RoR Community Choice Writer’s Fest
Welcome to the 2019 RoR Community Choice Writer’s Fest, where we’ll celebrate the Riot of Rot with the written word and readers decide the winners. Anyone can read and vote!
We have two classes and three themes for a total of six categories. The top three entries in each class receive
gem prizes! One entry per theme will be chosen at random to win an
item prize. Entries are due by midnight October 26th. Voting begins on October 27th and ends on November 1st at midnight. Winners will be announced on November 2nd.
________________________________________
________________________________________
Classes
Prose. To be written in paragraphs.
Poems. To be written in stanzas. Both set and free forms are equally welcome.
There is no minimum word count for either class, for some can say quite a lot with very little, but your work should always carry a character arc, scene, or idea to completion. There is also no hard maximum word count, but aim to stay concise enough to keep your piece comfortably bite-sized. We suggest entries average one to five pages in length. If your entry is an excerpt from a larger piece or relates to a bigger collection you’ve written, feel free to link to the rest of your work, but you will only be judged on what you submit in this thread. Pieces broken down into multiple short chapters or parts will be accepted as single entries as long as they are not full blown novellas or epics, but also can not stand alone as separate stories.
Themes
Pens for Plague. Entries should take place on Sornieth and focus on the lifestyle, values, and lore of dragons in Plague flight, through their eyes or the eyes of others. This is where to submit works about your clan, dragons, or the Mother of Rot herself.
Wild Wild West. For those of you looking for a prompt to guide your entries, we have this category. The Abiding Boneyard is home to gunslingers, bandits, and strange creatures lurking between dunes and canyons. This is where your works with Western flare to them can be submitted, even if they take place off-Sornieth.
Spooky Stories to Tell in the Dark. Entries here do not need to take place in Sornieth, but can if you like. This is the place for your twists on classic campfire tales and urban legends, and a good place to enter works which focus on atmospheric or environmental story telling- as long as the setting you’re laying out is meant to give your reader the creeps.
________________________________________
RoR Community Choice Writer’s Fest
Welcome to the 2019 RoR Community Choice Writer’s Fest, where we’ll celebrate the Riot of Rot with the written word and readers decide the winners. Anyone can read and vote!
We have two classes and three themes for a total of six categories. The top three entries in each class receive
gem prizes! One entry per theme will be chosen at random to win an
item prize. Entries are due by midnight October 26th. Voting begins on October 27th and ends on November 1st at midnight. Winners will be announced on November 2nd.
________________________________________
________________________________________
Classes
Prose. To be written in paragraphs.
Poems. To be written in stanzas. Both set and free forms are equally welcome.
There is no minimum word count for either class, for some can say quite a lot with very little, but your work should always carry a character arc, scene, or idea to completion. There is also no hard maximum word count, but aim to stay concise enough to keep your piece comfortably bite-sized. We suggest entries average one to five pages in length. If your entry is an excerpt from a larger piece or relates to a bigger collection you’ve written, feel free to link to the rest of your work, but you will only be judged on what you submit in this thread. Pieces broken down into multiple short chapters or parts will be accepted as single entries as long as they are not full blown novellas or epics, but also can not stand alone as separate stories.
Themes
Pens for Plague. Entries should take place on Sornieth and focus on the lifestyle, values, and lore of dragons in Plague flight, through their eyes or the eyes of others. This is where to submit works about your clan, dragons, or the Mother of Rot herself.
Wild Wild West. For those of you looking for a prompt to guide your entries, we have this category. The Abiding Boneyard is home to gunslingers, bandits, and strange creatures lurking between dunes and canyons. This is where your works with Western flare to them can be submitted, even if they take place off-Sornieth.
Spooky Stories to Tell in the Dark. Entries here do not need to take place in Sornieth, but can if you like. This is the place for your twists on classic campfire tales and urban legends, and a good place to enter works which focus on atmospheric or environmental story telling- as long as the setting you’re laying out is meant to give your reader the creeps.
________________________________________
How to enter
Aim to keep content in all entries PG-13, especially those taking place off-Sornieth. If it would be out of place in a Disney or Studio Ghibli film, or site official lore, such as the
Bounty of the Elements series, either due to explicit content or over-the-top edginess, we ask that you revise your work. While guts and gore are part of Plague Flight, gratuitous violence is unnecessary. Your work should have a point besides ‘there was a murderer; it was scary and also there was blood.’ Your entries should also be polished. While stylistic choices are welcome, they should be consistent, and not evidence of haphazard editing.
To enter, you must post your completed entry or a link to a Google doc containing it in this thread and mark yourself as an author
here. Please number your entries, and for every entry include a title, which category you’re entering it in, and mark it as completed or incomplete. Use the form below.
Example:
Entry #: 1
Title: Meat Swamp
Category: Spooky, Prose
Completed? Y/N: Yes
Link:
Please mark if you would like if you’d like to receive a ping the day before entries close on the same spreadsheet you registered on.
A note on the sign up sheet, it currently is formatted for 50 participants. More than 50 participants is absolutely fine; please ping @
Thoroughbred if you find yourself No. 51 and don’t know how to add your own check boxes.
You can reserve your post now, if you’d like! It helps keep us bumped.
You may use BBCode or editing in your entry to dress it up and make your formatting easy on the eyes, and even add illustrations or site-provided images for extra jazz, but your work must not lean on visuals to tell its story. The text must be able to stand alone.
Can I enter multiple categories?
You bet! We encourage you to branch out and try themes and classes you wouldn’t normally.
Can I enter multiple times in one category?
That’s a yes too, however, if you have more than two entries intended for one category, please consider condensing them into a single series of related mini-chapters or parts.
________________________________________
________________________________________
How to enter
Aim to keep content in all entries PG-13, especially those taking place off-Sornieth. If it would be out of place in a Disney or Studio Ghibli film, or site official lore, such as the
Bounty of the Elements series, either due to explicit content or over-the-top edginess, we ask that you revise your work. While guts and gore are part of Plague Flight, gratuitous violence is unnecessary. Your work should have a point besides ‘there was a murderer; it was scary and also there was blood.’ Your entries should also be polished. While stylistic choices are welcome, they should be consistent, and not evidence of haphazard editing.
To enter, you must post your completed entry or a link to a Google doc containing it in this thread and mark yourself as an author
here. Please number your entries, and for every entry include a title, which category you’re entering it in, and mark it as completed or incomplete. Use the form below.
Example:
Entry #: 1
Title: Meat Swamp
Category: Spooky, Prose
Completed? Y/N: Yes
Link:
Please mark if you would like if you’d like to receive a ping the day before entries close on the same spreadsheet you registered on.
A note on the sign up sheet, it currently is formatted for 50 participants. More than 50 participants is absolutely fine; please ping @
Thoroughbred if you find yourself No. 51 and don’t know how to add your own check boxes.
You can reserve your post now, if you’d like! It helps keep us bumped.
You may use BBCode or editing in your entry to dress it up and make your formatting easy on the eyes, and even add illustrations or site-provided images for extra jazz, but your work must not lean on visuals to tell its story. The text must be able to stand alone.
Can I enter multiple categories?
You bet! We encourage you to branch out and try themes and classes you wouldn’t normally.
Can I enter multiple times in one category?
That’s a yes too, however, if you have more than two entries intended for one category, please consider condensing them into a single series of related mini-chapters or parts.
________________________________________
________________________________________
Voting
Voting runs from October 27th to midnight November 1st. All are encouraged to vote- we only ask that entrants don’t vote for themselves. If you’d like to be a reader and don’t want to miss it, add yourself to the reader’s ping list
here and we’ll tell you when voting begins and warn you when it’s about the close. You don’t have to be an entrant to be a reader!
To vote, read all of the entries, and select your favorites! The voting form is
complete! Please access in here:
Click me!
(Note: you will need to sign in to Google to vote, but I'm not collecting emails and you can edit after you submit if you realize you made a mistake.)
Select your choices for 1st, 2nd, and 3rd; each placing has a points value assigned to it (3, 2, and 1, respectively) and total score determines which entries win.
When voting, please read all entries in a class before making your choices. Don’t vote for yourself, don’t vote for your friends just because they’re your friends, and don’t tell your friends to vote for you without reading the others. Keep these questions in mind when reviewing an entry: Does it match up to the theme it’s meant to? Is it a solid piece, or does it feel like it’s missing something? Did the author put in an effort to edit it, or is it hard to follow and have distracting errors in it? You can still love a piece if it’s a little lacking in some areas, of course- these are just suggestions! What’s most important is that you enjoyed it.
________________________________________
Questions?
If you have an question about your individual contents, such as if your content is too gory, if your submission should be broken down or condensed, pm me, @
Thoroughbred, what you have so far. If you have a more general question which others could benefit from getting the answer to, such as when is something due, the voting process, is a story about x better suited for y or z theme, tag me in the thread and I will get back to you as soon as I can.
Writers, have fun, and be creative! Readers, get ready!
________________________________________
________________________________________
Voting
Voting runs from October 27th to midnight November 1st. All are encouraged to vote- we only ask that entrants don’t vote for themselves. If you’d like to be a reader and don’t want to miss it, add yourself to the reader’s ping list
here and we’ll tell you when voting begins and warn you when it’s about the close. You don’t have to be an entrant to be a reader!
To vote, read all of the entries, and select your favorites! The voting form is
complete! Please access in here:
Click me!
(Note: you will need to sign in to Google to vote, but I'm not collecting emails and you can edit after you submit if you realize you made a mistake.)
Select your choices for 1st, 2nd, and 3rd; each placing has a points value assigned to it (3, 2, and 1, respectively) and total score determines which entries win.
When voting, please read all entries in a class before making your choices. Don’t vote for yourself, don’t vote for your friends just because they’re your friends, and don’t tell your friends to vote for you without reading the others. Keep these questions in mind when reviewing an entry: Does it match up to the theme it’s meant to? Is it a solid piece, or does it feel like it’s missing something? Did the author put in an effort to edit it, or is it hard to follow and have distracting errors in it? You can still love a piece if it’s a little lacking in some areas, of course- these are just suggestions! What’s most important is that you enjoyed it.
________________________________________
Questions?
If you have an question about your individual contents, such as if your content is too gory, if your submission should be broken down or condensed, pm me, @
Thoroughbred, what you have so far. If you have a more general question which others could benefit from getting the answer to, such as when is something due, the voting process, is a story about x better suited for y or z theme, tag me in the thread and I will get back to you as soon as I can.
Writers, have fun, and be creative! Readers, get ready!
________________________________________
________________________________________
Entry #1
Title: Stories
Category: Spooky, Prose
Completed?: Yes
She sits, huddled in upon herself upon the cushioned black chair. Flickering light dances upon ghostly pale skin that was once beautifully tanned. Eyes that were once a bright, sparkling blue are now dull and slightly wide as they watch the dancing flames of the fire. Her hair, which was once lustrous and a black so deep it would shine purple, is now ill kept and has gone silver.
It has been days since she set herself in this chair. Weeks since she has been out of the house. Months since it all started. Yes, it has been months since she met him. He was so handsome with his long, gently wavy black hair and bright green eyes. His skin, oh how his skin shone! Polished alabaster dressed in clothes of emerald. She had been shy around that tall handsome man, much like a schoolgirl with a crush.
Silus. Yes, Silus was his name. They had talked briefly in the line at the store. Exchanged numbers even. She hadn't been brave enough to call him. No, that would have been far too forward for her. It had taken a few days, but he called. She had been so thrilled to hear his smooth, masculine voice over the phone and was only too eager to agree to coffee.
Their coffee date started wonderfully, the atmosphere light and happy with only a touch of nervousness upon the air. They had talked and laughed, enjoying each other's company. Oh how that changed! He began telling stories and she listened to every word as though it would be the last thing she would ever hear. Were they true? She doesn't know but wishes she did.
It was dark before she started walking back home. Every little sound made her jump. Every shadow drew her eye. Nothing was as it seemed under the moonlight. His stories had gotten to her, changed how she saw things. Little things scared her. Things that used to bring her joy were now things to avoid.
Weeks passed and she grew thinner, not wishing to leave her home any longer. People were now things to avoid. He still called. She allowed him over and he told more of his stories. Always more of those bone chilling stories of his! She didn't dare tell him how they frightened her. No, then he might leave and not come back again. She couldn't stand the thought of that taking place. Each visit left her more frightened than the last.
His last visit was just a few days ago. The stories he told then were more chilling than any of the others. She hasn't left this spot since then. The phone has even gone unanswered. What was once a large fire is now almost gone. It still has some life though and proves it by popping and snapping suddenly and loudly. She jumps, frightened by the loud noise. The once beautiful woman tumbles to the floor with wide eyes. Dead.
He smiles to himself, standing in the moonlight outside her window. She had been an easy kill. He turns and begins walking away. He needs sleep now. Tomorrow is a big day. He'll be picking out his next victim. Oh what stories he'll have to tell!
Entry #1
Title: Stories
Category: Spooky, Prose
Completed?: Yes
She sits, huddled in upon herself upon the cushioned black chair. Flickering light dances upon ghostly pale skin that was once beautifully tanned. Eyes that were once a bright, sparkling blue are now dull and slightly wide as they watch the dancing flames of the fire. Her hair, which was once lustrous and a black so deep it would shine purple, is now ill kept and has gone silver.
It has been days since she set herself in this chair. Weeks since she has been out of the house. Months since it all started. Yes, it has been months since she met him. He was so handsome with his long, gently wavy black hair and bright green eyes. His skin, oh how his skin shone! Polished alabaster dressed in clothes of emerald. She had been shy around that tall handsome man, much like a schoolgirl with a crush.
Silus. Yes, Silus was his name. They had talked briefly in the line at the store. Exchanged numbers even. She hadn't been brave enough to call him. No, that would have been far too forward for her. It had taken a few days, but he called. She had been so thrilled to hear his smooth, masculine voice over the phone and was only too eager to agree to coffee.
Their coffee date started wonderfully, the atmosphere light and happy with only a touch of nervousness upon the air. They had talked and laughed, enjoying each other's company. Oh how that changed! He began telling stories and she listened to every word as though it would be the last thing she would ever hear. Were they true? She doesn't know but wishes she did.
It was dark before she started walking back home. Every little sound made her jump. Every shadow drew her eye. Nothing was as it seemed under the moonlight. His stories had gotten to her, changed how she saw things. Little things scared her. Things that used to bring her joy were now things to avoid.
Weeks passed and she grew thinner, not wishing to leave her home any longer. People were now things to avoid. He still called. She allowed him over and he told more of his stories. Always more of those bone chilling stories of his! She didn't dare tell him how they frightened her. No, then he might leave and not come back again. She couldn't stand the thought of that taking place. Each visit left her more frightened than the last.
His last visit was just a few days ago. The stories he told then were more chilling than any of the others. She hasn't left this spot since then. The phone has even gone unanswered. What was once a large fire is now almost gone. It still has some life though and proves it by popping and snapping suddenly and loudly. She jumps, frightened by the loud noise. The once beautiful woman tumbles to the floor with wide eyes. Dead.
He smiles to himself, standing in the moonlight outside her window. She had been an easy kill. He turns and begins walking away. He needs sleep now. Tomorrow is a big day. He'll be picking out his next victim. Oh what stories he'll have to tell!
Ooooooh this is neat! I may submit some of my bio shorts later because they're all in the same category and I know you don't like multiple same categories, so have an excerpt from my scrapped nuzlocke for now.
Entry #: 1
Title: Solar Waltz
Category: Pens, Prose
Completed? Y/N: No
-----------------------------------------
It was barely midmorning, and already the weather was too hot.
Khenga never thought she’d miss the sting of ice under her paws, the mauling of week-long blizzards spent in the Fortress, but now she’d give anything just to feel frost against her fur. She collapsed against one of the gnarled outcrops in the Wandering Contagion, wincing as their rough edges dug into her side. Her dripcave deputy, who had been jostled from its spot between her shoulder blades, let out an indignant chitter and darted into the shade of some nearby thorns.
Despite their regional color, the plagued lands that stretched before her were more black than crimson, putrid with decay. Here, it seemed like bones were a natural part of the landscape; speckles of white, bleached from the sun, jutted out of the unnatural growth like weeds. She’d seen mass graves with less bodies than this, lives upon lives being slowly reclaimed back into the soil.
Oh, what she’d give for snow again.
It hurt to stand, hurt to walk. Her vision was blurring at the edges. Her coat, a blessing in those harsh winter months, proved to be a curse against the stifling heat.
A desperate laugh bubbled up in her throat. She’d survived centuries against the trails of the icefields, yet this was how she’d die, chasing ghosts in a foreign land. Khenga closed her eyes.
“I vow to be a gaoler,” she breathed, remembering the day she joined their forces, “Serving to be the watchful eye of the Icewarden.”
“I vow to protect the untainted, to act as the first line of defense against intruders, and the last to dragonkind.”
"I vow to dedicate my life to guarding the Imprisoned, to containing hazardous entities, to ensuring the safety of the region--"
[i]And you failed.[/i]
Khenga's eyes snapped open. Her paws were sore from walking, her throat parched, her wings heavy; she was miles away from home.
"I failed," she murmured, "I really failed."
And for that she’d been relegated to damage control. Something she deserved, she supposed. A blunder of this caliber called for a death sentence, and Icewarden wasn’t the one to give it quick and painless.
...But it wasn’t a death sentence, wasn’t it?
The whisper of hoarfrost. The echo of thunder, a lingering chill as the frozen god departed. [i]Do not disappoint me, Overseer[/i].
It was a duty.
“I am a gaoler,” she repeated, stronger, louder now, “The unyielding guardians of dangerous shade-ridden threats.”
Shift. Slide. The heat seared burning on her back, so hot it was cold. “I am the protector of the untainted, the first line of defense against intruders. If that were to fail...”
A step. Then another. Until she was plodding along, picking up speed. Her feet, adjusted to climbing steep mountain crags, avoided tangles of viscera with ease--the steady, determined waltz of a huntress under the plague sun.
“...I am the last hope to dragonkind.”
Khenga would gladly sacrifice her life to ensuring that.
[center][img]http://i.imgur.com/nzLSfwg.png[/img][/center]
[i]“You are at the base of the Fortress of Ends,” Sentinel-Warden Asmund barked out, circling the Icewarden’s newest batch of recruits, “Excited? Good. From now on, this will be your home.”
Khenga, then barely out of hatchlinghood, shivered under the landscape’s imposing stature. The mountains seemed to be carved out by some otherworldly force, claw-like peaks piercing the heavens like they wanted to tear the world apart. Everything stood out in sharp contrast to the flat ocean and gently sloping beaches of her birthclan. Before they kicked her out of the nest to serve another region’s deity, that was.
She nervously glanced around. Around her were an assortment of dragons of all breeds and ages. As a guardian, she stood among the larger percentile, though there was a huge imperial who was doing his best to shelter smaller dragons from the raging winds. Khenga blinked flecks of ice out of her eyes.
Asmund continued. “By becoming a gaoler, you relinquish all birth and material ties. From now onwards, your allegiance is to The Icewarden; your family, the dragons around you. Raise your right paw, and repeat after me:”
Khenga obeyed, her limbs numb from the cold.
“I vow to be a gaoler, serving to be the watchful eye of the Icewarden...”
Blood surged throughout her body as she echoed those words. Dimly, Khenga felt her wings shrinking, her horns elongating, the skin of her raised paw sprouting locks of hair. The howl of the blizzard softened to a lullaby.
Once their pledge was done, Khenga looked down at herself. Gone were the fins, the leathery wings, the tapered tail and belly scutes of a guardian. Instead she was fluffy, like a tundra, though not quite. All around her, dragons gasped and stumbled as they investigated their new bodies.
[i]Asmund sat back on his haunches, pleased. “Welcome to the Order of Eternal Ice.” [/i]
[center][img]http://i.imgur.com/nzLSfwg.png[/img][/center]
Khenga had met plague dragons before, especially in her early years when her charges were capable of speech. There, they said, life itself was a trial. Survival, a testament of strength. In a land littered with the scars of death, every step was a celebration in overcoming.
Never had the gaoler felt that more acutely than now. She was hungry, thirsty, but her body had been crafted to withstand the harsh tundra conditions with little sustenance for weeks on end. Food and water could wait.
Shade, however, could not.
In the hazy distance she spotted an overhang of rocks, large enough to fit her with plenty of room to spare. Khenga practically dragged herself to it, sighing in relief once her body was safely inside shadows. Plague’s weather was dry, not humid, something she counted as a blessing. Her ears picked up the subtle noise of chittering before her dripcave deputy pounced against her side.
“Glad you didn’t decide to ditch,” she grunted, watching the little creature burrow into her mane, “Since you’re here, can you do me a favor?”
Once she had its attention, Khenga gestured toward her mane. “Cut as much of this off as you can. I can’t be getting heatstroke on a mission.”
As the sound of snipping filled the air, Khenga took in her surroundings. She was still skirting the hinderlands of plague territory, enough to spot the crystalspine beyond the horizon. Seeing as how all her leads pointed further inland, she still had a long while to go. The gaoler stretched onto her back to allow the deputy access to her underbelly, but her hind leg hit something warm and round and she jerked upright.
Her dripcave deputy screeched as it was dislodged a second time, but Khena paid it no mind. Instead, her attention was focused on a bulbous object nestled in the corner, whose embryo could be seen through its translucent green shell.
An egg.
Khenga peeked outside, fearing that a pack of mirrors were just around the corner, ready to attack her on sight for endangering their young. But there didn’t seem to be a living soul for miles. Either a whole clan was hiding in a dense thicket somewhere...or the egg was abandoned.
Curse it. Plaguebringer curse it all. She hissed in frustration, staggering back into her shelter. She was on a [i]mission[/i], dammit, she couldn’t dawdle on matters such as raising a hatchling. She could barely fend for herself out here on these vicious lands, let alone another hungry mouth. But if she left, the hatchling would surely die. A martyr of their own flight, destined to perish before they were even born
Her guardian instincts flared up as she watched the egg pulse a soft glow, and the war inside her was as good as won.
Khenga sighed, gently easing the egg to her chest as her deputy resumed cutting.
If she was still enough, she could feel it nudge against her.
Ooooooh this is neat! I may submit some of my bio shorts later because they're all in the same category and I know you don't like multiple same categories, so have an excerpt from my scrapped nuzlocke for now.
Entry #: 1
Title: Solar Waltz
Category: Pens, Prose
Completed? Y/N: No
It was barely midmorning, and already the weather was too hot.
Khenga never thought she’d miss the sting of ice under her paws, the mauling of week-long blizzards spent in the Fortress, but now she’d give anything just to feel frost against her fur. She collapsed against one of the gnarled outcrops in the Wandering Contagion, wincing as their rough edges dug into her side. Her dripcave deputy, who had been jostled from its spot between her shoulder blades, let out an indignant chitter and darted into the shade of some nearby thorns.
Despite their regional color, the plagued lands that stretched before her were more black than crimson, putrid with decay. Here, it seemed like bones were a natural part of the landscape; speckles of white, bleached from the sun, jutted out of the unnatural growth like weeds. She’d seen mass graves with less bodies than this, lives upon lives being slowly reclaimed back into the soil.
Oh, what she’d give for snow again.
It hurt to stand, hurt to walk. Her vision was blurring at the edges. Her coat, a blessing in those harsh winter months, proved to be a curse against the stifling heat.
A desperate laugh bubbled up in her throat. She’d survived centuries against the trails of the icefields, yet this was how she’d die, chasing ghosts in a foreign land. Khenga closed her eyes.
“I vow to be a gaoler,” she breathed, remembering the day she joined their forces, “Serving to be the watchful eye of the Icewarden.”
“I vow to protect the untainted, to act as the first line of defense against intruders, and the last to dragonkind.”
"I vow to dedicate my life to guarding the Imprisoned, to containing hazardous entities, to ensuring the safety of the region--"
And you failed.
Khenga's eyes snapped open. Her paws were sore from walking, her throat parched, her wings heavy; she was miles away from home.
"I failed," she murmured, "I really failed."
And for that she’d been relegated to damage control. Something she deserved, she supposed. A blunder of this caliber called for a death sentence, and Icewarden wasn’t the one to give it quick and painless.
...But it wasn’t a death sentence, wasn’t it?
The whisper of hoarfrost. The echo of thunder, a lingering chill as the frozen god departed.
Do not disappoint me, Overseer.
It was a duty.
“I am a gaoler,” she repeated, stronger, louder now, “The unyielding guardians of dangerous shade-ridden threats.”
Shift. Slide. The heat seared burning on her back, so hot it was cold. “I am the protector of the untainted, the first line of defense against intruders. If that were to fail...”
A step. Then another. Until she was plodding along, picking up speed. Her feet, adjusted to climbing steep mountain crags, avoided tangles of viscera with ease--the steady, determined waltz of a huntress under the plague sun.
“...I am the last hope to dragonkind.”
Khenga would gladly sacrifice her life to ensuring that.
“You are at the base of the Fortress of Ends,” Sentinel-Warden Asmund barked out, circling the Icewarden’s newest batch of recruits, “Excited? Good. From now on, this will be your home.”
Khenga, then barely out of hatchlinghood, shivered under the landscape’s imposing stature. The mountains seemed to be carved out by some otherworldly force, claw-like peaks piercing the heavens like they wanted to tear the world apart. Everything stood out in sharp contrast to the flat ocean and gently sloping beaches of her birthclan. Before they kicked her out of the nest to serve another region’s deity, that was.
She nervously glanced around. Around her were an assortment of dragons of all breeds and ages. As a guardian, she stood among the larger percentile, though there was a huge imperial who was doing his best to shelter smaller dragons from the raging winds. Khenga blinked flecks of ice out of her eyes.
Asmund continued. “By becoming a gaoler, you relinquish all birth and material ties. From now onwards, your allegiance is to The Icewarden; your family, the dragons around you. Raise your right paw, and repeat after me:”
Khenga obeyed, her limbs numb from the cold.
“I vow to be a gaoler, serving to be the watchful eye of the Icewarden...”
Blood surged throughout her body as she echoed those words. Dimly, Khenga felt her wings shrinking, her horns elongating, the skin of her raised paw sprouting locks of hair. The howl of the blizzard softened to a lullaby.
Once their pledge was done, Khenga looked down at herself. Gone were the fins, the leathery wings, the tapered tail and belly scutes of a guardian. Instead she was fluffy, like a tundra, though not quite. All around her, dragons gasped and stumbled as they investigated their new bodies.
Asmund sat back on his haunches, pleased. “Welcome to the Order of Eternal Ice.”
Khenga had met plague dragons before, especially in her early years when her charges were capable of speech. There, they said, life itself was a trial. Survival, a testament of strength. In a land littered with the scars of death, every step was a celebration in overcoming.
Never had the gaoler felt that more acutely than now. She was hungry, thirsty, but her body had been crafted to withstand the harsh tundra conditions with little sustenance for weeks on end. Food and water could wait.
Shade, however, could not.
In the hazy distance she spotted an overhang of rocks, large enough to fit her with plenty of room to spare. Khenga practically dragged herself to it, sighing in relief once her body was safely inside shadows. Plague’s weather was dry, not humid, something she counted as a blessing. Her ears picked up the subtle noise of chittering before her dripcave deputy pounced against her side.
“Glad you didn’t decide to ditch,” she grunted, watching the little creature burrow into her mane, “Since you’re here, can you do me a favor?”
Once she had its attention, Khenga gestured toward her mane. “Cut as much of this off as you can. I can’t be getting heatstroke on a mission.”
As the sound of snipping filled the air, Khenga took in her surroundings. She was still skirting the hinderlands of plague territory, enough to spot the crystalspine beyond the horizon. Seeing as how all her leads pointed further inland, she still had a long while to go. The gaoler stretched onto her back to allow the deputy access to her underbelly, but her hind leg hit something warm and round and she jerked upright.
Her dripcave deputy screeched as it was dislodged a second time, but Khena paid it no mind. Instead, her attention was focused on a bulbous object nestled in the corner, whose embryo could be seen through its translucent green shell.
An egg.
Khenga peeked outside, fearing that a pack of mirrors were just around the corner, ready to attack her on sight for endangering their young. But there didn’t seem to be a living soul for miles. Either a whole clan was hiding in a dense thicket somewhere...or the egg was abandoned.
Curse it. Plaguebringer curse it all. She hissed in frustration, staggering back into her shelter. She was on a
mission, dammit, she couldn’t dawdle on matters such as raising a hatchling. She could barely fend for herself out here on these vicious lands, let alone another hungry mouth. But if she left, the hatchling would surely die. A martyr of their own flight, destined to perish before they were even born
Her guardian instincts flared up as she watched the egg pulse a soft glow, and the war inside her was as good as won.
Khenga sighed, gently easing the egg to her chest as her deputy resumed cutting.
If she was still enough, she could feel it nudge against her.
Entry #1
Title: Virulent's Name
Category: Plague/Spooky, Pens/Prose
Completed?: No
(The following events are based on a true story, a dramatized recounted by the victim of this story. Some of the names were changed to protect the innocent.)
XXX awoke. Twas dark and quiet. His front two eyes dazedly flicked open as he peered through the dark. He stretched lightly on his bed, his fingers stretching, his claws digging into the cold soil. Suddenly aware of his surroundings, his second set of eyes pierced open, revealing their dark red color. For a moment XXX was frightened, he did not recognize his home. He breathed deeply, recalling this was in fact his home, his new home. XXX was but a hatchling, a mere day old, still short in both tooth and claw, and yet his Parent's sent him away. Sold him, to another whom was not much older than himself. He readjusted his body, listening to the slight crackling of the hay beneath him. XXX was sad, but only a moment, then his tiny scaly body boiled with anger. His Parents SOLD him, to another hatchingly only three days old! They didn't even bother to give him a name! Did he mean so little? Was he truly so unworthy of their love or even of the time it took to give a name? Why they sold him, he'll never know, nor did he care. Then and there XXX decided to outdo them, he shall be the most powerful Dragon, and one day challenge them to a Battle in the Coliseum and destroy them. Prove to them how much they failed by letting him go. XXX snorted, letting himself calm down. One day he shall be great, the greatest, maybe even greater than The Plaguebringer? One day he'd fight alongside the great Plaguemother, perchance, even fight her. Maybe, just maybe, HE could be the NEW Plaguebringer. XXX hadn't a name, the only chance at a name now, was left to another Hatchling, not even old enough to gather- yet left their original home, and claimed this den as their own. Maybe he could convince this tiny Fae hatchling to name him "Plaguebringer?" To match his Destiny, so that one day he could take his rightful place as Deity and rule over the Plaguelands!
XXX held himself with much pride, thinking of how he'd rule as the New Plaguebringer, he lashed out his new little claws at the straw he laid on, pretending to swipe out dozens of dragons at once. His little hatchling mind set on taking over, and getting revenge. XXX held contempt for Blackout (his Hatchling Leader) how dare he buy XXX out from under his own Parents! The tiny Fae, he is small enough for XXX to blow him away with his new wings alone!
The more XXX thought about everything, the more angry he was at his parents, and less upset at Blackout. Imagine it, a hatching claiming a Lair, and out of nothing starting up a clan, commanding a clan, leading a clan. XXX blushed, he decided he was going to admire his tiny leader instead of hating him. Furthermore he was going to do everything he possibly could to help Blackout, and to raise this clan to greatness. XXX wanted to be exactly like Blackout, and tomorrow, promised to swear his undying loyalty to the tiny dark Fae. All of those powerful emotions washing over him, one after the other was too much for such a new hatchling, and XXX was out cold before realizing it.
XXX awoke once again. Dazed, his little head hurt, he tried to roll over and push himself upwards, alas his tiny limbs wouldn't budge. XXX tried to open his eyes, however they refused to move. XXX then forced his second pair of wider eyes open, they felt heavy, but he succeed. Everything was hazy, it was dark inside the den, but darker than before. Surely it would be sun-up by now? At least lighter than before, not darker. XXX saw something shifting in the shadows, and at this his first pair of eyes opened wide, and rolled around momentarily before fixing on the dark image ahead. What was this dark thing? He moved his back eyes about, searching the den for his other two Den-mates. The lair was empty. XXX tried to call out for Blackout and his female fae friend, but his voice was stuck in his throat. Suddenly there was a rancid smell, it not only wavered into his new nostrils, but it also seemed to paralyzed him. The smell was tangible, thick and foul, like a gas. There was a cold dripping stink that now came alongside the foul smell, this one seemingly fouler still; almost as if it was acid seething into the air. XXX seized, and tried to cough, alas nothing came out, not even dry air. As if the power from in front of him was so great, his own breath was too afraid to leave his body. XXX shuddered and suddenly felt a burning feeling in his feet and claws. XXX struggled to see what it was that was hurting him, but the darkness just grew, coating the den. XXX curled up onto his little patch of hay, trying to get away from the burning. A sizzling sound stuck his earholes, he shook his little feet and claws, trying to stop the burning feeling. He felt a hot liquid shake off his little limbs, as he forced himself onto the thickest patch of his straw pile bed. XXX's head throbbed, his limbs ached, his lungs burned, his little scaly body felt so uncanny that it shook violently. Then out of the pure darkness, the figure shifted, finally revealing itself.
P-Plaguemother?
It was if the den itself had more than quadrupled in size around her, just to accommodate her grand figure. She spread her bony leather stripped wings, threw back her head and roared, more of a terrifying shriek. The sound nearly deafened XXX, and as her shredded wings beat, XXX felt as if he'd be blown away!
This couldn't be her...
The Plaguebringer was terrifying yes, but hot, boiling with blisters and seeping hot pustulous ooze. His beloved Plaguebringer was alive, and hot, not cold and foreboding. The Death she brings doesn't creep up on you so ominously, it infects you and eats away at you from the inside. XXX's four eyes were stinging as he looked at the Plaguebringer before him, his red eyes turning an even darker red from pain.
"HATCHLING! YOU DARE TO TRY TO TAKE THE PLACE OF A GOD?!" Her powerful shrieking roar, was almost like an invisible claw, pushing him down into the hay. "YOU DARE CHALLENGE A DEITY!?" Her booming voice causing the entire den to shake, rocks falling from all around. She stomped, her thick bone talons digging into the dirt, and she flapped her torn up wings. "YOU DARE TO TRY TAKE THE PLACE OF THEE PLAGUEBRINGER?!" The Plaguebringer was going to break this cave down, and with no effort. XXX was past terrified, and couldn't move as large rocks fell around him. She was The Earthshaker making mountains, and he was like a Micro Deer or Dwarf Fawn that had gazed unexpectedly at The Lightweaver's Light. The Plaguebringer dropped onto all four claws with a thick Earthshaking thud, causing more rocks to fall all around the den. She looked directly at XXX, thick black smoke filtered out of her rotting bony mouth. The massive pustules on her body, popping, and erupting with what seemed to be lava, glowing hot and coating the den-floor. Was this truly The Plaguebringer? She seemed more akin to The Flamecaller. As XXX thought this, the Deity before him threw back her head, and once again stood on her hind legs. As she laughed, huge puffs of black cinder-filled smoke came pouring out, filling the den with suffocating darkness.
XXX shut his eyes for but a moment as they stung from the smoke. When he reopened them, the thick black smoke had turned into a thick black paste that coated the den walls. The goop slowly dripped all around, the lava replaced with this black sticky muck that threatened to ensnare XXX. The gunk stunk like a musky mold and more of her puss-filled pimples popped, but out oozed the dark tar-like liquid. It dripped from her mouth and filled the air with a cold haunting feeling. She smiled, the black coating her ridged bone fangs. She leaned in close, breathing at him, her mouth big enough to swallow him whole with room to spare. It was too horrific to look at, he closed his eyes. Was this actually The Shadowbinder causing an illusion?
The cold haunting breath turned even colder, almost icy, yet less foul smelling. XXX tried to open his eyes, but they were frozen shut. His body shook violently from the cold. XXX felt his tail become trapped from the goo, he cracked his eyes open, but didn't see the black goo, instead the whole den-floor was covered in ice and snow, his claws and tail trapped within the solid ice. He couldn't stand he was trapped, and the cold was so cold, it was almost fiery. His lungs were frozen, he couldn't breathe. The Plaguebringer breathed more icy breath at him, icicles formed on The Plaguebringer's bone fangs. More and more The Plaguebringer's breath blew, powerful gusts of now warm breath blew XXX's eyelids closed and forced open his wings. XXX managed to take a few breaths into his pained lungs. More and more heavy gusts of breath until the ice itself wasn't strong enough to hold XXX from being blown away. The Plaguebringer's breath ripped up his wings and wrapped around his body, he was trapped in a tornado that force threatened to tear him apart, while push him into a tiny box of air all at once. Once again, he couldn't breath, the power of the air was too great.
The air currents felt like hands, but went from smooth air, to feeling rough against his scales. Almost like... vines? The now thoroughly frightened little Unnamed Hatching otherwise known as XXX, knew what was happening. Exhausted and scared, he opened his eyes, and sure enough his fears were correct. Vines wrapped his body and squeezed him, like a starving Strangler or Shattered Serpent preparing its prey. The vines continued to strangle him, including what precious little air he had in his tiny hatchling lungs. The Plaguebringer's mighty tail, in place of bone-shard spike spines, large whipping vines were growing. Great greenish pools of petal-filled liquid pouring out of her once pus-y craters. This was too much for a Hatching, this was too much for any dragon! XXX wanted to cry, but everything kept him from it, the poison, the falling rocks, the heat, the cold, the wind, the vines. How much more of this was he expected to endure?
He didn't even notice when the vines had turned into bolts of electricity, not just shocking him, but binding him. The Plaguebringer's nose somehow had grown, bolts of electricity shot out of her claws, and she twisted them around as she laughed. Everywhere stung and he danced about, around the constant shocks, trying to avoid them. All of this was so amusing, and she laughed more, her laugh crackled just like the electricity. It was too much, he closed his eyes and wished he never mentioned wanting to be The Plaguebringer! The air was so electric, when he tried to breathe, it constricted his throat and lungs, so once again he couldn't breathe! The electricity became less shocking, but more bright. As if all of the lightning burst into silent sparks or brilliant light.
The light was far too bright, it was blinding, even with his eyes shut tight, he could see the light. It wasn't smooth or comforting, it felt like the light of death, overbearing and everywhere. XXX covered his eyes, but it wasn't enough, even when he tried to wrap his wings over his face, he could still see the blinding torturous light! The Plaguebringer's thundering laugh had turned into a light giggle, as if she was pleased with her cruelty. At least he could breathe again, in this vast unyielding light, which wasn't hot, or cold. XXX felt as if he was trapped in a jar of angry Glowbugs. The light suddenly dimmed, and turned into images. The Plaguebringer's giggles turned into words. Loud long overwhelming words, words of power and knowledge. Rivers of words, poems, and paragraph after paragraph of knowledge, everything overlapping at once. Worldly Mysteries poured into XXX's mind just like the light did. The blinding flashing lights had turned into flashing images. The world's history was before XXX's eyes and it was somehow more blinding than the light. He couldn't understand any of it, it was too much! Streams of scientific studies, speeches, stories, sonnets, songs, symphonies! The overlapping words and numbers had turned into sounds, the knowledge of everything.
He wished it away as he felt his brain was ready to explode. He wanted to cry out and demand that it all stop. Alas the constant flow of knowledge continued. Even with his eyes shut tightly XXX still saw it all. History filled his ears, eyes, and mouth. He could taste the flavors of the world! This was too much, how could the deities take it? But wait! No it wasn't knowledge filling his ears, eyes, and mouth! It was water!
XXX was drowning! The stream of knowledge was a stream of water. Poor XXX couldn't swim, he could barely run he was still so young. The salty water burned his eyes, but it was the first time since the start of the lightning that he dared to open his eyes. He couldn't breath, again, and this time, he couldn't even get tiny gasps of air like he previously could. XXX paddled his tired limbs as hard as he could, but he just kept sinking. He looked around, he was still in the cave, with little pieces of hay floating around the top. The Plaguebringer was beneath him, her jaws opened like a Giant Sicklemar Gar! XXX squealed under the water, watching what precious little air bubble up to the surface. The cave suddenly looked massive, an entire sea somehow fit into the little den, with miles of depth. XXX opened his wings and paddled with everything he could towards the den wall. Twisting his tail, flapping his wings, and paddling his little legs and arms, he made it to the wall of the den. XXX clutched the rocky side of the wall. He climbed up the rocky wall, his nostrils burned, the pressure of the water was great, and he couldn't help but breathe in. Water rushed into his dry throat, and he at first, happily swallowed the refreshing liquid. It was too much, he closed his mouth quickly, and kept climbing up, the ever terrifying Plaguemother under him, slowly swimming up to eat him. Just when XXX thought he'd pass out, his muzzle broke the surface of the water. He clenched the rocks and greedily breathed in the air. Hard waves suddenly pushed him back under, and a whirlpool swirled heavily, draining down into nothingness. This was it, he just had to hang on until the water faded. He withstood all the Deity's powers. When the water stopped draining, it had gotten low enough for XXX to stand in and only have it go halfway up his legs. He panted in the puddle and breathed heavily. XXX had done it!
Nope! The Plaguebringer is disease, she is DEATH!
The crystal blue water turned reddish around him. XXX hurt, and it took him a moment to realize why. He looked around the now only slightly flooded den, the water was a yellowy green and bubbling. Acid. The Plaguemother had indeed outdone herself. XXX tried to take a step, but all he felt was pain. When he lifted his leg out of the acid, all there was left, was a stump. Not bloody, just a clean rounded stump. The pain was unbelievable. In the end, she had won. But XXX had lasted through it all, after all, he wasn't a god, he was just a newly hatched little dragon at that. XXX smiled, a silent stream of tears flowed down his face, his four red eyes were opened wide, defiantly. He looked towards the den opening, sunlight shined through. He failed to notice the rise of the sun, how long had it been up? Maybe even as soon as the lightning, or light? It didn't matter anymore. He wasn't going to give her the satisfaction of trying to fruitlessly flee. XXX smiled widely and laughed as he slowly sank into the acid.
XXX jerked himself awake, he felt warmth on his face. It was the sun, it was morning. He was alive! He got up, stretched his wings out, and flapped them, sending bits of straw around the den. XXX noticed Blackout and the female fae standing on the other side of the den, discussing something in their typical monotone. They turned and watched him make a mess of his bed. XXX couldn't be a Deity. He understood this now. Whether it was a dream, a sign, a message or an outright warning? -XXX didn't know. Honestly he didn't care. He realized he couldn't be a Deity, but he also realized he didn't NEED to be a Deity. He just withstood ALL of that! He didn't need to be a Deity to be powerful. His conviction was renewed and now reinforced. XXX was going to be the Ultimate Dragon someday, and he was going to make this clan the best, through tooth and claw if need be. He was tiny, but one day he will grow up, even if he stays small, he was going to fight and train every day. He was going to work, hard, and do whatever he had to do. This was a new day, his first day in this clan. The start of his new life.
XXX, now barely over a day old lowered his little crested head into a bow. As XXX swore his loyalty to Blackout, he felt nothing but pride and passion. He looked at The Plagueland before him, this was his home, and he was happy. XXX's four eyes fluttered lightly, he loved his new leader, and moreso was going to prove everything he could to him. "Is there a name you like?" The tiny dark Fae asked, flicking his earfin's delicately. "...." XXX said, his tiny hatchling brain coming up with a blank. "How do you feel in terms of self-expression?" Blackout asked his plain black earfins shooting up, the only thing about him showing emotions as his basic voice kept its base tone. XXX again drew a blank, he tilted his head slightly and let out a little growl. Blackout blinked, his still voice and expression was currently too difficult to use to decipher how he felt. "In your heart, how would you describe yourself?" Blackout finally asked, he unfolded his wings and arched his neck so he could be face to face with the little mirror dragon. This XXX did understand, he didn't need a moment to think, his tiny forked tongue slipped out of his mouth as he looked his tiny leader right in the eyes. "Powerful. Dangerous." Blackout was slightly surprised by this answer, but XXX couldn't tell this it by looking at him. XXX looked down again, waiting for his tiny leader's reply. Blackout spread his tiny wings and reached out his tiny claw, placing it on XXX's muzzle as he proclaimed in an oddly monotone voice. "Henceforth, you are named Virulent!" Virulent picked up his head and nodded to his tiny leader. "Keep this name, and let it bring you pride, just as the pride you will bring to this clan." After Blackout finished. Virulent spread his little wings and roared as loudly as his new little voice could. "VIRULENT!"
Entry #1
Title: Virulent's Name
Category: Plague/Spooky, Pens/Prose
Completed?: No
(The following events are based on a true story, a dramatized recounted by the victim of this story. Some of the names were changed to protect the innocent.)
XXX awoke. Twas dark and quiet. His front two eyes dazedly flicked open as he peered through the dark. He stretched lightly on his bed, his fingers stretching, his claws digging into the cold soil. Suddenly aware of his surroundings, his second set of eyes pierced open, revealing their dark red color. For a moment XXX was frightened, he did not recognize his home. He breathed deeply, recalling this was in fact his home, his new home. XXX was but a hatchling, a mere day old, still short in both tooth and claw, and yet his Parent's sent him away. Sold him, to another whom was not much older than himself. He readjusted his body, listening to the slight crackling of the hay beneath him. XXX was sad, but only a moment, then his tiny scaly body boiled with anger. His Parents SOLD him, to another hatchingly only three days old! They didn't even bother to give him a name! Did he mean so little? Was he truly so unworthy of their love or even of the time it took to give a name? Why they sold him, he'll never know, nor did he care. Then and there XXX decided to outdo them, he shall be the most powerful Dragon, and one day challenge them to a Battle in the Coliseum and destroy them. Prove to them how much they failed by letting him go. XXX snorted, letting himself calm down. One day he shall be great, the greatest, maybe even greater than The Plaguebringer? One day he'd fight alongside the great Plaguemother, perchance, even fight her. Maybe, just maybe, HE could be the NEW Plaguebringer. XXX hadn't a name, the only chance at a name now, was left to another Hatchling, not even old enough to gather- yet left their original home, and claimed this den as their own. Maybe he could convince this tiny Fae hatchling to name him "Plaguebringer?" To match his Destiny, so that one day he could take his rightful place as Deity and rule over the Plaguelands!
XXX held himself with much pride, thinking of how he'd rule as the New Plaguebringer, he lashed out his new little claws at the straw he laid on, pretending to swipe out dozens of dragons at once. His little hatchling mind set on taking over, and getting revenge. XXX held contempt for Blackout (his Hatchling Leader) how dare he buy XXX out from under his own Parents! The tiny Fae, he is small enough for XXX to blow him away with his new wings alone!
The more XXX thought about everything, the more angry he was at his parents, and less upset at Blackout. Imagine it, a hatching claiming a Lair, and out of nothing starting up a clan, commanding a clan, leading a clan. XXX blushed, he decided he was going to admire his tiny leader instead of hating him. Furthermore he was going to do everything he possibly could to help Blackout, and to raise this clan to greatness. XXX wanted to be exactly like Blackout, and tomorrow, promised to swear his undying loyalty to the tiny dark Fae. All of those powerful emotions washing over him, one after the other was too much for such a new hatchling, and XXX was out cold before realizing it.
XXX awoke once again. Dazed, his little head hurt, he tried to roll over and push himself upwards, alas his tiny limbs wouldn't budge. XXX tried to open his eyes, however they refused to move. XXX then forced his second pair of wider eyes open, they felt heavy, but he succeed. Everything was hazy, it was dark inside the den, but darker than before. Surely it would be sun-up by now? At least lighter than before, not darker. XXX saw something shifting in the shadows, and at this his first pair of eyes opened wide, and rolled around momentarily before fixing on the dark image ahead. What was this dark thing? He moved his back eyes about, searching the den for his other two Den-mates. The lair was empty. XXX tried to call out for Blackout and his female fae friend, but his voice was stuck in his throat. Suddenly there was a rancid smell, it not only wavered into his new nostrils, but it also seemed to paralyzed him. The smell was tangible, thick and foul, like a gas. There was a cold dripping stink that now came alongside the foul smell, this one seemingly fouler still; almost as if it was acid seething into the air. XXX seized, and tried to cough, alas nothing came out, not even dry air. As if the power from in front of him was so great, his own breath was too afraid to leave his body. XXX shuddered and suddenly felt a burning feeling in his feet and claws. XXX struggled to see what it was that was hurting him, but the darkness just grew, coating the den. XXX curled up onto his little patch of hay, trying to get away from the burning. A sizzling sound stuck his earholes, he shook his little feet and claws, trying to stop the burning feeling. He felt a hot liquid shake off his little limbs, as he forced himself onto the thickest patch of his straw pile bed. XXX's head throbbed, his limbs ached, his lungs burned, his little scaly body felt so uncanny that it shook violently. Then out of the pure darkness, the figure shifted, finally revealing itself.
P-Plaguemother?
It was if the den itself had more than quadrupled in size around her, just to accommodate her grand figure. She spread her bony leather stripped wings, threw back her head and roared, more of a terrifying shriek. The sound nearly deafened XXX, and as her shredded wings beat, XXX felt as if he'd be blown away!
This couldn't be her...
The Plaguebringer was terrifying yes, but hot, boiling with blisters and seeping hot pustulous ooze. His beloved Plaguebringer was alive, and hot, not cold and foreboding. The Death she brings doesn't creep up on you so ominously, it infects you and eats away at you from the inside. XXX's four eyes were stinging as he looked at the Plaguebringer before him, his red eyes turning an even darker red from pain.
"HATCHLING! YOU DARE TO TRY TO TAKE THE PLACE OF A GOD?!" Her powerful shrieking roar, was almost like an invisible claw, pushing him down into the hay. "YOU DARE CHALLENGE A DEITY!?" Her booming voice causing the entire den to shake, rocks falling from all around. She stomped, her thick bone talons digging into the dirt, and she flapped her torn up wings. "YOU DARE TO TRY TAKE THE PLACE OF THEE PLAGUEBRINGER?!" The Plaguebringer was going to break this cave down, and with no effort. XXX was past terrified, and couldn't move as large rocks fell around him. She was The Earthshaker making mountains, and he was like a Micro Deer or Dwarf Fawn that had gazed unexpectedly at The Lightweaver's Light. The Plaguebringer dropped onto all four claws with a thick Earthshaking thud, causing more rocks to fall all around the den. She looked directly at XXX, thick black smoke filtered out of her rotting bony mouth. The massive pustules on her body, popping, and erupting with what seemed to be lava, glowing hot and coating the den-floor. Was this truly The Plaguebringer? She seemed more akin to The Flamecaller. As XXX thought this, the Deity before him threw back her head, and once again stood on her hind legs. As she laughed, huge puffs of black cinder-filled smoke came pouring out, filling the den with suffocating darkness.
XXX shut his eyes for but a moment as they stung from the smoke. When he reopened them, the thick black smoke had turned into a thick black paste that coated the den walls. The goop slowly dripped all around, the lava replaced with this black sticky muck that threatened to ensnare XXX. The gunk stunk like a musky mold and more of her puss-filled pimples popped, but out oozed the dark tar-like liquid. It dripped from her mouth and filled the air with a cold haunting feeling. She smiled, the black coating her ridged bone fangs. She leaned in close, breathing at him, her mouth big enough to swallow him whole with room to spare. It was too horrific to look at, he closed his eyes. Was this actually The Shadowbinder causing an illusion?
The cold haunting breath turned even colder, almost icy, yet less foul smelling. XXX tried to open his eyes, but they were frozen shut. His body shook violently from the cold. XXX felt his tail become trapped from the goo, he cracked his eyes open, but didn't see the black goo, instead the whole den-floor was covered in ice and snow, his claws and tail trapped within the solid ice. He couldn't stand he was trapped, and the cold was so cold, it was almost fiery. His lungs were frozen, he couldn't breathe. The Plaguebringer breathed more icy breath at him, icicles formed on The Plaguebringer's bone fangs. More and more The Plaguebringer's breath blew, powerful gusts of now warm breath blew XXX's eyelids closed and forced open his wings. XXX managed to take a few breaths into his pained lungs. More and more heavy gusts of breath until the ice itself wasn't strong enough to hold XXX from being blown away. The Plaguebringer's breath ripped up his wings and wrapped around his body, he was trapped in a tornado that force threatened to tear him apart, while push him into a tiny box of air all at once. Once again, he couldn't breath, the power of the air was too great.
The air currents felt like hands, but went from smooth air, to feeling rough against his scales. Almost like... vines? The now thoroughly frightened little Unnamed Hatching otherwise known as XXX, knew what was happening. Exhausted and scared, he opened his eyes, and sure enough his fears were correct. Vines wrapped his body and squeezed him, like a starving Strangler or Shattered Serpent preparing its prey. The vines continued to strangle him, including what precious little air he had in his tiny hatchling lungs. The Plaguebringer's mighty tail, in place of bone-shard spike spines, large whipping vines were growing. Great greenish pools of petal-filled liquid pouring out of her once pus-y craters. This was too much for a Hatching, this was too much for any dragon! XXX wanted to cry, but everything kept him from it, the poison, the falling rocks, the heat, the cold, the wind, the vines. How much more of this was he expected to endure?
He didn't even notice when the vines had turned into bolts of electricity, not just shocking him, but binding him. The Plaguebringer's nose somehow had grown, bolts of electricity shot out of her claws, and she twisted them around as she laughed. Everywhere stung and he danced about, around the constant shocks, trying to avoid them. All of this was so amusing, and she laughed more, her laugh crackled just like the electricity. It was too much, he closed his eyes and wished he never mentioned wanting to be The Plaguebringer! The air was so electric, when he tried to breathe, it constricted his throat and lungs, so once again he couldn't breathe! The electricity became less shocking, but more bright. As if all of the lightning burst into silent sparks or brilliant light.
The light was far too bright, it was blinding, even with his eyes shut tight, he could see the light. It wasn't smooth or comforting, it felt like the light of death, overbearing and everywhere. XXX covered his eyes, but it wasn't enough, even when he tried to wrap his wings over his face, he could still see the blinding torturous light! The Plaguebringer's thundering laugh had turned into a light giggle, as if she was pleased with her cruelty. At least he could breathe again, in this vast unyielding light, which wasn't hot, or cold. XXX felt as if he was trapped in a jar of angry Glowbugs. The light suddenly dimmed, and turned into images. The Plaguebringer's giggles turned into words. Loud long overwhelming words, words of power and knowledge. Rivers of words, poems, and paragraph after paragraph of knowledge, everything overlapping at once. Worldly Mysteries poured into XXX's mind just like the light did. The blinding flashing lights had turned into flashing images. The world's history was before XXX's eyes and it was somehow more blinding than the light. He couldn't understand any of it, it was too much! Streams of scientific studies, speeches, stories, sonnets, songs, symphonies! The overlapping words and numbers had turned into sounds, the knowledge of everything.
He wished it away as he felt his brain was ready to explode. He wanted to cry out and demand that it all stop. Alas the constant flow of knowledge continued. Even with his eyes shut tightly XXX still saw it all. History filled his ears, eyes, and mouth. He could taste the flavors of the world! This was too much, how could the deities take it? But wait! No it wasn't knowledge filling his ears, eyes, and mouth! It was water!
XXX was drowning! The stream of knowledge was a stream of water. Poor XXX couldn't swim, he could barely run he was still so young. The salty water burned his eyes, but it was the first time since the start of the lightning that he dared to open his eyes. He couldn't breath, again, and this time, he couldn't even get tiny gasps of air like he previously could. XXX paddled his tired limbs as hard as he could, but he just kept sinking. He looked around, he was still in the cave, with little pieces of hay floating around the top. The Plaguebringer was beneath him, her jaws opened like a Giant Sicklemar Gar! XXX squealed under the water, watching what precious little air bubble up to the surface. The cave suddenly looked massive, an entire sea somehow fit into the little den, with miles of depth. XXX opened his wings and paddled with everything he could towards the den wall. Twisting his tail, flapping his wings, and paddling his little legs and arms, he made it to the wall of the den. XXX clutched the rocky side of the wall. He climbed up the rocky wall, his nostrils burned, the pressure of the water was great, and he couldn't help but breathe in. Water rushed into his dry throat, and he at first, happily swallowed the refreshing liquid. It was too much, he closed his mouth quickly, and kept climbing up, the ever terrifying Plaguemother under him, slowly swimming up to eat him. Just when XXX thought he'd pass out, his muzzle broke the surface of the water. He clenched the rocks and greedily breathed in the air. Hard waves suddenly pushed him back under, and a whirlpool swirled heavily, draining down into nothingness. This was it, he just had to hang on until the water faded. He withstood all the Deity's powers. When the water stopped draining, it had gotten low enough for XXX to stand in and only have it go halfway up his legs. He panted in the puddle and breathed heavily. XXX had done it!
Nope! The Plaguebringer is disease, she is DEATH!
The crystal blue water turned reddish around him. XXX hurt, and it took him a moment to realize why. He looked around the now only slightly flooded den, the water was a yellowy green and bubbling. Acid. The Plaguemother had indeed outdone herself. XXX tried to take a step, but all he felt was pain. When he lifted his leg out of the acid, all there was left, was a stump. Not bloody, just a clean rounded stump. The pain was unbelievable. In the end, she had won. But XXX had lasted through it all, after all, he wasn't a god, he was just a newly hatched little dragon at that. XXX smiled, a silent stream of tears flowed down his face, his four red eyes were opened wide, defiantly. He looked towards the den opening, sunlight shined through. He failed to notice the rise of the sun, how long had it been up? Maybe even as soon as the lightning, or light? It didn't matter anymore. He wasn't going to give her the satisfaction of trying to fruitlessly flee. XXX smiled widely and laughed as he slowly sank into the acid.
XXX jerked himself awake, he felt warmth on his face. It was the sun, it was morning. He was alive! He got up, stretched his wings out, and flapped them, sending bits of straw around the den. XXX noticed Blackout and the female fae standing on the other side of the den, discussing something in their typical monotone. They turned and watched him make a mess of his bed. XXX couldn't be a Deity. He understood this now. Whether it was a dream, a sign, a message or an outright warning? -XXX didn't know. Honestly he didn't care. He realized he couldn't be a Deity, but he also realized he didn't NEED to be a Deity. He just withstood ALL of that! He didn't need to be a Deity to be powerful. His conviction was renewed and now reinforced. XXX was going to be the Ultimate Dragon someday, and he was going to make this clan the best, through tooth and claw if need be. He was tiny, but one day he will grow up, even if he stays small, he was going to fight and train every day. He was going to work, hard, and do whatever he had to do. This was a new day, his first day in this clan. The start of his new life.
XXX, now barely over a day old lowered his little crested head into a bow. As XXX swore his loyalty to Blackout, he felt nothing but pride and passion. He looked at The Plagueland before him, this was his home, and he was happy. XXX's four eyes fluttered lightly, he loved his new leader, and moreso was going to prove everything he could to him. "Is there a name you like?" The tiny dark Fae asked, flicking his earfin's delicately. "...." XXX said, his tiny hatchling brain coming up with a blank. "How do you feel in terms of self-expression?" Blackout asked his plain black earfins shooting up, the only thing about him showing emotions as his basic voice kept its base tone. XXX again drew a blank, he tilted his head slightly and let out a little growl. Blackout blinked, his still voice and expression was currently too difficult to use to decipher how he felt. "In your heart, how would you describe yourself?" Blackout finally asked, he unfolded his wings and arched his neck so he could be face to face with the little mirror dragon. This XXX did understand, he didn't need a moment to think, his tiny forked tongue slipped out of his mouth as he looked his tiny leader right in the eyes. "Powerful. Dangerous." Blackout was slightly surprised by this answer, but XXX couldn't tell this it by looking at him. XXX looked down again, waiting for his tiny leader's reply. Blackout spread his tiny wings and reached out his tiny claw, placing it on XXX's muzzle as he proclaimed in an oddly monotone voice. "Henceforth, you are named Virulent!" Virulent picked up his head and nodded to his tiny leader. "Keep this name, and let it bring you pride, just as the pride you will bring to this clan." After Blackout finished. Virulent spread his little wings and roared as loudly as his new little voice could. "VIRULENT!"