Creative Corner

[center][b][font=cambria][size=3]A place for me to store some writing now and then. Feel free to post/comment. These are in no particular order/organization![/b] [font=cambria][size=3]Some stuff may be random writing about my various fire dragons of the Dreadwing clan, and others will be about the residents and visitors in the outer passages of the lair. They will likely just be snippets of their lives, if anything at all, according to random inspiration that demands me to write something. Credit for the Necromancers subspecies featured in this one: [center][url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/drs/2412017#post_2412017][img]https://i.ibb.co/CPrYrJd/Color-Hand-15.png[/img][/url][/center] [center][b]------[/b][/center] [center][b]I Need An Igor[/b][/center][/center] [center][url=https://www1.flightrising.com/dragon/92955541]Ossua[/url] • [url=https://www1.flightrising.com/dragon/92955544]Nefastus[/url] • [url=https://www1.flightrising.com/dragon/92859971]Sinew[/url][/center] [center][size=2][color=#c3bfaf]- - - - -[/color][/size] [url=https://www1.flightrising.com/forums/cc/2519702][img]https://i.imgur.com/d9sMi2O.png[/img][/url] [size=2][color=#c3bfaf]- - - - -[/color][/size][/center] [font=cambria][size=3]At this altitude, all she could hear was wind. The rush of it beneath her feathers was a constant, soothing ruffle, and even more reassuring was the solid flap of wing-leather close behind her. Nefastus—her guardian, in a very literal sense—was flying a little [i]too[/i] close, really, but that was nothing new. His overprotective nature wasn't necessarily a bad thing, particularly in this place. Ossua studied the pockmarked wastes that were sweeping away beneath them. At length she spotted a cluster of stones that would provide some cover, and called out. [b]"There. We land there."[/b] She couldn't quite contain the excitement in her tone, and she knew before he spoke that Nefastus's voice would hold its opposite: disapproval. She was right, though it almost leaned more toward "dismay." [b]"It is very open,"[/b] he boomed. She suppressed her irritation. It wasn't his fault. It was just his way. Her well-being was his chosen charge, and he took it very, very seriously. She couldn't really fault him that, as often as she wished she could just tell him to lighten up. [b]"That's necessary,"[/b] she called back, even as she arched and dove. She heard some response, some retort, but it was lost to the rush of hot, stale air that engulfed her from the parched soil below. Claws touched hard-packed earth a moment later, and she took a moment to blink away the acrid fumes that lingered, looking around to get her bearings. The thud of Nefastus's heavier tread, the rustle of his wings folding, came behind her a moment later and she spoke without looking back. [b]"This seems a likely place, no?"[/b] She could feel him doing the same as she: squinting around against the taste of putrescence on the wind, eyeing the yellow wisps of gas that settled in the low hollows of the Boneyard. Far ahead towered Rotrock Rim: a sickly tangle of pulsing, writhing land that was, from this distance, hardly more than a silhouette against the haze. [b]"...It is a little far from the Wound,"[/b] Nefastus answered at last, and she could hear both reluctance and uncertainty in his words. An amused smile curved her lips beneath the skull she wore as her mask. He knew they were too far out for what Ossua searched for, but he didn't want to admit as much, for that meant suggesting that they draw even closer. [b]"It is,"[/b] she agreed, and flexed out a wing, shaking some of the gathered particles away. Contagion was sifting through the air, even this far out. [b]"How many did they say were taking the Trials this time?"[/b] she asked, at length, finally glancing behind her. Nefastus was watching her steadily, reprovingly, disliking the danger they were in. Dragons got lost, out here, sometimes for years. Dragons [i]died.[/i] He shook his head and drew closer, and above the breeze she could hear the shuffle of the rags draped around his form, the clank of the few pieces of armor he wore (dented and rusted, as battered as he was). [b]"Sixteen. That was the rumor."[/b] Before he could continue, before he could repeat the warning he'd given her a dozen times, she turned away and nodded. [b]"'But there's no confirming that'—don't worry, I remember."[/b] She sighed, turning her attention back to the distant Rim, and wondered. The sun was beating down on them despite the shade of the stones, her skin beneath her meagre clothing already feeling hot and dry. Thirst, from the long flight, was gnawing at her throat. For the first time she doubted her decision to come here. It had been too long, and she'd forgotten the hardships of this place. She finished this train of thought aloud, speaking half to herself, so that Nefastus had to lean in to hear her. [b]"And the likelihood we'll just stumble across someone is slim. I know."[/b] She shook her head as if to scatter her own doubts and then set off on foot, the guardian plodding along behind her. Maybe it'd have been best to stick to her little library, her collection of lore and scrolls. She added to it often, sifting through them almost daily, always searching for new information to aid in her research. But it was a little much for a single dragon, and she'd felt the need more keenly in the past few weeks: she needed an assistant. And the best assistant for a Necromancer was, quite simply, a [i]failed[/i] Necromancer. A Necroservus, as she'd found in Nefastus, or a sickly ghoul that she could cleanse, or even a mysterious wraith. Someone who shared her goals, who served the Plaguebringer as she did, but who hadn't managed to claw and tear the power from the Wyrmwound to serve themselves. Ossua had, some time ago now. She'd succeeded. Nefastus-... He'd [i]nearly[/i] done so. Very nearly, in fact, but at the eleventh hour he had failed, unable to retract the plague in the creatures he'd infected. She'd been able to aid him, and so he'd latched to the idea that she had been his destiny all along; that she was his guardian's charge. He clung to it, she suspected, with all the desperation of someone who—should this fierce superstition ever be dispelled—would break down and quite possibly go mad. Well. It didn't matter, now. She enjoyed his company, and he even had a keen mind, when she needed a second opinion on something. But he spent every waking hour defending her, so much so that she often had to order him to sleep, and she needed someone she could send off on their own. A messenger, a scout, a scavenger and hunter. An assistant. She just hoped they could find something, out here in the empty wastes. It was looking more and more like a fool's errand. [center]* * * * *[/center] [font=cambria][size=3][b]"Stop [i]fighting!"[/i][/b] Nefastus snarled, flinching away from another desperate slash of claws. The Mirror he held pinned beneath his bulk was fighting like a frightened cat, driven half-mad by whatever pestilence it'd managed to inflict upon itself. There was no telling if this had been its own plague, part of its trial—or if it'd managed to become infected with one of the myriad other viruses in this cauldron of disease. [b]"Just a moment more,"[/b] Ossua urged. She could feel the plague magic pulse through her like a hot, red light, drawn forth in waves to the writhing, gasping form of the failed experiment below her. He was hissing, spitting, and it was all Nefastus could do to keep him from outright killing her. Then-... it took. She felt her power seize on his virulence, grasping and drawing it forth in a single, agonizing tug. His scream turned into wheezing. He went limp, laying on his side, his flanks heaving as he caught his breath. Her gaze swept over him. The pustules would heal. The strange, bone-like growths? Those were likely permanent; she couldn't be sure. [i]Keratin?[/i] she wondered, her scholar's mind thrumming with excitement. What, exactly, had he done to himself? What- [b]"Thaaaank youuu,"[/b] the Mirror gurgled. His voice was wet and rasping, his four eyes at last blinking, some sign of sapience returning to them. He fired a brief, weary glare at Nefastus. [b]"You... can get... [i]off[/i] me, now."[/b] Ossua nodded at her guardian, and he stepped back, though tensed to move again if he were needed. [b]"Watch yourself,"[/b] he warned the stranger in a growl. The mirror, though, only rolled slowly to his feet, caked in dust and grime. [b]"I am Ossua. Necromancer,"[/b] Ossua offered, tilting her head. Her voice, as ever, was mellifluous, and now it held a touch of sympathy. [b]"I'm working as an ambassador of sorts in the Ashfall Waste, and doing some research here and there. I could use an assistant, if you've nothing else lined up."[/b] And maybe he did. Maybe he had a fallback plan for if and when he failed. She wouldn't demand his service, but she [i]would[/i] request it. It was why she'd come all this way, after all—right to the edges of the Wyrmwound. A glance down reminded her that they were at the very limit of safe distance, after their days of searching; they stood near the precipice of the cauldron's rim, the bubbling surface of the lake below blinding in the light of the midday sun. Ossua looked back to the mirror. He had not answered, still gradually catching his breath. [b]"What happened to you?"[/b] she asked, after a beat, her curiosity getting the better of her. The mirror coughed, spitting into the dirt. He trembled with the effort merely of standing up. [b]"I'm... not sure. This wasn't mine. Sabotage... maybe. But I couldn't fix it. Sinew,"[/b] he added, staring up at her now. [b]"My name is Sinew. Get me out of here... and we'll talk."[/b] But despite his wary words, she could already see the shine of gratitude in his eyes. Gratitude—and maybe shame. She inclined her head, and smiled with satisfaction beneath the horned skull. [b]"Well, then. Let's be off."[/b] Between her magic and Nefastus's muscle, they'd get him safely home. [b]"Anywhere but here,"[/b] Sinew wheezed in agreement, flashing a glare of hatred back at the Cauldron behind them.[/font][/size] [center][b]------[/b][/center]

[center][b]Sanctuary[/b][/center] [center][url=https://www1.flightrising.com/dragon/92321298]Dread[/url] • [url=https://www1.flightrising.com/dragon/91742888]Torchbearer[/url] • [url=https://www1.flightrising.com/dragon/92118402]Diurn[/url] • [url=https://www1.flightrising.com/dragon/92102026]Blackwing[/url] • [url=https://www1.flightrising.com/dragon/92827712]Scythe[/url] • [url=https://www1.flightrising.com/dragon/92955541]Ossua[/url] • [url=https://www1.flightrising.com/dragon/92955544]Nefastus[/url] • [url=https://www1.flightrising.com/dragon/92859971]Sinew[/url][/center] [center][size=2][color=#c3bfaf]- - - - -[/color][/size] [url=https://www1.flightrising.com/forums/cc/2519702][img]https://i.imgur.com/XCWaY7F.png[/img][/url] [size=2][color=#c3bfaf]- - - - -[/color][/size][/center] [font=cambria][size=3]The Matriarch crouched quietly at the edge of her den, attention on the ashen wastes below. The cave mouth opened, here, right into the smoky air, and on days when the wind carried toxic fumes to this altitude, the dragons often retreated deeper into the tunnels. Today wasn't one of those days. It was clean, the afternoon fading into the deep blue of evening. The hunting parties were out, now, but at any moment Torchbearer expected to see the returning silhouettes, the triumphant beat of black wings a promise of freedom, of power; an assurance that she- [b]"Excuse me."[/b] The words behind her were tentative, the voice uncertain, its melodic tone coming on the heels of the soft clearing of a throat. The Guardian glanced back, knowing full well that she must look imposing where she stood backlit by the sky, her massive bulk one of crags and horns and scars. And before her—it wasn't that Ossua was small. On the contrary, the Imperial was long-bodied and surprisingly well-muscled for her kind. But she held herself with polite deference, the accoutrements of skulls and rags emphasizing that humility. Torchbearer approved of this. Her voice, deep with her immense size, bore that approval in it. [b]"Ossua. You are early,"[/b] she noted, and glanced behind the dragon at her entourage. Nefastus, another Guardian, was scaled and clad in hues of browns and maroons, his plague-red eyes more wary and shy than his hulking shape would have suggested. Admittedly he was smaller than most of the Dreadwing dragons, but he would have still been a force to reckon with... were he trained. Torchbearer suspected that he was not, hence her asking for this meeting today. And that was to say nothing of the slinking, staring Mirror to his side: covered in horn-like growths, his gaze darting suspiciously around him. Torchbearer turned away, and nodded to the landscape below. [b]"The others should be returning shortly. Make yourselves comfortable, in the meantime."[/b] Ossua hesitated. [b]"The others-?"[/b] she asked, and Torchbearer turned back to her, one scaled brow arching. [b]"Nothing to worry about. I have an offer to make you, that's all."[/b] She glanced back again at Nefastus, who had tensed, and offered a sympathetic shake of her head. [b]"You aren't going to be put on trial, plague-bearers or not. Please,"[/b] she urged. Another, deeper voice came from one of the tunnels of the inner dens. [b]"Ahh, they are here already-?"[/b] Dread's voice could be described only as "booming," and the dim firelight from beyond was wholly blocked out as his black-scaled form emerged. He was easily the largest of the Dreadwing dragons, and Torchbearer noted with twinned amusement and sympathy that Nefastus shrank from his approach. But Dread took no notice of this, instead plodding into the cavern and shaking out his fins. [b]"Have you told them, yet?"[/b] Torchbearer shook her head. [b]"I am waiting for Diurn and the rest."[/b] Dread glanced out at the evening sky. [b]"That is them now, if I'm not mistaken."[/b] She followed his gaze. Three dragons were fast approaching, sleek silhouettes carving a graceful arc through the smoke. The Nocturne at their head, though small and not born of the clan, had earned her place among them. Admittedly part of it was her breed's unconscious penchant for imitation, but she'd imitated them [i]well,[/i] taking to heart their lessons of cunning and martial prowess. She was flanked by the red-winged black Banescale Blackwing, and the similarly hued Ridgeback Scythe. Three huntresses, all moving with purposeful intent and the confidence of real power. Torchbearer was proud of them. She moved aside, and moments later the three had landed and were making their way into the already crowded den. [b]"Anything to report?"[/b] Dread asked, studying them for any signs of injury. It was Diurn who responded, shaking ash from her scales and offering a brief bow of her head to the patriarch. [b]"A few herds moving into the Hearth from the Expanse. If they cross here there should be good hunting for the next few weeks. No threats sighted,"[/b] she added. Her gaze then found Ossua and her entourage, and she fell silent, watching them. [b]"Thank you,"[/b] Torchbearer said, moving forward. [b]"Unless you're very tired, I would like to discuss what I'd mentioned to you yesterday."[/b] At a nod from Diurn (though her gaze, lingering on the plague dragons, was laced with suspicion) she continued. Now her attention, too, went to Ossua. [b]"You have been living here for a little while; tell me, what do you think of this place?"[/b] Her stare, her potent flaming eyes, held an intensity and a challenge and Ossua—a diplomat and a researcher at heart—was intelligent enough to know this was some sort of test. [i]But what?[/i] She looked at the cluster of flame dragons present, and considered her words quite carefully before she spoke. [b]"A home. A home, and a safe place to stop. There are a lot of dragons that come through here, and this place... Your tunnels, they're the only place safe from the fumes up here. And..."[/b] she went on, thinking, [b]"you keep it well-organized. No one is in danger from other travellers, here. You keep the peace."[/b] Torchbearer nodded her approval, her resonant voice at once filling the space in a way Ossua's soft one could not. [b]"It is a haven. A sanctuary."[/b] The way she said it seemed to set great importance on the word. [b]"And it can only be that way through our own strength. Now, I understand that you are seeking a higher standing among your own people, but that you intend to stay here, for the time being. I do not have a problem with that, provided you pose no threat to our kind, but I have a proposition for you."[/b] Her regard remained steady on the Imperial, who struggled not to quail back. She swallowed, instead, and nodded. [b]"Go on."[/b] Torchbearer looked among the plague dragons, nostrils flaring. [b]"You paint an impressive picture, but none of you are capable in combat, are you? None of you are trained."[/b] Ossua bristled, and behind her, she could hear Nefastus draw sharply closer with a clank of his armor, protectively. The matriarch shook her head. [b]"It's not a threat, Ossua. Anyone can see it, I hate to tell you. You're walking meat, if you go out there and run into a fight. You're lucky you haven't yet."[/b] Her stare found Nefastus's. The other Guardian hesitated, and then slumped a little with a nod of admission. [b]"You... are right. I did not train for physical combat. My intentions lay... elsewhere, but my ambitions failed."[/b] It was bluntly said, and sorrowful. [b]"And you-?"[/b] Torchbearer pressed, craning her head to see the Mirror, Sinew, who thus far had simply lurked in silence. The mirror hissed, half-feral as always. [b]"I need no training! I kill! When there are things to fight, I fight, and I kill!"[/b] he rasped fiercely. Ossua laughed, humorless, closing her eyes as Dread too burst into a short boom of laughter. [b]"I would say that speaks for itself,"[/b] the patriarch suggested, amused. [b]"My suggestion—my [i]proposition,"[/i][/b] Torchbearer corrected herself, [b]"is this: we, the Dreadwing Clan, take you on and train you for combat in our spare time. You may not know much of the topic, but you've surely been here long enough to see that our hunters and warriors are second to none in this region. We will add you to our ranks, so long as you remain here. In return, you swear to aid in repelling any threat to this den so long as you stay here. You help us to maintain this Sanctuary."[/b] Torchbearer fell silent, and for a long moment that silence reigned. Blackwing, Diurn and Scythe perched quiet, their black scales gleaming, sharpened talons clutching the stone, scarred hides showing the truth of Torchbearer's words. None of them necessarily trusted the plague envoy, but all of them would do as their clan leaders requested of them. At length, Ossua glanced back to Nefastus. He met her gaze and nodded, once, and she took a breath and nodded back. [b]"Very well. We accept your proposition."[/b] She hesitated only for a moment, fear prickling at her scales beneath the stares of the flame dragons. Courage was a thing she had to force forth, clinging to it with all the diplomatic resolve of an ambassador. [b]"When do we begin?"[/b][/font][/size] [center][b]------[/b][/center]

[center][b]------[/b][/center] [font=cambria][size=5][center][b]Fungal Rot[/b][/center][/size][/font] [center][url=https://www1.flightrising.com/dragon/92955541]Ossua[/url] • [url=https://www1.flightrising.com/dragon/92955544]Nefastus[/url] • [url=https://www1.flightrising.com/dragon/92859971]Sinew[/url] • [url=https://www1.flightrising.com/dragon/77670785]Rot[/url] • [url=https://www1.flightrising.com/dragon/91711119]Hollybranch[/url] • [url=https://www1.flightrising.com/dragon/92489667]Foxfire[/url] • [url=https://www1.flightrising.com/dragon/91712422]Grimalka[/url] [/center] [center][size=2][color=#c3bfaf]- - - - -[/color][/size] [img]https://i.imgur.com/TIQfUtR.png[/img] [size=2][color=#c3bfaf]- - - - -[/color][/size][/center] [font=cambria][size=3][b]"The presence of the nature-Aberration in particular is an insult,"[/b] Nefastus rumbled, and Ossua could sense the tension in every limb of the Guardian's body. She considered, for a moment, before replying. [b]"Intended to be, you mean."[/b] He looked to her, and his brief puzzlement had her shaking her head. [b]"Do you feel particularly insulted-?"[/b] [b]"...No,"[/b] he admitted. [b]"And that one left, anyway. Perhaps... they didn't even know that we were here."[/b] To this, Nefastus had no real answer. Behind them, neither Sinew nor Rot spoke. The Mirror was too busy gnawing on a piece of bone he'd found, and Rot, for his part, was still settling in. The Gaoler was both morose and uneasy here, still coming to terms with having failed his Trials. Ossua was mostly leaving him to it. Such things needed time, and that wasn't something she could provide; but space, she could give him. She turned her attention back to Nefastus. [b]"They'll be here any minute, in any case. I'd rather get it out of the way now,"[/b] she added, shaking her head. [b]"I've no desire to be at odds with them constantly."[/b] Still, Nefastus bristled, and for once she had to use a sterner tone. [b]"Nefastus."[/b] That was all that was needed. The Guardian dipped his head, a wordless grumble his only response as he forced himself to step back and stop looming so threateningly. And as if on cue, the slow pad of multiple footsteps became audible coming down the dark passageway. Ossua herself straightened. [i]'I'm representing the Council, now,'[/i] she reminded herself, trying to look alert and professional. The dragons that rounded the corner were only three, and the stench of fresh foliage that seemed to cling to them was almost immediately repulsive to the Plague dragons. It wasn't that they hated one another, but there was something antithetical about the odors of nature and leaf that was somehow just... [i]wrong.[/i] Ossua forced herself to take a deep breath, and nodded to the leader, even as she heard a sharp intake of air behind her. [i]'Rot,'[/i] she registered, tentatively, though she didn't turn to check. [i]'He didn't realize their leader is another Gaoler.'[/i] It was a guess, but she was fairly confident in it. [b]"Greetings. I am Councillor Ossua. Thank you for agreeing to meet with me,"[/b] she began. [b]"This is my guardian, Nefastus; these two are my assistants, Sinew and Rot."[/b] The leader of the other delegation was tense, her bright green eyes wary as she looked the three over. But it seemed not a primitive sort of fear, Ossua thought—more a general anxiety of speaking with strangers. She could understand that. An unexpected sympathy struck her as the other spoke. [b]"Councillor,"[/b] the Gaoler echoed, and there was half a question in it. Not everyone knew of the Council. [b]"I'm Hollybranch; this is Foxfire and this is Grimalka."[/b] Hollybranch—a larger dragon than Rot, streaked in gnarled browns like tree bark, with curving wood-like antlers and shaggy, moss-green fur—nodded behind her. Foxfire, the small and sharp-eyed Coatl, flicked a serpentine tongue as she watched them, offering little more than a faint nod; Ossua noted the streaks of almost glowing phosphorescent-colored green against a dark backdrop of feathers. She was striking. To her side waited a bulky Bogsneak, likewise flicking a tongue, his interest in the Plague dragons undisguised. His hide was colored and patterned like mossy stone, she thought, or maybe an algae-infested swamp. Hollybranch gave them a moment to look one another over before speaking again. [b]"What can we do for you?"[/b] It was standoffish. Polite enough, yes, but she didn't trust the Plague dragons and it showed. It was ironic, really, but Ossua didn't comment on relatively recent history. Instead she nodded, ever-gracious. [b]"I wanted to ask you here just to clear the air in advance. The Necromantic Council wishes to fight the Shade—nothing more and nothing less. I'm here with my entourage only to look for ways to do that. And I wanted to let you know that we'll gladly cooperate, and share information. If you need help, simply ask it."[/b] And then she went silent. It was, by all polite tradition, now Hollybranch's turn to assure the Plague dragons of her good intentions, to promise cooperation, etcetera. But the Gaoler's silence stretched, and as she looked the Plague delegation over more slowly, Ossua fought against misgiving. What if that [i]didn't[/i] happen? What if she simply said 'okay, thank you,' and left? She wondered what she might do, then. If she'd have to procure a spy just to ensure their safety, or- [b]"...I'm afraid you're going to find us a boring lot, then,"[/b] Hollybranch said, interrupting Ossua's thoughts. [b]"We're here for plants."[/b] Behind her, the mirrored chuckles of Foxfire and Grimalka attested to the truth of her humorous words. She glanced back at them, and shrugged muscled shoulders. [b]"The ash is good for growth. But... your offer's appreciated, Councillor. Maybe you can tell us more about this Council at some point, but... likewise. If you need help against the Shade..."[/b] She trailed off, for a moment, pensive. Reluctance, though faint, was clear in her tone: they didn't particularly want to get involved with these plague-bearers. [b]"Well. It's the enemy of all of us."[/b] Behind her, unexpectedly, Grimalka spoke. His eyes gleamed with interest as he stepped forward. [b]"Perhaps together, we might run a few tests..?"[/b] he suggested, tongue flicking at the air again. Ossua, taken off-guard, blinked at him. [b]"Tests?"[/b] Hollybranch looked at her assistant, but said nothing as he pressed eagerly on. [b]"How some of the local plants react to illness, for example. Illness perhaps you could offer. Or how their nutrition and water consumption alters when stressed. It could be an interesting opportunity to work together,"[/b] he added, and he seemed to mean it. Ossua stared, nonplussed. [b]"Of course, if it'd be helpful to you,"[/b] she managed, but she was already worrying about this. What might it give away-? Were they wise, to give very samples of their plague to these potential foes? [b]"We're researchers, too, though of course our goals are a little different. We don't work much with... plants,"[/b] she added, though it was said with a thoughtful tone. Alchemy, herbs... those weren't something she thought had been heavily considered as a tool, or a weapon, against the Shade. The Bogsneak laughed delightedly and stepped back. [b]"It's a deal, then. Don't worry; it'll be fun."[/b] Hollybranch stifled a laugh, and Grimalka mock-glared at her sidelong. [b]"What? My research is fun."[/b] Their leader chose not to answer this, instead looking at Ossua. [b]"We're staying down at the southern passageways, if you have need of us."[/b] Ossua dipped her head. [b]"And we'll be here, when we're not out travelling or visiting with the Council. There's a Light delegation, you know,"[/b] she said abruptly, the thought only now occurring to her. [b]"Maybe they could help you with your plants. I think there's a young gardener among them."[/b] All three dragons looked rather surprised, and at length, Hollybranch nodded. [b]"Appreciated, Councillor. We might just look into that. ...Thanks for letting us know,"[/b] she added, and Ossua felt instinctively that she meant more than just the Light delegation. [i]'It's always good,'[/i] she thought, [i]'to know your neighbors aren't your enemies.'[/i] She just hoped she wasn't wrong.[/size][/font]

[center][b]Bedtime Story[/b][/center] [center][url=https://www1.flightrising.com/dragon/93253459]Smolder[/url] • [url=https://www1.flightrising.com/dragon/93048448]Smoke[/url] • [url=https://www1.flightrising.com/dragon/93232350]Ember[/url] • [url=https://www1.flightrising.com/dragon/93664927]Ashscale[/url] • [url=https://www1.flightrising.com/dragon/93664928]Inferno[/url] • [url=https://www1.flightrising.com/dragon/93664929]Pyre[/url] • [url=https://www1.flightrising.com/dragon/93551354]Petrichor[/url] [i]...and other babies[/i][/center] [center][size=2][color=#c3bfaf]- - - - -[/color][/size] [url=https://www1.flightrising.com/forums/cc/2519702][img]https://i.imgur.com/rRiJptm.png[/img][/url] [size=2][color=#c3bfaf]- - - - -[/color][/size][/center] [font=cambria][size=3][color=#1c3140]Smolder made his way along the inner passages, carefully noting each twist and turn. The tunnels were maze-like, and it was easy to get lost in the smoky dark if one didn't closely mark their path. Behind him trailed his familiar, Blaze. The phoenix was in an elder stage, slower than it normally was; blazing bright colors still laced the edges of its feathers but the rest of it was a charcoal black. Now and then Smolder stopped to let it catch up. They were a striking pair: ashen black and glowing, fiery eyes prowling through the dark. Not that they were much compared to the other dragons that also called this lair their home. By comparison, Smolder was miniscule, though no one could say he didn't pull his weight. Even now he was heading to the nursery to see if Ember needed anything on his next hunting trip. The fire-witch was on hatchling duty while the regular clutch guardian took a rest, and that was, at the moment, serious work. Several nests had all hatched together the last few days, and from what he knew, the nursery was crowded. Smolder drew up short as he realized there was another small, dark shape coming up the tunnel in the other direction. After a moment's blinking through the haze he recognized Smoke: a fellow Nocturne, likewise dark-scaled and swift. She served, as he did, as a scout and hunter for the Dreadwing; she was around his age, though he hadn't had much chance to speak with her. The lair was large, full of dragons, and Smoke was a relatively new arrival. Her glance was friendly, but businesslike. [b]"Smolder,"[/b] she greeted, then considered. [b]"That is your name-?"[/b] He dipped his head. [b]"And you're Smoke, yes? We haven't had a chance to speak."[/b] Smoke twisted a serpentine neck to peer past him up the tunnel. She then looked back to Smolder, seeming to scrutinize him. [b]"Where were you heading? If it's not prying."[/b] [b]"Not at all."[/b] He bowed his head. [b]"I'm heading out hunting shortly, so I thought I'd ask Ember if she needs anything for the hatchlings."[/b] Smoke snorted. [b]"Good idea. Have you seen how many there are, at the moment-? It's like everybody's nesting."[/b] Smolder tilted his head. [b]"I know there are a few, but... how many are there, actually?"[/b] The other Nocturne laughed, and turned away, heading back down the tunnel. [b]"Come on, see for yourself. I'll come with you, if you don't mind-? I was just about to head out scouting, myself."[/b] He followed her down through the dim heat, a heat that only increased as they drew closer to the nesting grounds. The nests and nursery were each in a large, low-ceilinged chamber, one pocked with pools of simmering magma. In these, a few eggs incubated, dark shells threaded through with glowing heat. Near these slumbered the large Guardian Ebonscale, the nursery his charge. And, surrounded by a squall of energetic hatchlings, the Wildclaw Ember was trying to wade her way toward them. Smolder was surprised at the sheer [i]number[/i] of children. He counted at least four Guardians among them, only a day or two old, all black with red wings. A single female Ridgeback child was trying to bite one's horn. He hadn't realized the Gaoler eggs had hatched, either–the children of a couple of the Nature and Plague delegations. [i]'A strange union,'[/i] he thought, but they'd seemed happy. Lastly were a couple of Mirrors. One was Loki's child, though he had no idea who the father was. The other Mirror was the child of a found egg: a pale-winged red dragon covered in glowing pink eyes. [i]Arcane,[/i] he recognized; she didn't seem quite so pleased with the heat here as the Fire dragons were. All told, there were ten hatchlings, though their constant movement made them difficult to count. The Wildclaw reached Smolder, and he had a moment to look her over. She was another dragon he'd not had the chance to speak extensively with. She served a sort of seer or shaman role, calling herself a Fire-Witch and maintaining all sorts of rituals geared toward Flamecaller. Like the rest, she was black with red wings, though with the markings of her bones etched pale across her hide. Her eyes flamed with Flamecaller's gift, blazing and flickering, though she seemed more warm and open than blazing fierce. [b]"I hope you two are here to help,"[/b] she said, with a sort of friendly exasperation. Hatchlings nipped at her heels, trying to wrestle with her legs. One bit at her hooked toe-claws. She looked down, then at the Nocturnes again. [b][i]"Please[/i] say you're here to help."[/b] Smolder tried not to laugh. [b]"I was just heading out, and wanted to ask if you needed anything for them. If the food stocks are all right, and so forth. There are a lot more than I'd thought,"[/b] he added, glancing out over the waiting nests. Ember followed his gaze. [b]"And soon to be more. I'll be honest, you could help me best by letting me take a nap. Are you any good at babysitting-?"[/b] Smolder was taken aback. He was still young, himself; he had only left this nursery a few weeks back. He was still learning, training. But the way the children all looked to him now, excited and eager, he couldn't help but warm to them. [b]"I can try. But you have to help,"[/b] he added, glancing back at Smoke. He was joking, mainly, but she laughed a little. [b]"I'll help. Why don't you tell them a story? Maybe something to put them to sleep for awhile?"[/b] she suggested. [b]"And I'll make sure no one barges in, and that none of them run out while you're not paying attention."[/b] Ember's muzzle curled into a grin. [b]"See? Teamwork! I'll say a prayer later, get both of you rewarded,"[/b] she joked. [b]"In the meantime, I need a nap."[/b] She turned toward the children. [b]"All right, kids! Uncle Smolder and Aunt Smoke are watching you for a couple of hours. Behave yourselves, like I taught you."[/b] Her words were stern, but humorous and kind, and were received with a clamor of overlapping voices assuring good behavior. She offered the Nocturnes a final nod, then paced off into a corner, where she curled up almost immediately into a little nest. [b]"...Right. A story. What do you want to hear about?"[/b] Smolder asked. Another chorus of voices answered this. [b]"Something SCARY!"[/b] [b]"Have you ever fought a monster!?"[/b] [b]"What's outside like?"[/b] [b]"Why do you have a bird?!"[/b] Smoke leaned in, speaking softly. [b]"Looks like you've got your work cut out for you,"[/b] she said. [center][b]------[/b][/center] [font=cambria][size=3][color=#1c3140]It took almost fifteen minutes just to move the mob of hatchlings to a low, open space they used for napping. The rock here was flat and warm, smoothed by years of use, and a little ledge above (Smolder thought) served as a perfect perching point for a storyteller. The problem was, he'd never [i]told[/i] a story before. He'd heard them, as a hatchling; he had a vague idea that a good story for kids should have a moral in it, or at least a lesson. Looking these kids over, though, he couldn't really see anything they might need a lesson in. Not anything immediate, at least. Just then, one of the Gaolers—squinting up at him—voiced an innocent question. [b]"Why are you so small?"[/b] he asked. [b]"I'm small?"[/b] he asked, amused. [b]"There's smaller dragons in the lair, you know. Ember is smaller than I am,"[/b] he pointed out. [b]"We're just hatched this way."[/b] The child, streaked with autumn colors, peered off toward the resting Wildclaw. [b]"Yeah, but she stays here. You're one of the hunters, right-? Can hunters even [i]be[/i] small?"[/b] Smoke suppressed a laugh, and Smolder fired her a mock-glare. Right then he resolved to make his story a lesson about just this thing. [b]"It's funny you should say that..."[/b] he began. [b]"Because once upon a time, there was an Imperial dragon who had a Spiral friend. -Do you know what a Spiral looks like?"[/b] The many-eyed Mirror piped up. [b]"They're little! And spinny!"[/b] [i]'Close enough,'[/i] Smolder thought. Beside him, the phoenix settled in, curling ashen and warm against his flank. He took a breath, and told his story. [b]"The Imperial's name"[/b] (said Smolder, who had to think very quickly of two names) [b]"was Pearl, and he was very, very large."[/b] The pale Mirror spoke up sharply. [b]"That's [i]my[/i] name! -And it's a [i]girl's[/i] name,"[/b] she added, with all the certitude of the inexperienced young. Smolder blinked. [b]"It's a very good name,"[/b] he assured her. [b]"But a name can belong to anyone. Don't ever let anybody else tell you who you are. That's up to [i]you[/i] to decide. Nobody would try to tell [i]this[/i] Pearl that his name was 'wrong' somehow. He was big enough to swallow some other dragons whole!"[/b] To a chorus of oohs and aahs (and a thoughtful stare from the Mirror), he continued. [center][b]------[/b][/center] [font=cambria][size=3][color=#1c3140]"Pearl's best friend was a very small Spiral named Ivy. She was bright green, and very small, while he was very large and shining white with gold. While he hailed from the lands of the Light dragons, she had been born of Nature." (Smolder quickly warmed to his story, speaking with greater confidence.) "Together, they explored the world, researching its secrets and cooperating in their discoveries. Pearl wanted to find out what had happened to the ancient ruins in his lands, and Ivy was looking for ways to grow entire towns from trees! So together, they delved into old dungeons, and dug up ancient treasures, and explored dangerous abandoned cities. Pearl was bold and brave, and feared nothing. Ivy was small, but very smart." "One day, while sneaking through the land of Shadow, Pearl spotted a stone arch sticking out of the dirt. He pointed it out to Ivy, and the two looked it over. 'What do you think this was?' he asked. 'It looks very old.'" "Ivy spiralled her way round and round the stone, looking at it from every angle. 'I think that you should dig,' was her answer. Pearl began to dig. 'Why should I dig?' he asked, though he was already making a very big hole. 'Because that stone goes deeper. Look how it's angled,' she said, pointing. 'There might be a whole buried city down there!'" "And she was right. A few hours later, the hole collapsed, and the two dragons found themselves staring down a dark, spooky tunnel." (Smolder paused to gauge the childrens' reactions. All were rapt, some wide-eyed, one or two a little afraid or maybe excited. That seemed good, to him.) "Pearl asked, 'Do you think we should go down there?' and Ivy thought this over. 'You wait here,' she said, because even though she was small, she was brave, too. And her reasoning was smart! 'If you go down, and there's something dangerous, you might get stuck! But I can fit in there just fine. I'll be back soon,' she promised him." "Well, Ivy didn't come back for a very long time. Hours, it felt like. Pearl was worried, and he fidgeted, and a few times he thought that maybe he should go in after her. But he knew that he might block the tunnel, then, and put them [i]both[/i] in danger. He was too big. They'd needed his size and strength to dig the hole, but they needed Ivy's [i]small[/i] size to explore it." "And after awhile, she came back, dusty and a little tired. 'What did you find? Are you all right?' Pearl asked. 'I'm not sure what I found,' she answered. 'There's only one room in there, at the very far end of a very long tunnel, and inside is a whole treasure trove. There's gold and silver cups and plates, chests filled with old, shining coins, and piles of colorful gemstones! There's shelves of ancient books and scrolls, and jewelry and little statues. But over it all there's... a puppet.'" "Pearl looked at her, amazed but confused! 'A puppet?' he asked. Ivy looked a little afraid, then. 'Yes, and it can talk. It's hung up to the ceiling by strings. Moths have eaten it half away, and pieces were already patched up years ago. But it's a puppet of a dragon. It said that if I can answer its riddle, I can take all the treasure I can carry. But if I get it wrong, I'll turn into a statue, too, and be left among the treasure!'" "Pearl was worried, but he thought about it. 'Do you think that's why they buried this place? It sounds very dangerous,' he said. 'Maybe. But I had an idea. Those books might be useful, and... I asked the puppet a question. I said, if I bring a friend, can we work together to answer the riddle and carry out the treasure? It said yes,' she explained, and Pearl knew that look. She was sly and cunning, sometimes. He thought about her plan. 'So I could carry much more treasure out,' he realized. And the way Ivy grinned at him, he knew he had guessed right. 'It sounds dangerous. Will we both be turned into treasure if we fail?'" "Well, Ivy had to take some time to convince Pearl to try. She promised she could come up with an answer to any riddle, and that the tunnel was big enough for him, even though it was very long. So eventually, the two dragons went down into the dark, not knowing if they'd ever see the light again." (Another check on the children showed that they were all invested, now. One or two looked to be half-napping, but that was good, Smolder supposed; it was sort of the point of telling them a bedtime story.) "It took Pearl and Ivy hours to get to the tunnel's end, and Ivy was so tired from already doing it once that she rode on Pearl's back for most of the way. Pearl could barely fit, and he didn't really like it: it was too small and there were lots of old spiderwebs and dangerous holes fallen away in the ground. But he made his way carefully, using his long whiskers to get past the dangers safely. And in the end, they came to the room Ivy had described. Pearl found it more amazing than Ivy's words could describe! There was a strange blue light behind the puppet, and the whole room gleamed with wealth and beauty. There were so many things to see, so many treasures and trinkets that could have bought a lifetime of good living, that Pearl didn't know where to look first! But just then, the puppet spoke." "'THIS IS YOUR FRIEND?' it asked, and its voice was very loud for such a little, tattered thing. Its strings seemed to dance as its mouth moved. 'Yes,' Ivy answered. 'We'll hear your riddle. And if we succeed, we get to carry out as much treasure as we can.' 'AND IF YOU FAIL, YOU JOIN THE HOARD. DO YOU BOTH AGREE?' Ivy answered 'Yes,' at once, but Pearl swallowed down his fear. He was normally very brave, but this seemed foolish to him, even though the books lining the walls could hold knowledge to help both their flights. The eerie puppet stared at him, waiting. 'I agree,' he said, at last." "'GOOD. THEN HERE IS YOUR RIDDLE. WHAT IS THE MOST VALUABLE THING IN THIS ROOM?'" (Here, Smolder paused, scanning the gathered hatchlings. A few whispered, or even shouted, their answers at once. "The books!" "The chests full of coins?" "I bet the puppet is worth a lot. It can talk, so it's magic," one reasoned.) "All very good answers," Smolder assured them. "And Ivy thought of all of those, too. So did Pearl. They sat for quite some time, thinking, and the enchanted puppet—or maybe it was cursed!—didn't interrupt them. But the way it dangled there made Pearl uneasy. He almost panicked. It was too hard for him to think straight! Luckily Ivy was more level-headed. Even though she was very small, her mind was quite sharp. She looked at the books. She looked at the statues, and the puppet. She examined the gemstones, and the coins. Then she closed her eyes for a time, and thought. Pearl whispered to her, frightened. 'I don't know the answer,' he said, afraid. 'I think we might be turned into treasure!' -and Ivy opened her eyes wide." "'The most valuable thing in this room,' she told the puppet, 'is us! My friend's life is more important to me than anything that's laying here.' She sounded very sure, and the puppet began to laugh. 'EVERY TIME SOMEONE COMES INTO THIS ROOM, I TURN THEM INTO WHAT THEY VALUE MOST. MANY OF THESE COINS AND GEMS WERE ONCE DRAGONS. BUT YOUR ANSWER IS GOOD. YOU MAY TAKE WHAT YOU CAN CARRY. BUT I WARN YOU, NOTHING IS AS IT SEEMS.'" "Now, Pearl was, as I've said, a [i]very[/i] large dragon. And Ivy was, of course, very smart. She figured out very quickly that she could put everything in the room into the chests, and Pearl could carry those! They were very, very heavy, but it could be done. An hour later, the puppet was watching them leave his now-empty room, and he seemed satisfied with this. 'BURY THIS PLACE AGAIN,' it said, and the two dragons agreed that this would be best." "When they got outside again, after a long and wearying journey through the dark, they set down all the chests. They were both eager to see the treasures they had won. But to their surprise, as soon as they left the tunnel, all the things that they had brought began to turn back into dragons! Living dragons, of all colors, shapes and sizes, all cursed many years ago when they had failed the riddle." "Now, of course it was a little disappointing that they wouldn't get any treasure after all, but it was also a great thing to free so many trapped dragons! And all these dragons were grateful, promising great rewards and all their loyalty. So it happened that many of them, who had been trapped for decades or even centuries, pledged to serve Pearl and Ivy; and soon they were leaders of a large, happy, flourishing clan. Both remained close friends for the rest of their days, knowing that without Pearl's strength or Ivy's mind, all of those dragons would have been trapped forever! -But before they left, they buried the tunnel one last time. The end." [center][b]------[/b][/center] [font=cambria][size=3][color=#1c3140]The clamor from the hatchlings as the story ended was somewhat subdued by how sleepy they'd become. "Did they live happily ever [i]after?[/i]" one demanded, only to be interrupted by a "How big WAS Pearl?" and an overlapping "Where did they all go to live with their clan?" and "What did they NAME the clan?!" Smolder tried his best to answer everything, and even Smoke fielded a few of them. Eventually, the hatchlings began to curl up on their own to sleep, requiring only a little urging to do so. Blessed silence fell, little wings curled over tiny bodies, and Smolder looked over them proudly. [b]"You know,"[/b] he told Smoke quietly, [b]"I think I kind've like kids."[/b] She eyed him. [b]"You've never spent time with hatchlings before?"[/b] she asked, and he shook his head. [b]"No, but... they're good kids. I wonder how many will stay?"[/b] [b]"I don't know, but-"[/b] Smoke turned, glancing up toward where Ember slept. [b]"I'd say let's stay here, for now. Give the poor Fire-Witch some much-needed rest. Imagine having to wrangle all of these kids, all day long? Even if they're the best kids,"[/b] she laughed. [b]"They're a lot."[/b] Smolder glanced to his side, where the phoenix was fast asleep. [b]"Sure, why not. Blaze is sleeping, too. I'd hate to wake him."[/b] [b]"It was a good story,"[/b] Smoke said, after a moment. [b]"Did you make it up just now?"[/b] [b]"Yes, though I had no idea one of them was named Pearl,"[/b] he said, keeping his voice very quiet as he laughed a little. [b]"That was awkward."[/b] [b]"You did well,"[/b] Smoke assured him. [b]"Maybe we could help out here, now and then, together? I can tell the next story. Give you a little break,"[/b] and she grinned. [b]"I think I need it,"[/b] he agreed, and laughed quietly again.

[center][b]Arrival[/b][/center] [center][url=https://www1.flightrising.com/dragon/92321298]Dread[/url] • [url=https://www1.flightrising.com/dragon/91742888]Torchbearer[/url] • [url=https://www1.flightrising.com/dragon/93187746]Ignis[/url] • [url=https://www1.flightrising.com/dragon/33558977]Oberon[/url] • [url=https://www1.flightrising.com/dragon/93995948]Talisman[/url] • [url=https://www1.flightrising.com/dragon/93232350]Ember[/url][/center] [center][size=2][color=#c3bfaf]- - - - -[/color][/size] [url=https://www1.flightrising.com/forums/cc/2519702][img]https://i.imgur.com/IJfKZEu.png[/img][/url] [size=2][color=#c3bfaf]- - - - -[/color][/size][/center] [font=cambria][size=3][b]"Father?"[/b] The voice echoed through the inner tunnel, deep and resonant. And after a moment, a similar voice responded, this one with a note of age in its gravelly rasp. [b]"Here. What is it?"[/b] The two dragons who came out to greet one another looked, too, similar enough. Both Guardians, both black-scaled with wings that blushed a deep, dark red in the dim firelight. The soft jangle of gold from Dread's adornments, and his larger size, were the only two things to set the two apart. His eyes may have gleamed a little more brightly with their emberglow, but it was clear that both dragons were family. Ignis paused inside the low, open space that made up a sort of foyer for the inner passages. The outer tunnels lay behind him, winding and dark; in here there was a deeper warmth, permeated by the volcanic odor of the mountain. And behind Dread lay his own den: a large cave, strewn with treasure and lit by distant magma. Ignis did not often come here; his presence suggested that something had disturbed the peace of the outer lairs and cave mouths which he patrolled. Dread's demeanor, then, was both alert and wary as he came to a halt before his son. [b]"It is-..."[/b] the younger dragon hesitated. He had not chosen his words before speaking, and while his father would hardly take insult, he still found himself floundering a little. [b]"There are dragons that-... Visitors. I think it would be best for you to see them."[/b] Dread studied his son, pondering this for a moment. Then he said the obvious, to get it out of the way. [b]"Visitors are welcome. This is a sanctuary. Why, then, should I see them?"[/b] It wasn't a challenge, but curiosity; clearly something had thrown Ignis off his step, and wrangling a little information was now Dread's task. Ignis was already nodding; [i]yes,[/i] this was a sanctuary and he knew it. Even the Plague envoy had agreed to help defend it; between their formidable magic and the enormous size of the Dreadwing soldiers, there was little that could threaten their mountainside fortress. But before he could speak, Dread wagered his own guess. [b]"Are they a threat?"[/b] [b]"I don't know. I don't think so,"[/b] Ignis answered honestly, half-glancing over his shoulder. Dread followed his gaze. His son's voice was kept low; that meant these visitors must be close by. [b]"But one of them is the largest dragon I have ever seen."[/b] This, at last, made Dread lift his head a little further. [i]'Larger than we Dreadwing?'[/i] he thought, surprised, but it seemed pointless to say it when the answer was so clearly 'yes.' His gaze trailed off to the darkened tunnel. [b]"And the other..?"[/b] The sardonic humor that glinted in his son's eye gave him pause. [b]"The second-largest,"[/b] Ignis answered.[/font][/size] [center][b]------[/b][/center] [font=cambria][size=3]The two Imperials who were at last ushered in, to a small audience of Dread and his mate Torchbearer, were indeed immense. Admittedly, their sheer length was not size alone; Dread was fairly certain that he, and quite possibly several of his sons, would have outweighed them... but not by very much. The larger brute, cloaked in abyssal violets that set off kindly golden eyes, was fully a third longer than he himself; his wingspan, by Dread's estimate, was similarly immense. The other dragon was younger, he thought. More slender, with narrower wings, yet nearly as long as the adult. His markings were more distinct, and had Dread been a smaller dragon—and had he not seen a nearly identical appearance in their clan fire-witch—he might have been put off. The younger Imperial was shining black, his scales pigmented as though with bones, his wings a blazing, reflective red. [b]"Welcome,"[/b] Dread said, settling himself on massive haunches. The two Imperials swung their gazes to him, and both bowed in way that suggested the respect of equals. He dipped his own in response. [b]"I am Dread. You have found yourselves in the Dreadwing Lair. I assume my son has explained the nature of this place, but I will repeat it in case he has not: we are a sanctuary for travellers, and we offer protection to those who come here. We often shelter those wounded and sick who did not know of the dangers of the Fumaroles."[/b] The older dragon did not speak, but instead looked to the younger. This one cleared his throat, dipping his head a second time, stepping forward with faint but clear nervousness. [b]"My name is Talisman. This is Oberon. We don't mean to disrupt any peace. I came looking for Ember. I know her from... a long time ago,"[/b] he began, and Torchbearer spoke up. [b]"You share her markings,"[/b] she observed, fearlessly regal. Talisman nodded to her. [b]"I do. We were trained together. I was coming hoping that she could... continue that training. If you would allow that,"[/b] he added, and now 'respectful' had become 'deferential.' But no one was posturing, or making threats, and this was reassuring to all of the dragons present. Torchbearer stretched her claws idly, talons prodding at the black stone. [b]"May I ask what she would be training you in?"[/b] she asked, and her tone held friendly curiosity rather than mere demand. [b]"...Ritual, mainly. Nothing sinister,"[/b] he hastened to assure them. [b]"I assume she's-... If she's here, that she's already, well—that you know what she does..? It's prayer, mostly. Some readings."[/b] Torchbearer studied the young dragon's red eyes. [b]"You follow Flamecaller?"[/b] she asked, faint doubt and surprise twinning in her voice. [b]"Yes. Well, no. Both. We recognize all of the deities,"[/b] he explained. [b]"Some of us are more attuned to some than others. Training here, I would be communing—trying to commune—with her, but I pray to Plaguebringer too. They have different spheres,"[/b] he went on, but before he could launch into what was clearly about to be a deep philosophical explanation, Torchbearer gently waved it away. [b]"It does not matter too much. We have an envoy of the Plague flight here. Know that we do watch our visitors closely,"[/b] she warned. [b]"But that is a matter of habit. It does not reflect any particular suspicion on any other visitor. And... Ember has earned our trust."[/b] She paused, lifting her head toward the passageway. In the ensuing silence, the dragons could all hear the approaching, distinctive click-click of a Wildclaw. [b]"I think that may be her now."[/b] Ember was, naturally, far smaller than any of the Guardians or Imperials already present, but showed no fear at this. She was clearly comfortable around the Dreadwing, and upon seeing Talisman she practically lit up—and so did he, both dragons quickly moving to close the distance. Ember's offering was a solid thump or three on the far larger Imperial's scales; he in turn gave her a careful hug. She laughed. [b]"So you made it out of the Grounds,"[/b] she joked. [b]"Good to see it. And good to see you. I didn't expect you here."[/b] He laughed sheepishly. [b]"You know you're my first pick."[/b] Her responding laugh was a raucous cackle, rough with real amusement. [b]"Me?! Talk about questionable decisions. Giving up everything for the monk life, then picking the middle of nowhere for an apprenticeship with [i]me?[/i] You know you don't have to ask, though."[/b] She smiled and looked to the matriarch and patriarch of the clan. [b]"I vouch for him, for what it's worth,"[/b] she said, then craned a head around as if in second thought, studying the silent Oberon. The violet dragon was watching the scene with an indulgent, friendly silence. [b]"...I don't know him, but he's not eaten anybody yet, which is great."[/b] Torchbearer stifled a snorted laugh, and Talisman hastened to introduce the other to Ember. [b]"This is Oberon. I knew him from-... before. He offered—insisted, actually—that I not come alone. ...He can be trusted,"[/b] he added, with a nod back to Oberon, which was gently reciprocated. Dread exhaled in thought, and after a brief exchanged glance with his mate, looked to the other dragons. [b]"Ember, may we ask you to be their guide for now, then? You can help them find a lair they like, and get them situated. Talisman, Oberon, if you need anything, find us or the steward Cinder, the Coatl. He is... very helpful."[/b] Torchbearer, to her credit, managed not to laugh, this time. [b]"He is... self-appointed, but he knows his way around,"[/b] she explained, with a nod. The visitors and Ember offered brief bows: understanding and acknowledgment both. Ember glanced around. [b]"I'll find 'em a spot. Sorry for the hassle. If I'd have known the big oaf was coming, I'd have warned you,"[/b] and she fired the clan leaders a wink. A few more words were exchanged, and then the little Wildclaw led the two hulking Imperials back the way they'd all come, followed by Ignis. Dread and Torchbearer watched them go, silent. At length he looked to her, and she shook her head, pushing up. [b]"I don't think they will be,"[/b] she said, as Dread opened his mouth. [b]"I didn't even speak yet,"[/b] he protested. [b]"You were going to say you hope they aren't trouble,"[/b] she answered, with amusement, as she turned to pick her way down into the inner dens. [b]"And you know that how?"[/b] [b]"I've known you long enough. -Am I wrong?"[/b] she asked, glancing back with a grin. [b]"This is treatment unbefitting a Patriarch,"[/b] Dread answered, sniffing dramatically, and Torchbearer began to laugh. [b]"I don't, though. Think they'll be a problem. But... hmm."[/b] [b]"But I will get Ignis to keep an eye on them, when he can."[/b] [b]"And I'll see if I can get Crimson to befriend them. He's a curious sort. Not to spy, but..."[/b] [b]"Just to get to know who we have staying in our Lair."[/b] The two nodded to one another, and made their way deeper into the den. [/font][/size] [center][b]------[/b][/center]

[center][b]Little Favors[/b][/center] [center][url=https://www1.flightrising.com/dragon/94921363]Ghostbones[/url] • [url=https://www1.flightrising.com/dragon/66491251]Seethe[/url] • [url=https://www1.flightrising.com/dragon/96042214]Decay[/url] • [url=https://www1.flightrising.com/dragon/92955541]Ossua[/url] • [url=https://www1.flightrising.com/dragon/92955544]Nefastus[/url] • [url=https://www1.flightrising.com/dragon/92859971]Sinew[/url][/center] [center][size=2][color=#c3bfaf]- - - - -[/color][/size] [url=https://www1.flightrising.com/forums/cc/2519702][img]https://i.imgur.com/oyFqIoT.png[/img][/url] [size=2][color=#c3bfaf]- - - - -[/color][/size][/center] [font=cambria][size=3]Ghostbones looked around the little den. He'd set up most of what he'd need, for now, around its edges: the little talismans and statues, the strings of bone chimes, the tarnished braziers full of incense and the rune-carved bone chips, the tattered banner bearing Plaguebringer's sigil. Behind him, his fellow Necromancer Seethe spoke up. [b]"Don't you think it's a bit much? Or are you planning to stay here long?"[/b] Ghostbones glanced back, both Aberration heads curling a smile. The gold ornaments on his horns glinted, the bones and gemstones and vials strung loosely across his body tinkling. The [i]other[/i] tattered Plague banner draping him fluttered a little in the stiflingly warm air of this cavern complex. [b]"I don't know how long we'll be staying. However long we're needed,"[/b] he went on, and turned to make room for the Mirror to fully enter the low space. Seethe was his ally, his equal, at least in theory. In practice, as the Mirror had explained, he had—upon passing his Necromantic Trials—directly appealed to the Council to aid him in further training. The dragon wasn't young, exactly, but he was militaristic in his abilities, and he'd asked for assignments that would benefit the Necromancers as a society and he in his learning. They'd given him odd jobs here and there, escorts and Lich-hunts that had honed his skills and shown him in person how other Necromancers operated. Ghostbones was his current assignment: as a bodyguard, the muscle to Ghostbones' rituals. Ghostbones knew that the explanations he gave, that the questions Seethe asked, were more than surface-level; this was part of his education. So he detailed out his reasoning, now, sweeping a taloned forelimb out to indicate the decorated space. [b]"Our work—as I see it—is an exchange with Plaguebringer. I bring faith to her fold. In turn, she grants me the power to do her work. This theatricality, it's deliberate. The more impressive it all looks, the more of an impression we [i]make,[/i] the more faith flows her way and the more followers she receives."[/b] He paused, peering at Seethe, and the other head spoke: [b]"Do you understand?"[/b] It wasn't a condescending question; he just wasn't sure if he'd laid it all out right. Seethe, for his part, looked surprised. [b]"So you don't believe in all this? I mean—the bones, the decorations? You don't really need it all?"[/b] Ghostbones shrugged and turned away, adjusting the hanging banner to lay just a little crookedly, to add to the air of decay. [b]"There's always an element of theatre in true faith,"[/b] was his answer. The Aberration had lived a long life, and Seethe knew that. He'd trained under any number of mentors, instructors and coaches. He had, so far as Seethe had heard, killed at least one of them. (He'd never asked for details.) Ghostbones was experienced, then, in a way that Seethe was not, and so he filed this information dutifully away into his mind. [b]"We should go and see the Plague delegation here,"[/b] Ghostbones said, at length, and turned for the exit. Seethe's armor clanked awkwardly as he moved aside to make room. [center][b]------[/b][/center] [font=cambria][size=3]The Dreadwing Lair was a large one, a labyrinthine expanse of tunnels and caves carved through black rock by old flows of lava. Tiered, smoothed ripples of rock lay like steps underfoot, in places. The Ashfall Waste wasn't particularly suited for those of the Plague flight, but the Lair was at least in the safe, clean air above the fumaroles and not down among them, and as such served as a sanctuary and safe haven for travellers and visitors from other flights. The Dreadwing themselves—a large, battlescarred collection of red-winged black dragons, many of them family—protected the peace, aided in part by one of the Flight delegations to the den: the Plague. Ghostbones had yet to meet these dragons, though he'd been told of their role, here. As a matter of politeness, and potential cooperation, it made sense to seek them out. Their own little set of alcoves wasn't too far off. Another, far less tattered leather banner painted with the sigil of Plaguebringer lay like a door across the tunnel's entrance, and after eyeing it, Ghostbones gently pushed it aside. Ahead lay another tunnel, with offshoots to the left and right. He was debating how to call out and ask for an audience (or even to find out if they were currently in the lair) when a part of the darkness at the far end detached itself and moved toward them. It'd have been eerie if not for the loud clanking of armor. The dragon was a Guardian, massive and wreathed in shredded leathers, bones, and steel. His gaze was suspicious, but respectful as he eyed over the two Necromancers' markings; his own, Ghostbones noted, were those of a -servus. [b]"Nefastus,"[/b] the dragon introduced himself bluntly. [b]"Necroservus. Can I help you?"[/b] His inherent wariness told both Ghostbones and Seethe that he was warden here: the sentinel for a Necromancer, most likely. [b]"Ghost,"[/b] said one head; [b]"Bones,"[/b] said the other, so that it sounded like a single name. Seethe came up alongside him. [b]"Seethe. We came to introduce ourselves to your envoy. We're new arrivals, and we may be staying for awhile."[/b] Nefastus nodded and turned, folding his wings close to his body to press through a relatively narrow gap in the rock. [b]"This way,"[/b] they heard him say, after a moment, muffled by the space. They followed him into another passage, which ended almost at once in a high, broad space. This space was well lived-in: not some temporary resting place, but an established, well-appointed lair of its own. Both dragons entered and moved aside from the door, looking around. It looked rather like a library: bookshelves (some old wood, some carved into rock, none of them matching) were filled with dusty tomes and battered scrolls. Candles and a glowing red lantern lit the space enough to see by. Several large rugs covered the rocky floor, and Seethe noticed the lack of theatricality here: only one incense burner, and certainly no bone chimes. At the far end, a long-bodied female Imperial was curled over a lectern with an open book between her foreclaws. To her right, on a pile of ragged furs and skins, a Mirror (studded with bony spines) lay watching them like an alerted guard dog. Both dragons wore skull masks, the Imperial additionally shrouded in a ragged red cloak and bone ornamentation. A second, small red lantern hung from a golden chain on her tail, and ruby-studded golden chains lay threaded around the long length of her neck and around both the long, white antlers and curved horns of her worn skull-mask. Nefastus had moved off to one side, lurking in the shadows. The Imperial, they could see, was the Necromancer here. The Mirror—who they could now see was swathed in leather straps—bore the pigmented markings of a failed Wraith. He also hissed at them, like a feral beast. Ghostbones eyed him warily, and Seethe stepped up more closely, his stern stare warning the other Mirror off. He'd known dragons like this, back in his pack. Ones that half lost themselves to a wild beast's mentality as they roamed the Boneyard. [b]"Easy, Sinew. Visitors?"[/b] the Imperial said, turned toward them now. She bore herself with elegant grace, and as she turned to make her way toward them they were both struck with her almost serpentine movements. [b]"I am Standing Councillor Ossua—were you here for me?"[/b] she asked. Her rank was given without boast; it wasn't a particularly high one, and she wasn't trying to intimidate them. They could both sense that much. It was more that she was making it known, to prevent awkwardness down the road. Ghostbones dipped his head, giving the same introduction as he had before: [b]"Ghost"[/b] and [b]"Bones"[/b] together. [b]"Seethe."[/b] Ossua glanced between them, as though not entirely sure which she should be addressing. Both of them understood: in many Necromancer groups, one was leader and others were merely servants, or an entourage for a Council member or the like. [b]"We are working together,"[/b] Ghostbones explained, but the fact that her gaze swept now to him and stayed there was indication enough that he was rather the "leader" of the pair, at least. [b]"We'll be staying here, for a time. We wanted to introduce ourselves, of course."[/b] [b]"If there's anything we can do for you while we're here, Councillor,"[/b] Seethe added, with a cautious glance mid-sentence toward Sinew. The other Mirror hadn't moved, but was tense, watching them as though he wished to hunt them rather than listen to them. A failing, Seethe mused, on Ossua's part. He should have already been better-trained than this. [b]"Ahh. You're new to the Dreadwing lands?"[/b] she asked, phrasing it carefully. The flame dragons had staked a relatively wide claim, and it was best to respect it while she remained here. [b]"We are. I travel,"[/b] Ghostbones explained, [b]"to aid in Plaguebringer's name where I can. I would welcome any advice for this area,"[/b] he added, [b]"or any information. If there are places here where we are unwelcome, or those who might use my aid..."[/b] He blinked. [b]"Not that you are not enough, here, Councillor,"[/b] he hastened to add. She watched him for a moment, appraisingly. [b]"I'm more of a researcher,"[/b] she replied, and there was amusement in her tone. Forgiven, then. [b]"I do spread Her word. But I do not actively seek out more than knowledge."[/b] She glanced over her shoulder abruptly, as if to look through the very rock itself. [b]"There is one thing you should know. There are two dragons here that I suspect are Liches. While I won't make any requests of you, I will say that they have been... useful to my studies."[/b] Keen red eyes flicked back to them, calculating. [b]"The researcher of the two has admitted to nothing, but she does bear black stripes. Coincidence or not, I do not know. But she studies the Shade, and keeps a rather mindless dragon in her den for experiments. Nothing groundbreaking, I think, but we are keeping a very close watch on them both."[/b] This was... surprising, to say the least: a Lich tolerated by a Council member? Ghostbones hesitated before responding. [b]"As you think best, Councillor. So long as they pose no threat, but... If they do, you know I must act or report it, at least."[/b] Beside him, Seethe tensed. This could lead, he knew, to conflict. A Council member could easily lose her spot, and the two of them were outnumbered here. She might decide here and now to kill them both. Nefastus alone was larger than both of them, scarred by fighting. But Ossua waved this away. [b]"I'd expect nothing less. I don't know for sure whether Shroud is a Lich or not, but I believe in her faith in Plaguebringer."[/b] That was enough to at least mollify them both, for now. And as she looked them over, something else seemed to occur to her. [b]"If it's proselytization you are after... I might have something for you."[/b] Seethe stared blankly. Ghostbones glanced at him, did a double-take, and leaned in. [b]"Preaching. Conversion, to Plaguebringer,"[/b] he explained quietly, and Ossua—overhearing—laughed good-naturedly. [b]"I'm sorry. I've been spending too much time among my books,"[/b] she said. Ghostbones looked back to her, smiling. [b]"That would be welcome."[/b] [b]"There's a pack of dragons to the North. Mirrors, mostly. They were part of a cult, but a Dreadwing training group was ambushed by them and the Mirrors came off worse. They're scattered, but their leader is dead. They may well be prime material for recruitment. I believe their cult revolved around Plague, so..."[/b] Ghostbones perked up. Before he could speak, Seethe did so, gruffly: [b]"Are they dangerous?"[/b] Off in the dark, both saw Nefastus nod at Seethe approvingly, ever the wary sentinel. [b]"Possibly. I would advise you to stay on alert, certainly. But I can give you their last known location, numbers... and someone to talk to, to begin with. A refugee from their clan lives in this den as the blacksmith. He's not part of their cult anymore, and he's both young and traumatized so please use caution. I don't want to upset our hosts,"[/b] she warned. [b]"But it may provide a starting point."[/b] Ghostbones sat back, pleased and surprised. This was a great opportunity, and he knew it. [b]"I would be in your debt, Councillor,"[/b] he answered. She waved this away... then paused. [b]"Actually... there is something you could do for me."[/b] It seemed to have just occurred to her, and it seemed honest, not calculated, to both of her visitors. Her tone grew thoughtful, and off to one side, Nefastus shook his head and spoke up in a warning tone. [b]"Not Decay,"[/b] he said softly, and Ossua looked to him. Before she could argue, he spoke again. His tone held not reproach, nothing that broached rank, but it did hold... sorrow? Regret? [b]"She must succeed or fail on her own merits, Ossua, you know that. She-"[/b] Ossua gestured to Sinew, interrupting her Necroservus bluntly. [b]"If she fails, it would not be a bad thing to have a Necromancer there so she does not [i]die,[/i] at least, as we took in Sinew. And these two seem trustworthy enough."[/b] Ghostbones and Seethe, looking from one to the other, struggled to follow the conversation. [b]"Someone you know is taking the Trials?"[/b] Seethe guessed, at length, and the envoys both glanced at him and nodded. Nefastus spoke. [b]"A Guardian like myself. Her name is Decay."[/b] He spoke very cautiously, and before either of them could wonder why, Ossua explained. [b]"She is our daughter."[/b] Ossua and Nefastus were mates, then. It was unusual, not unheard of but certainly not common, for a servant and a Necromancer to become friends or even lovers. But to admit it up front... Usually there was a bit of a stigma to it. These two, however, seemed unaffected, both of them businesslike and proper in their dealings. Ghostbones, though a bit taken aback, looked to Ossua. She explained her request before he could ask. [b]"I'd ask simply for you to ensure she winds up a Wraith rather than dead, should it come to that. Or purge her, if she becomes a ghoul. I don't ask for you to take her under your wing forever."[/b] [b]"Although,"[/b] Nefastus rumbled thoughtfully from his shadowed corner, [b]"she [i]is[/i] a capable guardian."[/b] Whether he meant the type of dragon, or a role, they could not tell. [b]"She's trained, as I am, and very level-headed. She would be a loyal servant."[/b] [b]"We hope it won't come to that. I think she'll make a good Necromancer. But..."[/b] Seethe looked at her. [b]"But you'd rather be certain. Is she your first to take the Trials?"[/b] [b]"No, and she would be neither the first to succeed or fail. But there's potential in her."[/b] It sounded cold, in a way. As though Ossua didn't ask out of concern for a child, but rather, out of concern for lost potential should a competent servant of Plaguebringer fall. Still... their own group of two [i]was[/i] rather small. And depending on the outcome... well, training another dragon in his duties, Seethe knew, would be a good way for he himself to learn. Ghostbones shifted in place, thinking, considering. [b]"When is she taking her Trial?"[/b] Nefastus looked to him. [b]"She has already begun. Or... should have. She left a week ago."[/b] Seethe pushed up. [b]"Then we'd best not waste any time,"[/b] he said, making the decision for them. Ghostbones looked at him with some surprise—the Mirror was meant to be student, not leader—but he had come to trust him enough to go along with it. And anyway, he himself had already decided this would be for the best. [b]"It is always good to have another competent servant for Plaguebringer. And dead is not competent. We will go, but if she fails too badly we can promise nothing. Our loyalty is first to our cause."[/b] This was met with agreement, understanding even. None of the Necromancers present would betray their cause for one too weak to survive the first Trial, at least. [b]"Then I,"[/b] Ossua said, [b]"will be in [i]your[/i] debt."[/b] Ghostbones glanced over his shoulder as he made his way for the tunnel. [b]"Give me the full information on that pack you mentioned, once we have returned, and we will call it even."[/b] [center][b]------[/b][/center] [font=cambria][size=3]Neither dragon had expected to take flight again so soon after their arrival. Neither were fresh for real travel, and the Wyrmwound was quite a distance away. They might not, both of them knew, arrive in time to prevent Decay's death. It took them several days, travelling by swift flight and resting when they could no longer fly, to cross over the high ridge of Rotrock Rim. Beyond sparkled the deadly, sickly brew of the Wyrmwound, ignited like fire by the midday sun. Even here, there was no end to their travel, for the Wyrmwound was enormous, and they had to canvas the entire shore of the lake. [b]"We should have asked for a description,"[/b] Seethe called down, darkly amused. His multiple eyes scanned the terrain below, both with the spectrum of light and his heat vision, but he saw nothing here. Both flew in silence for a time. Ghostbones broke it with a contemplative tone. [b]"The last time I was here, it was for my Trial."[/b] Seethe glanced to him, then down, realizing it was true for him as well. [b]"Same!"[/b] he called, over the beating of their wings. [b]"Dragon-... Never mind. Nocturne."[/b] He dismissed the hunched figure at the Wyrmwound's edge, and kept scanning ahead. They were looking, they knew, for a Guardian. [b]"Perhaps it would be good to meditate here for a time, when we're done,"[/b] Ghostbones mused. [b]"I'm... willing. It's a good idea."[/b] A sort of renewal of their vows to Plaguebringer. A promise, again, of their faith. [b]"How was your Trial?"[/b] the Aberration asked abruptly. Seethe shook his head, grim. [b]"There were a lot of us. Only a few survivors. A good chunk of my Pack came, together."[/b] Ghostbones was silent for a moment. He did not offer consolation, sympathy. The mirror wasn't the sort to want, or accept, such a thing, and he knew it. [b]"How many Necromancers?"[/b] he asked, at last. [b]"Just me."[/b] It was given bluntly. Emotionless. Seethe had seen allies die, but very few of them had truly been friends. Some had been tragic, and some even welcome; the pack had had its fair share of those he'd consider traitors to Plaguebringer, at best, hungry only for her power and bearing none of her faith. Others had simply been too weak. Rejected for her work. Unfortunate, yes, but... that was how it went. He was distracted; it was Ghostbones who spotted the dragon at the very lip of the Wyrmwound. [b]"There,"[/b] he said, and folded his wings, whistling into a steep dive. Seethe glanced down, and arced downward to follow. The dragon looked to them as they landed, surprised but composed. Decay, they saw, was a growing Guardian dragon: large, but not yet full-sized. Her dignity was that of an adult, though, and her fiery eyes were sharp, not dulled by disease. She was heavily draped and shrouded in leather wrappings, bandages, armor and bone decorations, and they could see ragged places where plague had eaten away at her flesh. [b]"I don't need help, if you're trying to procure a servant,"[/b] she greeted them, sardonically. They both folded their wings, drawing closer as they eyed her over. [b]"Are you Decay?"[/b] Seethe asked bluntly, and the Guardian tensed. They knew her name. [b]"Is something wrong? -Yes, that's me."[/b] [b]"No,"[/b] Seethe hastened to assure her, realizing how it looked. Ghostbones spoke up. [b]"We have met your parents. They wished to ensure a... backup plan, if you failed."[/b] She laughed, harshly. [b]"I would have refused you. But you're too late. I'm done here, only... resting. Finishing some meditation."[/b] She lifted one armored forelimb, drawing down a long, haphazard plate of leather and bone to display the markings the plague had eaten through her pigment: dark brown scales and red stripes. [b]"Necroservus,"[/b] Seethe noted, somewhat surprised. It was a difficult challenge, and a success, really, to even survive the Trials. While Necroservus was a step below Necromancer, it was still survival. Decay let the leather wrap snap back into place. [b]"Yes. So-... Introduce yourselves?"[/b] she suggested, and her businesslike calm somewhat shamed them both. Ghostbones coughed; he and Seethe both introduced themselves in the usual manner. He then continued. [b]"We were thinking of meditating here, too. Neither of us has been here since our own Trial. Do you mind if we join you?"[/b] The Guardian flared her massive wings, stretching, as she considered. Then she folded them, and nodded. [b]"So long as you don't interrupt mine."[/b] This was brazen—to speak to Necromancers this way—but it showed her faith, and while Seethe bristled just a bit, Ghostbones respected it. [b]"We will not."[/b] [center][b]------[/b][/center] [font=cambria][size=3]The dragon trio remained for a night and a second day, each lost in their own contemplations. They rededicated themselves to their deity, their duties; now and then they did converse, discussing only those thoughts and ponderings relevant to their faith. Decay, they both learned quickly, was a dragon to respect. She bore herself with confident dignity; she was well-spoken, having been educated by her mother; she was capable, having been martially trained by her father. Her mind was keen, her remarks brief but insightful, and more than once her comments gave both Necromancers pause as they considered new perspective. For Decay's part, the true faith and humble dedication both Necromancers bore to their work became apparent to her. They were not—as she noted aloud, and with amusement—the sort who'd clawed their way to their station to grasp for further power, or to put other dragons down. They had not, in other words, become Necromancers out of greed or ambition or a drive for power. Instead, both of them believed in their work, dedicating themselves to it, and both were as sharp and professional as she was. The next day, Ghostbones eyed Decay's eyes and spoke up. [b]"I wonder, is it not odd to have been born among the Flame dragons, yet to serve Plaguebringer?"[/b] Decay's glance was sardonically amused, again, and her response as practical as they'd come to expect. [b]"Every deity is an aspect of dragonkind as a whole, I think. There's nothing wrong with serving [i]all[/i] of them, if you wished to."[/b] Seethe looked puzzled by this, and so she elaborated, sitting back and taking a breath. [b]"All the magic of our world is embodied by the Flights, is it not? I'm fire, yes, but we can't live in world without rain, lakes, and seas. Wind keeps us aloft, and Gladekeeper's gifts provide food for our prey—and plenty of dragons—or we couldn't survive. Plaguebringer proves the strong, culls the weak; she's the personification of all things disease. I don't think serving one is mutually exclusive to another."[/b] [b]"Not all dragons see it that way,"[/b] Ghostbones noted, phrasing himself carefully. But his gaze was rapt, intent, as though this perspective interested him. [b]"There's plenty who would let the old feuds guide them. Who think that a... fire Guardian, for example, is an insult to the Tidelord."[/b] Decay snorted. [b]"Then by all means let them keep fighting over whose god is best. In the meantime, [i]better[/i] dragons can keep improving [i]everything[/i] for [i]everyone,[/i] instead of bickering like children."[/b] Seethe was impressed despite himself, and looked to Ghostbones. The Aberration caught his look, nodded slightly, and studied Decay thoughtfully. [b]"A practical perspective. Practical is good."[/b] He hesitated, and Seethe spoke for him. [b]"Are you looking for work?"[/b] he asked bluntly. Ghostbones sighed. [b]"Sorry,"[/b] Seethe said, and grinned. [b]"But you seemed to be having some trouble finding your words."[/b] Decay looked at them both, considering but doubtful. [b]"Work doing what, exactly?"[/b] [b]"I spread Her word,"[/b] Ghostbones explained. [b]"I travel widely. Find those who are sick. Perhaps a dragon whose clutch is diseased, or someone looking for a specific strain. I aid, but in a way that... promotes faith."[/b] [b]"He makes a big deal out of it. A lot of props and chants that he doesn't really need,"[/b] Seethe explained dryly, and Decay snorted her amusement. [b]"I spread Her faith in return for the power to continue to do so,"[/b] Ghostbones said, with a tone of mild protest. [b]"Seethe is working alongside me."[/b] [b]"I've worked for a few different Necromancers while learning,"[/b] Seethe explained. [b]"Ghostbones here is my current assignment."[/b] Decay shook her head a little. [b]"So why would you want me? -What for?"[/b] Ghostbones tipped his heads to one side, thinking, even as he studied her. [b]"Because you are a rare intellect, with a level head. You would be a good ally to have,"[/b] he explained simply. [b]"And what would I be doing?"[/b] Seethe thought, for a moment, glancing at Ghostbones. [b]"You know how your father guards your mother, and lurks ominously nearby at all times?"[/b] Decay laughed, uproariously, holding nothing back. Her guffaws rang out over the glittering pestilence of the Wyrmwound. [b]"You want me to be the muscle? Act big and tough and... what, enhance your own act?"[/b] Ghostbones looked almost... hurt. [b]"...And actually serve as an ally,"[/b] he said, with mild reproach and an even more reproachful glance to Seethe, who shrugged at him. [b]"There are many times a Necromancer can't be everywhere. A Necroservus can help in his stead in many situations. Seethe is already a... military might. A force of protection. I admit you would likely serve that role admirably as well, and two is better than one. And..."[/b] [b]"Ghostbones has council aspirations. You could join his entourage. And,"[/b] Seethe added, thoughtful, [b]"I imagine that might look good on your mother's record, too."[/b] [b]"A Councillor whose children also make Council, or at least the entourages-... I can see that. It's not going to matter in my decision, though. My life is my own."[/b] Decay paused, thinking. [b]"How about a trial period?"[/b] she suggested, studying the pair. [b]"I join you for a couple months, we see how it goes..?"[/b] Ghostbones nodded. [b]"Acceptable. Best to see if we fit one another. Your mother told us of a scattered Plague cult in the northern Ashfall Waste. When we return to the Dreadwing Lair, she'll give us more information. That might be our first task, and you can join us on that. We can both trial one another."[/b] Decay watched him. They both seemed reasonable, and faithful. And having a good, strong role lined up so soon after her Trial would be a stroke of luck. It would also be good experience, and she knew it, though she already had a head start in the training her parents had given her. Still... [b]"It's a deal. I'll make sure no cultists rip your heads off,"[/b] she decided. [b]"That,"[/b] Ghostbones said, with amusement, [b]"would be most appreciated."[/b] [/font][/size] [center][b]------[/b][/center]

[center][b]The Sigil[/b][/center] [center][url=https://www1.flightrising.com/dragon/94921363]Ghostbones[/url] • [url=https://www1.flightrising.com/dragon/66491251]Seethe[/url] • [url=https://www1.flightrising.com/dragon/96042214]Decay[/url][/center] [center][size=2][color=#c3bfaf]- - - - -[/color][/size] [url=https://www1.flightrising.com/forums/cc/2519702][img]https://i.imgur.com/BLTXSi1.png[/img][/url] [size=2][color=#c3bfaf]- - - - -[/color][/size][/center] [font=cambria][size=3]They were taking a break from searching for the cultists. They'd seen signs, once or twice: old camps with Mirror tracks, gnawed bones, caves with disturbed ash and signs of temporary habitation. But the dragons themselves had either long since cleared the area, or they were making themselves hard to find. Or the trio was particularly unlucky in searching. This break consisted of resting in a high alcove along the mountainside, occasionally eating the prey cache Decay had dragged into the recesses. She had a book—worn parchment in a leather binding—and a writing implement designed for dragon's claws, and in this, she occasionally took notes. She'd not struck either of her companions as a philosophical or intellectual sort, at first, and both found it curious. Seethe had warned her against writing anything about what they were doing, possibly revealing Necromancer secrets; but Ghostbones, thoughtful, had suggested that she do just that. [b]"Nothing that reveals too much,"[/b] he'd clarified, with a glance to Seethe, which mollified his guardian just enough. [b]"But it might be good to have accounts of our actions here, to spread Her word."[/b] Now she was putting the book to a slightly different use, by their request. [center][b]------[/b][/center] [font=cambria][size=3]Ghostbones, keeping watch at the cave's edge and silhouetted by the failing evening light, had been discussing his plans for joining the Council. It wasn't that he wanted power, but it was the natural extension, rather, of his service to Mother. The entire point of his education and career had been to further Mother's goals, after all. And now that he was more sure of himself, of his approach, it made sense to hold enough power among their society that he had the opportunity to speak up if he truly felt the need. [b]"I don't plan to do so often. I doubt I'll need to, but..."[/b] Behind him, Decay—watching from further in, thoughtful—guessed his meaning. [b]"But you'd hate to be without that power if you feel it's needed."[/b] As Ghostbones nodded, still staring out (lost in his thoughts, it seemed), Seethe snorted and nodded, too. [b]"There are enough of them that are faithless. Either they've forgotten what they serve in favor of themselves or they justify their power grabs and weakening of the whole as 'survival of the fittest.'"[/b] [b]"It's a fair enough opinion,"[/b] Ghostbones said, shifting in place a little. [b]"But that's exactly why we need to be even stronger. Yes, the group is stronger for stronger dragons. But sometimes they forget that the strength of a dragon is the strength of the whole."[/b] Almost to himself, he added in a murmur [b]"I will be my own strength."[/b] Seethe lowered himself to lay on the warm rock, his multitude of eyes studying Ghostbones. [b]"You do plan to go for it, then? -When?"[/b] [b]"Soon."[/b] He turned, eyeing Seethe. [b]"And I've been thinking. I'd have you—both of you—in my entourage, if you want that."[/b] His gaze was steady, and both dragons looked back, Decay more surprised. She'd not been with them long, but it seemed he'd come to trust her very quickly. And Seethe-? He considered. He knew Ghostbones already to be a fair ally, treating him as an equal—which, right now, he was. But if Ghostbones became a Councillor, that would change. [b]"How would the power dynamic change?"[/b] he asked, bluntly. [b]"It won't. And if you want to go train elsewhere now and then, for however long..."[/b] The Aberration considered, lifting one forelimb to gesture as he sought his words. [b]"Bettering yourself, strengthening yourself... I can always find reason to defend that. -You, too, Decay. But it'd be good to have dragons I can trust at my back."[/b] [b]"You hardly know us,"[/b] Decay protested, half-laughing. [b]"But I know you enough."[/b] His words were solemn as he looked back to them. [b]"Neither of you are power-hungry. Both of you are truly faithful. That's all I need to know. Your goals, your values, both align with mine. There's only one problem, if you agree,"[/b] he went on, and both dragons peered at him. [b]"...Well?"[/b] Seethe asked, at length. Ghostbones shrugged, the gesture graceful despite his double head. Both faces twisted with faint smiles. [b]"I can't think of a good sigil."[/b] Decay laughed uproariously... and that brought them to the here-and-now.[/font][/size] [center][b]------[/b][/center] [font=cambria][size=3]She had a number of rough sketches on the last few pages. Seethe had suggested trying to incorporate Necromancer stripes, somehow. Decay had tried; really, she had. But it seemed an impossibility, for now, and she'd set that thought aside. Bones, dragon skulls, had also been suggested, as 'Mother is an arbiter of life and death.' But that hadn't sat well with Ghostbones: not the symbol, but the statement. [b]"I think it's more... that she pushes us, and that death itself is the judge. Or our strength or weakness is."[/b] They'd fallen into brief philosophical discussion and the idea of bones, too, was set aside as a 'maybe.' The sigil, or more appropriately the [i]'emblem,'[/i] was a distinct symbol of a Councillor and their retinue. Each designed their own, and both Seethe and Ghostbones had seen plenty of them in the past. Decay, less so, but she knew her mother's emblem: a trio of dragon heads in a circular pattern, on the backdrop of a red sun. For her, the light and its color represented illumination in the form of education, and the bright light of Mother's plague to wash away the darkness of the Shade. The dragon heads represented unity among the Necromancers, and depicted the silhouettes of herself, her Necroservus mate, and their Wraith servant. Seethe, now sitting closer so he could eye the pages, considered. [b]"Well, what else do you want to represent? You said we share your values. What are they?"[/b] He knew well enough, but this was brainstorming aloud, and Ghostbones considered. [b]"Unity,"[/b] said the head that called itself Ghost; and Bones then added, [b]"Among Necromancers, and the flights, where possible."[/b] Decay was nodding her agreement. Seethe thought for a moment. [b]"A wheel-? Eleven spokes for the flights? Something in the middle, maybe..."[/b] [b]"I'd say the plague symbol,"[/b] Decay said, half thinking aloud as she sketched the spokes out, [b]"but it's already one of the spokes, then."[/b] [b]"Could put the skull there,"[/b] Seethe mused. [b]"Unity in death?"[/b] But it was a weak suggestion, tentative, and he knew it; and from Ghostbones' distant expression he knew that the Aberration thought so, too. But he was trying to work from that. He sat back, flexing his wings a little. [b]"I have so many things I have learned that are important. Those values."[/b] His heads each began to speak, alternating. [b]"Be strong, and survive."[/b] [b]"Pursue joy, or there's no purpose in that survival."[/b] [b]"We must keep life itself strong."[/b] [b]"Both for itself, and to destroy the Shade."[/b] [b]"We must strengthen our allies, but we must be our own strength."[/b] [b]"We must guide and teach others."[/b] [b]"We must always keep learning, ourselves."[/b] [b]"We must meditate and maintain our faith."[/b] [b]"We must spread Her influence, for which she grants Her power."[/b] He paused, both heads still staring off at nothing, for a beat. Then he turned, one head looking each to Decay and to Seethe. [b]"The wheel should be at the bottom,"[/b] he decided, but it sounded more like he was thinking aloud, again, testing the sound of what he said. [b]"One spoke, rising up to the Plague sigil. The wheel should be winged, to make it clear what it is."[/b] And his other head: [b]"How does one represent life itself? It should include that, at its center."[/b] [b]"I'd say a tree, but..."[/b] Decay trailed off, amused, as she scratched this symbol out, too. They all knew a tree would be misrepresented: a symbol of the Nature flight, and not of life. [b]"So we need to incorporate a symbol of life, somehow, along with emphasizing the spoke that leads to Plague,"[/b] Ghostbones mused. Seethe grunted. [b]"An egg?"[/b] Both other dragons glanced sharply at him, surprised. [b]"That'd work,"[/b] Decay murmured, scratching this in. [b]"But how do we emphasize the Plague flight, then?"[/b] [b]"What's going to be your symbol?"[/b] Seethe asked, tilting his head. The symbol was something else entirely. Not the sigil, but rather, a Necromancer's chosen role expressed in the form of some talisman or item they carried. For some, it was jewels: a symbol of power, and right to rule. Others chose blades or armor to represent martial intent, and still others, bones, cloaks, masks, lanterns—as Decay's mother had chosen—maps, or other things. Even the Plague sigil itself was a possible symbol. Ghostbones glanced at him. [b]"The mask, or the bones, or Her symbol, I think. I haven't decided. Maybe all of them."[/b] [b]"A mask of bones? We're back to skull, then."[/b] [b]"You usually register only one, right?"[/b] Decay asked, squinting. She knew little about the Council procedures, though she was fairly certain that a Council member generally had a single symbol associated with them, even if they sported more in different situations. [b]"The sigil, then, I think. As in: Plaguebringer's. We'll be representing Her will, and power."[/b] All three of the symbols worked like that, to some extent. Those who wore masks thus dismissed their Self and represented the Plaguebringer only, as a nameless servant. But often, Ghostbones knew, the Masked were more often councillors as to Her will. The same with bones; those tended to be utilized more by shamans to their clan. And Ghostbones... he was an envoy. An instrument, yes, but one that would go to outside lands, too. Decay peered down at her scratchings. [b]"Well, the egg's gonna be a bit of an empty space. I can make that smaller, but putting a Plague symbol on that won't work. It's meant to be life itself, right? So... No, behind the whole thing it'd look like it's supporting all the Flights."[/b] [b]"Not the message I would be going for,"[/b] Ghostbones murmured in agreement. Seethe leaned in, eyeing the designs Decay was sketching out. [b]"Maybe underneath? As a support?"[/b] he suggested. [b]"Symbolizing aiding other flights."[/b] [b]"We can try that,"[/b] Decay agreed. A few moments later, she burst into laughter. [b]"It looks like a damned flower."[/b] Seethe let out a rare, short laugh. [b]"An ugly one, too,"[/b] he agreed. The bottom line of 'plague' looked rather like a flower stem holding up a flower of spokes in a wheel, with an egg like the eye of a daisy. Ghostbones peered over and both of his heads smiled. [b]"Remove the symbol, then, and try... just making the spoke draw downward. I can change it to red, in the final draft, for our flight."[/b] [b]"Maybe two of those wheels, inside the plague symbol,"[/b] Seethe mused, but Decay shook her head. [b]"Would be weird, with the symbolism. Double eggs and twenty-two flights."[/b] [b]"Try a smaller Plague symbol under the lower spike, then. The plague spoke,"[/b] he suggested. The design, as it was, looked too minimalistic to all of them; and worse than that, it lacked emphasis of their flight, which—if it was to be his Necromantic Symbol—really was a poor choice. As he watched, he felt a twinge of excitement; instinctively he knew they were getting closer. [b]"An arch beneath, with the curve of the wheel. Red. Symbolize our support."[/b] And then, [b]"Now thicken the outer circle's line."[/b] He paused, studying it, heads tilting this way and that. [b]"Try... a skull in its middle. Inside the egg."[/b] [b]"Dragon skull?"[/b] Decay asked, and Ghostbones shrugged. [b]"That would be best, but... the symbol is death. Life and death."[/b] [b]"I like it,"[/b] Decay replied, meaning the idea and not the art. She gave it her best shot, and after a moment, all three dragons nodded. The skull centered the image, and gave it that typical "necromancer" feeling. [b]"Well done, Decay,"[/b] he said, at last, regarding it with satisfaction. [b]"I think you've done it."[/b] Both heads glanced to her, the other speaking up, too: [b]"Thank you."[/b] Decay eyed him. Not all Necromancers would genuinely appreciate their allies... no, their [i]servants.[/i] In the scant few weeks she'd been working for him he'd proven to be nothing but respectful and considerate. Authoritatively confident, yes, but never demanding or aggressive. [b]"Well, count me in, I guess,"[/b] she said, and grinned. Seethe shrugged, making a deliberately overly-theatrical casual shrug and sigh. [b]"I suppose you leave me no choice,"[/b] he said, and Ghostbones laughed. But he spoke more seriously, then. [b]"I'll hold you to your promises, Ghost, and Bones. I'll keep you honest... if you do the same for me. For us."[/b] Ghostbones looked at both of them. [b]"For Plaguebringer, then. For survival and strength, life molded by death, in Her name."[/b] The nods, Decay's almost prayer-like nod and murmur of agreement, and Seethe's stronger [b]"In Her name,"[/b] felt like a final binding, and a promise. [center][img]https://i.imgur.com/qo5O3FX.png[/img][/center]