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| It Came from the Swamp; (Tag Kess, Alix and Locks!) | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Aug 10 2015, 01:33 PM (243 Views) | |
| Jackins | Aug 10 2015, 01:33 PM Post #1 |
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Curse the fiends, their children too...
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“Hold still, this paste hasn’t dried yet.” Pohl frowned as another stroke of the large brush wiped away the crumbs of a soft, creamy pigment from Velocer’s haunches. The lightning rumbled with impatience as the silver patina that marred his otherwise lustrous pale yellow scales faded from view. Only the most intense scrutiny would notice the mismatched shades, though Pohl had done their best to get a better match. “I suppose I could feather it in a bit more.” vexation tinged the rider’s voice as another, smaller brush was pulled from behind an ear, but the lightning simply wasn’t having any of it as he gave a momentous shake and sent Pohl scrambling for purchase on the tree limb they were currently perched upon. Sparks crackled softly between the many spines of his bushy tail as his smartly pointed head wheeled about to meet his rider’s gaze. “Unlike you, I don’t care whether or not my make up is perfectly blended in with my derriere.” He gave a small snort of contempt before looking over the laborious exercise. It was a decent enough match. One would have to be right up close to see that something was off. Pity that little could be done for the spurr still sticking out of his hip. For that, a long strip of red had been tied to the end to at least disguise it enough to look like a spear. Whether it worked or not would be another story. “You’re only touchy because I wear it better.” Pohl scoffed, hopping down from their perch to gather up the supplies whilst Velocer chewed on the rebuttal with some perplexity. “Come on then, since you’re in such a rush. Everything else should be ready to go.” They wiped their hands clean on a scrap of cloth before settling in to check all of the straps and belts on Velocer’s harness. What once carried supplies and necessities for scouting Sekkian borders had been retrofitted with various hooks and bobbles for restraining prisoners, all neatly tucked under proper tack. Their first mission for the Tainted legion demanded precision, and it was no secret that they were likely greener than even some of the taintlings now trapped within the confines of the new Fortress. Choices had been made, alas. Their orders had sent them home, but they would never find solace within the Academy walls again. Not with Velocer’s only offspring amongst their devilish ranks. It was no surprise at all that their newness had sent them so close to Lihn. They would only have one shot at capture under the guise of friendly familiarity. Afterwards, it was likely the world would know where their new allegiance now resided. Velocer shifted the weight of the packs and saddles momentarily before giving a stretch. Even in the late evening, the jungle’s humidity was oppressive. It would be a wonder if Pohl’s handiwork didn’t simply melt or flake from his hip as the feline dragon flexed several scales in anticipation. “Everything seems in order….where is Hirudin?” The lightning’s grimaced painfully at the mention of the uncomfortably slimy fiend-well, partly slimy. The water dragon made him notably uneasy but neither he nor Pohl could deny that the fiend and her rider had a penchant for all manner of necessary chaos. The ambiguous rider gave a brief shrug, pulling on the patched remnants of their old Sekkian scouting uniform. It would do them no favors to not keep up all appearances. “They should be nearby, regardless, we need to start soon.” The sun would be dropping down below the horizon and the chance of finding anyone nearby would dwindle as the faint source of light dropped from view. The jungle was not a benevolent safe haven and many monsters of varying shades lingered beneath its boughs. “Hirudin hasssss...been here the whole time….” the trees seemed to gurgle wetly as as an ominous black “thing” oozed from the upper reaches of the jungle canopy. There was little warning as the carcass of a steer fell not far from where Pohl had been standing only a moment before, giving the rider quite a start as a knife went flying from the sudden heavy thud. “A little warning next time!” Pohl bristled almost as much as their dragon as Velocer pinned the strange beast with a steely gaze. The water only burbled what must have been a laugh-an awful bubbling, slimy sound as she lifted her head. The water, if Hirudin could even be called such a thing was primarily black, and seemed utterly scaleless. He body was thick, fleshy, and heavily segmented into thick rings that began at the back of her neck and continued all the way to the base of her tail, which ended in a flat, circular lobe with two odd little points. There were no horns, nor fins, save for an extended fleshy ridge that made her neck seem flatter and wider than it would otherwise have been. Thick pointed studs extended from the back of her head and continued all the way down her neck before disappearing partway down her tail, already easily lost in the myriad of wrinkles and segments. Heavily wrinkled and flaps of flesh connected her short forelegs to the rest of her body, giving the low-slung dragon a rather strange profile, all told. Her thick wings did not seem wholly capable of flight, particularly with how dry and rubbery her body was when not in the water. The last rays of waning sunlight were enough to show at least some color variation; two reddish brown stripes extended down her body as dark olivine ovals dotted her back, all the way to her tail. “Vrenna isss waiting elssssewhere,” the leechlike water sputtered as webbed toes flexed backwards on the forest floor, revealing the setae-like structures on the underside. “Are you ready to begin?” she clicked her jaws in further anticipation as her head loomed closer to Pohl for further inspection as they pulled their blade from the carcass that’d nearly crushed them. “No time to start like the present.” They wiped the blade clean, unconcerned that there was a startling lack of anything on it. Such was the mannerisms of their strange companion before tucking back into the sheathe hidden beneath their sleeves. Velocer lowered himself to the ground to allow for Pohl to climb aboard but it seemed that Hirudin had other ideas and blocked the young rider’s path. “Not yet...Vrenna thinkssss you are not quite ready….yessss…thisss will hurt, me thinkssss…” The water burbled before lunging at Velocer with a startling speed that even the lightning had not anticipated before latching on innocuously and taking a long, painful slurp that left the dragon’s throat bulging grotesquely. It was over before the dragon could so much as yelp, and the radula-esque plates in Hirudin’s mouth left a nasty little “Y” shaped gash just under a leg where the scales were softest. “A little warning would go a long way before you star-” Neither could finish their protest before the water reared her head back and spat...blood-far more than the water could’ve drained with such a small bite-but blood none-the-less as the former Sekkian pair found themselves painted in awful carnage. “There...my make up issss...better…” The water burbled fiendishly before shaking like a dog, sending slime and blood flying from her jaws as the raspers clicked back into place. “Go now...we hope your...acting issss better than your preening.” the water insisted, slithering off towards a murky pool of scummy water for the sake of appearances. Scary jungle monstrosities had to look the part after all. Pohl wiped stinging blood from their eyes with a look of revulsion before glancing briefly to Velocer as the lightning gave an uncomfortable shake and lapped at the superficial wound. It would bleed for hours and be uncomfortable, yes-but it was ultimately harmless. A good rouse-but one that he would have preferred to have discussed before being voluntold for it. “Well...it’ll certainly get someone’s attention.” Pohl tried to be at least a touch jovial before settling into the saddle for Velocer to take off. There was much to be done, and they could delay no further. =============== The sun was barely a sliver of light over the edge of the horizon as the first terrific scream pierced the waning dusk of the jungle. It was followed by the crack of thunder, and a sizzle as a bolt of blue lightning arced through the sky like some sort of heavensent lance of light. Wood cracked, splintered, and exploded audibly as the moisture evaporated quite suddenly from its boughs. Dark figures took to the sky in a noisy tussle of tooth, claw, and screams. Caterwauling was not normally a specialty of former Sekkian duo, but in this instance, they needed chaos. The more visible their fight with the “swamp monster” the better. The clash had been rehearsed several times before they had left the Fortress and the pair locked limbs before spiraling raucously and “painfully” to the ground, splintering tree limbs that had already been slightly broken for such a ruse; sending wood and shrapnel everywhere. Anyone nearby would see the mess and much to the downfall of many an academy dragonrider, the road to hell was paved with good intentions. Velocer let out a pained scream of agony to further tug on by standing heart strings as Hirudin made for another messy spray of blood and ichor to worsen the appearance of carnage as the pair “hit” the ground. More lightning. All ineffectual. As the dragons disappeared in the cloud of carnage, Pohl took off through the woods in the direction of the academy, their uniform in tatters, blood, splinters and horror were their guise. Someone would fall for it, of that much, they were certain. They would not be the first, nor would they be the last. But there would be at least three of them, even if the wool had to be discarded for brute force in the end. They needed three. For the Tainted legion, they would get all of that, and more. |
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| Lockettree | Aug 15 2015, 12:00 PM Post #2 |
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Egg
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Fenrir followed a seemingly invisible track through the jungle that dire wolves had laid forth through countless of generations through the eastern border of the Academy.The dire wolf panted loudly in the encompassing heat, adding to the noise that Nealious constantly listened to as he swayed in the saddle lazily to every ponderous stride, stoically viewing the forest through practiced glances when not in the grips of a daydream or writing in his journal. Clothed in full regalia, however, it would take a fool not to think the man wasn't tautly alert to his surroundings but he was not afraid to trust Fenrir to compensate for him, knowing full well that the Sundasher was never without his guard. To whoever made that mistake, Nealious could almost pity. To add to his security, behind him in her in-built enclosure rested his gryphon Blueluck. If Fenrir served as the eyes and ears on the ground she was his for the sky and even as his lifeline to the Academy. Trained as a messenger Blueluck could fly anywhere he needed her to, a skill he could depend upon - unlike his writing. The sun was kneeling on the horizon and in turn the steady light it offered was slowly fading, lengthening even the pitiful shadow of his pen on his book. Already the black ink blurred indistinctly against his straining eyes and if any serious error in penmanship were made it wouldn't be readily noticed. Irritant lines, drips, and other failures dotted the page from the hazardous practice of even attempting to write on a beast with an ungainly gait as Fenrir's. For the sake of tidiness - or what remained of it - it would be best to concede defeat . Besides, the entry was hardly noteworthy outside of observations of the flora and fauna and some vague personal commentary. A faint sign crossed over Nealious lips in resignation as he finished one last word and blew gently on the ink to dry it on the page before closing the volume and tucking it away in the appropriate chest pocket. The book, decorated in fine leather and tarnished bronze filigree, was suppose to serve as his diary but lately he had treated it more as a notebook - worse a logbook- rather then one of insights and secrets. There was an urge there in the far shadows of his mind to write everything but another part of him contested fervently, afraid to see the pattern he readily toiled in. He knew where he belonged. He accepted his place as a servant and an outcast. What he did would never benefit him in the way he wanted it to but at least his actions would make the world a better place for someone else. That was the reason he joined the Academy before - minus few details- and that would be the reason he stayed. Besides, what had he to keep? What lifehe knew died seven years ago...and for what was needed... Someone with nothing left to sacrifice is the best defense against something that would take away everything. There were plenty of unsung heroes. He was just one of them. For you, Reme... Nealious felt it first in the jolt of the saddle as Fenrir tensed and growled before looking to the sky as a bloodcurdling scream pitched into the open air, followed in turn by an arc of spontaneous lightning so near it cast a shock wave of thunder that resonated forcefully in his chest. Not even before the boom had ended two large figures could be seen soaring into the sky and meeting one another in a writhing clash of flesh and talon. Every instinct Nealious possessed lit up at once in reconzition of the form of a dragon but what it was battleing he couldn't be sure of, nor had he the time to find out exactly before the two bodies tumbled down back to the earth. Trees were butchered in the downfall and a pained scream answered in the aftermath in accord with yet another round of lightning, pitifully flung as if to signal the finality of the duel or the state of its summoner. Fenrir fidgeted restlessly beneath Nealious as he called for Blueluck and hasty unfastened the note locket on her collar, pulling the note paper out of the container and quickly inscribed it with a message after retriving his pen again. Finishing the note and rolling it tightly, Nealious placed it back into the container and clipped it back onto Blueluck's collar. " Fly Blueluck, to home!" he shouted, grasping the gryphon and tossing her into the air. Immediately she took to the wing and vanished off into the twilit woods to deliver the message. At once Nealious spurred Fenrir into a full lope in the direction of the fallen dragon, though the dire wolf hardly needed the encouragement and barreled readily through the underbrush. Anxiousness toiled in the man's stomach, twisting it with butterfiles, uncertain exactly of what to expect. There was too much he didn't know or that didn't make sense but regardless of how his heart hammered in his chest, this couldn't go unanswered. It was his job to act as either first aid... or the first line of defense. Absorbed in the moment and racing through the verge, Nealious didn't see the fleeing figure until Fenrir had volleyed around the bole of a tree and cut the man off. It was possible Fenrir had detected the stranger sooner and naturally set his course in pursuit, but that didn't make the dire wolf any kinder. A deep throaty growl rumbled in the dire wolf's chest, sabertooth fangs carefully burnished, a blatant warning for the stranger to see. The scent of blood made the wolf wary and it reeked of dragon. Had he not a human form Fenrir would have lunged at the small man then and there, for that was what he was taught to do and it was what he wanted to do. At least to dragons, anyway. Fortunately he had other training to abide by and that was always keep his eyes on the target. Where Fenrir was barely restrained Nealious immediately recognized the stranger for who he was. Beyond the bloody smears and tears in his uniform he had seen this person before at the Academy and knew him instantly as a friend, in the generalist of regards. To remedy for his partners show of force Nealious made swiftly to unclip his helmet and dismounted, assuming an nonthreatening posture with his hands held up and outward, palms toward the tattered man in a genuine display of peace. The other solider looked like he'd been through quite the ordeal. Calming him down was a priority. " We're friendly, we're friendly.' he said hurriedly, making sure that he was heard before the other could flee from them, pausing for a moment to let that sink in before continuing. " It's alright, you're safe. I'm Nealious Cooper, a Ranger in the 31st Scouting Unit. I can help you if you're wounded. " he said, keeping his eyes on the wounded man as he turned around to retrieve a lantern and lit it, bathing the area in yellow light as he placed it on the ground. He wouldn't attempt to fetch his supplies or approach, however, until he had permission or reason beyond doubt to lend aid. Blood often was deceptive and made things look worse then they were...still, though his uniform was torn to shreds ,to his eye Nealious couldn't readily find its source. Flags raised in his mind at that, feeding a thread of suspicion, but then he recalled the dragon from before. It was possible that the blood coating him was not his own. From the brawl he had witnessed earlier it would be neigh impossible to escape unscathed or without a grave wound of some sort, but for a wounded dragon there was little he could do. It was simply out of his expertise. Whatever the case, it was time for some answers. " I saw what happened in the sky. Forgive me for being forward, but were is your bonded, the Lightning? Are they hurt? Do you know what attacked you and was there anyone else with you?" It might seemed like a lot to answer but he had to know in order to get the situation in hand. He trying to be gentle and the expression on his face was sincere but his voice was quite firm from his own apprehension leaking through. Fenrir, meanwhile shifted restively behind his handler, large ears alert to the arousing sounds of the night and molten eyes boring into the distance, largely discontent in the smell of enemies all around that his handler was numb to. Something was abroad but neither knew the true extent of it. ----------- OOC: Just a note. Don't kill my Gryphon ;u; You can intercept and hurt her but no death please. Also, anyone else is free to reference Blueluck and her letter, or just seeing her. Or, if its a problem I'll just edit that out. The way I see it it wouldn't get to the Academy in time to be effective. |
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| CloakAndDagger | Aug 16 2015, 01:52 PM Post #3 |
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THE DUNGEON MASTER
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(((OCC - Unless otherwise noted conversation in [[ ]] brackets are spoken in Raith’s native language, which Zhen calls the High Language. She also calls him Wángyé, which is an informal way of addressing a prince or a vassal king.))) [[Wángyé, why did you not speak to her?]] The asking settled like a snow come too early. It cascaded gently, tentatively, but then melted to a humble and persistent silence. The young man, with no small amount of hesitation on his lips, rode on through the weathering question. He knew what she meant, though she had not said it in so many words, but it was no use trying to brave through. Winter, early or not, was a season that needed concessions. [[I did speak with her,]] said he, trying to skim across the lines of the conversation. [[It was relieving to hear someone from beyond the highlands again. She may not have come directly from the mountains, but she reminded me so much of them.]] [[But you did not speak with her, Wángyé. You listened, but you replied only in the common tongue, instead of the High Language.]] A noble chariot, the great ice creature knew it was not truly her place to question her lord’s motives or workings, but it was in her duty to raise him up from the filth and squalor of the common people and their tongue. Ever since he had so kindly and so graciously bestowed his true and native language to her, she had refused to speak anything else in his presence. Though, at times she still needed to work with the unrefined sounds of common in order to deal with strangers and foreigners. He, however, had no need to condescend to them with it anymore. Her bonded, however, did not quite feel the same. [[Little Sister, It isn’t quite so simple as that.]] His eyes, a vibrant blue imitation of her chilly element, were raised and turned towards the heavy forest around them, but his focus was elsewhere. [[There is an accent to my words when I speak in this language. I did not want to make her feel uncomfortable, if she recognized it as uncommonly formal. That’s why I taught you through books.]] [[I do not think it is an imposition for a person of less rank to acknowledge your grand background.]] Zhèngyì’s crimson anointed head rose in regal acceptance. She walked with hoarfrost at her heels in the imitation of a dragging cloak. [[Little Sister, she was in her eighties and was clearly my elder in every aspect. I think that would have been very inappropriate.]] [[Be that as it may, perhaps she could have bowed just a little.]] The young man stifled a hard breath, but put a hand to his face and pulled it long. Zhen did so much for him. Without her to converse, he would have had to work through his own insecurities to ask about the woman and her scrolls. However, the 80ft ice dragon was more than eager to test her conversational skills with someone from Raith’s region. What his ever-attentive partner still did not understand was his need for distance -- himself from his culture. Much of that was gone and lost. He was unworthy of it and, for him, it was better to let it go. As well, if the woman had heard him and known he had been born of the old King’s line, besides him being very embarrassed in having her possibly showing him respect he did not deserve, it would not do well for that word to get out. He could not imagine that his uncle would suffer other heirs. Still, he had enjoyed every moment of time visiting with the elder, uprooted scholar. He had called her Teacher (Lǎoshī), but she refused to call him or his dragon partner anything except Juéshì, which implied a certain status of knighthood. It had been many years since he’d last heard his own language from someone other than himself and, after all this time, it was almost sweeter than he could bear. Fortunately, Zhen had been there to speak for him too and he was free to keep himself from being a further embarassment. The story of why they had traveled all the way to Lihn in the first place was a long one, but the short of it was that Raith had found a certain lack of history and texts from the upper continent that were not very broad summaries or written by outside and usually biased forces, but in his search to translate more documents and books for other inquisitive readers, if there were any, he stumbled upon an exciting address. She had been an old professor, but had been forced to flee decades ago because of the war. Her travels had taken her to the middle of the country and there she’d dug herself in to a foreign land. Her ferocity of life had reminded him so much of his own grandmother. The only thing Lǎoshī was lacking was an armored, tiger skin sash, but that was another story. From her, he had gotten the history of her unrelentingly challenging life and three yet untranslated scrolls about the middle era of his old homeland. Raith hoped to make both translations a part of the Academy’s extensive archives. The weather, unfortunately, had not made travel back to the old halls an easy one. Because of the aging nature of the old parchment, going by wing through the brutal upper winds was out of the question, but the humidity of the jungle also presented a major problem. In the end, they’d chosen the low road through the thick forest and the ice child had taken it upon herself to keep the air around them at a dry chill. The result was a longer, but much more pleasant ride for both of them. Without her intervention, even the evening heat of the jungle would have made him feel faint and kept them at significant delays. -------------- The energy in the air, the spread of ozone, was palpable as an acrid word before the great brush of light cleaved at the sky. The scream, though, proceeded both and, as it came to Zhen with the rising sounds of violence, she raised herself high on her feet to pinpoint the disturbance. The man upon her back grew tense and taut as twisted cord. His hands gripped the saddle as his bonded shifted in razor sharp movements. In moments, they both identified the struggling shapes pinned against the growing gloaming of the evening. Their fight was vicious and their fall more so as both figures released and became contorted, painful knots hurtling toward the earth. Zhen was hesitant to pursue, but the young man leaned forward in his seat and was unable to think of anything other than aid. Without another word between them, the slipping shaft of winter wolfishly struck forward. Her wings batted away trees and underbrush before they could so much as inch toward her rider. Another bolt of electricity jolted free from grounded moorings and flew as a broken ladder straining upward. While it could not clearly be discerned which fighter was the aggressor, nor even if one was Academy sworn, the light and energy was clear indication that one of the two was nearby. And at least one of them seemed, smelled as if they needed dire aid. The ice child could easily scent the iron in the air through the ozone tide, and, as they grew near to the focal point of the devastation, the trail of the fallen seemed to fork. The smaller footed steps and blood castings pointed to a rider or a passenger fleeing toward the nearby academy for safety. He would not have gotten far and, if something was in pursuit of the partner, they would not get far either. With a hurried break, a vibrant shape shot upward nearby. The gryphon, all focus and purpose, broke free from the canopy and seemed to gallop onward through the dimming night air, but the sudden commotion gave the ice pair an easier advantage in the hunt. As they followed the trail, a softer, flickering light washed out before them from a lantern held high. An enormous dire, his rider, and the battered figure of a man stood in cautious commentary, and, as Zhen approached, her scales picked up the candlelight and flung far whatever mystery or surprise the shadowy forest could have offered. The illumination clearly showed her as a long, lithe, cold creature, but the young man on her back was a familiar academy face -- if one were to visit the bowels of the library. He watched first, to make sure of the situation, but then bent toward his partner. “Xiǎo Mèi, look to the larger trail. The lightning could be in mortal danger if the other creature is still interested in war.” He shifted, motioning for a dismount, but the idea of that made the ice dragoness recoil in horror. He’d even shifted back to common, so that no one nearby could hear the High Language anymore, but she persisted and attempted to keep him in the saddle with a roll of her shoulders. [[Wángyé, it is not safe. We don’t know anything about this encounter --]] “I will take that risk, Zhèngyì. Someone is clearly hurt and if they need aid, I don’t want to have neglected that just because of caution. I can’t do that. It may cost them their life.” Raith, though compassionate in spirit, was a terrible tactician. “If we split up, we can give both partners a better chance. And, besides, there is another pair here. We must both do what we can.” [[If the Lightning has more than a heartbeat, I will be back to you.]] She relented, though her overwhelming sense of duty had her deeply conflicted. Lithia’s child looked to her dismounting bonded, then to the dire and it’s rider. Then to the bloodied man. A long, hard, frigid breath escaped her beak, and then she was gone to follow the Lightning’s path in the other direction. Raith, with only a sword and a medical pack, was left alone with unrecognized strangers. His body language added to the shape of his now growing uncertainty, but he was sure in the need to help. He knew that Zhen was a powerful creature and, if she could not help the other, at least she would bring back word. He raised his open palms in a naive show of peace. He had no idea. |
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