[[Time for the next part of the event! It’s a simple part, all thats required is your vote! Comment your choice down in the comments, and the one with the most votes will be the chosen story! Now, each story has an important lore piece, so choose carefully.
Broken and treacherous, the wind snaked in whistles and low gusts between the pillars of the Ascent. A billow of uplift here, and mere meters away a vicious downdraft; it eddied, pooled, unexpected pockets of deadly still air in the lee of the larger pillars as the wind rose and fell and twisted.
Far below, the rapids roared.
Far above, the wind filled Sigrid’s wings with a sharp, satisfying snap. She hung in the air on powerful wings, riding the tiger, breathing in the scent of clean grass and wet stone. This far above the whitewater, the salt had been cleaned from the air, leaving only the intoxicating taste of the open sky.
Vivid arcane eyes scanned the inrushing tide. A wild buffet snuck around the nearest stone pillar and threatened to slam her into the side of a cliff; but it would take more than the trickery of the wind to overpower a Banescale in flight. She compensated, concentration unbroken.
Her gaze sharpened. Nostrils flared, long talons flexed once to work out the stiffness of her battle against the winds. With deliberate care, she relaxed her jaw. White fangs dripped, flashing in the sunlight. Her tailtip twitched.
She flapped once, and dove.
It was an unconventional flight path, at first glance; into the wind and with the sun at her back. Slower than it could have been, and any prey ahead of her would be long forewarned by her descending shadow. She’s young, an observer might have thought. New to the region, with those eyes. She’ll learn…
But Sigrid’s target was not ahead of her.
Suicidally low, salt and foam coating her tongue and stinging her eyes, the roar of the rapids deafening, she rolled and flared her wings.
Her right wingtip sliced through a cresting wave as she was ripped backward by the force of the wind. Momentum carried her on a diagonal, back from her original dive, around the front of one of the massive sea pillars in her path, racing into the sun with the wind and the tide now instead of against them, and outstripping all three with the force of her dive and the wide sail of her wings.
This low, all the elements were her enemy. There would be no escape to the sky if she lost her concentration and monitoring of the fickle winds, no time to course-correct if she made a single mistake. Without a bird’s-eye view of the Ascent, walls of hard, sea-weathered rock loomed up sharp and sudden with no way to navigate them except by her own memory and hair-trigger reaction times; with her eyes locked on her prey, the change in air pressure, shadows and reflections on the ocean, were sometimes all the warning she could count on.
And any contact with that water was death.
It roared like an Emperor in its death throes, twice as powerful and ten times as ancient. Anywhere the Sea beneath the Ascent wasn’t whipped into a frothing, rabid killing frenzy, it raced sleek and dark through a passage far too narrow to accommodate its sheer mass. The Maren spoke in whispers of awe and hard warning of innocent-looking passages that were not to be touched or approached or even named, where the deceptively swift current seized the foolish or ignorant and tore them from the surface, never to be seen again. Where research equipment and magical constructs were ripped apart within seconds and even attempts at scrying the contents revealed only blackness and howling whitewater, the madness of the void.
There were whirlpools hundreds if not thousands of feet deep, strong enough that by the time a hapless dragon realized she had touched the vortex she would have been dashed to pieces on the rocks, some with gaping maws, deceptively small at first glance until you let the wind carry you higher and saw the way the rapids for a mile in every direction fed into them.
Sigrid flashed over one such behemoth, twisted her wings to dodge right around a pillar and then left again to veer over its twin, eyes locked on the prize she’d seen from the air—
Powerful legs plunged into the killing current, dapple-green and the cheerful murderous blue flashing in the sunlight, as the ocean foamed and roared in defiant joy, her wild headlong plunge pulled to a heart-stopping halt by the impact—
And then she pulled toward the sky, muscles straining to get free of the rush, twisting back into the wind. Her prey thrashed, but couldn’t break free; and in a moment she was clear, wings flaring and filling as she pulled around, and the wind tore her up and away from the gauntlet with a dying tuna in her talons and a triumphant, bugling shriek rising over the ever-present surge of the rapids.
The wind was her friend now, carrying her higher, safe and clear between the pillars. Eyes shining, Sigrid filled her lungs with clean air and adjusted the angle of her wings, rising slowly, softer as she wheeled again.
Near the zenith of a high, sturdy pillar, but not quite at the top, was her destination. She dipped her wings to dump air and speed, nearly stalling before angling them once more to catch the air; the maneuver carried her to the lip of the cave with no more force than a whisper.
The most beautiful creature in the world was waiting for her.
All but invisible against the grey stone and grass, Tetra turned soft eyes to her mate as Sigrid landed. Recognizing Sigrid’s eager, nervous expression, she raised one wing to reveal the trio of rough-shelled, perfect eggs wrapped securely in their mother’s tail. Still safe and warm.
“I love watching you hunt,” Tetra murmured.
Sigrid hummed deep in her chest, arching her neck just slightly. She was a good hunter. She prided herself on that. A good hunter and a worthy mate, bold and powerful and intelligent enough to hunt the rapids. Reliable. Able to provide safety and security for her family and her flock. Good enough, she hoped, to deserve Tetraodontidae as a mate, as the mother of her children. No one could ever be good enough to deserve the hatchlings they would have soon; but Sigrid was going to try, every day.
“I love you,” she said simply. She pinned the tuna to the stone with one foot, slicing its belly open with a flick of her sharpened tailspines. “And them. Knowing you’re waiting for me makes me stronger with every flight.”
Tetra crooned. Belly fluttering, Sigrid dipped her head to the tuna. She used one razor-sharp dewclaw to hook into the dead fish, slicing off the fatty meat along the belly and catching it carefully between her teeth to place like an altar sacrifice before her mate.
“It’s yours,” Tetra protested, like she did every time. “You made the kill.”
“You guard my clutch,” Sigrid retorted. Just like she did every time, she promised, “I’ll take the next belly cut.”
Tetra sighed softly, nuzzling into her neck and hooking their horns together with a click. Locking Sigrid’s teeth next to her throat, where she couldn’t pull away quickly if she wanted to. The highest possible show of trust and adoration.
After many long minutes, she hummed again, carefully unlinked their horns, and snapped up the tender belly cut.
She was never able to resist, not when it made Sigrid so happy to be able to give her the best of what simple things they had.
“Do you want to fly?” Sigrid asked her, tearing off a chunk of tuna for herself now that she’d given Tetra the choice piece.
Tetra shook her head, accepting a ragged tuna steak from her mate with grace and wolfing it down before she answered. “Later. Hold me?”
Sigrid would like nothing more in the world. She dragged the tuna carcass closer, so it would be within easy reach, then carefully lay down at Tetra’s side and covered her in a wing. Her mate relaxed into her, sharp spines settling along her back. “Is everything all right? Just tired?”
Tetra was quiet for a moment.
When she spoke, it was soft, almost hesitant. “I don’t want you hunting the rapids anymore.”
Sigrid closed her eyes, breathing slowly. They’d had this conversation before, more frequently since the eggs became viable. Tetra had always understood. “I know you worry. But you said you take pride in watching me. Knowing that I’m good enough and I’m yours.”
“I do.” Tetra nuzzled her neck. “I know I’ve told you before that I worry something will go wrong. Maybe something you can’t control. But I’m not telling you that this time. I’m asking you to stop. Please. I can’t watch you die like that. And the little ones…”
The very thought made Sigrid’s heart clench. Of course, if Tetra watched her hunt, then the hatchlings would too. And of course, if Tetra worried...it was a mate’s prerogative to worry, but Tetra was a grown dragon, and had known the dangers when she took a warrior and a huntress as her chosen mate. She would never ask Sigrid to hold back from a challenge solely for her peace of mind. And for her part, Sigrid had sworn never to seek danger for its own sake. A challenge was only meaningful if the reward was worth it, and if she had the skill to reasonably expect that it was one she could overcome. She would never ask someone like Tetra—would never ask any dragon, but especially not one so strong and brave and steady, a rock in a storm—to commit her heart and body to a fool.
So for her own sake, Tetra would take her fear as the price of her love, in the same way Sigrid took the danger as the price for the strength and pride her skills gave her. And Sigrid could listen to things her mate said, and talk about them reasonably, and give her the respect of really, truly thinking about, and still ultimately make her own decision.
But for the sake of their children, she had the right to ask anything. And she was correct. Sigrid could not do that to a hatchling.
“I’m not sorry,” Tetra murmured, close to her neck. “But I know what I’m asking.”
“I’ll fly further out,” Sigrid told her, soft and quiet, feeling the pain of it in her chest but not hesitating. The challenge was no longer worthy of the danger; the chance of her hatchlings seeing their father die was not a risk to be run simply for the sake of catching dinner. “Or hunt overland. It will mean being away longer; I worry about leaving you alone. My place is at your side.”
“If our hatchlings are threatened, I can fight as well as any dragon,” was Tetra’s immediate response. “But I would feel safer with you nearby. When the hatchlings can fly, we can dig a new den.”
Sigrid nodded, beginning to warm to the idea. After all—the pride of a huntress was in acting as a provider. There was no inherent worth in hunting the rapids, only the fact that it allowed her to use her considerable skill to provide rich food to a worthy mate, and allow them both to survive in a hostile environment. There was as much honor in killing deer in the forest as in her fishing. And it would require polishing of new skills, a new kind of challenge.
She settled more comfortably against the den floor, looking out over the stunning view of the Ascent. Their den was west-facing, allowing them to sleep as long as they wished in the mornings and enjoy breathtaking sunsets over the distant Crystalspine. In the early afternoon, the sun was still high enough overhead to make the waves beneath them glitter without getting in her eyes.
Her gaze flicked to the shape of a large band of dragons, below and in the distance. She registered them with alertness, but not alarm; not yet. Travellers were not inherently a threat, and if they proved dangerous, Sigrid knew this area better than anyone and was not afraid of them, even the largest warriors.
She observed their movements for safety’s sake. Some were in the air, flying around one another. More were on the ground—
Not a large band, she corrected, more focused now. A small one, trying to fend off a medium-sized one.
As she peered closer, some of the dragons’ movements seemed...off. Not dragons, she finally realized. The smaller group was equal parts dragon and beastclan, the larger containing only dragons.
Still, that wasn’t her business. Nomad bands fought all the time, and their dispute was not Sigrid’s responsibility unless it interfered with the safety of her family. But the danger was more likely now. And something about this felt wrong. At the very least, she needed to get a closer look.
“Lie still,” she murmured to Tetra, and got to her feet.
As Chapter 2 rapidly approaches; (it’s 1 part away)
I need ‘allied’ clans to rp with.
Pretty much, my clan is sending out pairs of scouts to each allied clan in the hopes to gain information and trust among clans.
Mostly information.
Aksis’ hunger for knowledge is great, and he needs to know that there are powerful clans on his side before two opposing sides hit him and his clan for what it’s worth.
I’ll be posting the last part in chapter 1 soon, possibly tonight.
After that I’m hoping to have at least a couple scout teams sent out.
RIght now I know I can count on Azide, Crota, and Legacy for allied clans, and potential talking about how scout situations would work out.
If you’d like to rp, hit me up for my discord.
Chiodhna after being woken up after a 20 year tiny nap by some curious Worker Drones (Actually only one who woke her up technically), also she's depressed during this past lore event cuz she finds out all humans die lmao and that was her purpose
(All in Outpost 11)
„True freedom never felt worse. But I am alive. The chains have been lifted. No longer restricted by those of flesh and blood. A new life starts while the old one withers away. But whether to live it is my choice. Either I keep going or it all stops here. I can truly decide for myself what I want now.
