Raffles & Giveaways

[center][url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=48641712] [img]http://flightrising.com/rendern/350/486418/48641712_350.png[/img] [/url][/center] It was a beautiful morning atop the Snowsquall Tundra, the snow crunching beneath and between his claws and the arctic wind pulling at his mane as he traveled to meet with his sire, a Tundra dragon, and his dam, a Guardian, within their lair. He had been sent to hone his survival skills and to prepare for going further out into the world of Sornieth. He did not like, at all, that they planned on sending him away, but he would do as they wished to spread the influence of their clan. But he also knew, that part of the reason for his mission was the fact that his bright fur and mane were not good camouflage among the snowy blues, grays, and whites of the Tundra. Now he very much liked his coat of insulating fur, even though it was a warm gold colour that stood out like a sore claw in the cold climate, his bright ruby/purple mane and tailplume resembling flickering flames when he bounded with joy through the snow of his homeland. He would very much miss his home. Drawing near to the entrance of his progenitors’ home, he stepped within the mouth of their mutual lair and shook hard, sending ice and snow flying every which-way with clicks and clatters as it bounced off the stone walls. That might not be something he missed, he decided, not liking when his fur got too wet and he got cold. He didn’t really like being cold… Breathing deep of his birth-lair, he knew he would welcome seeing his family, even if it meant they must part, even for a while. After all, it wasn’t like he would never be allowed to visit… He was their blood and they were his. Passing down the intricate tunnels, greeting passing brothers and sisters, nieces and nephews, even a few cousins. All smelled of home, safety, friendship and love. He was sure that on his excursions away from this place, that he would find those that smelled very similar, if not the same… If he was lucky. *~*~* @Decaffeinated Word count: 344+ (Name: LordCarnelian)

@Decaffeinated - Can I hold Spellshadow please? [url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=48754932] [img]http://flightrising.com/rendern/350/487550/48754932_350.png[/img] [/url]

@Tritail I can tell that you worked to fix some of it and I appreciate the extension. I'll send her your way. :3

[columns][url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=48624809] [img]http://flightrising.com/rendern/350/486249/48624809_350.png[/img] [/url] [nextcol] [b]Name[/b] - Unnamed [b]Status[/b] - Open [b]Word Count[/b] - At least 250 [b]Donated by LadyExperiment![/b] [/columns] @Mermaidlorelei I would like this boy please. The skies were not prepared for him, once a hatchling as all dragons were.. he was unfortunately not careful to his mother's warnings. It was the day of his birth, January 17th, and the skies were not kind that day. His mother and father were of an Ice clan, yet he was borne Water. That did not stop him from wandering into the Shifting Expanse through, ironically, his elemental alignment was not one of favor to this environment. The young hatchling was a silent type, silent but strong. His independence lead to his near demise, a wild bolt danced across the sandy plains towards the boy.. the Ridgebacks watched, entranced, unable to do much as they took cover themselves as words of warning were lost in the howling charged air. The bolt struck the poor Guardian, his once lost tertiary was ignited with the fury of ten thousand storms. Upon his small body a glimmering, static of that of technology's innards was coughed upon the poor child's existence. The Ridgebacks rushed to his side, prodding the unmoving Guardian "Good lords, we need to bring him back to Farukon stat!" they were a father son team, one was dressed like a wasteland scavenger and the other like a noble warrior armored and ready. The small limp body was gently placed on the son's back, the scavenger. "...Raubvogel, I mean we should at least give the poor whelp a name. Bastard is going to be humongous when he's older, maybe be Nuada's mate if he stays." The two think about it for a while "Raijin, the boy is strong. He did survive one of the Stormcatcher's very own stray bolts.." "You're right, I know the two generals would like him." Raijin could see nothing, his mind and body were fried to the core. 'Mum.. dad.. good bye' was this death? No, there was sound a sound of voices talking. There were exotic voices, that of nothing he was familiar with. Gods? Death itself? No maybe not so, then there were more voices but they were... muffled? "Set what is it you found??" "Oi we saw a Guardian get struck by some lightning-" "and he survived!" "You better not make usssss regret thissss" "Silence, let me see him." an authoritative, smooth, and silky voice joined the conversation "Here he is Farukon" Raijin was carefully slid off of Raubvogel's back. "Poor kid.. this is his new pattern now I guess, that is if he wakes up." Then there was darkness, nothing.

@Mermaidlorelei Tumblebud is done!! [url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=48870232] [img]http://flightrising.com/rendern/350/488703/48870232_350.png[/img] [/url] Her heart called her towards the water. She loved the feel of the hot white sand between her feet. Tumblebud looked up from the ground and into the horizon. Nothing but clear skies and bright blue water ahead. [i]Perfect[/i] she thought. Taking a few steps forward, her feet hit the cool water. White waves splash against her ankles and draw back ever so slightly. Almost as if the water was calling her. Looking to her left she spots a seashell. While picking it up to turn it over, she remembers a time that her father and her went looking for seashells. A certain seashell that he wanted to find. “It has to be just right tumblebud!” her father called from across the beach. “Exactly like this one here!” He pointed to the necklace he had tied around his neck. Tumblebud kept looking. Until she found one far away from the others. It had looked exactly like her fathers! "Father I found one!" He quickly ran over to her and chuckled lightly. It looks like you have! She gave the shell to her father and he strung it on a new necklace. He then placed it on her neck. Confused, she asked “but I thought this was for you?” “No silly” he responded. “We have the same necklace. Wherever I go, you'll always be here with me.” Tumblebud lightly grabs her necklace and smiles. Hugging her father for helping her find one exactly like his. *present* She sets down the shell and feels the one against her neck. She hasn’t taken her necklace off since that day. She gently strokes the shell as a single tear slips from her eye. and ever so slightly she whispers, I love you dad. I'll see you soon. Name:Tumblebud

@mermaidlorelei [center][url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=47024830] [img]http://flightrising.com/rendern/350/470249/47024830_350.png[/img] [/url][/center] [center][font=Cambria][size=5]Cordelia[/size][/font][/center] [font=Cambria][size=4] You're never going to see her coming. The myth of Cordelia is not well known, and she intends to keep it that way. You see, she has her selected followers, her [i]storytellers[/i]. They were the scholars, the astronomers, the dreamers. They sang her tales across the land of Sornieth, to the sky where she heard the awe and wonder in their voices. She enjoyed their praises, preening at the honor they bestowed upon her being. Every time she left her perch, a chorus would follow in her wake. "Look, papa! A shooting star!" "A comet!" The storytellers told of her adventures, where a meadow of fireflies could burst forth in a shower of stars. How if you caught a glimpse of her, and you wish upon her majesty, it could come very true indeed. Cordelia enjoyed any and all praise that was given, but.. They were to be told by [i]her[/i] storytellers only. Occasionally, a dragon would take his place on the pedestal reserved for her chosen, and she would show them her wrath. Usually, that dragon would be a self-proclaimed fanatic, studying all the tales with fervor and vigor. They boast about how much they knew about her, and sometimes, about having [i]meeting[/i] her face-to-face. She would show them her ire, then. Gasps resounded as the cave lit up a brilliant blue. The not-storyteller, she scorned silently, would turn their gaze up, feverish delight showing on their features as their deity appeared before them. The constellation upon her body would flare, the audience feeling as if they were in outer space, the living constellation seeming so near, yet just out of their grasps. "You say you know my tales, inside and out, do you not?" The fanatic nodded frantically, practically drooling at the sound of her voice. Inwardly, she growled to herself. Such [i]daring[/i], this one had. She had not chosen him. She would [i][b]never[/b][/i] have chosen him. Unworthy, the dragon only served to tarnish her name, his storytelling far from eloquent and dazzling. A sneer crossed her features, and the dragon stilled at the silence, unsure. "I am here to tell you," she opened her eyes then, a shock of glacial blue revealing her position on the ceiling of the cave, "that you are wrong." Her cheshire grin, filled with teeth sharp as needles, would be the last thing he saw.[/size][/font]