Roleplay

[center][img]https://www1.flightrising.com/rendern/portraits/611159/61115896p.png[/img] [size=7][font=papyrus]C E L A E N O[/size] Location: Field in the Windswept Plateaus Role: Loner Status: Open for roleplay[/font][/center] Celaeno pulled back another arrow to fire, losing focus for just a moment as a Guardian snapped at his heels. He panicked and watched his arrow leave his bow and fall somewhere into the squirming mass of dragons. Looking them he realized they were beginning to climb [i]over[/i] each other in their desperation to get to him. He flapped his wings hardily to climb higher in the air, but the dragons just kept coming. He couldn't safely shoot any without risking a scratch or bite. He growled angrily in frustration, but when he felt Sam's claws digging tightly into his shoulder he knew he had to go. Normally, loners were good hunters because they only had themselves to worry about. Celaeno had Sam and Mouse to take care of. He stared down at the infected in pity, sorry that he couldn't end their suffering, and flew away.

Silver slowly pushed himself out of the rotted door and darted through an opening. The tip of his tail twitched around as he moved through the wasteland. Coming up over a hill, he saw a group of older zombies. He squinted his eyes and opened his wings out. “Hold on tight guys.” He whispered before shooting up into the air. The hoard of zombies screeched at him as he flew. He tried to not play attention to it. He looked over the distant hoards of rotting flesh with a shiver. Silver pulled his time out and wrote down at bit of words.

“Hoards in the southwest have gotten bigger and they are moving more inward the the Wyrmwound. Most likely drawn to the disease factor there. Most likely will have to move soon. The Windswept Plateau seems like a good place to start. Maybe I could even go back to the Tidal Keep. Either way, it’s getting worse here.”

He closed the book and hooked it back in before he started to fly to one of the bordering lands.

[quote=Brambles][center] Location: Role: Doctor, Potion Brewery ~~~ Brambles succesfully popped it back in. He gently let the wing go. He patted Jade's little head with sympathy. "There. All better. You did so well. Here, I have a little something for you," he said. He reached into another pocket of his bag and pulled out something small and round. He opened his palm and held it out to Jade. It was the size of a marble and colorful, but not as shiny. Pinks, reds, and yellows swirled around the object like a miniature Jupiter, "Sugar is hard to come by these days, but I managed to grab some of these. Don't tell anybody I gave you this. This will be our little secret." He winked at Jade as he gave her the candy. The candy was strawberry flavored and when it melted in your mouth it was sweet and creamy, leaving a warm feeling in your mouth and tummy. He smiled at her and then at Darksteal, "She will be fine. If it gets swollen come back here and we can give her an ice pack to help with that." [img]https://www1.flightrising.com/dgen/dressing-room/scry?sdid=968202&skin=0&apparel=10963,16236,1547,12190,21854&xt=dressing.png[/img][/center][/quote]

The zombies tried to follow Celaeno, groaning and grumbling. One launched into the air, a snapper dragon. Its jaws went for him before the wing fell off and both hit the ground hard, making the creature go still as other dragon trampled it. The guardian was trying to shrug off the other zombies, roaring at them and flapping its giant and tattered wings to shake them off. Some of the zombies retaliated, fighting over meat and stability. Some glided off and onto the ground, a few newer ones backing away to avoid damage to their already fragile bodies. It was a messy sight, but if they were fighting amongst themselves then maybe it would give time for Celaeno to get out of there.

[center][img]https://www1.flightrising.com/rendern/portraits/552132/55213121p.png[/img] [size=5][size=5][size=5][i]Tyrus[/i][/size][/size][/size] [b]Location:[/b] Sign-ups [b]Role:[/b] Rescue [b]Open to RP[/b] [b][/center] The breeze that shifted through the feathers of his head made him more aware of the situation he put himself in. He could die any second. From power hungry dragons, to those who seek chaos. This group was open to any dragons. Any of which could be evil. The only way anyone could tell is by encountering it, or seeing through their charade of good. He was undoubtedly nervous, but he never allowed it to show through his eyes. His mask was covering his features, so he need not worry about anyone seeing through to his nervous frown. His eyes stayed sharp, although they did dart from dragon to dragon as they walked by, making a mental image of anything he must look out for. Anything dangerous. He watched body movements, the slightest twitch of the wing could indicate fear, of unhappiness. Most dragons he saw around him had some sort a fear behind thier movements, some stood tall, trying to hide behind a strong, brave appearance, but the position made them look rigid. He pulled his eyes away from the working dragons, being sure to avoid them in a kind way. Stopping to allow a pair of mirrors go by with a load of supplies, before moving again to make his way toward a tent in the middle of the plateau. The wind brushed against his feathers once more, the chills causing his feathered fin to rise a bit, but he quickly dropped it, trying to look smaller than he was as to not draw attention to himself. He reached the tent, staying on the far side from the busy fae who he'd assumed was who would be putting his records in. He watched him carefully, the pouches around his body with papers in them and the ink around the desk he sat at was enough to give away his passion for writing. He seemed to be rather observant as well, writing as well as memorizing what the features are of the dragon in front of him. He wrote quickly and barely seemed take his attention away from what he was meant to do. He seemed passionate about his job. A dragon that knows plentiful about the dragons around the large camp. His tail curled around his curved claws as he sat, waiting to be called over. ----- [center][img]https://www1.flightrising.com/rendern/portraits/635388/63538767p.png[/img] [font=papyrus][size=5][size=5][size=5]SALEM[/size][/size][/size][/font] [b]Location:[/b]The Scarred Wasteland, close to the boarder of the Widswept plateau [i][b]Infected[/b][/i] [b]Open to RP[/b][/center] Hunger. All he could feel was hunger. Not a hunger for power, or a hunger for death. A hunger so deep in his stomach that all he wanted to do was tear the flesh off of anything he could find. His mind was repulsed by the flesh of others like him. Instinct told him that they were like him, begging for food as it was drilled into their mind. He wanted nothing more but to kill. He wanted whatever he could fin that was fresh. Alive. He knew he was going to die. The pain only grew stronger as days go by. Or was he already dead? True death would feel better than this, but his mind drove him forward. The desire for meat was overpowering as he moved. His vision was hazy as he swept his gaze across the plague filled land. The only sense he truly retained was his smell. It grew stronger by the day. The scent of fresh meat grew stronger as the winds shifted, his gaze snapped toward the smell. It wasn't of dragon, but of a foolish deathseeker picking t the rotted remains of a dead guardian. The seeker seemed to ignore his presence, more interested in the meet. It seem to have been around dragons before. Possibly a familiar. It didn't matter anymore. His hunger grew as he approached it, his coordination was off, so he stumbled a bit before he was able to reach the bird. It was startled by the movement, and rustled it's wings a bit, looking at him with it's pair of eyes. The single eye stayed trained on the meat it was picking at. It too, must've been starving. It didn't matter as well, the pain would be over soon. For it at least. The bird cooed as he neared it, unaware of the danger it was in. It caused him to hesitate. It was a familiar at one point. The way it's eyes stared into his. It was soft, and happy. An yet, his hunger only grew. He never once felt anything for a simple bird. He shouldn't now, but he did. [b][i]He hated that.[/i][/b] He took another shaky step forward, a thick string of dark saliva dripping from his mouth as he neared it. It was it's mistake to stay for as long as it did. He shot forward, his jaws snapping around it's head with a [i]crack[/i]. It's wings flared out, but no noise was made. The single eye on it's chest widened and it's pupil grew thin in fear as it stared at his jaws, stained red. He ripped away, taking chunks of meat with him. The eye soon slowly closed after it glazed over, looking dull. He began to tear into it, the scent of it's blood making his stomach grow in pain as it's meat seemed to dissolve into his stomach, the hunger never lifting. (I hope it isn't too detailed, I tried to make it a little descriptive as I could.)

B R O . I LOVE.))

[quote=Felip][center] Location: Role: Records keeper and Employer ~~~ The Fae finished the dragon before Tyrus and called him over next, his quill dancing in his claws to beckon over the masked wildclaw awaiting their turn. Felip looked to the Wilclaw when they approached. Already his quill was scribbling away at a new record sheet, dipping in the ink every now and then to continue, but his eyes never left the dragon before him. "Name, gender, flight, and role please!" he said with a small smile. His tail shifted behind him as it grabbed another ink well, ready to replace the one beside him if it emptied soon. [img]https://www1.flightrising.com/dgen/dressing-room/scry?sdid=970881&skin=0&apparel=6267,909,1966,1871,1094&xt=dressing.png[/img][/center][/quote]

Sagebreeze had been silent as he watched the doctor do his work. His ears perked up in wonder as he managed to talk to the Guardian, and empathized with the small dragon as she let out a cry from the pain. He took a step back, hoping that the Guardian wouldn't attack.

[center][img]https://www1.flightrising.com/rendern/portraits/552132/55213121p.png[/img] [size=5][size=5][size=5][i]Tyrus[/i][/size][/size][/size] [b]Location:[/b] Sign-ups [b]Role:[/b] Rescue [b]Record Keeper/Open to RP[/b] [b][/center] His eyes locked onto the fae as he waved him over. He hesitated, waiting for the dragon before him to pass. He watched them carefully as they did before he continued forward to stand in front of the small fae's desk. It was worn and stains of ink were here and there, showing that he wrote often. It wasn't surprising, since he was supposedly the record keeper for the camp. He narrowed his eyes to study the fae, they seemed to glow in the shade of the mask he wore. The only way to see his emotion was through his eyes, and even then he was careful to conceal himself. He studied the fae, creating a mental image of the dragon and his features. He tilted his head up a bit, allowing the fae to know he was being judged. He was perplexed with the small dragon's smile. Why? How could he smile at a time like this? Maybe he was determined? Determined to find the cure, determined to survive. Maybe he was covering up his fear. This dragon seemed like the fearful type, most faes were. He knew better than to categorize dragons though. Possibly it was defiant? Defiant of the idea that there is no hope, no cure. It could be many things. Maybe it was covering up it's true nature, maybe it wasn't what it seemed after all. But he wasn't to quick to judge that. He still knew not to trust him. It didn't matter if it was one of the leaders of the camp, leaders are easily corrupted after all. He then lowered his head a bit, tilting his wings in an apologetic manner. He would not speak to this dragon. He would not speak to many of the dragons here for a while. But he was just as content without a voice to his thoughts. He enjoyed his thoughts, unlike others, who fear themselves. He trusted his instincts and body, knowing his limits and his abilities was what made him more experienced and stronger than others. His mind was not easily manipulated by others. He would not fall victim to a predator. He hoped the dragon would understand his position, hoping he understood that he had no voice. He had no voice for anyone to hear at the moment. He was as silent as a night with no stars. A night who was dead and empty.