@
moonchild42 That honestly makes it even cuter. <3
@
AnonEclipse I quite like it! And don't fret too much; once she's yours, you're welcome to gene her as you wish. You could even scrap her lore completely (though I think it was lovely.) She's on her way. :3
@
moonchild42 That honestly makes it even cuter. <3
@
AnonEclipse I quite like it! And don't fret too much; once she's yours, you're welcome to gene her as you wish. You could even scrap her lore completely (though I think it was lovely.) She's on her way. :3
[center][img]https://dl.dropboxusercontent.com/s/9o8o65bpwvdpkme/icetop2.png[/img]
[b]@Decaffeinated
Word Count: 809 Words[/b]
Oh, poor guy. He found the Gaolers before my clanmates did, and boy will he be surprised to find them in his new home! He may find a friend in Anwir (Loki), but that'll definitely take quite some time. Poor fellow. At least he won't be the only necromancer in the clan! Man, I'm growing super attached to the Gaoler lore. I might just make a lore chapter about them (when I get all my lore down pat XD). Do keep his bio how it is! I still need to save his outfit, and I'd love to hold onto the lore snippet that inspired me to type up 809 words of lore. XD
[img]https://dl.dropboxusercontent.com/s/knqlqwisz13juz9/icemidsmall2.png[/img]
[url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=47609569]
[img]http://flightrising.com/rendern/350/476096/47609569_350.png[/img]
[/url]
[img]https://dl.dropboxusercontent.com/s/nk3jx6iuz7bgutw/icemid2.png[/img]
I have traveled far. I've heard rumors of clans coming to the Icefields in search of missing clanmates, friends, or even bounties of rogues long lost to the cold. I'm here as well, for the same reason as they.
Well, almost.
They seek to find their kin, running through the snow as lively as before. They hope to find friends or family huddled in a gully, somehow beating the odds of the Icewarden himself. They pray they’ll find their ever-so-precious drakes alive and well, be it for kinship or for the hefty pile of treasure they’ll receive in return for their services. I wish for none of these things. No, I search, but not for the living.
I have raised many from the ice, some faring better than others when it comes to how well-preserved they are. Sometimes, all I find are bones in the ice. Others I swear may still be alive if it weren’t for the glaze in their eyes. Some awaken much like drakes who had only fallen asleep, simply asking where their kin are and why everything seems so different. Others seem to know what happened, and ask me if this is their respective afterlives. Some are happy to hear the truth. Others… I sometimes have to give up on them, as their panic gets them killed time and time again upon realizing I brought them back to the land of the living.
Recently, I swapped tales with a blind Necromancer from another clan, one who had fancied a return to her old home in the hills of Ice. She said she was there to practice her craft on any clanmates that fell to the cold, but something tells me her ways differ from mine. After all, hers come back healed and sound of mind. Mine aren’t always so lucky. It was nice to hear from her, however, and to learn that there was such a large clan out there interested in the icy mounds in the fields.
They said they weren’t looking for kin in the snow, but to save anyone there as they searched for a new home. Some wanted to go to the lands of the Shadowbinder instead of the Icewarden, but apparently they aren’t leaving until both their leaders return. I sometimes wonder if that leader got lost out here. She sounds smart and wise, and she would make a good addition to my following.
I stop at a mound, a faint tingle running through my wings. There is a spirit trapped in the ice. No, there are multiple! I sift the snow off the mound, eager to add this powerful spirit to my ranks. I stop, however, when I finally see the flash of fur. Striped, white and grey, with faint hints of icy blue, but those jagged horns and long teeth are unmistakable. This is no dragon from my time. This one is a Gaoler! I can see three others behind him, and judging by their size, the one before me now is but a hatchling, yet the power of these spirits shows that even the youngest of this breed were stronger than any Tundra found today. I feel my excitement mount at the realization, and I prepare my etching of runes to begin the ritual of reviving this lost spirit. Before I can speak, however, something catches my eye.
Something moved.
I look back up, and my crest falls back in terror at the sight. The paws are still frozen, mighty claws extended to slash at an unseen foe. Scars still rip through his thick, tangled mane, and the armor on his thick form shows no sign of rust. The others are still as well, one marked with patches of red, one a silvery grey, and one as blue as the sky yet slender as a Spiral. But that is not what sends me away from the ice, repressing a screech of terror. It isn’t even the impression of shed antlers in the ice, as if multiple Imperials had fallen here as well.
No, it is much worse.
The young one has opened his eyes.
They’re alive.
I am a necromancer, and I work with the dead. Let others find the abominations lost in the ice that still hold life in their limbs. Until death has numbed them, I will not even attempt to add them to my ranks.
I am the necromancer of the cold, and so long as warmth runs in their veins, they are not mine to take.
I believe I will find this clan again, and ask to join them. I might need a small respite from my old haunts in the Icewarden’s domain, before I accidentally free his own prisoners while they still live and breath.
Yes, I will go, and I can only hope I never see those frightening abominations ever again.
[/center]
[center][img]https://dl.dropboxusercontent.com/s/nk3jx6iuz7bgutw/icemid2.png[/img]
[size=5][b]Dragons Mentioned[/b][/size]
[img]https://dl.dropboxusercontent.com/s/knqlqwisz13juz9/icemidsmall2.png[/img]
[url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=49248157]
[img]http://flightrising.com/dgen/preview/dragon?age=1&body=23&bodygene=11&breed=6&element=6&eyetype=5&gender=1&tert=97&tertgene=22&winggene=21&wings=26&auth=a3194a6ac1cacf713052ce85228fae477cefb9eb&dummyext=prev.png[/img][/url]
Aliya the Protector
[img]https://dl.dropboxusercontent.com/s/knqlqwisz13juz9/icemidsmall2.png[/img]
[url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=48091367][img]http://flightrising.com/dgen/preview/dragon?age=1&body=22&bodygene=11&breed=6&element=6&eyetype=1&gender=0&tert=19&tertgene=12&winggene=23&wings=146&auth=fac4bdf433debd2633a6067f04e409107b1804b6&dummyext=prev.png[/img][/url]
Anwir/Loki the Patient/Traitor
[img]https://dl.dropboxusercontent.com/s/knqlqwisz13juz9/icemidsmall2.png[/img]
[url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=48857026][img]http://flightrising.com/dgen/preview/dragon?age=0&body=3&bodygene=25&breed=6&element=6&eyetype=4&gender=0&tert=74&tertgene=18&winggene=21&wings=3&auth=d52fe4cf4bcedd243a281715652674abb5fd03c1&dummyext=prev.png[/img][/url]
Amara/Víðarr the Hatchling/Chosen of Odin
[img]https://dl.dropboxusercontent.com/s/knqlqwisz13juz9/icemidsmall2.png[/img]
[url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=49143812][img]http://flightrising.com/dgen/preview/dragon?age=0&body=5&bodygene=19&breed=6&element=6&eyetype=3&gender=1&tert=131&tertgene=5&winggene=19&wings=5&auth=9cf10cf405fc7aabc062e24653cae68cb62bad69&dummyext=prev.png[/img][/url]
Axelia/Freya the Hatchling/Valkyrie to Be
[img]https://dl.dropboxusercontent.com/s/knqlqwisz13juz9/icemidsmall2.png[/img]
[url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=11337263]
[img]http://flightrising.com/rendern/350/113373/11337263_350.png[/img]
[/url]
Redmoon the Blood-Bound Necromancer
[img]https://dl.dropboxusercontent.com/s/knqlqwisz13juz9/icemidsmall2.png[/img]
[url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=47609569]
[img]http://flightrising.com/rendern/350/476096/47609569_350.png[/img]
[/url]
Nergis the Ice-Bound Necromancer
[img]https://dl.dropboxusercontent.com/s/zyfxtiyufhtmjez/icebottom2.png[/img][/center]
@Decaffeinated
Word Count: 809 Words
Oh, poor guy. He found the Gaolers before my clanmates did, and boy will he be surprised to find them in his new home! He may find a friend in Anwir (Loki), but that'll definitely take quite some time. Poor fellow. At least he won't be the only necromancer in the clan! Man, I'm growing super attached to the Gaoler lore. I might just make a lore chapter about them (when I get all my lore down pat XD). Do keep his bio how it is! I still need to save his outfit, and I'd love to hold onto the lore snippet that inspired me to type up 809 words of lore. XD
I have traveled far. I've heard rumors of clans coming to the Icefields in search of missing clanmates, friends, or even bounties of rogues long lost to the cold. I'm here as well, for the same reason as they.
Well, almost.
They seek to find their kin, running through the snow as lively as before. They hope to find friends or family huddled in a gully, somehow beating the odds of the Icewarden himself. They pray they’ll find their ever-so-precious drakes alive and well, be it for kinship or for the hefty pile of treasure they’ll receive in return for their services. I wish for none of these things. No, I search, but not for the living.
I have raised many from the ice, some faring better than others when it comes to how well-preserved they are. Sometimes, all I find are bones in the ice. Others I swear may still be alive if it weren’t for the glaze in their eyes. Some awaken much like drakes who had only fallen asleep, simply asking where their kin are and why everything seems so different. Others seem to know what happened, and ask me if this is their respective afterlives. Some are happy to hear the truth. Others… I sometimes have to give up on them, as their panic gets them killed time and time again upon realizing I brought them back to the land of the living.
Recently, I swapped tales with a blind Necromancer from another clan, one who had fancied a return to her old home in the hills of Ice. She said she was there to practice her craft on any clanmates that fell to the cold, but something tells me her ways differ from mine. After all, hers come back healed and sound of mind. Mine aren’t always so lucky. It was nice to hear from her, however, and to learn that there was such a large clan out there interested in the icy mounds in the fields.
They said they weren’t looking for kin in the snow, but to save anyone there as they searched for a new home. Some wanted to go to the lands of the Shadowbinder instead of the Icewarden, but apparently they aren’t leaving until both their leaders return. I sometimes wonder if that leader got lost out here. She sounds smart and wise, and she would make a good addition to my following.
I stop at a mound, a faint tingle running through my wings. There is a spirit trapped in the ice. No, there are multiple! I sift the snow off the mound, eager to add this powerful spirit to my ranks. I stop, however, when I finally see the flash of fur. Striped, white and grey, with faint hints of icy blue, but those jagged horns and long teeth are unmistakable. This is no dragon from my time. This one is a Gaoler! I can see three others behind him, and judging by their size, the one before me now is but a hatchling, yet the power of these spirits shows that even the youngest of this breed were stronger than any Tundra found today. I feel my excitement mount at the realization, and I prepare my etching of runes to begin the ritual of reviving this lost spirit. Before I can speak, however, something catches my eye.
Something moved.
I look back up, and my crest falls back in terror at the sight. The paws are still frozen, mighty claws extended to slash at an unseen foe. Scars still rip through his thick, tangled mane, and the armor on his thick form shows no sign of rust. The others are still as well, one marked with patches of red, one a silvery grey, and one as blue as the sky yet slender as a Spiral. But that is not what sends me away from the ice, repressing a screech of terror. It isn’t even the impression of shed antlers in the ice, as if multiple Imperials had fallen here as well.
No, it is much worse.
The young one has opened his eyes.
They’re alive.
I am a necromancer, and I work with the dead. Let others find the abominations lost in the ice that still hold life in their limbs. Until death has numbed them, I will not even attempt to add them to my ranks.
I am the necromancer of the cold, and so long as warmth runs in their veins, they are not mine to take.
I believe I will find this clan again, and ask to join them. I might need a small respite from my old haunts in the Icewarden’s domain, before I accidentally free his own prisoners while they still live and breath.
Yes, I will go, and I can only hope I never see those frightening abominations ever again.
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
Former First Column Spacer ^^^^^^^^^
@Decaffeinated
[url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=49485336]
[img]http://flightrising.com/rendern/350/494854/49485336_350.png[/img]
[/url]
Claim!
[url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=48963774]
[img]http://flightrising.com/rendern/350/489638/48963774_350.png[/img]
[/url]
Claim!
@Decaffeinated
@
ClockworkEclipse Amazing work as usual ^-^
@
Lemmonnade Held
@
Mediaeumbra Held!
@
mermaidlorelei
Here's the lore I came up with for the unnamed boy, who I'll be calling Striker. It's 529 words.
Quote:
With a quick hop, the young skydancer pushed himself off the rock face, catching a warm thermal with outstretched wings. He smiled grimly as lightning struck nearby; his collection coils glowed faintly with the surge of distant energy. Only a few more strikes, and he’d be done for the night. He was fairly eager to get back to his den; while he didn’t mind working, the late shift could be lonely, and the collective caves of the work detail were such comfortable places to hang out…
Striker wasn’t born under the Stormcatcher’s gaze, but his talents have served him well in the lightning flight. His nimble hands and steady temperament have made him a natural fit for the golem-building workshop his adopted clan supports and staffs. He has a strong respect for tradition and a keen, analytical mind that, when coupled with his enthusiasm for new tasks, makes him an extremely valuable member of the engineering team.
Striker’s childhood had been spent mostly underfoot in a great forge. He’d been awed by the colossal bellows worked by lumbering snappers and had fallen asleep to the rhythmic pounding of dragon-wielded hammers. He and a coterie of other apprentices kept the fires stoked and learned all they could about smithing, but what really captured the boy’s imagination wasn’t the end product, but the tools themselves.
Smithing was hot, heavy work. For some dragons, this was fine- but for others, it was unncecessarily dangerous. He saw a great deal of injury in his youngest days, and as he matured, he thought about ways to solve this. He knew that challenging Fire traditions wouldn’t work, and that wasn’t what he wanted to do at all. What he wanted to do was to find a way to make smithing better and make it easier for the metalworking artisans to express themselves without having to sacrifice their backs and muscles to the mechanics of the work. Of course, there were some things that had to always be done by hand, but why couldn’t automated hammers pound out blanks? Why couldn’t conveyor systems funnel coal into the smoking heart of the furnaces?
His first experiments weren’t particularly successful. It wasn’t that his ideas were bad, and it wasn’t even that the forgemasters were disdainful of the idea. The old coatl who’d mentored him was actually fairly thrilled at the idea of consistent coal delivery, rather than depending on young dragons who were easily distractible to shovel on time. His problem was that he had no idea how to get started. He was a metalworker, and while he knew how to cast a precise gear and how to file and smooth a crankshaft to perfection, schematics for complex machines were beyond him.
They weren’t, however, beyond the engineers of Lightning.
A few words with his coatl mentor, some long, drawn-out exchanges of letters, and Striker found himself on his way to a different sort of apprenticeship. He would go to the Shifting Expanse and learn to design. Using the knowledge he gleaned in the desert, he would come back to help his natal flight by improving forge designs in a way that would only enhance their traditions.
@
mermaidlorelei
Here's the lore I came up with for the unnamed boy, who I'll be calling Striker. It's 529 words.
Quote:
With a quick hop, the young skydancer pushed himself off the rock face, catching a warm thermal with outstretched wings. He smiled grimly as lightning struck nearby; his collection coils glowed faintly with the surge of distant energy. Only a few more strikes, and he’d be done for the night. He was fairly eager to get back to his den; while he didn’t mind working, the late shift could be lonely, and the collective caves of the work detail were such comfortable places to hang out…
Striker wasn’t born under the Stormcatcher’s gaze, but his talents have served him well in the lightning flight. His nimble hands and steady temperament have made him a natural fit for the golem-building workshop his adopted clan supports and staffs. He has a strong respect for tradition and a keen, analytical mind that, when coupled with his enthusiasm for new tasks, makes him an extremely valuable member of the engineering team.
Striker’s childhood had been spent mostly underfoot in a great forge. He’d been awed by the colossal bellows worked by lumbering snappers and had fallen asleep to the rhythmic pounding of dragon-wielded hammers. He and a coterie of other apprentices kept the fires stoked and learned all they could about smithing, but what really captured the boy’s imagination wasn’t the end product, but the tools themselves.
Smithing was hot, heavy work. For some dragons, this was fine- but for others, it was unncecessarily dangerous. He saw a great deal of injury in his youngest days, and as he matured, he thought about ways to solve this. He knew that challenging Fire traditions wouldn’t work, and that wasn’t what he wanted to do at all. What he wanted to do was to find a way to make smithing better and make it easier for the metalworking artisans to express themselves without having to sacrifice their backs and muscles to the mechanics of the work. Of course, there were some things that had to always be done by hand, but why couldn’t automated hammers pound out blanks? Why couldn’t conveyor systems funnel coal into the smoking heart of the furnaces?
His first experiments weren’t particularly successful. It wasn’t that his ideas were bad, and it wasn’t even that the forgemasters were disdainful of the idea. The old coatl who’d mentored him was actually fairly thrilled at the idea of consistent coal delivery, rather than depending on young dragons who were easily distractible to shovel on time. His problem was that he had no idea how to get started. He was a metalworker, and while he knew how to cast a precise gear and how to file and smooth a crankshaft to perfection, schematics for complex machines were beyond him.
They weren’t, however, beyond the engineers of Lightning.
A few words with his coatl mentor, some long, drawn-out exchanges of letters, and Striker found himself on his way to a different sort of apprenticeship. He would go to the Shifting Expanse and learn to design. Using the knowledge he gleaned in the desert, he would come back to help his natal flight by improving forge designs in a way that would only enhance their traditions.
@
Scaradango I love it! Striker's not only exploring the world, but he has found himself a purpose!
@
Scaradango I love it! Striker's not only exploring the world, but he has found himself a purpose!
@Decaffinated Hello can I hold this dragon!
[url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=29628589]
[img]http://flightrising.com/rendern/350/296286/29628589_350.png[/img]
[/url]
@
Decaffinated Hello can I hold this dragon!
@
Tritail Held. Don't forget about Dace though!
@
Tritail Held. Don't forget about Dace though!
@mermaidlorelei
[center][url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=49514306]
[img]http://flightrising.com/rendern/350/495144/49514306_350.png[/img]
[/url]
“He was a child of the Gods, but it was all too easy to forget.”
[columns]
[url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=48895041][img]http://flightrising.com/rendern/avatars/488951/48895041.png[/img][/url]
[nextcol]
Apocrita spoke in hushed tones, voice filled with all the magic and gravitas of an epic poem. The Skydancer’s wing claws tapped against the ancient stone as she breathed, crystalline markings glittering in the soft light of the fire. It was night at the Light Mage Monument, and night was the time for stories. Apocrita could feel the presence of the stars, the moon, and the earth below her. Tonight there would be one legend made of deep water, and one made of distant light. She would tell the story of two dragons, inextricably connected by a single moment.
[/columns]
“Hydrus was his name, after a small constellation of the southern sky. His father was a God of water, and his mother a Goddess of spring and good fortune. Although he inherited water in his deep blue eyes, and fortune in his glimmering coat and wings, he had none of his parents’ power. Hydrus had no talent, no drive, and most importantly, no magical spark.
“Forgotten by Gods and forgotten by clan, the hatchling wandered through the ocean in a haze. He expected he would meet his end out there, in the crashing and raging sea. Hydrus was only a young Imperial, after all, and not naturally suited for an aquatic life. But the waves roared and roared, and Hydrus still refused to turn back. [i]My life’s not worth much,[/i] thought Hydrus’ young mind, [i]I may as well see it through.[/i]
“Then, an island appeared, and Hydrus half-heartedly swam to take refuge for the night. A stiff breeze buffeted the crude, rocky landmass. Despite his insulating hide, Hydrus shivered. Seeking shelter, he crawled into a crevasse in the rock and curled onto his back. Looking up, Hydrus felt something he had never felt before. Amazement. Whole, untouchable universes were painted above him, in stars and planets and dust. Hydrus glanced at his paws. [i]What a cruel mockery,[/i] he thought, [i]that I should appear like this.[/i]
“So passed that night on the island. The hatchling, consumed by self-pity, stared up at the stars as they inched across the sky. And the stars looked back. They were interested in the dragon of the deep water.”
With this, Apocrita paused, allowing her audience to take a moment before continuing, “But to tell you that tale, I must start at a different beginning. This story concerns a beast of distant light, and the life beyond this world…”[/center]
[left]((I plan on continuing this, and involving another of my dragons, [url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=49392553]Carnation[/url]. This is just the beginning bit, and the part that most concerns the dragon I want to adopt!))
@
mermaidlorelei
“He was a child of the Gods, but it was all too easy to forget.”
|
Apocrita spoke in hushed tones, voice filled with all the magic and gravitas of an epic poem. The Skydancer’s wing claws tapped against the ancient stone as she breathed, crystalline markings glittering in the soft light of the fire. It was night at the Light Mage Monument, and night was the time for stories. Apocrita could feel the presence of the stars, the moon, and the earth below her. Tonight there would be one legend made of deep water, and one made of distant light. She would tell the story of two dragons, inextricably connected by a single moment.
|
“Hydrus was his name, after a small constellation of the southern sky. His father was a God of water, and his mother a Goddess of spring and good fortune. Although he inherited water in his deep blue eyes, and fortune in his glimmering coat and wings, he had none of his parents’ power. Hydrus had no talent, no drive, and most importantly, no magical spark.
“Forgotten by Gods and forgotten by clan, the hatchling wandered through the ocean in a haze. He expected he would meet his end out there, in the crashing and raging sea. Hydrus was only a young Imperial, after all, and not naturally suited for an aquatic life. But the waves roared and roared, and Hydrus still refused to turn back.
My life’s not worth much, thought Hydrus’ young mind,
I may as well see it through.
“Then, an island appeared, and Hydrus half-heartedly swam to take refuge for the night. A stiff breeze buffeted the crude, rocky landmass. Despite his insulating hide, Hydrus shivered. Seeking shelter, he crawled into a crevasse in the rock and curled onto his back. Looking up, Hydrus felt something he had never felt before. Amazement. Whole, untouchable universes were painted above him, in stars and planets and dust. Hydrus glanced at his paws.
What a cruel mockery, he thought,
that I should appear like this.
“So passed that night on the island. The hatchling, consumed by self-pity, stared up at the stars as they inched across the sky. And the stars looked back. They were interested in the dragon of the deep water.”
With this, Apocrita paused, allowing her audience to take a moment before continuing, “But to tell you that tale, I must start at a different beginning. This story concerns a beast of distant light, and the life beyond this world…”
((I plan on continuing this, and involving another of my dragons,
Carnation. This is just the beginning bit, and the part that most concerns the dragon I want to adopt!))
they/ze | FRT+3
__
_
