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TOPIC | Writer's Rescue: Lore Galore!
@Decaffeinated
Lore done. Sorry for the lateness ^^''
[url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=49468035]
[img]http://flightrising.com/rendern/350/494681/49468035_350.png[/img]
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[rule]
Be confident.
Be assertive.
Do not show fear.
That mantra had always served Moo (Moor'tal K. Ombat the Third, Esquire thank you very much) well as he embarked on his journey away from the hot, ash-filled lands of his birth. His parents had talked about leading their sizeable heard through many adventures as they traversed through Sornieth, and he wanted that sort of glory for his own. Though it would be ideal if he stood at the head of a herd large enough to rival that of his parents, Moo knew that building that up would take time that he could not afford to waste. Moo would rather the platitudes and praise be immediate. As such, taking up the position as an advisor to a King or an Emperor would suffice. Though he knew that his tutors muttered about him not being the smartest of the bunch, Moo could easily brush those aside. What did those stuffy dragons know anyway? He'd much rather trust his father's advisors and the servants who were his companions who always had such pretty words for him. They obviously knew greatness when they saw it.
When he came of age, Moo decided that it was time to make his mark on the world. It didn't matter that his parents had shared a brief moment of unease between them at the announcement, they surely been only devastated at his leaving, Moo dug his heels in and was determined. His mother had packed him some of her homemade treats and kissed his cheek while his father and given him that mantra. Moo, on his part, had promised valiantly to uphold those words but unfortunately, as his journey dragged on it was getting harder and harder to do.
Like when he had fallen off the ferry taking him across the Sea of a Thousand Currents (how was he to know that they were still in the shallows and that he could have just stood up).
Or when those Spirals in the Wispwillow Grove had stolen the clothes off his back (they claimed that the ones given in exchange were made out of thread so fine that commoners could not see it).
Moo ended up in the Everbloom Gardens, and though the Clans were kind to him there, they were small and not up to par. None of them seemed to have any ambition. "Speak to the Tree Wardens. Maybe they'll know of a Clan that you can join. There are more of us living in the Wilds or near the Behemoth, but those are ancient clans and much larger." Moo had taken those words to heart and had approached a passing Tree Warden. He wished the Wildclaw hadn't smiled at him so nastily when he had conveyed his request.
Now he was standing before a Tundra and a Mirror trying to stiffen his spine and keep his chin up, but that was so hard to do as the Tree Warden's laughter rang in his ears.
"So many neighbours and he chooses this Clan as some sort of halfway home." The Tundra grumbled, staring at the Wildclaw's retreating figure balefully. That green glare turned to him, and Moo tried not to flinch. "What's your name boy?" He barked, even though Moo's letter of introduction clearly stated the fact.
"Moo...Moor'tal...Moortalkombat?" The Mirror female was at least gentler though she gave him a quizzical look as she read out his name. "Are you a warrior? We could use more trainers, don't we Thereos?" She flipped his letter back and forth in her claws. "But I do not see your references. Where did you train? Shall we take a trip to the Mire and you can show me your skills?"
"Trainer? I do not lower myself to fight the Beastclans. I wish to be your advisor. I have many pl-"
"You're wasting my time!" The cold interruption finally made Moo flinch, and the words that followed after had tears stinging his eyes. "If you think I'm going to let some whelp come in here and demand that I follow or even listen to his so-called plans, you have another thing coming." The Tundra jabbed his paw at building further into the clearing. "Exalt barracks or leave."
The Mirror sighed as they both watched his retreating back. "You're welcome to stay the night and have dinner. It is getting late and someone will have a Tree Warden escort you back to the Everbloom Gardens in the morning." He recognized the look that she was giving him. Compassionate and gentle like his own mother when she would advise him not to overreach. Left up to his own devices, Moo slunk away into the shadows. He had been quite impressed with the infrastructure around him when he had first stepped into this clearing but now the noises and smells around him only reminded Moo of rejection. In his efforts to put as much distance between himself and the main hub, Moo moved deeper and deeper into the glade and
Birds? A Sweetpuff landed on his head, thrilling a song, Skinks came to greet him chattering excitedly. After the experience he had had it was nice to be wanted. Moo settled down on the green grass and promptly lost track of time as he enjoyed this newfound company.
"Wow...they've really taken to you." Were it not for the plethora of familiars currently riding on his back Moo would have jumped straight up into the air. The Pearlcatcher who had spoken moved directly into his line and sight and grinned. "I'm Holstein. Are you the new help we requested?"
"No...I'm just..." He had half a mind to rattle on about his name and titles (most of which he had made up on his trip here) but, "I'm Moo."
"Well, hello there Moo. I'm not surprised they haven't filled up our request for more hands here helping out with the Familiars. Kruger always says we're the ones they forget about." Holstein shook her had and shrugged, not sounding bitter at all. "I heard the hubbub with the leaders. Don't worry about ol'Thereos being short with you. He's short with everyone these days except for his mate, and that's because she'd give him what for if he did."
She started to open up a bag of feed, and the Familiars rushed over to her. "How about you stay and help us out? These unclaimed Familiars seem to like you well enough, and we'd be amiss if we didn't give you a better impression of our Clan."
@Decaffeinated
Lore done. Sorry for the lateness ^^''
Be confident.
Be assertive.
Do not show fear.
That mantra had always served Moo (Moor'tal K. Ombat the Third, Esquire thank you very much) well as he embarked on his journey away from the hot, ash-filled lands of his birth. His parents had talked about leading their sizeable heard through many adventures as they traversed through Sornieth, and he wanted that sort of glory for his own. Though it would be ideal if he stood at the head of a herd large enough to rival that of his parents, Moo knew that building that up would take time that he could not afford to waste. Moo would rather the platitudes and praise be immediate. As such, taking up the position as an advisor to a King or an Emperor would suffice. Though he knew that his tutors muttered about him not being the smartest of the bunch, Moo could easily brush those aside. What did those stuffy dragons know anyway? He'd much rather trust his father's advisors and the servants who were his companions who always had such pretty words for him. They obviously knew greatness when they saw it.
When he came of age, Moo decided that it was time to make his mark on the world. It didn't matter that his parents had shared a brief moment of unease between them at the announcement, they surely been only devastated at his leaving, Moo dug his heels in and was determined. His mother had packed him some of her homemade treats and kissed his cheek while his father and given him that mantra. Moo, on his part, had promised valiantly to uphold those words but unfortunately, as his journey dragged on it was getting harder and harder to do.
Like when he had fallen off the ferry taking him across the Sea of a Thousand Currents (how was he to know that they were still in the shallows and that he could have just stood up).
Or when those Spirals in the Wispwillow Grove had stolen the clothes off his back (they claimed that the ones given in exchange were made out of thread so fine that commoners could not see it).
Moo ended up in the Everbloom Gardens, and though the Clans were kind to him there, they were small and not up to par. None of them seemed to have any ambition. "Speak to the Tree Wardens. Maybe they'll know of a Clan that you can join. There are more of us living in the Wilds or near the Behemoth, but those are ancient clans and much larger." Moo had taken those words to heart and had approached a passing Tree Warden. He wished the Wildclaw hadn't smiled at him so nastily when he had conveyed his request.
Now he was standing before a Tundra and a Mirror trying to stiffen his spine and keep his chin up, but that was so hard to do as the Tree Warden's laughter rang in his ears.
"So many neighbours and he chooses this Clan as some sort of halfway home." The Tundra grumbled, staring at the Wildclaw's retreating figure balefully. That green glare turned to him, and Moo tried not to flinch. "What's your name boy?" He barked, even though Moo's letter of introduction clearly stated the fact.
"Moo...Moor'tal...Moortalkombat?" The Mirror female was at least gentler though she gave him a quizzical look as she read out his name. "Are you a warrior? We could use more trainers, don't we Thereos?" She flipped his letter back and forth in her claws. "But I do not see your references. Where did you train? Shall we take a trip to the Mire and you can show me your skills?"
"Trainer? I do not lower myself to fight the Beastclans. I wish to be your advisor. I have many pl-"
"You're wasting my time!" The cold interruption finally made Moo flinch, and the words that followed after had tears stinging his eyes. "If you think I'm going to let some whelp come in here and demand that I follow or even listen to his so-called plans, you have another thing coming." The Tundra jabbed his paw at building further into the clearing. "Exalt barracks or leave."
The Mirror sighed as they both watched his retreating back. "You're welcome to stay the night and have dinner. It is getting late and someone will have a Tree Warden escort you back to the Everbloom Gardens in the morning." He recognized the look that she was giving him. Compassionate and gentle like his own mother when she would advise him not to overreach. Left up to his own devices, Moo slunk away into the shadows. He had been quite impressed with the infrastructure around him when he had first stepped into this clearing but now the noises and smells around him only reminded Moo of rejection. In his efforts to put as much distance between himself and the main hub, Moo moved deeper and deeper into the glade and
Birds? A Sweetpuff landed on his head, thrilling a song, Skinks came to greet him chattering excitedly. After the experience he had had it was nice to be wanted. Moo settled down on the green grass and promptly lost track of time as he enjoyed this newfound company.
"Wow...they've really taken to you." Were it not for the plethora of familiars currently riding on his back Moo would have jumped straight up into the air. The Pearlcatcher who had spoken moved directly into his line and sight and grinned. "I'm Holstein. Are you the new help we requested?"
"No...I'm just..." He had half a mind to rattle on about his name and titles (most of which he had made up on his trip here) but, "I'm Moo."
"Well, hello there Moo. I'm not surprised they haven't filled up our request for more hands here helping out with the Familiars. Kruger always says we're the ones they forget about." Holstein shook her had and shrugged, not sounding bitter at all. "I heard the hubbub with the leaders. Don't worry about ol'Thereos being short with you. He's short with everyone these days except for his mate, and that's because she'd give him what for if he did."
She started to open up a bag of feed, and the Familiars rushed over to her. "How about you stay and help us out? These unclaimed Familiars seem to like you well enough, and we'd be amiss if we didn't give you a better impression of our Clan."
Lore done. Sorry for the lateness ^^''
Be confident.
Be assertive.
Do not show fear.
That mantra had always served Moo (Moor'tal K. Ombat the Third, Esquire thank you very much) well as he embarked on his journey away from the hot, ash-filled lands of his birth. His parents had talked about leading their sizeable heard through many adventures as they traversed through Sornieth, and he wanted that sort of glory for his own. Though it would be ideal if he stood at the head of a herd large enough to rival that of his parents, Moo knew that building that up would take time that he could not afford to waste. Moo would rather the platitudes and praise be immediate. As such, taking up the position as an advisor to a King or an Emperor would suffice. Though he knew that his tutors muttered about him not being the smartest of the bunch, Moo could easily brush those aside. What did those stuffy dragons know anyway? He'd much rather trust his father's advisors and the servants who were his companions who always had such pretty words for him. They obviously knew greatness when they saw it.
When he came of age, Moo decided that it was time to make his mark on the world. It didn't matter that his parents had shared a brief moment of unease between them at the announcement, they surely been only devastated at his leaving, Moo dug his heels in and was determined. His mother had packed him some of her homemade treats and kissed his cheek while his father and given him that mantra. Moo, on his part, had promised valiantly to uphold those words but unfortunately, as his journey dragged on it was getting harder and harder to do.
Like when he had fallen off the ferry taking him across the Sea of a Thousand Currents (how was he to know that they were still in the shallows and that he could have just stood up).
Or when those Spirals in the Wispwillow Grove had stolen the clothes off his back (they claimed that the ones given in exchange were made out of thread so fine that commoners could not see it).
Moo ended up in the Everbloom Gardens, and though the Clans were kind to him there, they were small and not up to par. None of them seemed to have any ambition. "Speak to the Tree Wardens. Maybe they'll know of a Clan that you can join. There are more of us living in the Wilds or near the Behemoth, but those are ancient clans and much larger." Moo had taken those words to heart and had approached a passing Tree Warden. He wished the Wildclaw hadn't smiled at him so nastily when he had conveyed his request.
Now he was standing before a Tundra and a Mirror trying to stiffen his spine and keep his chin up, but that was so hard to do as the Tree Warden's laughter rang in his ears.
"So many neighbours and he chooses this Clan as some sort of halfway home." The Tundra grumbled, staring at the Wildclaw's retreating figure balefully. That green glare turned to him, and Moo tried not to flinch. "What's your name boy?" He barked, even though Moo's letter of introduction clearly stated the fact.
"Moo...Moor'tal...Moortalkombat?" The Mirror female was at least gentler though she gave him a quizzical look as she read out his name. "Are you a warrior? We could use more trainers, don't we Thereos?" She flipped his letter back and forth in her claws. "But I do not see your references. Where did you train? Shall we take a trip to the Mire and you can show me your skills?"
"Trainer? I do not lower myself to fight the Beastclans. I wish to be your advisor. I have many pl-"
"You're wasting my time!" The cold interruption finally made Moo flinch, and the words that followed after had tears stinging his eyes. "If you think I'm going to let some whelp come in here and demand that I follow or even listen to his so-called plans, you have another thing coming." The Tundra jabbed his paw at building further into the clearing. "Exalt barracks or leave."
The Mirror sighed as they both watched his retreating back. "You're welcome to stay the night and have dinner. It is getting late and someone will have a Tree Warden escort you back to the Everbloom Gardens in the morning." He recognized the look that she was giving him. Compassionate and gentle like his own mother when she would advise him not to overreach. Left up to his own devices, Moo slunk away into the shadows. He had been quite impressed with the infrastructure around him when he had first stepped into this clearing but now the noises and smells around him only reminded Moo of rejection. In his efforts to put as much distance between himself and the main hub, Moo moved deeper and deeper into the glade and
Birds? A Sweetpuff landed on his head, thrilling a song, Skinks came to greet him chattering excitedly. After the experience he had had it was nice to be wanted. Moo settled down on the green grass and promptly lost track of time as he enjoyed this newfound company.
"Wow...they've really taken to you." Were it not for the plethora of familiars currently riding on his back Moo would have jumped straight up into the air. The Pearlcatcher who had spoken moved directly into his line and sight and grinned. "I'm Holstein. Are you the new help we requested?"
"No...I'm just..." He had half a mind to rattle on about his name and titles (most of which he had made up on his trip here) but, "I'm Moo."
"Well, hello there Moo. I'm not surprised they haven't filled up our request for more hands here helping out with the Familiars. Kruger always says we're the ones they forget about." Holstein shook her had and shrugged, not sounding bitter at all. "I heard the hubbub with the leaders. Don't worry about ol'Thereos being short with you. He's short with everyone these days except for his mate, and that's because she'd give him what for if he did."
She started to open up a bag of feed, and the Familiars rushed over to her. "How about you stay and help us out? These unclaimed Familiars seem to like you well enough, and we'd be amiss if we didn't give you a better impression of our Clan."
@MaybeHuman Oh goodness, I didn't even realize she was Corydalis' sister and they've both been in my lair together for a week. xD I love that you tied her in with Moor, too.
@Axeniere Held!
@Axeniere Held!
@MaybeHuman Oh goodness, I didn't even realize she was Corydalis' sister and they've both been in my lair together for a week. xD I love that you tied her in with Moor, too.
@Axeniere Held!
@Axeniere Held!
__
_
@Ikterrin [emoji=familiar heart]
@onemessyperson Oh my goodness this is both hilarious and sweet xD Outstanding lore as usual [emoji=heart]
@Ikterrin 
@onemessyperson Oh my goodness this is both hilarious and sweet xD Outstanding lore as usual
@onemessyperson Oh my goodness this is both hilarious and sweet xD Outstanding lore as usual
Aaaaand I pressed submit too fast xD
@ShadowWyvern15 That's a cute beginning! I'll send Suneye in a second!
@ShadowWyvern15 That's a cute beginning! I'll send Suneye in a second!
Aaaaand I pressed submit too fast xD
@ShadowWyvern15 That's a cute beginning! I'll send Suneye in a second!
@ShadowWyvern15 That's a cute beginning! I'll send Suneye in a second!
@Decaffeinated
[url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=11107677]
[img]http://flightrising.com/rendern/350/111077/11107677_350.png[/img]
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All done!
Hatchlings can be such vicious creatures sometimes. They’ll do anything to secure their own place in their special little hierarchy, especially if that means bringing each other down. It’s a ruthless cycle where one can fight tooth and claw only to find that it was never a battle worth fighting to begin with. There are no winners, only losers, in the fight to be a part of society. Leliana learnt this the very hard way.
She hated her hide, absolutely hated it. It was much too bland. She had two solid colors. The other hatchlings had three, arranged in beautiful patterns, some even had more colors within their patterns. They would tease her mercilessly. She didn’t fit in, she was at the bottom of the social ladder.
Feeling like she had no place to belong, she ran away, far away. She had nothing to lose after all, no parents, no home. She had been meant as a gift from the Flamecaller, but once the other hatchlings realized how soft she was, they asserted their dominance.
She flew over the sea and came to a place she knew not. It was wooded and very dark. A single flower beckoned her closer. It seemed to have a unique allure to it, beautiful, yet seemingly dangerous. She plucked and studied it. It pulsed with a strange light, appearing to have some sort of magic to it. Magic that might be of some use to her. A flicker of hope was light inside her, she searched for more like it.
She spent years discovering the properties of that flower and others she found. That flicker of hope blossomed and grew. Her skill in potion making and brewing increased. Her goal was to find a way to change her dull hide into something new. The words of her childhood peers stuck with her and she wanted to prove them wrong, whether they had the chance to see it or not. She knew her hide was not just blank, it was a blank [i]canvas[/i]. She could do anything she wanted with it. She would create something as beautiful as the flower she found that day.
The liquid in the cauldron bubbled. Leliana stared at it, quivering with excitement. She had become well known as a talented witch, but her hide was still blank. Not for much longer though, her experiments paid off, this would be the fruit of her research.
She poured the boiling liquid over herself. It burned. It had too. Nothing can be gained without pain. She gasped with pain as her skin began to peel, revealing a new hide. This one glimmered like a thousand emeralds. An inner light seemed to come from her now, making it shine with an inner brilliance. She had done it, she had shed her canvas and became a work of art. She was beautiful.
“Come in, come in, mustn’t lurk in doorways, it’s rude.”
She welcomed the customers looking in on her in shock at what they had seen.
@Decaffeinated
All done!
Hatchlings can be such vicious creatures sometimes. They’ll do anything to secure their own place in their special little hierarchy, especially if that means bringing each other down. It’s a ruthless cycle where one can fight tooth and claw only to find that it was never a battle worth fighting to begin with. There are no winners, only losers, in the fight to be a part of society. Leliana learnt this the very hard way.
She hated her hide, absolutely hated it. It was much too bland. She had two solid colors. The other hatchlings had three, arranged in beautiful patterns, some even had more colors within their patterns. They would tease her mercilessly. She didn’t fit in, she was at the bottom of the social ladder.
Feeling like she had no place to belong, she ran away, far away. She had nothing to lose after all, no parents, no home. She had been meant as a gift from the Flamecaller, but once the other hatchlings realized how soft she was, they asserted their dominance.
She flew over the sea and came to a place she knew not. It was wooded and very dark. A single flower beckoned her closer. It seemed to have a unique allure to it, beautiful, yet seemingly dangerous. She plucked and studied it. It pulsed with a strange light, appearing to have some sort of magic to it. Magic that might be of some use to her. A flicker of hope was light inside her, she searched for more like it.
She spent years discovering the properties of that flower and others she found. That flicker of hope blossomed and grew. Her skill in potion making and brewing increased. Her goal was to find a way to change her dull hide into something new. The words of her childhood peers stuck with her and she wanted to prove them wrong, whether they had the chance to see it or not. She knew her hide was not just blank, it was a blank canvas. She could do anything she wanted with it. She would create something as beautiful as the flower she found that day.
The liquid in the cauldron bubbled. Leliana stared at it, quivering with excitement. She had become well known as a talented witch, but her hide was still blank. Not for much longer though, her experiments paid off, this would be the fruit of her research.
She poured the boiling liquid over herself. It burned. It had too. Nothing can be gained without pain. She gasped with pain as her skin began to peel, revealing a new hide. This one glimmered like a thousand emeralds. An inner light seemed to come from her now, making it shine with an inner brilliance. She had done it, she had shed her canvas and became a work of art. She was beautiful.
“Come in, come in, mustn’t lurk in doorways, it’s rude.”
She welcomed the customers looking in on her in shock at what they had seen.
All done!
Hatchlings can be such vicious creatures sometimes. They’ll do anything to secure their own place in their special little hierarchy, especially if that means bringing each other down. It’s a ruthless cycle where one can fight tooth and claw only to find that it was never a battle worth fighting to begin with. There are no winners, only losers, in the fight to be a part of society. Leliana learnt this the very hard way.
She hated her hide, absolutely hated it. It was much too bland. She had two solid colors. The other hatchlings had three, arranged in beautiful patterns, some even had more colors within their patterns. They would tease her mercilessly. She didn’t fit in, she was at the bottom of the social ladder.
Feeling like she had no place to belong, she ran away, far away. She had nothing to lose after all, no parents, no home. She had been meant as a gift from the Flamecaller, but once the other hatchlings realized how soft she was, they asserted their dominance.
She flew over the sea and came to a place she knew not. It was wooded and very dark. A single flower beckoned her closer. It seemed to have a unique allure to it, beautiful, yet seemingly dangerous. She plucked and studied it. It pulsed with a strange light, appearing to have some sort of magic to it. Magic that might be of some use to her. A flicker of hope was light inside her, she searched for more like it.
She spent years discovering the properties of that flower and others she found. That flicker of hope blossomed and grew. Her skill in potion making and brewing increased. Her goal was to find a way to change her dull hide into something new. The words of her childhood peers stuck with her and she wanted to prove them wrong, whether they had the chance to see it or not. She knew her hide was not just blank, it was a blank canvas. She could do anything she wanted with it. She would create something as beautiful as the flower she found that day.
The liquid in the cauldron bubbled. Leliana stared at it, quivering with excitement. She had become well known as a talented witch, but her hide was still blank. Not for much longer though, her experiments paid off, this would be the fruit of her research.
She poured the boiling liquid over herself. It burned. It had too. Nothing can be gained without pain. She gasped with pain as her skin began to peel, revealing a new hide. This one glimmered like a thousand emeralds. An inner light seemed to come from her now, making it shine with an inner brilliance. She had done it, she had shed her canvas and became a work of art. She was beautiful.
“Come in, come in, mustn’t lurk in doorways, it’s rude.”
She welcomed the customers looking in on her in shock at what they had seen.
@Alitema Neat way to adress gene changes through lore! Leliana is coming your way ^-^
@Alitema Neat way to adress gene changes through lore! Leliana is coming your way ^-^
enter me please
enter me please
        |
 |Call Me Kacee |Fr time +0|
|21|They/Them|
Ping me please, i apreciate it ~ |
@Decaffeinated
[url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=49039347]
[img]http://flightrising.com/rendern/350/490394/49039347_350.png[/img]
[/url]
The water was supposed to be safe.
That was the thought that kept repeating itself, over and over though his mind as he staggered through the stone halls, tripping on carpets of hide and knocking over delicate bone sculptures. He couldn’t see, he could barely *breathe*, something was smothering him, pulling him down, down under the waves of consciousness.
“Where are you going, friend!?” A cheerful voice called from behind him. “Why, you must be exhausted! You can barely keep your feet! Come sit by the fire a while-“
“No, no!” He couldn’t stop, couldn’t sit! He needed to find the door, the door.
He collapsed against a wall, slamming his face against the stone with a hiss of pain and desperation. The water should have been safe, it was the wine that was poisoned! He had asked for water! She had told him, that little fae, told him with her smile and her angry eyes… the water was safe, he’d have fun if he…visited…. The water…
He slid down the wall, almost sobbing in desperation. He could see the door, it was there at the end of the hallway, but he couldn’t make his legs work. His eyelids were so heavy…
He heard the mirror’s claws clicking on stone, approaching from the room of fire. “Come now, come now…” the kindly voice sent a chill through every vertebra. “Look, you’ve hurt yourself! Tsk tsk, such a shame to waste that lovely blood…”
A shriek of frustration ripped free of his lungs. With an immense heave he lunged forwards, spreading his wings, half flying, half clawing his way blindly through the hallway and making for the door. The door. THE DOOR.
He slammed into it full force, breaking it off its hinges with the force of his horned blow. Reeling, retching, blinded and dizzied, he writhed his way to freedom, twisting into the starless sky, heedless of the wind screaming in his ears, the rain pelting his face. He had to get away, away, away…
He barely heard the shouts behind him. “Come back! Come back! It isn’t safe! You’re going into the storm!”
But anything was safer than going back there.
He could barely stay awake enough to keep his wings moving, but it hardly mattered. The wind seized him, twisted him, wringing him like a rag. This way and that he tumbled and spiraled, too terrified to shriek or even breathe. The wind howled at him like a pack of wolves, trying to tear his flesh from his bones. The rain fell from every direction, slamming him like stones thrown by fate itself.
And he still couldn’t see a thing. Not even the lightening as it flashed, terribly close, so near he could smell the ozone.
And worst, worst, worst of all, he could still feel the water, leeching through his mind, dulling his consciousness. He could still feel Seven’s claws on him, tracing the line of his throat.
The memory was too much. He fainted, there in the sky, and became nothing more than another piece of storm-tossed debris, trapped in a blackness so dense there was no room for thought, for fear, or for pain.
Which was fortunate, for the storm only worsened, and if he had been conscious, he would have died from sheer terror.
Instead, he woke the next day in a broke, bruised heap of soggy coils and charred, broken branches.
Charred?
Bracing to face the storm that he still heard howling around him, he opened his eyes. Dimly he could see his surroundings – though the day was so dark and gray at first he mistook it for night. He was tangled in a treetop, a pine, some part of his mind noted vaguely, and it was so blackened and broken it was obvious it had been struck by lightning.
And the storm was not, in fact, around him.
He blinked in disbelief, cranining his neck to peer through the gray moisture. No storm. No sky. Just fog. And yet he heard it, as clear as anything… inside his head? It was so loud….
He took a deep breath, in and out, calming his mind. The storm calmed too, and…his vision returned a bit more, the gray clearing away to reveal blue sky and green branches. How peculiar.
He stood slowly, stretching the full length of his body and as a strange shivering tingle ran through him. He took another deep breath. He felt….alive. Truly alive, as if he had been dead for years and only now escaped.
He flung himself into the air in a rush of wind and wings, spiraling high into the blue, a grin stretching across his face. Faster and faster until a laugh broke from him, dizzy but not out of control. The storm raced through him, matching his joy with thunder that merged and reverberated with his laugh, deep in his chest.
He knew he could find them again, if he wanted to. He could do anything, if he wanted to. He could go there and tear them down, stone for stone, and crush every boney skull until there was naught left but dust.
But…somehow, up here…he didn’t see the point. Better to enjoy the sun and sky, and leave the evil to turn upon itself. It would fester from the inside, surely.
He didn’t need to go back there again. Not even revenge was worth that.
@Decaffeinated
The water was supposed to be safe.
That was the thought that kept repeating itself, over and over though his mind as he staggered through the stone halls, tripping on carpets of hide and knocking over delicate bone sculptures. He couldn’t see, he could barely *breathe*, something was smothering him, pulling him down, down under the waves of consciousness.
“Where are you going, friend!?” A cheerful voice called from behind him. “Why, you must be exhausted! You can barely keep your feet! Come sit by the fire a while-“
“No, no!” He couldn’t stop, couldn’t sit! He needed to find the door, the door.
He collapsed against a wall, slamming his face against the stone with a hiss of pain and desperation. The water should have been safe, it was the wine that was poisoned! He had asked for water! She had told him, that little fae, told him with her smile and her angry eyes… the water was safe, he’d have fun if he…visited…. The water…
He slid down the wall, almost sobbing in desperation. He could see the door, it was there at the end of the hallway, but he couldn’t make his legs work. His eyelids were so heavy…
He heard the mirror’s claws clicking on stone, approaching from the room of fire. “Come now, come now…” the kindly voice sent a chill through every vertebra. “Look, you’ve hurt yourself! Tsk tsk, such a shame to waste that lovely blood…”
A shriek of frustration ripped free of his lungs. With an immense heave he lunged forwards, spreading his wings, half flying, half clawing his way blindly through the hallway and making for the door. The door. THE DOOR.
He slammed into it full force, breaking it off its hinges with the force of his horned blow. Reeling, retching, blinded and dizzied, he writhed his way to freedom, twisting into the starless sky, heedless of the wind screaming in his ears, the rain pelting his face. He had to get away, away, away…
He barely heard the shouts behind him. “Come back! Come back! It isn’t safe! You’re going into the storm!”
But anything was safer than going back there.
He could barely stay awake enough to keep his wings moving, but it hardly mattered. The wind seized him, twisted him, wringing him like a rag. This way and that he tumbled and spiraled, too terrified to shriek or even breathe. The wind howled at him like a pack of wolves, trying to tear his flesh from his bones. The rain fell from every direction, slamming him like stones thrown by fate itself.
And he still couldn’t see a thing. Not even the lightening as it flashed, terribly close, so near he could smell the ozone.
And worst, worst, worst of all, he could still feel the water, leeching through his mind, dulling his consciousness. He could still feel Seven’s claws on him, tracing the line of his throat.
The memory was too much. He fainted, there in the sky, and became nothing more than another piece of storm-tossed debris, trapped in a blackness so dense there was no room for thought, for fear, or for pain.
Which was fortunate, for the storm only worsened, and if he had been conscious, he would have died from sheer terror.
Instead, he woke the next day in a broke, bruised heap of soggy coils and charred, broken branches.
Charred?
Bracing to face the storm that he still heard howling around him, he opened his eyes. Dimly he could see his surroundings – though the day was so dark and gray at first he mistook it for night. He was tangled in a treetop, a pine, some part of his mind noted vaguely, and it was so blackened and broken it was obvious it had been struck by lightning.
And the storm was not, in fact, around him.
He blinked in disbelief, cranining his neck to peer through the gray moisture. No storm. No sky. Just fog. And yet he heard it, as clear as anything… inside his head? It was so loud….
He took a deep breath, in and out, calming his mind. The storm calmed too, and…his vision returned a bit more, the gray clearing away to reveal blue sky and green branches. How peculiar.
He stood slowly, stretching the full length of his body and as a strange shivering tingle ran through him. He took another deep breath. He felt….alive. Truly alive, as if he had been dead for years and only now escaped.
He flung himself into the air in a rush of wind and wings, spiraling high into the blue, a grin stretching across his face. Faster and faster until a laugh broke from him, dizzy but not out of control. The storm raced through him, matching his joy with thunder that merged and reverberated with his laugh, deep in his chest.
He knew he could find them again, if he wanted to. He could do anything, if he wanted to. He could go there and tear them down, stone for stone, and crush every boney skull until there was naught left but dust.
But…somehow, up here…he didn’t see the point. Better to enjoy the sun and sky, and leave the evil to turn upon itself. It would fester from the inside, surely.
He didn’t need to go back there again. Not even revenge was worth that.
The water was supposed to be safe.
That was the thought that kept repeating itself, over and over though his mind as he staggered through the stone halls, tripping on carpets of hide and knocking over delicate bone sculptures. He couldn’t see, he could barely *breathe*, something was smothering him, pulling him down, down under the waves of consciousness.
“Where are you going, friend!?” A cheerful voice called from behind him. “Why, you must be exhausted! You can barely keep your feet! Come sit by the fire a while-“
“No, no!” He couldn’t stop, couldn’t sit! He needed to find the door, the door.
He collapsed against a wall, slamming his face against the stone with a hiss of pain and desperation. The water should have been safe, it was the wine that was poisoned! He had asked for water! She had told him, that little fae, told him with her smile and her angry eyes… the water was safe, he’d have fun if he…visited…. The water…
He slid down the wall, almost sobbing in desperation. He could see the door, it was there at the end of the hallway, but he couldn’t make his legs work. His eyelids were so heavy…
He heard the mirror’s claws clicking on stone, approaching from the room of fire. “Come now, come now…” the kindly voice sent a chill through every vertebra. “Look, you’ve hurt yourself! Tsk tsk, such a shame to waste that lovely blood…”
A shriek of frustration ripped free of his lungs. With an immense heave he lunged forwards, spreading his wings, half flying, half clawing his way blindly through the hallway and making for the door. The door. THE DOOR.
He slammed into it full force, breaking it off its hinges with the force of his horned blow. Reeling, retching, blinded and dizzied, he writhed his way to freedom, twisting into the starless sky, heedless of the wind screaming in his ears, the rain pelting his face. He had to get away, away, away…
He barely heard the shouts behind him. “Come back! Come back! It isn’t safe! You’re going into the storm!”
But anything was safer than going back there.
He could barely stay awake enough to keep his wings moving, but it hardly mattered. The wind seized him, twisted him, wringing him like a rag. This way and that he tumbled and spiraled, too terrified to shriek or even breathe. The wind howled at him like a pack of wolves, trying to tear his flesh from his bones. The rain fell from every direction, slamming him like stones thrown by fate itself.
And he still couldn’t see a thing. Not even the lightening as it flashed, terribly close, so near he could smell the ozone.
And worst, worst, worst of all, he could still feel the water, leeching through his mind, dulling his consciousness. He could still feel Seven’s claws on him, tracing the line of his throat.
The memory was too much. He fainted, there in the sky, and became nothing more than another piece of storm-tossed debris, trapped in a blackness so dense there was no room for thought, for fear, or for pain.
Which was fortunate, for the storm only worsened, and if he had been conscious, he would have died from sheer terror.
Instead, he woke the next day in a broke, bruised heap of soggy coils and charred, broken branches.
Charred?
Bracing to face the storm that he still heard howling around him, he opened his eyes. Dimly he could see his surroundings – though the day was so dark and gray at first he mistook it for night. He was tangled in a treetop, a pine, some part of his mind noted vaguely, and it was so blackened and broken it was obvious it had been struck by lightning.
And the storm was not, in fact, around him.
He blinked in disbelief, cranining his neck to peer through the gray moisture. No storm. No sky. Just fog. And yet he heard it, as clear as anything… inside his head? It was so loud….
He took a deep breath, in and out, calming his mind. The storm calmed too, and…his vision returned a bit more, the gray clearing away to reveal blue sky and green branches. How peculiar.
He stood slowly, stretching the full length of his body and as a strange shivering tingle ran through him. He took another deep breath. He felt….alive. Truly alive, as if he had been dead for years and only now escaped.
He flung himself into the air in a rush of wind and wings, spiraling high into the blue, a grin stretching across his face. Faster and faster until a laugh broke from him, dizzy but not out of control. The storm raced through him, matching his joy with thunder that merged and reverberated with his laugh, deep in his chest.
He knew he could find them again, if he wanted to. He could do anything, if he wanted to. He could go there and tear them down, stone for stone, and crush every boney skull until there was naught left but dust.
But…somehow, up here…he didn’t see the point. Better to enjoy the sun and sky, and leave the evil to turn upon itself. It would fester from the inside, surely.
He didn’t need to go back there again. Not even revenge was worth that.
My Plague Doctor Picture book THE DOCTOR AND THE DRAGON is now for sale!Clearly you already like dragons...but what about plague doctors?