Raffles & Giveaways

@Decaffeinated I’ve been looking at Maytag for such a long time, and finally made her a story, I’m hoping it had enough words and correct Mermfae lore qwq [center][size=4][b]A passive soul that guides the grateful living passerby.[/size][b] [url=https://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=50862627] [img]https://flightrising.com/rendern/350/508627/50862627_350.png[/img] [/url][/center] The Mermfae isn’t who she truly was, having her whole life change after performing the ritual at Conlectus’ grave. Any Mermfae that spot her wonder why she is always alone, without a pod, the rarely ever spoken answer is because she has never woken up, but also did awaken into a whole brand new dragon. Maytag used to be a normal Nature Spiral, studying and playing with her fireflies everyday, since that brought her the most comfort and joy compared to the whole world around her. Each day she always had worried about everything, herself, others, items, living and non-living, she was an anxious mess. As if fate had destined a solution to be made for the paranoid Spiral, it came into play on a chilly autumn night. A pod of five Mermfae Sirens were recruited to swim to The Viridian Labyrinth in searches of ‘another Mermfae’, and Maytag was their first spotted and chosen member. The poor Spiral was clueless of who they were and what their special talent was, which was taking any dragons away into the deep seas, forever. But instead of letting the innocent dragon be drowned, the Sirens decided to make an attempt, have her become a Mermfae just as they were instructed to do. With their entrancing songs and elegant voices, they guided her from her home lands to The Sea of a Thousand Currents, and the last spot was Conlectus’ resting piece of land. When reaching as close as they could to his area without having to risk crawling onto land, they all watched in growing silence as Maytag glided to the tombstone in a mix of curiosity, and somehow knowing what to do. She slowly curled up and lay down, instantly falling into slumber without anymore fear. The five Sirens soon realized their mistakes, there was no setting sun, and the Spiral didn’t make any bit of a Tidelord creation at all. Desperate to not fail their given task, they created a Tidelord idol all together, but how were they going to place it in her claws before it was already too late? They swiftly grabbed a normal gatherer, but one with lower intelligence to know what was really going on, a Goat-eyed Fae, and sent her up on the beach to place the idol in front of Maytag. Since the specific Mermfae already had webbed limbs, she was able to crawl onto land and do what she was instructed, but sadly dried up and crumpled before she could reach back to the seas. In sudden panic from the passing of one of their gatherers, they all fled back into the water, but still clung onto hope that the Spiral would be graced from the Tidelord and not have an unfortunate ending to her life. When Maytag finally awoke, she felt completely different, both physically and mentally. To her luck, she still had her memories, but her main personality of anxiety was changed into calm, peaceful joy, and her body was shrunken to a smaller size. While studying her new, odd appearance and questioning what happened, one of the previous pod of Mermfae Sirens came to check on her, and exclaimed in a mix of fear and surprise that she had survived and was blessed to be another Mermfae, possibly a Siren too. The new dragon had a couple of choices, either return to her homelands and live with her family, or become a chosen Siren and join the pod of the five that ‘changed’ her life. Maytag chose the second option, but put a twist into it. Instead of entrancing others to drown in their doom, she would guide them across the seas at night with her beautiful star-covered body and wings. Reluctantly, the one Siren agreed, seeing how her Goat-eyed lowered most of her previous knowledge, and it would be a nice change to see a new Siren help the living across the dark waters. Ever since then, the once simple Spiral has become a unique Mermfae ghost to anyone that can see her at the darkest of nights.

@Decaffeinated [center][url=https://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=56913669] [img]https://flightrising.com/rendern/350/569137/56913669_350.png[/img] [/url][/center] It started slowly, the little things that didn't fit quite right into her usual day-by-day routine. The whistle of her brewing cauldron being much too shrill, her methodic grating and chopping at the workbench inexplicably off-kilter. The sky's color seemed more metallic than usual, and the air tasted strange. The alchemist frowned deeply, her features wrinkled in distaste. Something was not right, and magic was manifesting as a warning for her. Warnings, she would lament, she wanted nothing to do with, even if she was even a slight bit concerned (which she was not). The annoyances were easy to ignore and downplay at first, but that was before things started getting more bizarre. Ingredients floating aimlessly about the laboratory became the least of her worries. Despite the risk of them falling into vials of volatile concoctions and causing extreme accidents, she found that the warnings were less harmless that a hatchling from her clan armed with a twig. What the Nocturne couldn't handle, however, was the infuriating inconvenience. She found herself wrestling with picking her work out of the air, chasing them around and disappearing. Patience worn thin, she finally snapped. "What do you want?! I'm busy, so it'd be so very [i]helpful[/i]," Umbra bit back a venomous scowl, "if you got straight to the point so we can move on." The air was still, wind dying down the moment she growled out her frustration. For a short moment, her nerves settled, as the general ruckus that followed her seemed to finally cease. All at once, her her herb cabinet was violently swung open by an unseen force, and the young alchemist whirled in shock, pupils narrowing to thin slits. Eyes widened, however, at the sight that she was met with. Her precious ingredients were in stasis before her very eyes, but what was more concerning, was the message they spelt. [b]TENEBRIS[/b]

@decaffeinated can I be pinged if there’s any banescales available?? I doubt there will be any but it’s worth a shot lol

@decaffeinated oh sorry didn’t realize it was for all ancients!! id love to stay in it then nvm!!

@Decaffeinated I, er, took some liberties while writing this? Because as much as I love the Subspecies, it's pretty dark and violent and generally wouldn't fit into my Lore otherwise. :P [quote=Lance - I might change his name...] Lance does not remember most his hatchling-hood, not really. What he does remember is training; every day, training to become stronger than his inherent weakness would allow, training to make use of the potent virus that leaks crimson from his claws. Except... he could not. He flexed his claws, watching the bright red markings of them stand out against the white of his plumage. It was not as if the other Crows of his home did not attempt to help; he does remember that much, remembers them encouraging them in their monotone way to not fall behind his siblings and Clanmates. Remembers their confusion at his weakness. It was not as if he did not have the ability to make use of his virus - he did, it was as simple as any other Crow might be able to make use of it - but his 'weakness' was much more physical rather than viral. After all, how could one be able to fight, to hold against their own, if their own heart was betraying them? Lance let out a breath, closing his eyes to still the thrumming in his body, the rustle of his wings. Ever since he left - as he knew he was only a liability to his fellow Clanmates and Crows, it was only logical - he has been finding himself more and more affected with... emotions, and more concerning, questioning morals. He huffed at the thought; they were all illogical and had no use, except for being otherwise problematic when making the decision to infect someone or not. It was only survival of the strongest, after all, no morals, emotions, or anything otherwise involved. Except he himself should not be alive if that were true, for even with his strength and training, he was still far too weak with his hinderingly frail body. He stopped that line of thought before his mind could yet again betray him with dwelling on something he himself can not change. But either way he had left, wandering across Sornieth in search of anyone who could possibly have a 'cure' to his health status. Admittedly, it was slow going. For one, finding someone who was not a Crow nor a Clanmate he could trust was all but impossible. His inability to fight not withstanding, it was just innate nature to be able to trust someone with his life who has no reason to, and waiting for the other shoe to drop is something he does not enjoy in the slightest and grates on his otherwise non-existent pride as a Crow. For another, his status as a Crow makes it even harder to find someone who can treat him at all without getting infected themself. He had had the passing thought of wearing gloves or some kind of barrier so as not to accidentally inflict those who could treat him... But no; he was already physically weak, to do such a thing was a massive show of trust as he would be even more vulnerable, that he would not do to those who have not proved themselves to be worthy of it. And yet... Lance silently watched and listened as the one who called herself 'Blossom' bustled about, humming and muttering to herself in the quite large room that would have reminded him of some of the labs he had seen in the Shifting Expanse except for the fact that it was much more like the medical areas of the Labyrinth he vaguely remembers of, with dried herbs hanging from the ceiling and great, bay windows letting in what he learned was the ever-bright sunlight of the Ruins. For all that he was wary and cautious, keeping all of his senses on even a hint of danger, the reminiscent feel of his old 'home' had the ability to relax him, ever so slightly. He knew it was a mistake to do, another weakness, but he was unable to help himself. After all, it was not every day that he came across a Plague Dragon, a Flight he had long since associated with every bit of the lifestyle he grew with, only to find them... passive. Not hostile; moreso, as a healer. How could one that was the very essence of the harsh reality of life be able to be so optimistic? It was illogical. Just as illogical as it was for him to find it 'relaxing' to be around a Dragon that was essentially his natural enemy as a Nature Dragon, and have a higher resistance to his toxins. But perhaps that was a good thing? After all, he could not as easily accidentally affect her as he could others. Nonetheless, he reasoned to himself to watch and listen for the time being. Though there has been suspiciously little to no wariness from both the Plague Dragon and the others of the Clan, he would not let his guard down completely; after all, he was a Crow, and even in his weakened state, he was strong. For now, he would just watch, and listen. [/quote] (Not gonna lie, I almost made him blind if only because eye-problems tend to go with 'albinism', but I remembered I have, like, three or four Dragons at the moment who are blind already.) Oh heck, just realized this was shorter than the word count. ;n; Should I write more? Though I kind of don't want to as I like the open ending for this...

@decaffeinated I'd like to claim the green ghost Mirror! 56729551 [url=https://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=56729551] [img]https://flightrising.com/rendern/350/567296/56729551_350.png[/img] [/url] The unhatched baby Mirror wriggled in her egg. It was time. She pushed and shoved, using her sharp claws and teeth to scratch at the inner surface of the shell. It took several hours before a small hole appeared in the shell. Exhausted, she rested a moment and felt the cool air rush over her, that all-important first breath that held the gift of the Windsinger. She almost thought she could hear his song. A small patch of light glinted through the hole. By twisting around a little, she could see out--not that there was much to see. Some rustling grass, some bamboo stalks...and a long sinuous something. That must be my mother’s tail, she thought. A fresh burst of energy filled her with desire to get out! She scrabbled at the hole again, pushing with all her might...CRAACKKK! Free of the shell, she lay panting and blinking. The world was big and bright, and very...green was the word. She shut her photoreceptor eyes, but left the heat sensitive pair open. The long thing she had assumed was her mother’s tail moved, curling into a confusing tangle of limbs. Six wings unfurled, and four legs, and she opened her other eyes to see if light sight could make more sense of the vison than heat sight. Only barely. The female dragon was continually in motion, only occasionally stopping to shift direction. Her patterns made it very difficult to tell where one coil ended and another began. The baby began to feel a little dizzy. “Oh, there you are,” drawled the mother. “You certainly took your time, didn’t you?” The hatchling blinked all four eyes in confusion. She wasn’t sure what she had expected, but it wasn’t that. The Spiral ignored her. “We’ve got a viable hatch,” she called across the hatching grounds. Instantly a horde of other dragons, mostly Mirrors, but a few Spirals and Guardians, descended on the nestling. The last to arrive was a snappily dressed Skydancer Male, carrying a book and a pot of ink. He whipped out a feather and dipped it in the ink pot. “Let’s see,” he began in a very controlled voice. “This will be breeding experiment #17. Greenbean, you’re the mother?” “Yes,” the Spiral female replied, in a bored tone. “She’s number 8 for me. And I’m pretty sure that Mirror is the father.” She pointed, her entire body heading straight for the Mirror male she was indicating for about two seconds before relapsing into her disorganized curls. The little nestling cowered, overwhelmed. She was also beginning to be a bit hungry. Almost all the other dragons were of similar coloring, and she wasn’t sure which of the four Mirrors present were male, let alone which was her father. “Well, it wasn’t me,” one of the Mirrors piped up in a surly tone. “I wasn’t paired with a Spiral.” The Skydancer looked annoyed. “You are both Nameless, aren’t you? Isn’t that just dandy.” He made an annoyed scratch with his quill. The nestling peeped. The adults ignored her. The Skydancer continued his interrogations of the others, all greenish with similar patterns. The nestling glanced back over her shoulder, and realized--she should have figured it out sooner--that she, too, was of similar coloring. Suddenly she was being poked and prodded by a sharp, birdlike claw. She squeaked in pain as the Skydancer turned her over. “Eldritch pinstripe, check. Eldritch trail, check. Mirror, check. The problem is--” he glared at the mother, as though it were all her fault “--the tertiary gene is ghost. We’re looking for pinstripe, trail, runes, remember?” The Spiral female gave an unconcerned flirt with her tail. “Did my best,” she said. “Now do we get payment yet, or not? I’ve got a really nice big kite I’ve been looking at, and I plan to have a good deal of fun with it before I’m ready to go through all that again.” She waved at the nestling, who cowered down again and tried not to make a sound. The Skydancer let out an exasperated hiss. “I suppose so,” he grumbled. “I guess we could mate her off to someone else, maybe one of the Guardians?” The two Guardian dragons began backing away. “We’ve made our three nests already. Three was the agreement. We’ve got business elsewhere.” “Charges to find,” the other agreed. “Fine!” the Skydancer threw down his quill in disgust. “Fine! Just go ahead and ruin the experiment, why don’t you?” “Our pleasure,” one of the Mirror females hissed. “We quit.” The Skydancer stood helpless for a moment, seething with rage. The annoyed dragons moved into a line, and bared their teeth menacingly. At last the Skydancer, sputtering incoherently, fluttered his wings and darted away. The others watched him go, and one by one, without even a word to each other, headed off in different directions--slowly at first, then faster as they realized they were finally free. The Spiral Greenbean and the Mirror male who had been her most recent mate were the last to leave. “What should we do with this?” the male asked, nudging the hatchling with the back of his claw. The Spiral shrugged expressively, ripples traveling all along her body. “I haven’t the faintest idea. Looking after the hatches was not ever my responsibility. Leave it to the Windsinger.” She rippled her wings, lifted into the air, and was soon lost in the distance. The Mirror looked down at his hatchling. “Mirrors really ought to stick together, you know. It’s what we do. But I just can’t--I can’t bear to ever look at another dragon with a similar color pattern to my own. Forgive me.” He stepped away, and began to sing--it was the Song of the Windsinger, the ritual for exaltation. The nestling bowed her head under the weight of the song. Her first moments of life had been so confusing, so humiliating, so isolating--she felt that it would be a release to go to be with the Windsinger. The brief moment of joy in her life had been when the breath of the Windsinger echoed through her shell. Suddenly, there was a rush of powerful wind, and a glass-green Fae dragon fluttered between the Mirror and his hatchling. “Stop!” her light voice trilled. The Mirror male stopped in confusion. “But… “It’s all right,” the Fae chirped. “I am from the Windsinger. He has other plans for this youngling.” Her sweet monotone could not sound reassuring, but the elemental symbol of the Windsinger glowed on her brow. The adult dragon shuffled, unsure. “Well, goodbye then, I guess. I hope the Windsinger takes care of you, but I’d rather not see you again, if it’s all the same to you.” He glanced up as the Fae, who made a little shooing motion. He raised his wings and a moment later was gone. The Fae dropped down into the nest with the nestling, only slightly bigger than the baby Mirror. “It’s all right,” she said again. “You can trust me. I know, it’s hard coming from an experimental breeding group. But the Windsinger cares for those as well. You know the Windsinger?” Still unable to speak, the hatchling nodded. “He knows you want to serve him,” the Fae continued. “And you will. He wants you to be his ambassador, to travel to other clans and represent her well. And the first clan He’s selected for you happens to be in the Water realm, a clan with many other representatives and lots of Mirrors for you to grow up and play with. Does that sound like a job you might want?” The Mirror hatchling nodded happily, and stood up on wobbly legs. “Great.” The Fae could not sound excited, but the way her crests flapped up and down has to mean something. “I’ll take you home to Cloudsong, where you can rest up and learn all you can before starting on your mission. And someday you may even be blessed with an elemental crest like mine.” “But first,” she added, as the Mirror baby’s stomach let out a loud rumble of complaint, “let’s get you something to eat...did they give you a name yet?” She shook her head. “Then I will name you,” the Fae said. She tilted her head for a moment, as if listening. “All right, let’s go…Phaeta.”