelt]
[i]In which we have to Character Develop some more I guess.[/i]-----
While the blood of animals would sustain her, there was little value in it for her.
She needed to find a hatchling... True prey.
The withering effect of starvation was apparent in her features. Dull, sullen, cold countenance. Unattractive by every measure- monstrous creature wearing the guise of a dragoness.
The chirping sounds of a young dragon, the useless frail call for a parent that was not there. What right did this imperial child have, to be out in the wilds? Calling into the sunlight hours for an indication of its parents.
Lamia followed the sound. Unmistakable to a predator; the sound of her true prize. The infant looked up at her, crying, begging to be held by a parent.
She looked at it, cold, starving, like her. Unlike her, it wouldn't survive this hideous encounter. Do predators feel sorrow for the things they kill? Do spiders weep for the ants they eat?
A monster in dragon's guise, now beautiful, young, attractive again.
In which we have to Character Develop some more I guess.
While the blood of animals would sustain her, there was little value in it for her.
She needed to find a hatchling... True prey.
The withering effect of starvation was apparent in her features. Dull, sullen, cold countenance. Unattractive by every measure- monstrous creature wearing the guise of a dragoness.
The chirping sounds of a young dragon, the useless frail call for a parent that was not there. What right did this imperial child have, to be out in the wilds? Calling into the sunlight hours for an indication of its parents.
Lamia followed the sound. Unmistakable to a predator; the sound of her true prize. The infant looked up at her, crying, begging to be held by a parent.
She looked at it, cold, starving, like her. Unlike her, it wouldn't survive this hideous encounter. Do predators feel sorrow for the things they kill? Do spiders weep for the ants they eat?
A monster in dragon's guise, now beautiful, young, attractive again.
LF :: nests of
-----[center][size=5][font=book antiqua][b][u]Day 6
[item=Ornate Pearly Necklace]
[i][/i]-----
An abandoned hollow in a cliff face; the sun would be rising soon. Lamia stood at the ingress with shining eyes. Entered, gesturing for her companion to follow.
Abandoned, as it had been used as a resting place before. A nest of long dead leaves was barely held together, protected from the wind inside the meagre depth of the cave.
Inside, a pearlescent glint caught the sight of the she-dragon. Approaching, she plucked a necklace from the dry leaf nest. Tapping it with a claw, blowing the dirt and dust from it, she put it about her neck.
As the sun rose, she took comfort in the fact that the dragon from the night had been a lone hatchling. If its parents were to hunt her, she might not survive the encounter- but why would they know to hunt her?
She was safe.
The perfect complement to any outfit, this pearly necklace reflects a rainbow of colors when it catches the light.
700
An abandoned hollow in a cliff face; the sun would be rising soon. Lamia stood at the ingress with shining eyes. Entered, gesturing for her companion to follow.
Abandoned, as it had been used as a resting place before. A nest of long dead leaves was barely held together, protected from the wind inside the meagre depth of the cave.
Inside, a pearlescent glint caught the sight of the she-dragon. Approaching, she plucked a necklace from the dry leaf nest. Tapping it with a claw, blowing the dirt and dust from it, she put it about her neck.
As the sun rose, she took comfort in the fact that the dragon from the night had been a lone hatchling. If its parents were to hunt her, she might not survive the encounter- but why would they know to hunt her?
She was safe.
LF :: nests of
-----[center][size=5][font=book antiqua][b][u]Day 7
[item=Emerald Aviator Boots]
[i][/i]-----
Day and night passed without event. Inside the hollow, another forgotten piece of clothing was uncovered, this by Legato- green leather boots, meant to be worn tightly to the legs.
Idly, Lamia wondered what had happened here; that the dragons once inhabiting had left so quickly that their possessions would be stranded here, and never reclaimed.
It didn't really matter. She stretched in the leaf-bed, standing as civil twilight came to an end.
She wanted to simply stay there; never having to roam again would be nice. Her body ached in the starting pangs of hunger. She wouldn't be able to stay there- not forever.
She could for a little while longer, she supposed.
She had to find a clan to enter into; a place where the number of dragons who moved in and out would prevent anyone from looking too closely at her own habits. At how the dragons she spoke to were often of the same class as those who vanished in the night.
With a sigh, she stood, exiting and searching for something to eat for the night.
Day and night passed without event. Inside the hollow, another forgotten piece of clothing was uncovered, this by Legato- green leather boots, meant to be worn tightly to the legs.
Idly, Lamia wondered what had happened here; that the dragons once inhabiting had left so quickly that their possessions would be stranded here, and never reclaimed.
It didn't really matter. She stretched in the leaf-bed, standing as civil twilight came to an end.
She wanted to simply stay there; never having to roam again would be nice. Her body ached in the starting pangs of hunger. She wouldn't be able to stay there- not forever.
She could for a little while longer, she supposed.
She had to find a clan to enter into; a place where the number of dragons who moved in and out would prevent anyone from looking too closely at her own habits. At how the dragons she spoke to were often of the same class as those who vanished in the night.
With a sigh, she stood, exiting and searching for something to eat for the night.
LF :: nests of
-----[center][size=5][font=book antiqua][b][u]Day 8
[item=Murkbottom Kelp]
[i][I should plan these things out ahead of time][/i]-----
Thrashing in the pond, hissing, screaming and filling her lungs with water and screaming in the water and panic. [i]Panic panic PANIC[/i].
They'd thrown her into the river, they'd watched her struggle to stay afloat, they'd seen her get caught in the river reeds and struggle and she did not blame them for meaning to let her die. If prey could dispatch the predator, why shouldn't they?
Legato reached, one whisper-thin arm, then the other, to shake Lamia awake. A reedy refrain slowly crept up in volume, and she opened her eyes, wild, unseeing. A face that was wooden and beautiful greeted her, soothed her.
She hissed, waving the arms of her familiar away.
The river they were walking beside seemed to bid her enter, and she shook herself awake, walked as far from the water as she could while still hearing it, still able to follow it.
This kelp can grow in extreme low-light conditions.
30
3
Thrashing in the pond, hissing, screaming and filling her lungs with water and screaming in the water and panic. Panic panic PANIC.
They'd thrown her into the river, they'd watched her struggle to stay afloat, they'd seen her get caught in the river reeds and struggle and she did not blame them for meaning to let her die. If prey could dispatch the predator, why shouldn't they?
Legato reached, one whisper-thin arm, then the other, to shake Lamia awake. A reedy refrain slowly crept up in volume, and she opened her eyes, wild, unseeing. A face that was wooden and beautiful greeted her, soothed her.
She hissed, waving the arms of her familiar away.
The river they were walking beside seemed to bid her enter, and she shook herself awake, walked as far from the water as she could while still hearing it, still able to follow it.
