Roleplay

(( Happy Thunder Carnival to everyone! ))

[center][img]https://www1.flightrising.com/rendern/portraits/856677/85667614p.png[/img] [i]( Camp On The Outskirts of The Wild Sanctum ) [/i] Taking a large glup of the mellow juice, Theo tasted the bitterness as it went down. Prehapes he should have started with a sip, but perhaps this particular drink's taste appealed to him. "Very charming taste this one's got. " Chuckling, it wasn't very long until he noticed as Celes stood and departed from... Ah yes... the harpy. He gently sat down his cup down and approached the two but was met by the bothered imperial's gaze as he handed Theo the vial. It shimmered in his grasp like gold. "If the harpy starts to die, give it some of that." That small creature really was in a terrible condition if it had come to this. Confused at the mention of Zephyr, he twisted himself around to scan the camp only to realize they were gone! "Where has-" Before he could ask, the tuff of Celes tail disappeared into the thicket. Worried, he stood at attention. Had Zephyr taken off of their own? Not good. At this time of night, around this area? And Celes going off on their own didn't make them any less anxious. What should he do? Just stand here and let those two face the possible threat scrounging the woods? Gripping the vial, a small pained cough from the blooded harpy leaned against the tree tore him from his spiral. No. He should stay here. And have faith in Celes and Zephyr. Hesitately, he returned to the firepit. Still eyeing the woods, troubled. Pandora poured yet another drink for Jakal. Theo couldn't bring himself to drink anymore. Besides, looking at down at his glass that gracious helping from before had taken more than hafe the cup to start. Jakals sneeze startled him, but soon he found himself engrossed by the tales the sprial spoke and the mystical dancing of the flames as they shined amongst the night sky. So absolved in the story, Theo hadn't even noticed the buzz that crawled across his skin and the heavy weight of his limbs as they grew slack. Despite such a terrifying idea that there was possibly another danger to the viridian labyrinth lurking amongst the forest, he found himself rather relaxed. Cheeks flushed, and movements sluggish. He sank down, deep in thought. Staring at the vial tucked within his claws. Small sprinkles of rain ran down the sides of the glass. (( Unsurprisingly, Theo's extremely light weight and gets a buzz from fermented tea - also good story! I liked the fire element! ))[/center] @Erst / @Chrysocolla / @ChaoticFriendzy/ @Fishtastic

[center][img]https://www1.flightrising.com/static/cms/familiar/art/6332.png[/img] ( [i]In The Shrieking Wilds[/i] ) A snake like creature slinked about on the rooty ground, swerving quietly between the overgrown trees of the shrieking wilds. Careful not to make a sound as their slitted eyes cautiously looked around, listening attentively. Nothing stirred but the song of the crickets, and the patter of the rain against the mud and leafs. Suddenly, they felt a dip in the ground below their tail. There, behind them were the unmistakable foot prints of dragon kind. Though washed from the rain, they could still tell it was the mark of a bogsneak. Finally, [i]their prey.[/i] Grinning, their fangs slightly poked out from their lips as they followed the trail. But it was shortly lived, as they could no longer see any logical clue as to what direction their target had vanished to. But these tracks where so fresh they had yet to be swept away by the storm, surely it was still nearby. Grabbing hold on a nearby tree, the hafe man hafe snake like being climbed their way up towards the branches. If they could not see them from the ground, getting a higher view might help. Once he was sure of it's presence, he could take action. [/center] @Woodsherd / @Erst / @ChaoticFriendzy

[center][url=https://www1.flightrising.com/dragon/34979719][img]https://www1.flightrising.com/rendern/avatars/349798/34979719.png[/img][/url] [size=6][color=826f4d]Celes[/color][/size] Of dark forests -----[/center] This part of the forest smells like rot. Not the sickly sweet smell of flesh rot, the is none of the hot sourness of infection, no quiet buzz of swarming insects that anyone who's even been close to the Plague territory has burrowed into the back of their brain. (Don't scratch, it'll bleed.) Instead, it is the mouldering of long dropped leaves, decaying wood long abandoned by even the burrowing bugs that claim such places as home, it is the smell of greenery that has been wet for a long time and longs for the touch of a sun it will never feel again. Thoroughly unpleasant. And he very much doesn't appreciate how he can [i]taste[/i] the dying underbelly of the forest in the back of his throat. It really doesn't help that it's really gods d*mned dark either. Dark enough even the innate dim glow of runes seems bright. Or that the air is cloyingly thick with moisture. It'd probably be wet down here, even if the sky above didn't have a belly full of rain and thunder. There's a persistent fog, thick enough he can't see more than half a tail length in front of him. He's started to sop even before the light from his fire has been completely lost to the dun of the forest. His clothing has started to stick to his scales and his mane lies flat against his neck, sullen and soggy, the thick curls waylaid by even thicker humidity. Thin rivulets run along gaps in scales, tracing runs in the dust that's built up over days worth of flight. He shudders when the rain finds it's way into old scars, icy in the weaker divots of scales. Whatever it was that had possessed him dies away just about the second he looses sight of the fire. Because this isn't bright yellow scales and dark fins he's chasing, needle sharp claws, prickly no matter the wear, the scent of cinnamon and baked goods, with just a hint of incense, a familiar weight settled comfortably between his horns, no. This is a strange green Aether who he's lucky he remembers the name of. Moth dust and indifferent winds. [i]Not[/i] his. Not [i]his[/i]. The snakes in his belly unclench, slithering their way out of his veins, releasing their bite on his bones. His are safe at home, probably sitting pretty on golden sands, taking care of a clan he does not miss nearly as keenly, but still longs for. Hell, they're probably enjoying rising winds, pulled by this very distant storm, sharing roasted skewers in dying daylights. The forest floor is mostly leaf mulch and mud. With every step he takes, it squelches up between heavy talons, sticking to gloves and boots with a vengeance, and the divots he leaves behind quickly fill with rain. Well, if he disappears, at least the others will be able to figure out what path he took. The quickly fading scent of blood is faintly worrying though, and even as he points his nose directly twoards it, speeds slightly up in his blind beeline jog, the possibility he'll loose it becomes ever more real. As it happens, he's barely paying attention enough to the trees to not run into them. They're thinner out her, most would probably crumble under his weight, but he'd prefer not to deal with the headache that comes from running headlong into solid objects. There are more creepers in his horns now, the longer strands bashing against his neck in the slightest breeze from his movement. He's definitely broken a few thinner branches and left scars in the higher reaching trees. At least he hasn't managed to break a horn somehow, the embarrassment from that might just be enough to get him to turn around and run home without even a acknowledgement for the wandering party. So, he's sure he'll forgive himself eventually when he doesn't notice till the last moment that something thick and heavy has slipped over his talons and caught around one of his ankles. When he doesn't notice that weight has drawn taught and has started to dig into gold embossed leather. He's got to forgive himself eventually for the fact that the moment he notices is when forward momentum ceases against his will and only the tips of his talons are brushing the ground for a split second, caught up in the arch of a rope that leads up, up to a tree that doesn't even creak when his weight slams against it. It's not like there's enough room for him to have spread his wings to glide slightly over the forest floor, or that he really needs to pay attention to where his feet go, due to both the fact his hands and feet are mostly numb at this point and that the roots and vines that have dared catch on his feet up onto this moment have simple broken at the next step, too rotten to hold against any force. His chest meets the ground first, his arms reached out for the next bounded step, and all the air in his lungs is expelled with a whumph. But there is no crackling of bone, no screech of bent metal from external ribs, no new blinding pain other than a few rough branches digging into his under arms, so he sits there for a moment breathes. This is [i]fine[/i], everything is going great, he doesn't wish he was shoulder deep in embroidered blankets right now, sipping spiced ale and telling stories in a dramatic tone for those he loves. Totally not! There's a twinge of pain in the hind leg on his left, so he shifts so he's laying on his right to try and disclose the problem. Ah, and there it is, a thick, snaking rope? vine? tied around his foot, digging into the leather guard, just below his ankle, but not low enough to crush the delicate bones of his toes. Rolling his eyes, he sighs. It's a hunters trap, large game, but luckily no teeth to it. Another sign to leave this gods forsaken forest as soon as possible. He scratches at it with his other foot, trying to catch the trap with sharp talons, only to realize his leg doesn't bend that far, so he's digging rents in his foot guards and leaving small bloody scratches in the exposed skin below. He's going to have to do it, huh? His muzzle curls inward, and he sticks his tongue out, rolls further on his side and bends, reaching towards the trap with his talons, mashing his shoulder further into the mud as he does his best to lift his neck so his rain soaked mane won't collect anymore much than it already has. Inching closer, he reaches to the best of his ability, though his shaking talons seem to disagree with his goal. Closer, closer, he hasn't tried to bend this far in years, after much scolding from uncountable healers, doctors, and even mechanists. There! Talons meet talons and he works his way up his leg slowly, waiting furtively for something to catch and the pain to come. But he makes his way to the rope without issue, only the creaking of his faux spine telling of his predicament. His talons meet the binding holding him in place, and he tugs gently, meets incredible resistance, the trap all the way taught. Right, he's at the edge of the traps range. So he yanks. Feels something [i]crackle! bend! snap![/i] in his back, just below the spine, not quite halfway down the ribcage. Feels something like an obsidian sharp knife, hot as the sun and crackling like lightning being pressed between his bones. And maybe he gasps so hard some of the forest floor meets his throat, and maybe he bites down on his tongue that he tastes blood at each subsequent cough, and maybe hot tears prickle at the edges of his eyes. There's no one there to see. At least he manages not to make more of a sound than a muffled screech. The rain continues to make it through the trees, seemingly only to spite him, only welcome in that one spot of fire almond his side, still chilling every scar. He breathes as evenly as he can, head resting on the forest floor. He can rest for a moment, yeah, just breathe. He's faced broken ribs before, more than one at once even, so he knows he'll be able to get up eventually, get the stupid trap off his foot, (yeah! that's still there!) and down three major restorations, and be on his merry way. And mud washes pretty easy out of clothing made to withstand the ocean. A branch snaps in the distance, the ear that isn't currently being subsumed by muck flicks. His Guardian is going to make so much fun of him if he dies. And he could really go for that rum right now.

[center][url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=85212306][img]http://flightrising.com/rendern/coliseum/battlesprites/852124/85212306.png[/img][/url] [size=5][color=#55826c]- P A N D O R A -[/color][/size] [size=3][color=#55826c]Interacting with: Jakal, doomed harpy[/color][/size][/center] Pandora brought her cup delicately to her maw. This cup was glazed with a crackling green and was her favorite among the current selection. Holding it in aged paws her claws found familiar purchase among the same cracks and dents they always do. Her long digging claw curved perfectly around the inner edge and back around to glimmer in the firelight. It was objects like these that often made her consider seeking out a craftsdragon. These cups were purchased as a collection from someone she couldn't remember in Colonnades of Antiquity. She could only imagine how much better these prefect things could be if someone made them specially for her. There was a twinge of something in the back of her mind. No, she couldn't do it herself. A ridgeback is much to brutish for such a delicate craft. The wet wood popped as the fire expanded pockets of moisture in its surface. The sound brought her back to the moment and she found herself staring at the cup in front of her face. Pandora relaxed her furrowed brow and tipped the liquid into her mouth as she had planned forgotten seconds ago. This brew was one of her own. Thick as syrup and chokingly strange with bitter tannins and prominent rot. It was the first in a new series. She had planned a trip to every corner of Sornieth, seeking out communities of ridgebacks and leaving them with inspired drinks. There was a lot buried beneath the Viridian Labyrinth dark soil. Her breed was built to extract the grubs and delicious tubers hiding in gnarled roots. This drink was mainly brewed with fruits naturally fermenting in the layers of leaves covering the ground. It had a while to age still but it evoked the memories she made it to. [i]"Pandora! Weren't you listening?" The voice of a new friend was nearly silent below the heavy song of cicadas and howling birds. The air was wet and the sun hung high in a sky only obscured by wide and verdant foliage. Below Pandora was elbows deep in muddy soil. There was something so deeply satisfying about digging. The way her claws effortlessly moved the ground as they were meant to. The beads of sweat dripping from her brow, smell mingling with that of earth. Her joy was harshly interrupted by her long claw getting snagged on a thick root. All momentum lost suddenly and sending the force back up into her bones. [color=#eb7e60]”Ow!”[/color] She called as she retreated from the ditch. She held her arm with a frown and looked to her chuckling companion for an explanation. "Was I not clear enough?" The ridgeback spoke after regaining her composure. Her snorting laughter continued hidden in the canopy by mimicking birds. She pointed with a paw as muddy as Pandora's at a tree a dragons length away. "See the bark? And the leaves too? This one doesn't send roots out as deep as the others." She explained like it was common knowledge. For her it must have been, Pandora could have sword she'd never heard it before. She squinted at the tree and eyed every bit of its bark- every vein of the leaves. This was no different than any of the millions of trees around here. [color=#eb7e60]”I'll be sure ta remember that.”[/color] She huffed, her tone bringing a grin to the other ridgebacks face. Her lie must have been a little to obvious. Pandora smiled too. It was hard not to in the company of someone so sanguine. "Come this way, I know a better spot. This time maybe you can try listening on the way there."[/i] The taste faded from her mouth and so did the memory. The crackling fire returned to her ears, replacing the soft tones of a friend. She looked at those around the campfire and her eyes stopped at Jakal. When did he get here? Pandora was quiet as he began his story. As she had been for the past long while at this point. The shifting firelight was a enchanting touch. One that held her attention longer than most stories did. She had heard many along her travels and many more during late hours in the tavern. Tales of crazed dragons and similar monsters were common but her favorites were always the ones of discovery and things lost. [color=#eb7e60]”Ten years's a long time to rough it.”[/color] Pandora remarked with a snort. She smiled in a way that showed an appreciation for the tale despite her attempt to dispel the atmosphere it cultivated. [color=#eb7e60]”This Wheatley'll be bones when we find em.”[/color] She downed the rest of her drink and stood. Her heavy adornments clattered in sudden protest and droplets of water slid from smooth wings. She wanted to speak to the harpy and the conclusion of the spirals tale left her with an opportunity to leave. Pandora held her wings lazily and stepped away from the comforting flame. The storm and darkening sky brought a nearly uncomfortable chill to the stuffy air. Her paws sunk into the soil beneath her- soil unfit to dig if you see the bark and leaves- as she sauntered over to the harpy. She squinted at the miserable feathered mass, trying to discern a rising chest. [color=#eb7e60]”Still kickin'?”[/color] Her voice was her typical harsh draconic without an ounce of sympathy. It was curiosity that drove her to the animals side, not compassion. She settled into the dirt with paws folded comfortably beneath her chest as she awaited any sign of life.

(Considering rewriting this one to be longer and less bad. The other post took so long haha) [center][url=https://www1.flightrising.com/dragon/87724450][img]https://www1.flightrising.com/rendern/350/877245/87724450_350.png[/img][/url] [size=5][color=#782c1d]- Y Y K E V -[/color][/size] [size=3][color=#782c1d]Interacting with: Deceased harpy, possibly Zephyr if they're nearby[/color][/size][/center] Scurrying among swiftly dampening limbs was a frantic insect like no other. Frills, crooked wings, and fragile armor-less physique. A curious chattering escaped its mouth. The sound quickly answered by the buzz of a beetle twice the insects size. [color=#3e4f33]"You heard it? Heard it. Accur?"[/color] A twitch of its wings and it flitted over to land on the beetles elytra. The rain collected on her back nearly sent the smaller insect sliding off to the forest floor. With a surprised squeak it caught itself on the seam between the two hardened forewings. Something had fallen through the canopy moments ago. It must have landed not too far away and from the sounds that came before the breaking of branches the thing could be interesting. Tasty delicious yummy even. [color=#3e4f33]"GrrCRAA KekKRUD."[/color] The insect mimicked the sound with a tilt of its head. Wide eyes trailed the path the thing could have taken and it used the sounds to reason the exact location. It trilled its findings to the beetle and she flew the both of them to impact site. The smell of blood and rain hit them first as the beetle landed on a safe half-shattered branch above an unfortunate harpy. The insect fluttered down without the beetles company . It lacked the self preservation of the latter. It hopped around the corpse with wide eyes trained on saturated crimson. The harpy had been nearly ripped in half by teeth or something similarly sharp and the path through the trees to the ground left it in several pieces. It was fresh- very much so, only spoiled by the rain and whatever it brought with it. The insect watched it for a moment before suddenly running off to hide in the taller grass a little ways away. Something so fresh must still be of interest to larger things. Dangerous evil tearing things.

[center][url=https://www1.flightrising.com/dragon/87172122][img]https://www1.flightrising.com/rendern/350/871722/87172122_350.png[/img][/url] [i]( Deep Wilds - Below the Harpy's corpse )[/i] Though the forest was shrouded in darkness, the rain contributing more so to her lack of direction; the snapper calmly made her way through the thicket. Something felt wrong, the soil below her claws was weeping and the very faint smell of fresh kill that carried in the air worried her so. There had been many rotten limbs of dragon-kind she had come across as of late in the wilds. The thunder rumbled, it wasn't long until streaks of dark red accompanied the droplets showering upon her snout. She smelled it from above. [i]Another one...[/i] The flutter of wings caught her attention, and besides the smell of meat she also picked up on a weird mixture of scale and dirt. "You can come out... I don't bite." Sweetly, she faced the direction of the movement. _____________________________________________________________________ [img]https://www1.flightrising.com/static/cms/familiar/art/623.png[/img] [i]( At The Camp )[/i] Consciousness slowly came back to the harpy, and once more she spotted dreadful claws of a dragon. Couldn't this imperial just leave her be? She had started to doubt this lot would give her what they promised. Why would they? So she could attack them once more? No, this was probably her final resting place and soon she would be reunited with the spirits of those she lost long ago. Returned to the earth... And yet they continued to speak to her. She thought the search would have at least given her some peace and quiet. "Our deal... is final beast... bring me the corpse." These words required more effort than she wanted to give in order to huff out. [img]https://www1.flightrising.com/rendern/portraits/856677/85667614p.png[/img] By the fire Theo woke with a startle. Slightly frantic they looked around only to see Jakel by the fire, softly sipping their drink. If honest, the spiral stirred some uneasiest in his chest. They were surrounded in mystery, and didn't give off the purest of intentions. But for this he felt guilty, who was he to judge one's character after all? This dragon had made the journey here to help those in need after all. From the corner of his eye he saw Pandora perched by the harpy, observing it. "I can't let them down..." With a soft sigh he muttered worried words, resting his eyes on the fire. [/center] @Woodsherd / @Erst / @ChaoticFriendzy / @Chrysocolla