The wind blows over the wildflowers with the smell of summer, and laughter echoes from ancient caves that have been inhabited for a thousand years. Avatar is by quertypi303, of my dragon Aslesa!
Nacadi unsheathed her katana as she slipped into the dark mouth of the cave where she had spent so many centuries. Behind her, Astrophel’s breathing was made loud and hoarse by the echoing walls. “The creatures must have come from the central chamber,” said Nacadi grimly.
“It looks like something big cleared out the rubble in here,” said Astrophel, as they followed the rocky tunnels downwards. “I thought the whole place had been sealed up after the clan’s original battle with the cluster.”
“It was,” said Nacadi as they stepped into the central chamber. It was just as she remembered, and she shuddered as her eyes traced the details of the familiar stalactites, the dark pool of Shade and the single watery beam of moonlight that filtered in from a gap in the tons of rock overhead.
On the far side of the chamber hunched a guardian, her wings dripping black and her golden scales swirled with Shade black. Her eyes were grey and dull as she lifted her head and spoke in the voice of the Shade. “You have come,” she rattled.
“To banish you once and for all,” snarled Astrophel. Nacadi moved in front of him, protecting him as he began the spell. Runes flickered to life, drifting in the air around the imperial as he wove his neck and tail in a rhythmic pattern and chanted softly.
The guardian bared her oily teeth and hissed, spreading her wings as she loomed up over Nacadi. Nacadi snarled and leapt forwards, the katana flashing in the moonlight as it drove deep into the guardian’s shoulder. The Shade screamed, staggering backwards, and whispered,
“This one has many tricks. She studied in Light and in Arcane, and we have all the knowledge she possesses.” A great roar shook the earth, like thunder and earthquakes and rocks being broken by ice. Korst, thought Nacadi as she advanced on the possessed guardian.
Chuckling, the guardian began her own spell, moving to the other side of the pool as she chanted.
“Astrophel,” said Nacadi nervously, “What’s going on?”
Astrophel broke off his spell with a gasp, and the glowing runes blinked out as deep purple runes appeared, blazing on the rocks around the guardian. “Nothing good,” he said. “I’ve heard of this spell, but...”
“What does it do?” snarled Nacadi.
“It erases us. All of us. The last line of defense against the Shade.”
“Then do something!”
The cave rocked with the force of a massive explosion, rocks raining from the ceiling as the sky briefly flared with golden light. Someone overhead screamed out, “Radiance!”
“I can- I can try,” said Astrophel. He spread his talons and began to chant feverishly fast, his eyes flaring deep amber as the chanting grew deeper. The guardian snarled as her runes started to wink out, leaving the cave in darkness.
Astrophel stopped chanting and staggered, falling to his side in the dust, and the guardian screamed and crumpled as the last of her runes burned brightly before crumbling. “What happened?” she asked.
“I... I changed the spell,” rasped Astrophel. “Now... instead of erasing us... it erases the Shade creatures.”
“That’s good, good work,” said Nacadi comfortingly, rubbing the imperial’s side as he gasped for breath. He shook his head frantically.
“It’s... it’s going to- going- scatter us now. Across time. Across space. Couldn’t...reverse the whole thing.” And as he spoke, there was a great silvery light that sparked from the center of the cave and washed across the valley like a tidal wave.
And in the wake of the silver wave, the Shade dissolved into flecks of darkness, swept away on the wind, and the dragons of the valley shone bright as stars as their memories crumbled like dust, and their histories were rewritten.
“Here we stand,” boomed Korst in her voice like thunder, and she was bright and splendid in the last rays of the setting sun, and Aravir loomed at her side with his scales dripping moss and earth. “The Shade are nearly upon us, and likely stopping them will mean our death.”
A few dragons, selfish and beautiful Nyrasis, Ixazaluoh who still smelled of cheap wine from a night at the market, Sacred with her eyes wrapped to keep out the sun, turned their heads towards the ground, their wings trembling. Others brushed against them, strengthening, comforting.
“It will mean our death if they escape,” said Iseult, and Tristam stood at her side and twirled a spear in his strong hands. “And the deaths of all in Sornieth.”
“True enough,” agreed Sepehr. He turned his blind face to Korst and added, “Traitors and backstabbers we might be, but never let it be said that the Beast Paladins backed down from war.” Reluctantly, Nyrasis nodded.
“They are coming!” roared Royeaux, swooping over the fields, and flowers burst up where her shadow swept across the grass.
Korst reared onto her hind legs, gilded wings flaring across the sky. “Do you stand with me?” she roared, and roars of assent surged up around her, even from cunning Astrophel and arrogant Tybal. “To me, paladins!” bellowed Korst, and Radiance was at her left, dripping burning light from her mouth and eyes, and Aslesa was on her right.
“To me, children of the desert winds!” called Aslesa as she spun her rapier in a practiced claw. Tybal loomed up behind her, his mouth spread into a fanged and bloodthirsty smile, and beside him was their sister Shirai, whose shadow seemed to shift into a roc, a stag, a scorpion as she moved.
Royeaux landed heavily in the dirt, and a few mouse skeletons burst from the ground around her feet. Her breath rasped from exhaustion, and Madoc leaned against her, his antennae twitching and eyes closed. “It will be all right,” he whispered.
“It will not be so,” said Royeaux. “But I am glad you are here with me at the end.”
As the Shade leapt across the river, black smoke swirling behind them, the Beast Paladins ran forwards, and the rest of the dragons of the Gamagrass Clan surged forwards likewise. But Astrophel slipped around the battlefield, heading for the ruined temple that boiled with darkness. As he snuck from rock to rock, neck hunched and wings folded, he muttered to himself the spells of binding, of banishment.
There was a thump behind him, and he jumped, magic already sparking to the tips of his talons.
“You’re going to the temple,” said Nacadi. Her legs and wings glimmered with stars, and her eyes held tiny galaxies. “I was going the same way.”
Astrophel glanced over his shoulder at the valley below. The dragons of the clan were being pressed back, and as he watched he saw Madhu the beekeeper fall beneath the talons of an inky black imperial, and Iseult fall, bleeding onto the grass.
Madoc burst into the tunnels, his wing stump flapping uselessly as he skidded past Sacred and Madhu. “Korst? Korst!”
From where she stood in the tunnel with Aslesa, Korst’s head snapped up and she bounded forwards, teeth bared. Tybal sensed the note of panic in Madoc’s voice and abandoned Astrophe, who followed him curiously.
“What is it?” asked Korst.
“Shade,” Madoc panted. “Coming down from the mountains. Royeaux saw them, she’s working with the valley spirits to hold them back.” He took a deep breath, composing himself, and added, “They looked like great black dragons with sunken eyes and smokey manes, and even the last rays of sunlight were no opposition to them.”
Korst’s eyes widened. “Summon the clan, tell them to meet just outside the caves,” she growled at Radiance, who nodded and flitted away, leaving a trail of golden sparks in her wake. Turning to Madoc, she added, “You did well to find me immediately.”
Jorell and Bronwyn spread their wings, and roots and thorns surged up in a great wall in front of the creeping, glistening forms of the Shade dragons. Above them, Royeaux twisted through the sky, and bones broke out of the ground below her, fashioning themselves into long-fanged creatures woven with nightshade and dripping with mud and algae.
The bone creatures surged forwards, leaping over the wall and attacking the first of the Shade dragons, which screamed in a voice like broken glass and crumpled under their venomous claws and snapping jaws. Jorell whooped as he swooped along the wall, and Royeaux smiled shyly.
But still, the rest of the Shade crept forwards, and darkness spread across the ground like oil.
“She’s perfect,” crooned Lucent, looking over the Shade being that had risen from the pool. “Born of my blood and the ancient songs, a warrior to guard us while we study the last secrets of the Shade.”
Shiv tossed his blue pearl between his claws and warbled approvingly at the dark-scaled creature that loomed over them. As the creature’s form wavered, Lucent reached forwards, draping a pair of golden plates embossed with alchemical signs around its horns. The scrolls Shiv had found deeper in the caves had been so useful, telling her how to stabilize her creation, to control it.
And as she draped her arms around the creature’s head, it leaned its great head into her, and the discoloration of her wings and scales turned black as pitch.
More creatures of the Shade rose from the pool as the first took over Lucent’s mind, cracking the last defenses that protected the center of her mind and rushing into her brain. We must ascend, whispered the cluster, and Lucent reluctantly repeated, “We must ascend.”
We must form an army. Attack the meddlesome paladins in the valley below.
“Form an army. Attack the paladins.” Somewhere deep in her mind, Lucent whispered, but what about studying the Shade? what about mapping out the rest of the underground temple?
Irrelevant, said the Shade as they crushed the feeble thoughts. Shiv, already a vessel of the Shade, wrapped his pearl in his tail and clambered up Lucent’s leg to perch at the curve of her neck, and darkness flowed down from the mountains into the valley below.
Astrophel’s feet made little noise as he padded down the torchlit tunnels, wings gently brushing the tapestries hung over the walls. The Beast Paladins followed him, along with Sepehr’s companion Priam. “Wouldn’t it be safer to have our briefing away from the caves, if you think Korst suspects us?”
“For fear of valley spirits,” said Sepehr. The blind Wildclaw’s talons tapped the floor in front of him, searching for any unevenness or stray rocks, and Priam walked at his side. “Jorell tells the matriarch everything, ‘tis not safe to be discussing secret plans under the open sky.”
“Indeed he does,” rumbled a voice behind them, like rocks sliding together, and Nyrasis and Iseult whirled, talons out, as Korst appeared in the tunnel, her gilded horns glittering in the light. Astrophel hissed and pressed himself back against the rocky cave wall.
Tybal and Aslesa filled the tunnel in front of them, golden and brown eyes shining fiercely. “Looks like we found our traitor,” growled Tybal, scraping his claws along the rock.
“Gently, Tybal,” warned his sister with a ruffle of her shining feathers. She turned her attention to Astrophel, tilting her head. “We knew about the activities of the shapeshifters, stealing from other clans and assassinating their leaders, but... I never thought it would be you who was giving them their instructions.”
Astrophel protested, “It’s- it’s not like that! We need the money, it’s expensive to outfit an army, and you make so many enemies- you aren’t the most tactful-”
A flick of Korst’s tail silenced him, and the ridgeback drew herself to her full height, eyes gleaming red in the dim and flickering light. “Enough,” she boomed. “You could have left the clan, many times over, if you disagreed with me. But instead, you went behind my back, made us more enemies than I ever have.” A long, forked tongue darted between her teeth.
“The three of you I give two days to leave the valley,” she growled. “Astrophel will remain under close supervision until such time as we can arrange him a trial. Tybal, escort him to his quarters.”
Tybal moved forwards and shouldered the smaller imperial roughly, forcing him down the hallway, and the shapeshifters scattered. Aslesa’s head drooped, and she sighed. Sympathetic, Korst draped a wing over the slender skydancer.
“What happened to us?” asked Aslesa, her deep brown eyes searching. Korst only sighed, her eyes on the orange flames of the torches.
“Interesting,” mused Lucent as she held up a beaker of the Shade essence to the watery beam of light that shone down into the central chamber. Shiv bleated, holding out a bowl dusted with a crushed alchemical compound, and she dipped one talon into the Shade and dropped a small amount into the bowl.
It exploded, sending black smoke roiling across the chamber and knocking Shiv back against the wet, rocky wall. “Impressive,” said Lucent. Her once-bright wings were dyed completely black, as were her claws, and discolored swirls were forming around her face and on her legs from being immersed so deeply in the Shade.
The smoke swirled, taking an almost draconic form as it wavered in the darkness of the chamber, and then dissipated in a wind that smelled like a crypt. “The ability to summon warriors out of darkness,” said Lucent thoughtfully. “We could cleanse the world of the imperfect, of those who stand in the way of the pursuit of knowledge.” Her golden eyes burned with a pale fire, and she snapped her talons at Shiv.
“Prepare more of that compound,” she said, and the Shade-touched goblin nodded before bounding away to the alchemical supplies heaped against one side of the cave.
It’s time for Gamagrass Babies! Nyrasis and Iseult have had a casual fling, (no feelings necessary), and ended up, quite accidentally, with three babies. All are on the AH for 85kT!
My progen Sibal is going to have a few lore chapters of his own, to integrate him into my lore and give him a little bit of personality. His bio should be up soon! :D
Sibal picked his way across the icefield, frost forming on his scales and on the gauzy silks draped around his neck and wings. The tiny bells on his sash and wing drapings jingled in the cold wind.
He tilted his head thoughtfully. Here was where the nests had been, soft pine branches and frost-covered boulders in rings. Here was where the dens had been carved from the ice, and there remained a few of the tunnels, distorted by years of melts and freezes.
But there was no sign of dragons, besides a few spearheads and scraps of cloth frozen in the ice. A few tundras made their way across the windswept ice, and Sibal walked over to them, dipping his head in greeting. The tundras were wild things with dyed fur and heavy, patched coats and scarves, who looked baffled at the lean, silk-clad pearlcatcher appearing from the storm.
“Could you tell me, I wonder, what happened to the Arctic Sun clan?” he asked mildly. The tundras bunched together, snuffling at the ground and the wind as they talked in low voices. One of them, a big-boned male with a braided mane and a ruby set into one of his incisors, nodded slowly.
“Yeah. The golden dragons, they all died out.”
“Except for a few,” said one of the females. “I heard they went up into the Cloudscrapes with some paladins.”
Sibal nodded, his veil jingling with the movement. The wind picked up, and the tundras shuddered, fluffing their multicolored fur, but Sibal spread his wings and opened his jaws to drink in the icy air. His mate had loved the cold even more, but she was dead these past twenty years, killed in the gods’ neverending war.
“So they’re in the Cloudscrapes now?” he asked, as the wind died down. The tundras shook their heads.
“Nobody lives in the Cloudscrapes for long,” said the main male after another moment of whispering. “Think they moved up north, to Dragonhome. Ask for Aslesa the paladin, she can tell you what happened.”
“Thank you,” said Sibal, and spread the talons of his right foot in an ancient blessing. His form wavered in the wind, and he seemed to dissolve into the blizzard, being swept away northwards with the sound of tinkling bells.
Aslesa’s small talons brushed lightly against Royeaux’s wing as the young imperial sobbed in the rushes. “Would you like to come back to the caves now?” she asked.
“No- no- there’s too much life there, too many people I could tear apart by mistake,” choked Royeaux between sobs, tears streaming out from under her carven butterfly mask.
Aslesa settled down on the bank of the stream, her antennae trailing in the water, and waited quietly. Eventually, Royeaux sniffled and sat up, brushing away the flowers that had begun to grow in the cracks of her muddy scales. “I don’t deserve this,” she said quietly. “You should have kicked me back to the Wyrmwound.”
“We wouldn’t do that,” said Aslesa with a smile. She hesitated. “Unless you wanted to go back to Plague?”
“Oh, no,” replied Royeaux quickly. “But all of you are so kind, and so brave, and I’m nothing like you.” Her wings drooped, and where they touched the mud reeds began to spring up and wind themselves through her red feathers.
“Being kind is a choice,” said Aslesa. She stood, flicking mud from her talons, and turned away, sunlight casting a glowing halo on her mane. “Bravery is trickier, but it gets easier when you have faith.”
With a last flick of her tail, she began to climb the slopes of the valley, back towards the clan caves, and Royeaux settled back into the mud. She stirred the silty water with one claw, and she thought.
The pixies danced blue and white around her, and her fins rustled at their soft touches. A black wolf slipped between her talons, and Shirai ruffled its fur. For a moment, its eyes glowed pale violet, and then it disappeared in a swirl of purple smoke that smelled of incense and was swept away by the autumn wind.
“Shirai!” exclaimed a voice behind her, and Shirai turned. Running through the bronzed grass and autumn flowers was the skydancer mage, Madoc, his single wing flapping awkwardly. The guardian stood, scooping a seal with a soft thundercloud mane out of the air and cradling it in one paw.
“What’s wrong?”
She noticed that Madoc had a limp shape draped across his back, all tousled orange leaves and burr-tangled hair. A dryad, an unconscious one. Gently, Madoc eased the dryad off his back and set her in the grass, and Shirai arched her neck to sniff at the limp form. “Do you know what’s wrong with her?” she asked.
“I think she’s just in shock,” said Madoc. It was the longest sentence Shirai had heard him say to anyone besides Royeaux, and she released the floating seal and scooped up the dryad. She stirred weakly, and as Shirai’s pixies brushed their tiny fingers against her, her skin began to regain a healthier green tint.
Madoc sighed, settling into the grass. He stared up at the sky, at the wisps of cloud being swiftly swept southwards, and his wing trembled and strained. “It was Royeaux,” he said quietly. “She was practicing magic in the forest.”
“And there was an accident?” Shirai unfastened a waterskin from the belts slung around her chest and dripped a little over the dryad’s mouth and face. Her eyes, outlined in red powder and shining a deep autumn gold, fluttered open, and she smiled weakly.
“Something like that.”
Shirai shook her head as the dryad jumped to her feet, flitting away with a trail of autumn leaves swirling in her wake. “Second time this month,” she said quietly. “There must be something we can do...”
“The Lord of the Library is dead,” said Iseult, tying back her hair into a long, sandy braid. “We poisoned his food.” She wove ribbons into the braid with deft fingers, letting the ends trail red and green down her broad back, and Astrophel wondered if her centaur hands would be defter than a dragon’s at writing.
He nodded slowly. “Good.” Footsteps in the corridor outside made them both turn warily towards the enterance of the scrivener’s cave, but it was only Tybal, the gold lacing of his wings glimmering in the torchlight. On the way to the library, no doubt.
“Korst was here again this afternoon,” said Astrophel. “She only just left. I fear she would not approve of the steps we take-”
“As long as we’re helping out, it’s not important. Korst never told you not to-”
“Korst doesn’t approve of subterfuge of this sort,” said Astrophel sharply. His spectacles slid a little down his muzzle and he pushed them back, ears twitching nervously. “Some of the others might, but the paladins take only brute force and battlefield confrontation as fair fighting. Even when our supplies of healing potions are low and our coffers are nearly empty from outfitting an army.”
Iseult frowned, ember-bright eyes shrewd. “We could find her an army,” she said. “There are always warriors for hire in the Plague lands.”
“What army?” rumbled Korst’s deep voice from the mouth of the cave, and Iseult wheeled on her hind legs, bursting back into the shape of a dragon. The matriarch nearly filled the mouth of the cave, with the silk-draped paladin Aslesa beneath one wing and tiny, firefly-bright Radiance nestled between her handsomely gilded horns.
Astrophel’s face was a mask, and he picked up a book to inspect the glue of the binding. “We don’t have the money to hire mercenaries, no matter what you and your shapeshifters might want,” he said, a coldness in his voice that had not been there before.
Aslesa stepped forwards. “The messengers are saying that the Lord of the Library was poisoned,” she said, anxiety written in her birdlike face. “Could you write a letter of condolences?”
“Of course,” said Astrophel. “I think the unicorns are ready for their dust to be harvested again, we could send the spare bottles as well. Perhaps some flowers...” he mused, setting down the book. He idlely stirred a pot of ink, staring down into the blackness.
“You seem troubled of late, Astrophel,” Korst rumbled. Her voice boomed like distant thunder.
Maket-Aten drew her hood a little closer around her as she made her way through the library, wings brushing along the bookshelves. In the underground spring, her Warlock familiar splashed quietly. “There’s something in the tunnels,” he said, in his deep, hoarse voice.
“What do you mean?” Aten asked nervously, settling onto her hindquarters.
“A goblin, one of the servants of the dieties. But not of the Earthshaker. It should not be underground,” he rumbled, and flicked his tail. Droplets sparkled in the low torchlight, and Aten frowned. She pricked her ears, listening.
Something scittered, claws tapping on stone, and Aten whisked away after it. Pale lavender and blue light dappled across the bookshelves, and Aten finally caught a glimpse of the long-tailed gobin. It bleated in alarm as she lunged forwards and grabbed it, holding it securely in her claws.
Astrophel frowned, flipping through the spending records of the clan. They were nearly out of gems, although the treasure supplies were full. And he really needed to hire an assistant for Sepehr, preferably one who had a bit more of a moral compass. The wildclaw ran off every few days with the other shapeshifters, barely paying attention to his actual duties as the clan alchemist.
“Astrophel? Are you in here?” Pricking up his ears, Astrophel turned to see Maket-Aten entering with what looked like a Light goblin in her talons. “This was in the library. It seems sick,” she added. “And it was stealing alchemical supplies.”
Astrophel stepped forwards and took the goblin, noticing that its pearl was nearly purple rather than a pale blue and gold and that its curled horns and glittering fur were dull. “It might be Shade-touched,” he mused. “Aravir or Nacadi could tell you more.”
“You’re the smartest dragon I know,” said Aten eagerly, and Astrophel frowned.
“Much as I’d like to accept that compliment, I am aware that what you say may not necessarily be what you believe.”
Aten sighed. “I know,” she said. “It’s just...so much easier to tell people what they want to hear. It makes them happy.”
“You do it to make them happy?” Astrophel’s gaze was piercing behind his glasses, and Aten looked down at her claws.
“No,” she sighed, but made no further comment. Flicking her tail and pulling her hood forwards to hide her face, she asked, “Should we tell someone? If there’s a Shade-touched goblin sneaking around, Korst should know immediately.”
Suddenly, the goblin began to thrash, bleating loudly before it bit down on the soft membrane between Astrophel’s talons. He roared and dropped the goblin, cradling his injured paw against his chest as it squeezed into a narrow crack in the cave wall and vanished.
“On second thought,” said Aten, “Let’s not tell Korst about this.”
