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 Posted: Fri Oct 17, 2014 10:08 am
I N T R O D U C T I O N x S O L O
Sit and Stay are Tricks for Mutts "Stay, Dysarrin."
The younger lad shifted impatiently from foot to foot. Dark tattered wings gave a dismissive flick as his lips drew back in a snarl at the open palm thrust before his face. Glinting green eyes narrowed aggressively, and he rumbled out a growl of dissent at this less than favorable treatment.
"It's your own fault." Dysarrin bristled more, if that was possible, but the elder man continued on unabated. "You already don't listen to orders, so why should we think you can be trusted to be obedient out there?" It seemed like a moot point to the young hybrid boy, who'd always been told 'ten summers; when you've seen your tenth summer, and the sun breaches over the crags above, you may go on your first hunt.' That was the rule Dysarrin very impatiently and grudgingly was forced to follow. He scowled and glared at the older warrior, tipping his head in a silent demand to be permitted on this venture, to no avail. "Zenith says you'll stay in camp until you learn to behave more appropriately."
Behave? Eyes narrowed and a cloud of frustrated red erupted across his cheeks. They wouldn't have this issue if these stupid people weren't always at odds with what he wanted. Always there hovering over him and tutting at everything he did or said or thought. What right did they have to tell him 'no,' 'don't,' 'stay,' 'sit,' 'stop,' 'enough!'
Enough, indeed.
The lack of care for the young boy's plight was more than obvious. But the warrior must have seen fit to throw him a bone, anyway. "Ilnaria expressed interest in demonstrating her clan's prowess to you today. Perhaps see if she's ready for you." He flicked his wrist at the young boy to shoo him away before turning and heading out with his patrol. Dys glared, scrunching his eyes at the warrior before spitting over his shoulder at him.
He turned back toward camp. It wasn't the hunt he wanted, but seeing another element today was just enough excitement to be appeasing. With a grunt, he slunk off toward where the elderly Gaili woman Ilnaria would be resting. He'd never admit that he almost enjoyed watching the more advanced members of his clan display their aptitude for their element. Yes, there were always practice spars happening on the edge of their encampment. he could always see his fellow clansmen slinging their magic then. But it didn't even compare to the one-on-one time he'd been getting with the warriors lately. The new moon loomed closer; the time Dys would be allowed- no, required- to choose his own element.
Regardless of how they felt about him, all the tribesmen were eager to show off their skills and abilities because having a new user of common magic was a novelty, considering how infrequently children came of age. It was no less than thrilling to have so many people goading him to do anything.
The elderly Gaili warrior was perched on the edge of camp, completly submerged within the shadow of the mountainside. Ilnaria didn't open her eyes when he neared, but a murmur of words slipped from her throat that could only be meant for him. "How fast can you run, Dysarrin?" He blinked and tipped his head curiously, humming inquisitively. Slowly, her lashes fluttered open, and her gaze wandered to the side, tipping up the rocks, where it lingered.
With a jerk of his head, Dys followed her line of sight. Several leaps from the ground, just a short climb away, a cavernous opening had been crafted into the cliff face. Dysarrin's wing flicked as he glared at it. Was it... was that new? He'd know if there was an extra way out of camp...
"Silly me," Ilnaria mumbled. "I must've dug a little deeper than I intended... Ugh, but I'm weak. My old bones can't take the strain of righting it." She rose slowly, shaking herself off. "I'll have to go and get one of the younger lads to seal it up before any of the youngsters escape."
Dys's heart quickened, eyes widening a fraction. She didn't look back at him as she shuffled off, but if she had, she would've seen his his thicker frame scaling along the cliffs, nails scraping against rock and wings fluttering in excitement, pebbles crumbling from beneath his grasp as he scrabbled to grasp at rocks and haul himself toward the opening and freedom.x
x
Results: Escape.
Word Count: 739
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Posted: Sat Oct 18, 2014 12:40 pm
D E V E L O P M E N T A L x S O L O
Run and Fetch are Much More Sound It was very infrequent when Dysarrin showed any amount of 'care' toward anything. Such a bothersome thing, and more often than not, it didn't warrant any particularly positive results. But now, as he lingered behind the hunting patrol, he dared to expend just a fraction more of the effort. He held his breath so the Ayrala tribesman wouldn't sense it on the wind, stilled his heart so the Gaili wouldn't hear it thundering through the rocks. He kept out of their way, the small party just within the limits of his vision as they descended into the canyons.
He could've turned the other way and avoided them all together. There was less risk in that, anyway. But if he'd done that, he wouldn't get to see the hunt for himself, the painfully methodical way they went about tracking the beasts, the merciless way with which they downed their prey. He was supposed to be joining them, anyway. It was by mere happenstance he was able to take it upon himself to make sure he followed along.
The crags turned to valleys. Dry, bristling grass sprung up through cracks in the rocks, slowly turning greener as they edged their way down to where the water pooled. A slim stream babbled below, and the greenery grew denser as it neared the moisture. Dys slunk forward, as quietly as he could manage with the claws on his toes clicking against the stone. He peered around a rock to see that something had caused the party to stall. They murmured and rumbled about it, words Dysarrin couldn't identify from where he crouched.
After a sharp hiss, the group diverged, splitting into two teams and fanning out in opposite directions. One party immediately disappeared into the greenery, the shadow of the cliff face coupled with slim trees swallowing them up quickly. The other crept along the more barren side of the land, completely exposed in regards to the first team. Dys flicked his wings, tipped his head, waiting only a moment before crawling to where they two groups had last been together. He peeked down. Down, down into the abrupt slope leading to the valley below. His heart lurched.
A cart.
He skittered closer immediately, quickly yanking himself up onto a rocky perch that would serve as a decent lookout. Would he be spotted? Probably. Had all thoughts of secrecy evaporated from Dysarrin's mind? Oh, yes. There were strangers down there. He could hear the wisp of their voices from where he stood. From a rival clan? He squinted down. The only defining features he could see were swatches of sky blue, sunset pink, and white. So. Much. White.
Purebloods.
Nothing that disturbingly pale would come from any of the clans he knew about. Eyes widened and his wings flicked in excitement. Why were they here? What did they want? What type of things did they have with them? How would they react when-?
Someone screamed. The sound was loud, harsh, and shrill, and it ended almost as quickly as it had begun, with a garbled rumble and a choke. Dys's glinting gaze flicked around the caravan, scoping out the source of the sound. There weren't many of them. Three carts with four or five people each. It was an easy enough task to find the woman that had been left to die on the ground, festering in a pool of her own blood. The hybrid boy watched as the tribesman who had slain her moved on to a new target. Others joined him.
Spells were slung. A few arrows and daggers careened across the caravan, finding new homes lodged in the bodies of the Orderites, who seemed to have trouble gathering the strength to fight back. His gaze caught a pair at the edge of the commotion. A tall woman with a scrawny little feathered girl at her knee. The woman knelt to kiss the girl's head. Dys glared. After another warm embrace, the elder female flung the little girl into the cover of the trees, just as one of the tribesmen pounced upon her, rending heavy blond curls from her body with a swipe of his sword. The younger male watched, waited for him to go after the girl.
He didn't. He was struck by a volley of bright magic from behind, and while he fell, the girl ran.
There was probably nothing Dysarrin could've been more thrilled about. He leapt from his rock. The pureblood wenchling would escape unless he stopped her. It was up to him, because the other had failed. He puffed out his chest dutifully and skittered to where he'd last seen her. The valley offered few places to hide, but nowhere to escape. The thick trees that dotted the deepest edges would seem a safe place to cower in, but from there, any prey would be boxed in on all sides. He didn't need to be a practiced hunter to kill anything that cornered itself.
As he moved, the sounds of the fighting dimmed, giving way to only the sounds of leaves rustling, grass shifting beneath his feet and... sniffling. Such a disgusting sound, only made by the youngest and weakest of his clan. He grimaced as the girl came into his vision. She must have been a particularly poor hunter. She didn't seem to notice him (or if she did, she didn't try to flee) until he towered over her, glaring down at the tiny female frame with simmering green eyes.
As the shadow crossed her, slowly, her head tilted back, and she looked up at him. Her eyes were the same bright golden of the woman's hair, rimmed in red, leaking at the edges. She stiffened when she saw him. A powerful sob tore from her, and her head sank down again, resting on her knees as the tiny body shook.
Dys growled lowly, a rumble emanating from his throat and slipping between his teeth. What was this? A trick? This was how pureblood children were taught to survive? She cowed before his very shadow, whimpered at the way he looked at her. Why had the golden-haired woman sought to spare this, rather than herself? If it was up to him- But it wasn't. Eyes narrowed. The puny Orderite female must be special in some way. Like a treasure. Something someone would die for. He reached out, a claw scraping against her porcelain skin. The pureblood girl flinched, but otherwise, didn't move. So distressing. So small. So improperly taught. Dysarrin grabbed her arm, just above her elbow. It fit so easily into his hand and felt like it might shatter from the contact.
With a harsh hiss, he shoved her sideways, throwing her to the ground with a sharp squeak and gasp of shock. The Orderite's body stiffened as straight as a board. In pain and confusion, she turned golden orbs to meet his gaze.
Since no one else had taught her, it fell to him. There was no merit it slaughtering sick, weakened prey. He hovered over her, lips drawn back to show his teeth. "Run," he hissed, daring her to challenge his commands. The Orderite didn't move, but instead stared at him incredulously, face muddy where it had landed on the ground. Dys glared, her actions earning another heated rumble. He grabbed that slim arm, yanking her a few inches across the ground. Tiny stones and leaves scraped at the unusually soft skin, drawing a whine from her. The hybrid couldn't be bothered. He shoved her an inch away, and then freed the captive appendage once more. "Run," he spat more insistently.
Clambering to her feet, she obeyed.x
x
Results: Finds a pureblood girl.
Word Count: 1274
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Posted: Sat Oct 18, 2014 1:04 pm
H U N T x R E F L E C T I O NFollowing the Leader The girl was loud, useless. She led herself to dragons and was almost eaten. I fought them. They either died or fled. Girl became more interesting. Healed me first, instead of herself. Don't know why. Wanted to kill her, but must get answers first. Maybe after.Results: +33 EXP, +2 LUK, +5 LUK EXP, +1 Ysali Dragon Orb, +1 Ayrala Dragon Orb
Word Count: 2345
JR Word Count: 46
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Posted: Fri Nov 14, 2014 7:24 am
Weird girl didn't run away from me when she woke up. Magic is weak, so it took her a while to get better. She doesn't whimper at me. Wants to be like me, even. Took her to a cave. We fought some interesting meat. Girl threw up. So wasteful.Results: +80 EXP, +3 LUK, +4 LUK EXP, +3 Dunkel Wing
Word Count: 2153
JR Word Count: 49
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Posted: Fri Nov 14, 2014 6:26 pm
C L A N x S O L O
Of Fire and Blood Dysarrin visited Golden Pet's nook religiously, taking her out to explore new parts of his territory on a daily basis. She didn't exactly agree with everything he did, and sometimes she seemed less-than-eager than he would've liked. But it was fine. She was still most treasured Golden Pet, who could heal any of his minor scrapes and bruises. So long as she didn't get in his way or try to stop him from enjoying himself, he'd continue to see her.
Until came the day that he didn't. Because this particular eve hoped to be better than anything he could accomplish with Golden Pet.
"Have you thought about it at all?" Came the deep rumbling vocalizations from Zenith, clan leader and protector, the greatest warrior among the Osias. "Once you choose, it can't be changed later."
Dysarrin sat perched on a raised edge of camp, looking down upon his fellow tribesmen below. he watched the two youngster children wrestle and crash into each other while the warrior in charge of them beamed at their exuberance. The elders sat off to the side, enjoying the shade offered by the canyon wall. Ilnaria caught his gaze and sent him a toothless grin. He fanned his wings back at her, flicking them in greeting before turning green orbs back to Zenith. "Little bit," he admitted in a low rumble.
The clan leader chuckled softly and rose from his perch, giving Dysarrin's hair an affectionate tousle as he did. "You have until the sky blackens to settle on your choice. Think very carefully on it. It would be a shame if it turned out to be a mistake." With a nod to convey his belief that Dys would choose well, he fanned his large double-set of wings and departed, gliding down to commend the two children on their battle skills, no doubt.
And leaving Dysarrin alone with his thoughts.
He had thought about it, but anytime his mind started to delve too deep, he recoiled, assuming that when the time came, he'd just know. If it helped at all, he knew what he didn't want.
Ysali.
Quiet, patient, introspective, insightful. He wasn't any of those things. What he took the most issue with was waiting for a Ysali's poison to hit its victims. He didn't have that kind of time to simply wait for his prey to die. He wanted it dead when he wanted it dead!
Ayrala.
Flighty, adaptable, exuberant, spontaneous. First and foremost, wind was a decidedly female element, in Dysarrin's mind. Perhaps it was simply because the females in his clan were significantly more slight, more curvy, more adaptable to the wind's ever-changing emotions. He was not. Nor did he care to be.
Peisio.
Gentle, compassionate, intuitive, mysterious. Water was icky and he had absolutely no desire to wield it on a potentially daily basis.
Aiskala.
Cold, calculating, meticulous, distant. Frozen water. Equally as icky, but with the added insult of also being cold. He lived near a volcano. Cold was not something he tended to agree with.
With more than half of the clans promptly removed from the metaphorical table of choosing, that really only left him with three to consider. Three elements that stood out to him better than the others, mostly due to the blatantly dangerous potential in all of them. Thinking about which would be the best between them was what really made his head hurt.
Kiandri.
Fast. Dangerous. Decisive. Fleeting. A flick of his fingers, and bam, dead prey. No time for whining, mewling or begging. The thrill of the chase? Practically gone beneath lightning's immeasurable speed. Mostly, though, he'd never have to be concerned about an Ayrala dragon taunting him again. Stupid beasts would be the easiest of victims.
Firani.
Wild. Passionate. Fierce. Untamable. A disturbingly exciting combination, and one Dys grudgingly admitted that he may not have the discipline required to handle. But it was fun, ever-changing, and bright. Darkness wouldn't plague a fire-wielder.
Gaili.
Steadfast. Powerful. Determined. Reliable. The most intriguing and certainly the most useful clan of all! With the earth at his command, there would be nowhere he wasn't capable of exploring and no one who could stop him. At first glance, it seemed the best choice. But the earth was heavy and slow, cumbersome, even. Not maneuverable or adaptable.
Why did this seem like such a hard decision...? Everyone else had made it. As far as he could see, no one was distinctly unhappy with their choice. All it really boiled down to, was what was he most comfortable with...?
~~~
"Dysarrin." The name drifted to him on the wind, the speaker nearly completely shrouded by the shadows of the cliffs and the utter darkness of a moonless sky. The only thing that lit Dys' way as he rose from the ranks of the other children and trotted to Zenith's side, was starlight.
As he approached the other man, Zen grinned, a showing of stark-white teeth to his dark features. "Are you ready?" Came the leader's soft murmur, too quiet for any but Dys to hear. The younger boy swallowed. After a moment of unblinking staring, Dysarrin offered his palm to his elder. He wasn't ready; he still felt trapped in a three-way tug of war between magic, but he couldn't tell Zenith that. His best bet was to just... know that he'd make the right choice when it was presented.
Zenith grabbed him by the wrist, tugging him an extra foot forward and brandishing a dark, obsidian stone blade. It was one that had sliced through many a hybrids' flesh in tandem with this ceremony, and one Dys expected would continue to do so for the rest of it's existence.
He watched with round, bright green orbs as the tip of the knife was placed at the edge of his palm. For some reason, his mind hadn't registered that this particular cut would actually hurt, until it already had. By some power, he managed not to rip away from Zenith's grasp as the tip drove roughly through his flesh. Though every muscle tensed, and his lips tugged back into a snarl, he held still as he realized what was a very unsharpened knife ripped its way across his palm, deep and biting and leaving rivets of red running from the gash in its wake. Zenith was speaking, reminding the watchers that the cut was an entryway to the body, promoting synergy between between the magic and its recipient.
All Dys knew was that he was being stabbed by this blunt knife and at least half of his life force was spilling out of his body into a puddle of ooze on the ground. He glared accusingly up at Zenith as the elder male curled Dys's fingers into a fist and ushered him onward. "Go on and choose, then." When the younger boy hesitated, he was given an encouraging shove toward the array of dragon orbs sitting nearby.
When he crushed one, its magical potency would flow from the soul and into his own form, granting him the capabilities of its clan.
But which? He'd said he was ready. He couldn't dawdle forever. They'd mutter about his indecisiveness and wouldn't appreciate being made to wait. No one liked to wait. He didn't want anything blue or green or grey, leaving the red and yellow to draw his eyes immediately. They sat right next to each other, glowing in the dim night, and if he just... grabbed one...!
Dysarrin's eyes snapped shut as he reached out with his bleeding hand toward the pile. Red or yellow, red or yellow? He didn't know which orb his blood-soaked fingers soothed over first, but he grabbed it. Without opening his eyes (and strangely thankful that his back was to his clan), he pressed his palms to either side of the orb, applying pressure until he felt the first crack...
It disintegrated in his hands, fading into a heated dust that whipped around him and through him, coursing around in his veins like a tempest of.. of... fire.
He expected such a thing would've burned, but the warmth was pleasant somehow. It licked reassuringly at the edges of his mind, soothed with an intense heat across the gash in his palm, rippled over his scales and wings, and it felt right. But it dissipated, leaving just a welcoming pool in his gut as a reminder of its presence.
Behind him, there were yips and cheers of delight as his fellow clansmen welcomed a new warrior into their ranks. Dysarrin's wings fluttered in delight, but before he could fully turn to face them, grinning and uplifted, he was assaulted by a flurry of his peers. Only vaguely was he aware of the flashes of red as the other Firanis in his clan jostled and congratulated him. One of the males grabbed one of his horns and tugged him into a friendly headbutt. A woman affectionately accented a pat on the back by pressing her lips to his head and cheerily purring at him.
Under normal circumstances, he would've considered these intrusions unwelcome, but... They weren't really hurting anything.
Once they'd quieted to a dull hum of excitement around him, Zenith spoke again. "Ralekraes." One of the men, a slighter and shorter fellow when compared to his brothers, with a mane of dark curls, black skin, and burning ember scales, moved to plant himself before his leader. "Will you take Dysarrin under your wing and train him in your ways?"
The man grinned, flashing yellowed pointed teeth as he nodded. "My honor," he agreed before finding his way to stoop before Dys. "Le'sse that hand, hm?" Hesitantly, Dys uncurled his fingers and offered his open palm to the other Firani. Ralekraes took his hand, stared at it for a moment, and then sent a jet of flames licking and searing across Dys' palm. He was rewarded with a yelp and a swipe from the younger man, but Kraes only chuckled. "Don't want ya ta bleed out before we have any fun."
Dys huffed, snorted, and scoffed at his new mentor. When he looked back at his hand, a line of blackened skin had enveloped the wound, searing the gash closed as his skin melted back together. When he crinkled his fingers, he felt the bulge of expanded and still unhealed flesh, but he doubted he'd be offered any other kind of treatment.
Not that it mattered.
He was a warrior now. He could handle a little burnt flesh.x
x
Results: Chose the Firani clan.
Word Count: 1749
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Posted: Fri Nov 14, 2014 6:31 pm
D E V E L O P M E N T A L x S O L O
Traitors In Their Holes The time he was required to spend with Ralekraes intruded upon his usual schedule of adventuring and exploring with Golden Pet. That wasn't to say Dysarrin didn't enjoy training, hunting, and learning alongside his new mentor. But anything that was required of him was foul on principle. Especially when he was suddenly cursed with wanting to do so much at once and having so little time for it. Even worse was that Kraes was dutifully dedicated to seeing Dys through all of his daily activities.
Not long ago, Dysarrin had been confined to camp with nothing to do except eat, sleep, and saunter about. Now, he scarcely had time for sleep, and eating had turned into an even more rushed and barbaric ritual than usual.
Early mornings (so early that the sun's rays hadn't yet graced the earth) found Dysarrin and Ralekraes lingering just outside the encampment's boundaries, spitting fire and swapping blows with each other until the smaller male was completely physically incapable of continuing; not that he'd ever admit it. Afterwards, there was enough time to swallow a bouken whole before he was ushered out alongside Kraes and a few other warriors for "patrol." An exciting term that hid a boring pastime. "Patrol" was an exciting way of saying that the group casually strolled along the edge of the territory looking and listening for anything out of the ordinary.
Dys found it very boring and mundane after just two excursions. When he'd voiced his opinions with an array of snaps and hisses, Ralekraes very patiently informed him that "being a good warrior's more than just killing everything. Warriors protect precious things always, even iffit's boring. 'Sides, this's a good chance to train your senses! Yer not so good with'em, as far as I can see..."
So, Dysarrin endured the long trek around the territory. The endless distance, coupled with slow footfalls, ate up a vast majority of daylight, meaning that after a dinnertime hunt with Kraes and seeing to it that all the elders were fed as well, Dys simply didn't have much more time to spend with Golden Pet. Some days, he was even forced to forgo her company in favor of flopping into an exhausted and useless heap among his furs and finding sleep instantaneously.
On days where he did muster the strength to join her in her cavern, Golden Pet noticed that he wasn't quite as enthused about it as he'd once been. She still went to the trouble of practicing her healing magic on him. She showed him things she drew on the walls with chalky white rock, and she bragged of the things she trapped while he was away.
One such day found him sitting in front of her, lids dark and heavy as her warm Aedaun magic washed over scrapes and bruises, soothing them into faint reminders of accidental missteps and failed counter-attacks. "They don't look as bad as they did at first, you know." Angelique told him as she tugged on his broader, heavier arm to inspect it. "So you must be becoming an even better warrior than before."
Dysarrin's response was only a soft grunt. Golden pet was clearly ignorant, but explaining to her that an exhausted warrior was hardly much use was too much trouble. Instead, he answered with, "Mm. Not enough, though. Not good yet."
She stared at him for a moment, blinking in confusion, before a wide grin cracked across her face and her eyes crinkled up in delight. "Let's train together, then! You can show me everything you learn, and-" She touched the tips of her fingers together in what may have been a sheepish sort of gesture. Dys wasn't overly familiar with such feelings, so he may have been reading it wrong. "-and we can practice, so... So... I won't... be so dependent on you." Her cheeks warmed, a pink tinge spreading over her nose. "I want to be strong too."
Dys doubted the capacity for her strength. Tiny pureblood girl that watched her entire family be slain? Basically, the only thing she had going for her was a sense of motivation. The corners of his lips tugged down. "Ehn. You not very good warrior, probably. Don't have to be, either. I protect you. We can do stuff. Fun stuff. Later. When I'm stronger."
Angelique noticeably deflated, her slim shoulders sinking and her pale lips quirking into a defeated frown. She opened her mouth to reply. Maybe to tell him he was right or maybe to insist that she was better than he gave her credit for. He didn't know, and he didn't get a chance to find out.
"Dysarrin."
His name came on a low growl, a dark reverberation of air that swept over the pair of children condemningly. Dys' head whipped around, dark eyes snapping wide as they landed on the familiarly bestial frame of his mentor.
"What are you talking to?"
Dysarrin bolted to his feet, ragged wings fanning out in protection of his two-legged treasure as Kraes loomed overhead. His glare was defiant, challenging, but when his lips parted in answer, 'Mine,' no sound escaped, voice stalled by this dreadfully unfamiliar, paralyzing sensation lurching through his chest. Ralekraes would not understand. When his family saw something they didn't like, they ended it. There wouldn't be a chance to show them that puny pureblood girl was neither intimidating, threatening, or even moderately worrisome. Kraes would take her. Kraes was undeniably more powerful, larger, better trained, older. He could take her. Dys' heart lurched and sputtered.
"This is where you go?" The younger hyrbid swallowed back a notch of bile at the unusual chill emanating from his mentor's mouth, a testament to the elder's displeasure. Why did he care? She didn't hurt anything. Hadn't yet. She was just a little girl. He could control her. "To be with-" He shoved one of Dys' wings aside to glare at the petite girl, sitting wide-eyed on the ground and staring helplessly back at him.
She wouldn't hurt anything. Couldn't hurt anything. But the Osias were not swayed by clear childish eyes or round infantile faces. Only by blood. And hers was completely Orderite.
If he did nothing, Golden Pet would die. A flick of Ralekraes' fingers was all it would take. No. She was his. And she couldn't. Hurt. Anything.. Dysarrin snarled, throwing himself forward to collide with the larger, heavier male before he could take so much as another step. Claws scratched into Kraes' shirt, digging through cloth and finding flesh. Wings snapped rigidly to and fro, desperately trying to prevent someone clearly stronger from gaining much ground. And everything he did was futile.
Ralekraes could lift him easily enough, snagging up one of his arms and whipping him out like a towel being splayed out to dry. He kicked Dys' legs from beneath him, shoved him cheek-first into the ground and planted a foot firmly on his back. When Kraes kicked off of him, any hope he'd had of breathing was instantly dashed leaving him relatively uninjured but still desperately gasping for air that refused to cooperate with him. He sputtered uselessly, desperately, raking his nails across the ground as he goaded himself into rising back to all fours.
"Dysarrin!" Golden Pet's voice. Green orbs sought her out, finding her in the taller man's grasp along the edge of her nook, where Kraes had caught and restrained her and now held the little Orderite child in his grasp.
Dys couldn't find the breath to demand he stop. Couldn't even coax a growl from his throat. He expected that in the next moment, right there, his treasured Golden Pet would be no more. Patience and restraint weren't exactly qualities many of his clan possessed. But for whatever reason, Kraes didn't dispose of her there. He picked her up, tossed her shrieking frame over his shoulder, and paused to shoot his younger charge one meaningful look. "Hurry home."
'Fleeing' was what startled and confused prey did. But to Dysarrin, seeing Ralekraes run from the clearing with Golden Pet as his captive, 'fleeing' almost sounded accurate. Hope, a chance, anything. She could be spared if he could only catch her. Regaining himself with harsh, forced pants of air, he gave chase.x
x
Results: Kraes abducts Golden Pet.
Word Count: 1375
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Posted: Fri Nov 14, 2014 6:36 pm
O R B x S O L O
Golden Pet's Wish Zenith's unwavering gaze bore down on him; intense, unflinching, angry. It wasn't very often that the clan leader looked so genuinely hateful, even less frequent that it was directed at someone as young and inexperienced as Dysarrin.
It was a challenge for the younger hybrid to hold himself still under such scrutinization. If Zen was even a touch less severe, Dys probably would've snarled, beat his wings, flexed his claws, anything that would somehow make him seem like less of an infant. Or even better, something that would justify allowing a hated creature within spitting distance of the camp. Because he definitely had yet to come up with something that would accomplish that...
Kraes could've just left them alone and forgotten all about it. Instead, he'd brought Golden Pet into the heart of their home. When Dys arrived a few short moments behind him, the tiny Orderite girl was being glared and snapped at like a fleck of meat taunting a pack of well-trained dogs, only reluctantly held at bay by their master. Golden Pet probably felt more like a rodent in a snake hole. Probably what one would look like too.
"Dysarrin..." She whined softly, desperate for his attention, but not fond of the great personal risk that came with the sound of her voice. Or moving. Or breathing. Or existing.
"She's mine..." He hissed, voice slipping like a low murmur through the wind, barely audible above the jeers of his clan mates.
"Yours?" Zenith's brow rose.
"Mine!" Dysarrin snapped more forcefully, his wings fanning and stiffening and his body going rigid as he glared up at Zenith.
The Gaili's cool grey gaze slid over to the trembling girl, sizing her up with eyes narrowed in a hateful disinterest. With a quiet grunt, he leaned down to Dys' eye level, meeting searing green orbs with forced patience. "Purebloods. Are not. Pets. They are lying, deceitful creations that would as soon kill us and force us from our homes than try and live in peace. As they have once done."
Dys barely swallowed down a glob of saliva he wanted to spit in Zenith's face. He settled instead on, "Long time ago. Long time. Can't anymore. Won't." With any luck, he didn't look as desperate as he feared. Zen didn't know Golden Pet. She was sweet and gentle, so her clan must also be sweet and gentle. Maybe they were all sweet and gentle, and his family just didn't know because anytime pureblood came within clan lines they were surprise-slaughtered.
When it looked like he may add something more, Zenith's hand came up to silence him. The elder Gaili's patience wore thin, and his voice dropped a few octaves to a colder, less-inclined-to-allow-argument sort of tone. "They are spiteful liars. They are weak, but they are many. If we allow her to leave, she will find her friends. She will bring them here, and they will hurt-"
"She can't," Dys insisted vehemently. "Maybe stay here. Maybe be new clan mate. Golden Pet is weak, but I've been training her so... can be... strong..."
The shift in Zenith's expression from barely-restrained patience to the fury of a thousand dragons happened with very observable clarity. Dysarrin watched, words trailing off slowly as his leader's eyes darkened, his high cheeks reddened, and his lips peeled back to flash a variety of sharp teeth. Maybe training was not such a good word to use when selecting a verb to describe what you do with your enemy. "Kill her now," Zen rasped, patience at its end.
Everything after that happened in a sharp jar of whirling feelings and emotions.
While he'd previously been perched before his leader, frenzied footfalls carried Dys into the thicket of a couple snarling warriors and his screaming pet. Angelique locked eyes with him, shouted his name, flailed out with a bright burst of her Aedaun magic to win them a few seconds. Obligingly, Dys copied her actions with a flare of heat around him, whipping out like wind and searing any who approached too close.
Mostly any.
A hand locked around his forearm, claws pinching his skin. A second buried itself in the thick dark mane of hair at the back of Dys' neck. A snarl rose from his throat as teh hybrid boy twisted to combat his aggressor. From the corner of his eye, he recognized Kraes; a Firani. Undaunted by Dysarrin's magical tactics, but also... predictable, in the way they'd been training together.
Dysarrin lurched sharply forward before falling back, ignoring the hair-pulling tension in the back of his scalp as fingers dipped to the ground, scraping over it and back until he brushed against Kraes' toes, his foot, his ankle- and the edge of the blade holstered to his calf. Magic would not work on the older, more experienced Firani. But he could bleed. He should bleed, since this was all his fault, anyway. Golden Pet wouldn't be in this mess if stinking Kraes hadn't dragged her here to be tortured.
The knife 'shlicked' from its holster with a pitiful degree of resistance, unexpected enough that Kraes couldn't stop him, not that Dys (with his back forcibly to his captor) was in much of a position to do much brutal stabbing. That had never stopped him before.
He yanked against Kraes' hold, despite the elder man's warning of, "Dysarrin..." When he couldn't gain the leverage he wanted, he lashed backward, over his head and swiping sideways. "That's enou-!" The blade caught something. Something thick that made the older Firani tug back on him. If it was Kraes' wrist, that suited Dys just fine. It wasn't, of course, but Dysarrin persisted anyway.
The thick, tangled mane of his hair tore with a dull 'chk,' leaving sloppy, broken tendrils to dangle over his shoulders and blow into his face. With a quiet grunt of surprise, Kraes stumbled back, and the hand clasping Dysarrin's forearm loosened. Enough so that Dys could whip around and stab at his Firani mentor with teeth bared and eyes wide and no reservations.
"Stop."
The earth rumbled, reverberating and crumbling beneath his feet and pulsing backward until Dys was forced to a stall, dragged away from his opponent by a wave of rumble. He grit his teeth, eyes snapping up and scouring for the source of magic.
His gaze fell to Zenith once more. Another pulse of magic shoved Ralekraes away, and the elder Firani dutifully stepped off, tipping his head down respectfully. Everything was wrong. They hated her so much but didn't know anything about her. Golden Pet wouldn't hurt them. She was good, obedient, weak pet. "She's just little! Just baby. She can learn-" Dys pleaded piteously as Zen loomed nearer.
"All cubs are weak," the Gaili retorted harshly, fingers locking around the end of one of Dysarrin's horns to yank him back away from her and forcibly steer him into facing the crying child being pinned roughly to the ground. "But they grow. Maybe not strong, but sneaky. She could hurt you or someone else. It isn't a responsibility you want-"
"It is!" Dysarrin yipped.
"It isn't." Zenith's words were accented with a mind rattling shake by the horn that left Dys boggled, dizzy, and confused. "Purebloods don't belong here. It's no different than how they'd treat us if we went to one of their cities."
Dys huffed, grumbled, hissed, and squirmed, swatting uselessly at his leaders hands while Golden Pet screamed and scrambled and begged- She begged, in tiny helpless child whimpers. But they broke her, anyway, twisted her tiny head so far about that Dys clamped his eyes shut after the initial crack. Everything stilled in that moment, save for the occasional chatter of rambunctious birds. Satisfied that the threat was eliminated, Zenith released him, and Dysarrin sank to the ground, glowering at it as though it had offended him personally.
"Heeey." One of the females hummed softly, pulling Golden Pet's things - as well as the small assortment of Dysarrin's treasures - from the confines of her tattered and bloodied clothes. "Pureblood girl had stuff."
Dys' gaze shot up, brow furrowing as his eyes found the two shimmering spheres that were the reminders of his past adventures. One glowed an inviting green in the sunlight, while the other cast a shrouded haze of mist around itself. His dragon treasures. "That's mine too," he grumbled quietly.
Zenith selected the green orb, inspecting it with a still-annoyed, though almost surprised-looking expression. he rolled the Ysali orb between his fingers, then sighed audibly. He bunched his fist, and teh orb crumbled beneath the pressure, crackling like glass and dissolving into fine fragments of Ysali dust that blew off with the slightest of wind. The gaze he directed back at Dysarrin's dismayed face was cool, unapologetic. "If you have time to play with pureblood girls, you have time to hunt for your clan. On your way."
Dys held himself still, blinking at the remainders of sparkling dust before they were gone. Gone like Golden Pet. Weird scrawny girl with healing magic who he'd known for only a few turns of the moon. Her remains probably wouldn't fade into sparkling magic dust. Hers would probably be bait for more edible prey. The high sound that slipped from his throat was as close to a whine as he was capable of making.
"Not a suggestion. Go."
Reluctantly, but silently, Dys turned, spinning away from them, dropping to all fours and running from the confines of the camp with his cheeks in an ashamed, miserable, hateful blaze.
She hadn't done anything. She was good pet...x
x
Results: Golden Pet is killed. Lost an Ayrala Orb and a Ysali Orb to Zenith.
Word Count: 1597
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Posted: Fri Nov 14, 2014 6:41 pm
P R P x R E F L E C T I O NWhere The Wild Things Are Followed 'Golden Pet' outside the wall. Found funny-looking pureblood boy. Zenith wants purebloods. Maybe trade him for my stuff back. Will try to get him next day.Results: Met Ataya. Got open-palm punched. Very weak attack.
Word Count: 2600
JR Word Count: 27
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Posted: Sun Nov 16, 2014 7:41 am
P R P x R E F L E C T I O NCan You Keep A Secret? Pureblood boy brought cowardly pureblood girl, called 'sister.' She's not as fun. Scaredy like Golden Pet at first. Maybe get better later. Ataya likes my name, though. Strange thing to like. Meet him again next day. Show him other things to like. Best things.Results: Met Akara.
Word Count: 1504
JR Word Count: 44
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Posted: Mon Nov 17, 2014 8:37 am
P R P x R E F L E C T I O NWanna Play a Game? Brought best treat to Ataya. Didn't wanna keep him, but can't give him to Zenith now. Too good to give away. Maybe not be bothered by clan if he stays out here. Will be okay. Just come see him here every day. Maybe play some more. Maybe explore. Dunno yet.Results: Played with Ataya.
Word Count: 2228
JR Word Count: 50
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Posted: Tue Nov 25, 2014 6:45 pm
P R P x R E F L E C T I O NGrandest City Under the Sun Ataya not come to spot. Had to find him. Went to city and saw other purebloods. Saw Ataya's 'parents.' Dovaa, Araceli, Mama. Oblivionite, Detraeus, Daddy. So... Ataya is not pureblood. Just his parents. Something wrong. Dunno about it. Maybe leave and come back later. Maybe figure out who's lying. Maybe everyone wrong. Don't know.Results: Went to Ataya's 'city.'
Word Count: 2978
JR Word Count: 54
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Posted: Wed Nov 26, 2014 8:48 am
Think Ataya was mad at me today. Mad because I was wrong, and he was wrong, and we're both wrong. Not so bad, though, if we're both wrong. I don't mind it. Don't think Ataya does either, now. Guess I can call him 'friend.' Still closer to 'pet,' but he likes 'friend.' Maybe give him what he likes sometimes.Results: Made up with his only friend.
Word Count: 1272
JR Word Count: 59
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Posted: Thu Nov 27, 2014 10:11 am
H U N T x R E F L E C T I O NChildren of Summer Found a cave with Ataya never been in one that went so far. So dark and so small; didn't like it. Had to stay anyway, since couldn't let Ataya go alone. Found some things. Got wet. Watched fight. Okay day, after all. Ataya got a stick. He liked it. Good for him.Results: +171 EXP, +15 LUK, +12 Fire Feather, +1 Ayrala Dragon Orb, +2 Kiandri Dragon Orb, +1 Red Argaroo Feather, +1 Green Argaroo Feather
Word Count: 5352
JR Word Count: 52
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Posted: Mon Dec 15, 2014 8:17 am
H U N T x R E F L E C T I O NGood For Absolutely Nothing Stupid Kraes says I can't fight Firanis cause not good with magic. He fights Firanis even with same magic. Not really fair. Could fight if I wanted to. Maybe not use magic. Find something else. Maybe rock. Can ask later. Maybe get a knife. Cut Firanis up so they can't use magic no more.Results: +90 EXP, +2 LUK, +2 LUK EXP, +2 Firani Dragon Orbs
Word Count: 1268
JR Word Count: 54
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Posted: Mon Dec 15, 2014 8:21 am
W E A P O N x S O L O
Something Old, Something New, Something Borrowed Dysarrin's shoulders bunched, his eyes narrowed to thin, dark slits as he glowered at Kraes dutifully cleaning his blade. Didn't seem so great to him. Looked like a lot of upkeep for just a scrawny piece of metal. Even if it was a scrawny piece of metal that could pierce through dragon hide. Which, incidentally enough, fire could not. Or at least not the hide of a Firani. And probably not a Peisio. Maybe not a Gaili, either.
He sulked, a disapproving rumble sliding from his throat as he continued to glare at his mentor, but Kraes paid him no mind and continued not to until he was satisfied with his handiwork. When the elder Firani's attention was off the blade for all but a second, Dys piped up. "Need something else."
"Too bad." Kraes rolled his shoulders by way of a shrug, still inspecting his knife with a critical eye. "Not even that good with magic yet. Still don't know anything. Can't try and learn something else until you're decent with what you already have."
"Am decent," Dys retorted, scrambling closer to Kraes' side in hopes that if his mentor would pay him a little mind (instead of focusing on the knife), he'd see a little decency. At least decency. Maybe not perfect, or even greatness, but decency, surely. "I can learn both. Be really good. Fight Firanis too, like you. Wanna fight Firanis," he complained, drawing out the word for enunciation. "What if see 'em without you? Then what, then what? Can't use magic then."
Kraes snorted derisively, his gaze flicking to Dysarrin's face. "Won't see 'em without me, yet, cause you can't run off so much, anymore." Dysarrin's brow furrowed as he sensed the conversation taking a turn for the worse. "Yer older now, and still not so much good at anything. I could kill Firanis when I was yer age. You can't. Somethin' like you scurryin' around by yerself? Could get hurt or dead. Don't want that. 'Sides, ya gotta be a little more responsible, now. Gotta make sure the family is taken care of before there can be any fun. Okay?"
Dys scowled, a low sound of irritation and confusion and maybe even a little hurt from the sting of his companion's words surfacing from his lips. "Maybe dun wanna."
"Dysa-" With a scoff, the younger male rose from his perch and sulked away, leaving the protectively cozy bubble of Ralekraes' magic for the bitter, crisp winter air of the rest of the camp.
He'd thought to return to his bed, hunker down and display his dissatisfaction with the situation by not emerging until he felt better; probably never. But Kraes already thought off him as a useless child. Behaving like one wouldn't change his mind. Realistically, he should've joined in on the hunting party. Display his maturity by killing things. But it was still ridiculously snow-covered out there. Without Kraes' magic to warm him, he'd probably freeze over. With no desire to tend to any of the more menial in-camp chores, bed really did seem like the best option...
"Dys!" The voice came hissed over the still air. The hybrid's wings stiffened as he scoured for the source, gaze darting to all his comrades still mingling in the open clearing. "Dysarrin! Dysarrin! Up here!" When he tipped his head back, his gaze fell on the crumpled, gnarled form of-
"Ilnaria." She touched her finger to her lips to silence him, then turned to scoot across the crag, beckoning Dysarrin to join her with a flick of her tail. Ilnaria was a crazy old bat, but she'd never steered him wrong. As elderly as she was, she still had a sense of adventure, which Dys believed was a sense that was quickly becoming extinct. With a delighted slap of his wings, he scrambled up the rocks to join her.
She waited near the back edge of the cliff, standing hunched in the shadow from the sloping wall. "Fighting with that man again, eh?" She asked as he approached. "I never liked him. Smug, lazy, stupid. If he's dissatisfied with your training so far, it's completely his fault, and he doesn't even understand that." She scoffed, shaking her head in irritation. "I don't think you should be punished for his oversights. If you wanna learn something new, learn something new. You want to learn something new?"
Dys nodded agreeably.
"Good. C'mere, boy." He trotted after her. "When I was a wee young lass, younger than you, my mentor, bless his spirit, instructed me to forge my own weapon. 'Useful thing, that,' he said. 'When you make your own, you really become connected. It becomes yours.' I don't believe any of that dribble, of course. A weapon can be anyone's, if in the proper hands." She led him across the far reaches of the crags, out of sight from anyone within the camp. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. It was the same old rocks and stones he'd always grown up around.
And that must have been the trick. Naria picked the most unnoticeable location in all of the territory, a swatch of grey rock with a few stone crumbles lying about. She paused before a slab, and with a pulse of magic, the slab rumbled and opened, parting to reveal a dark opening. She waddled inside, beckoning for him to follow.
Hesitantly, he did.
"Just wanna stand here in the dark, or are you gonna give us some light?"
With a startled grunt of acknowledgement, a burst of flames appeared and hovered over Dysarrin's open palm.
"There now, hm? My home away from home." It was a short cavern, maybe twice the length of Dysarrin's body and not quite as wide, but it was filled. Filled with treasures from Ilnaria's past. Orbs, skulls, gleaming stones, fabric that Dysarrin had never seen- perhaps taken from purebloods traipsing through the territory. And a box nestled in the back. Naria hobbled back to it. "I'm a woman with pride you see, so I didn't want a blade to do my fighting for me. I needed something I could change with my goals, and since I created it on my own, it was everything I wanted."
With a huff, she offered him the box, and Dys took it with a sense akin to trepidation. Casting her a quick look, he slid the lid away. The contents of the box didn't look like any weapon he'd ever seen. It wasn't the knives or swords carried by his tribesmen or the bow and arrows carried by archers. It didn't look like it amplified magical capabilities or provided any protection. It was just... Thick bits of knobbed metal. Even had weird holes in them. Dysarrin turned skeptical, quizzical eyes back to the elderly woman.
She took one of the pair from the box and slid her fingers through the holes, leaving the sharp knobs of metal brandished against her knuckles. She gave a half-hearted punch through the air and beamed. "When I was a girl, I wanted to feel bones crunch under my fists. I wanted to hurt the things that threatened me and my clan. I wanted to know that I'd ruined them with nothing but my hands. Do you want that?"
It sounded grand. Dys' wings fanned and fluttered as he picked up the second one. While the little bands hung off of Ilnaria's fingers with space to spare, Dys couldn't so much as fit one to his form. The Gaili scoffed and flicked her fingers to mold the metal to better suit Dysarrin's size. "I didn't have trouble forming them to new obstacles, but I guess you will... Ah well. Would you had been a Gaili, like me..." She sighed before handing him the second and used her magic to better-fit that one as well.
Weird weapons, but they'd obviously won the woman many treasures. he flexed his fingers, curling them into fists around the metal and punching hard and sharp through the air, as she'd done.
"Mm, see? easier than a blade too. Less hassle. But look. I'll only give these to you in exchange for something else."
Dys' lips curled down. "Dun wanna give-"
"Does it sound like I'm done speaking?" He quieted so she could continue. "I'll give you these if you promise to always do what you think is right. Sometimes it's a hard choice. Sometimes no one else approves and sometimes they'll try to stop you. Don't let them." Her voice softened as gnarled fingers reached to touch his cheek. "You've always been different."
Dysarrin blinked, confusion evident in his gaze. He opened his mouth to inquire upon what that meant, but Ilnaria stopped him with a glare. "Well can you do it or not," she demanded. "A yes or no is fine."
A curt nod of his head, then, "Promise."
"Good." She turned on her heel, leaving her alcove behind. "It'll be a pain to keep up with, for someone like you. Won't be able to change it so easily. Bring them to me whenever you;'re ready for something else, and I'll give you an upgrade. Maybe make them a little bigger too. Don't want you breaking them with carelessness."
He trotted after her, still speculatively gazing at the thin metal frames and wiggling his fingers against them. "What call them?"
Ilnaria paused to look back at him with a calm demeanor, but a spark of excitement in her brown eyes. "Scalecrash."x
x
Results: Obtained Scalecrash.
Word Count: 1579
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