Raffles & Giveaways
Share your raffles and giveaways with the Flight Rising community.
TOPIC | Button Eyes! A Sages: MG Sub Contest
[img]https://www1.flightrising.com/dgen/preview/dragon?age=1&body=3&bodygene=59&breed=2&element=2&eyetype=5&gender=1&tert=3&tertgene=18&winggene=59&wings=2&auth=19dda7222eb72018ae8ba9617baab1d0eb9fd271&dummyext=prev.png[/img]
Meet Snowball, The Keeper of Paths UnWalked.
Since she was a Hatchling, Snowball has seen the "Could've's" and the "Should've's". Each a moment where two choices were presented, and the one not taken always wrapped in regret. A friendship soured, a dessert not selected, a truth not spoken, and a step not taken. While not all were sad, Snowball's heart hurt with the knowledge her fellow dragons were living with such weights. Traveling throughout the realm, Snowball tries to bring to those she meets a second chance; and for those she cannot help? Their stories are written in her skin, a warning to all that would listen.
"Isn't that such a terrible burden to bear?" You ask, staring at the patches etched into her, some large, some tiny, some colourful and some dull.
With a soft smile, she hands you a sweet and simply moves on. What you haven't come to realize, is that Snowball? She knows this is her path. On it, she will never see her Path UnWalked, her greatest Regret.
(I changed the tertiary gene to capsule, thanks again for the heads up!)
Meet Snowball, The Keeper of Paths UnWalked.
Since she was a Hatchling, Snowball has seen the "Could've's" and the "Should've's". Each a moment where two choices were presented, and the one not taken always wrapped in regret. A friendship soured, a dessert not selected, a truth not spoken, and a step not taken. While not all were sad, Snowball's heart hurt with the knowledge her fellow dragons were living with such weights. Traveling throughout the realm, Snowball tries to bring to those she meets a second chance; and for those she cannot help? Their stories are written in her skin, a warning to all that would listen.
"Isn't that such a terrible burden to bear?" You ask, staring at the patches etched into her, some large, some tiny, some colourful and some dull.
With a soft smile, she hands you a sweet and simply moves on. What you haven't come to realize, is that Snowball? She knows this is her path. On it, she will never see her Path UnWalked, her greatest Regret.
(I changed the tertiary gene to capsule, thanks again for the heads up!)
[img]https://www1.flightrising.com/dgen/preview/dragon?age=0&body=3&bodygene=13&breed=2&element=2&eyetype=5&gender=1&tert=3&tertgene=38&winggene=13&wings=2&auth=b4b301f7bbf74ce443b2ab188826177c4a1ffb5d&dummyext=prev.png[/img]
(Scry before affliction)
An egg hatched in the Rotrock Rim near residual fluid from the Wyrmwound is where this unfortunate hatchling was birthed. . . Or was she one of the more fortunate?
Being born with her odd eyes was strange even for the diseased dragons living here, however she did not yet know their worth.
As she grew into adolescence, something strange began to eat at her beautiful wings. Slowly and painfully they burned away until all that was left were the long arms and fingers of her wings. She had become a "Horror of the Wound" with an odd, long and thin pair of extra arms. Foreign dragons were mortified by the sight of her.
During the time her wings were degrading, she was desperately trying to find a cure for her unknown affliction. Her search took her all around the Plague lands before finally losing all hope. The strange flesh disease was beginning to ebb into her shoulders, and eventually her long fingerlike appendages began to blacken.
She settled to rest, the glowing hole at the center of her homeland an ominous nightlight. Then. . . Suddenly, she could see. She could see sicknesses around her, identify them, and remedy them all in her mind. Being near the Wyrmwound, her consciousness was flooded with endless, even nameless, diseases followed by maddeningly calculating the cure.
The young Guardian rested on that lonely hill for a week's time before she was able to claw her way out of her own head. She began to concentrate on her afflicted wings. As she focused, the illness was identified, unique to the fluid her unhatched egg was exposed to. Then the ingredients for the cure slowly began to formulate in her mind, then the locations for the items. Now she had hope. . .
. . .
Several months have passed, her cure was successful and has has returned most of her wing appendages healthy again. Her remedy however, was unable to regrow the membranes of her wings. The membranes had been completely eaten by the disease.
During her journey she encountered many dragons and beastmen who taught her interesting skills as payment for her healing. On one such journey, an elder longneck sewed a tapestry of their tribe colors to honor her for curing a rampant disease plaguing the young ones of their tribe.
[img]https://www1.flightrising.com/dgen/preview/dragon?age=1&body=3&bodygene=13&breed=2&element=2&eyetype=5&gender=1&tert=3&tertgene=38&winggene=59&wings=2&auth=31988a7fb04bbd912f78148f5ad00427b449915c&dummyext=prev.png[/img]
She has since attached the cute patchwork of the tribesmen to her wings to make them look somewhat normal again. Although she will never again be able to fly, she will continue to travel and expand her knowledge for as long as she can.
~fin
(Scry before affliction)
An egg hatched in the Rotrock Rim near residual fluid from the Wyrmwound is where this unfortunate hatchling was birthed. . . Or was she one of the more fortunate?
Being born with her odd eyes was strange even for the diseased dragons living here, however she did not yet know their worth.
As she grew into adolescence, something strange began to eat at her beautiful wings. Slowly and painfully they burned away until all that was left were the long arms and fingers of her wings. She had become a "Horror of the Wound" with an odd, long and thin pair of extra arms. Foreign dragons were mortified by the sight of her.
During the time her wings were degrading, she was desperately trying to find a cure for her unknown affliction. Her search took her all around the Plague lands before finally losing all hope. The strange flesh disease was beginning to ebb into her shoulders, and eventually her long fingerlike appendages began to blacken.
She settled to rest, the glowing hole at the center of her homeland an ominous nightlight. Then. . . Suddenly, she could see. She could see sicknesses around her, identify them, and remedy them all in her mind. Being near the Wyrmwound, her consciousness was flooded with endless, even nameless, diseases followed by maddeningly calculating the cure.
The young Guardian rested on that lonely hill for a week's time before she was able to claw her way out of her own head. She began to concentrate on her afflicted wings. As she focused, the illness was identified, unique to the fluid her unhatched egg was exposed to. Then the ingredients for the cure slowly began to formulate in her mind, then the locations for the items. Now she had hope. . .
. . .
Several months have passed, her cure was successful and has has returned most of her wing appendages healthy again. Her remedy however, was unable to regrow the membranes of her wings. The membranes had been completely eaten by the disease.
During her journey she encountered many dragons and beastmen who taught her interesting skills as payment for her healing. On one such journey, an elder longneck sewed a tapestry of their tribe colors to honor her for curing a rampant disease plaguing the young ones of their tribe.
She has since attached the cute patchwork of the tribesmen to her wings to make them look somewhat normal again. Although she will never again be able to fly, she will continue to travel and expand her knowledge for as long as she can.
~fin
Entries have been updated! I miscalculated the points last time so those of you who had joined the pinglist and done a scry with lore will see you have one more little stitch.
Entries have been updated! I miscalculated the points last time so those of you who had joined the pinglist and done a scry with lore will see you have one more little stitch.
This is actually the one time I've ever liked Smirch!
[img]https://www1.flightrising.com/dgen/preview/dragon?age=1&body=3&bodygene=59&breed=2&element=2&eyetype=5&gender=1&tert=3&tertgene=19&winggene=25&wings=2&auth=d4f2ee635282114f4419d4b175c63ea686723195&dummyext=prev.png[/img]
No one knows quite what Snowball is, or where he's been. A dragon who gleefully wraps himself in mystery, reveling in each whisper of his name as he passes. What is known about Snowball is that he simply appeared one day unannounced, and has been a troublemaker ever since.
Some blame his impish nature on his lack of a charge, a lack of purpose in life. Some blame it on a powerful illusion he's created, convincing everyone that he's an adult, when indeed he remains a hatchling that gleefully enjoys his childhood. Others yet theorize that Snowball is also not what he seems - but claiming he's a Spiral, or at least his mother must be one.
If you ask Snowball himself, you simply get a wide grin, and a mischievous wink.
This is actually the one time I've ever liked Smirch!
No one knows quite what Snowball is, or where he's been. A dragon who gleefully wraps himself in mystery, reveling in each whisper of his name as he passes. What is known about Snowball is that he simply appeared one day unannounced, and has been a troublemaker ever since.
Some blame his impish nature on his lack of a charge, a lack of purpose in life. Some blame it on a powerful illusion he's created, convincing everyone that he's an adult, when indeed he remains a hatchling that gleefully enjoys his childhood. Others yet theorize that Snowball is also not what he seems - but claiming he's a Spiral, or at least his mother must be one.
If you ask Snowball himself, you simply get a wide grin, and a mischievous wink.
No one knows quite what Snowball is, or where he's been. A dragon who gleefully wraps himself in mystery, reveling in each whisper of his name as he passes. What is known about Snowball is that he simply appeared one day unannounced, and has been a troublemaker ever since.
Some blame his impish nature on his lack of a charge, a lack of purpose in life. Some blame it on a powerful illusion he's created, convincing everyone that he's an adult, when indeed he remains a hatchling that gleefully enjoys his childhood. Others yet theorize that Snowball is also not what he seems - but claiming he's a Spiral, or at least his mother must be one.
If you ask Snowball himself, you simply get a wide grin, and a mischievous wink.
Here's an entry:
[img]https://www1.flightrising.com/dgen/preview/dragon?age=1&body=3&bodygene=5&breed=2&element=2&eyetype=5&gender=1&tert=3&tertgene=11&winggene=59&wings=2&auth=1ad9c03817425ed0deb991b8103a2f05a7726bd8&dummyext=prev.png[/img]
Snowball doesn't know exactly how she came to be in the Snowsquall Tundra, huddled under a tree in a snowstorm. Her memory is muddled, and her mind feels strange. A bone deep chill lingers in her spine, creeping up her cold-stiffened wings, but she knows with an eerie certainty it has nothing to do with the ice around her.
In fact, though the guardian is belly-deep in snow her body is still limber, and her many eyes can somehow see much further than the swirling blizzard should allow.
[i]What is this?[/i] she wondered, even as her sight picks out a sure path through the blinding storm. The world looks no different than usual... is what she'd like to think, but even when she wracks her brain Snowball can remember nothing beyond vague impressions.
As she trudges forward, her gaze is drawn to a particular direction for no reason she can discern, and yet it seems important somehow that she go that way. The canopy of trees in the distance looks no different to all the other trees around her, but something about it stands out in her vision, as obviously as if the Icewarden himself was standing next to it.
[i]The Icewarden.[/i] Snowball stopped abruptly, sensing her wings flare defensively even as her back feels like she'd just walked under a freezing waterfall. She shook herself, but though doing so dislodged copious amounts of snow the guardian still felt like her spine had turned to ice. Why had the thought of the deity invoked such a response? Snowball felt increasingly discomfited about being in what she instinctively knew was his domain, the Southern Icefield.
Had she encountered him at some point? The idea was farfetched - very few unexalted dragons ever met the deities personally, and surely she would remember [i]that[/i]. But... with her memory the way it was, she could say nothing with certainty. Could her situation have something to do with the Ice lord?
A faint cry broke Snowball from her thoughts. She looked up, crimson eyes automatically locking on to a figure hovering near the treetops, nearly invisible in the whiteness but crystal clear in her vision. The guardian somehow had no trouble discerning the softly glowing ice rune above their head, and with some unease realised that it was an Ice adept, probably from a nearby clan. Some innate knowledge told her the dragon was an attendant of the Icewarden himself, though nothing outwardly indicated such.
[i]Well,[/i] she thought with some relief, leaping into the air towards the figure, [i]at least I won't die in the snow alone.[/i] Ice dragons weren't known for their friendliness, but leaving a dragon to perish in a snowstorm was probably beneath them. She'd ask for directions to the nearest elemental border and figure things out from there.
Snowball resolutely ignored the feeling that she was just moving through the steps of some great plan, or the unnatural [i]rightness[/i] she felt at the thought. She set that all aside, along with the knowledge that a bulky guardian like her really shouldn't have been able to launch from the snowy ground so lightly, or fly though a raging blizzard with such ease. Everything was fine.
Here's an entry:
Snowball doesn't know exactly how she came to be in the Snowsquall Tundra, huddled under a tree in a snowstorm. Her memory is muddled, and her mind feels strange. A bone deep chill lingers in her spine, creeping up her cold-stiffened wings, but she knows with an eerie certainty it has nothing to do with the ice around her.
In fact, though the guardian is belly-deep in snow her body is still limber, and her many eyes can somehow see much further than the swirling blizzard should allow.
What is this? she wondered, even as her sight picks out a sure path through the blinding storm. The world looks no different than usual... is what she'd like to think, but even when she wracks her brain Snowball can remember nothing beyond vague impressions.
As she trudges forward, her gaze is drawn to a particular direction for no reason she can discern, and yet it seems important somehow that she go that way. The canopy of trees in the distance looks no different to all the other trees around her, but something about it stands out in her vision, as obviously as if the Icewarden himself was standing next to it.
The Icewarden. Snowball stopped abruptly, sensing her wings flare defensively even as her back feels like she'd just walked under a freezing waterfall. She shook herself, but though doing so dislodged copious amounts of snow the guardian still felt like her spine had turned to ice. Why had the thought of the deity invoked such a response? Snowball felt increasingly discomfited about being in what she instinctively knew was his domain, the Southern Icefield.
Had she encountered him at some point? The idea was farfetched - very few unexalted dragons ever met the deities personally, and surely she would remember that. But... with her memory the way it was, she could say nothing with certainty. Could her situation have something to do with the Ice lord?
A faint cry broke Snowball from her thoughts. She looked up, crimson eyes automatically locking on to a figure hovering near the treetops, nearly invisible in the whiteness but crystal clear in her vision. The guardian somehow had no trouble discerning the softly glowing ice rune above their head, and with some unease realised that it was an Ice adept, probably from a nearby clan. Some innate knowledge told her the dragon was an attendant of the Icewarden himself, though nothing outwardly indicated such.
Well, she thought with some relief, leaping into the air towards the figure, at least I won't die in the snow alone. Ice dragons weren't known for their friendliness, but leaving a dragon to perish in a snowstorm was probably beneath them. She'd ask for directions to the nearest elemental border and figure things out from there.
Snowball resolutely ignored the feeling that she was just moving through the steps of some great plan, or the unnatural rightness she felt at the thought. She set that all aside, along with the knowledge that a bulky guardian like her really shouldn't have been able to launch from the snowy ground so lightly, or fly though a raging blizzard with such ease. Everything was fine.
Snowball doesn't know exactly how she came to be in the Snowsquall Tundra, huddled under a tree in a snowstorm. Her memory is muddled, and her mind feels strange. A bone deep chill lingers in her spine, creeping up her cold-stiffened wings, but she knows with an eerie certainty it has nothing to do with the ice around her.
In fact, though the guardian is belly-deep in snow her body is still limber, and her many eyes can somehow see much further than the swirling blizzard should allow.
What is this? she wondered, even as her sight picks out a sure path through the blinding storm. The world looks no different than usual... is what she'd like to think, but even when she wracks her brain Snowball can remember nothing beyond vague impressions.
As she trudges forward, her gaze is drawn to a particular direction for no reason she can discern, and yet it seems important somehow that she go that way. The canopy of trees in the distance looks no different to all the other trees around her, but something about it stands out in her vision, as obviously as if the Icewarden himself was standing next to it.
The Icewarden. Snowball stopped abruptly, sensing her wings flare defensively even as her back feels like she'd just walked under a freezing waterfall. She shook herself, but though doing so dislodged copious amounts of snow the guardian still felt like her spine had turned to ice. Why had the thought of the deity invoked such a response? Snowball felt increasingly discomfited about being in what she instinctively knew was his domain, the Southern Icefield.
Had she encountered him at some point? The idea was farfetched - very few unexalted dragons ever met the deities personally, and surely she would remember that. But... with her memory the way it was, she could say nothing with certainty. Could her situation have something to do with the Ice lord?
A faint cry broke Snowball from her thoughts. She looked up, crimson eyes automatically locking on to a figure hovering near the treetops, nearly invisible in the whiteness but crystal clear in her vision. The guardian somehow had no trouble discerning the softly glowing ice rune above their head, and with some unease realised that it was an Ice adept, probably from a nearby clan. Some innate knowledge told her the dragon was an attendant of the Icewarden himself, though nothing outwardly indicated such.
Well, she thought with some relief, leaping into the air towards the figure, at least I won't die in the snow alone. Ice dragons weren't known for their friendliness, but leaving a dragon to perish in a snowstorm was probably beneath them. She'd ask for directions to the nearest elemental border and figure things out from there.
Snowball resolutely ignored the feeling that she was just moving through the steps of some great plan, or the unnatural rightness she felt at the thought. She set that all aside, along with the knowledge that a bulky guardian like her really shouldn't have been able to launch from the snowy ground so lightly, or fly though a raging blizzard with such ease. Everything was fine.
