#rakgi

[bonusdragons]

May 4, 2020:

Cherry Primary, Coatl, Blend.

Rakgi of Tatterize's clan!

[enigmasart]

Ink Stained

[starwood-stranded-archived]

Spread intentionally by infected dragons like Sovari, the strange plague threatens to annihilate Clan Lukra. A stranger goes unnoticed in the chaos as Aridatha scrambles to save whoever she can, warning Isildur, Arven, and Halamshiral. An infected Cobalt attacks Andon, finally revealing the spiral’s presence to the rest of the clan. // read on dA

Sovari felt the new fire running through her veins, and it made her feel better, more alive, than she’d been in ages. She was tired of hiding, bored of observing. It was time for her to do something, and the best thing was, clearly, sharing her fresh elan with others.

Nobody had even noticed her in Talva’s chamber, not even Acrux, who thought he was so smart, so magical. Sovari’s talent for being inconspicuous had probably contributed to her recent ennui -- no one made an effort to engage her, because no one even realized she was there. But now it would help her move through the lair without interference.

Starting from Talva’s chamber, the first place to go was two floors above. Intent on his work, Weythran didn’t even notice when Sovari stole up behind him and planted a rainbow-fire handpaint on his tail. Then it was off to Xylia’s, painting a glowing trail across the wildclaw’s own creations, one that she was sure to exclaim over -- and touch -- when she turned from her current work. And onwards: Aridatha and Lioska were out, but Sovari was able to share her bounty with Nessa and Sunfall, and on, and on …

*

In the confusion, no one noticed a blue-winged imperial perched at the top of one of the crystal ridges that encircled Clan Lukra’s lair, watching the bursts of rainbow light. There were many of those now, leaping up from disparate points in the clan: the watcher mentally mapped the spread of the plague, humming tunelessly to themself as they did so. They would need more data, of course …

Cautiously, the imperial began to pick their way down the ridge, into the valley.

*

Shade, Shade, Shade.

Aridatha dashed through the lair, watching in horror as flares of that awful light went off in the trees, crackled across the canopy above and coursed through the ground below. She’d managed to meet up with -- or spontaneous run into -- some clan members, though she didn’t really have any more to tell them than to run, something they really ought to be able to figure out for themselves. Geras she’d sent to try and salvage the familiars, in the hopes that her established duty to the beasts might help overcome her grief. The guardian had gone off in the right direction, at least, and nodded, but Aridatha had no idea whether she would actually do it. She couldn’t worry about that now.

There were no eggs in the hatchery; Aridatha thanked the Arcanist for that, for one less fear on her plate. She’d also been lucky enough to encounter Lioska fairly quickly. The wildclaw had immediately grasped the idea of emergency and contagion, even if there hadn’t been time to give her all the details, and run off. Aridatha wasn’t completely sure what Lioska actually planned to do about the emergency and contagion, but Lioska had a level head and some good military training: Aridatha trusted her to think of something helpful.

The rest of the clan, however …

As Aridatha clambered up into Isildur’s chamber, she saw Rakgi diving in the pond, the glow spreading under his skin telling her that it was too late to warn him. In the distance, the same light forked through the veins of a large, dark wing, though it vanished between the trees too quickly for Aridatha to tell whose. Don’t let it be Geras -- don’t let us lose Geras because I told her to go after the beasts instead of fleeing. Peeking out from her own room, Zura made rather frightened inquiring noises at Aridatha, but there was no time to find the coatl a translator: Aridatha just gestured at her to run, and she seemed to get the message, jumping down and scurrying away on her tiny legs.

“Aridatha? I would most appreciate being informed as to what is happening.”

Aridatha barely restrained herself from a curt response: now was not the time for Isildur’s customary wordiness. Instead, she said, “There’s some kind of … disease, or contagious magic, spreading through the clan. It affects dragons and inanimate objects, and it … it’s deadly, we think.”

Clever as always, Isildur grasped the situation quickly. “You want me to move the hoard to safety?”

“Not the whole hoard.” That would be an impossible task: it had taken the clan’s largest and strongest members dozens of trips to bring all the accumulated products of all their labor over the mountains to the new lair. “Just grab the currency, the valuables. Don’t worry about the familiars; Geras is on it. And, Isildur? Don’t martyr yourself. Get out quickly, and don’t bite off more than you can chew.”

Isildur snorted delicately. “Trust me, Aridatha, I have no intention of dying for a handful of trinkets.”

“Good. Anyone else you run into, tell them to run. Doesn’t matter where, just get away from the lair.”

A frown. “You don’t want to set a rendezvous point for afterwards? Sounds like a recipe for chaos.”

Aridatha shook her head. “The infected dragons, they’re … they’re lucid, but something’s wrong with them. I think they might be deliberately spreading … whatever it is. So I don’t want to give them a target.”

“Very well.” With uncharacteristic brevity, Isildur departed, leaving Aridatha to a moment’s quiet.

What now? Aridatha had initially planned to go to Cypress and Illyan, to seek the journalists’ help in spreading word of the disaster, but she doubted anyone remained unaware now -- sending those two back into the lair would risk their lives needlessly. Of course, knowing Cypress, he might have gone in anyway, just to investigate … Was it time for Aridatha herself to run? A captain goes down with her ship … But she was not going to die here. The metaphorical ship meant less than its crew, and they would need her in the days to come. Assuming, of course, that she could do any better as a leader in the future -- she hadn’t exactly prepared for this …

Pushing the thought away -- you can wallow in your own inadequacy when there’s no immediate danger -- Aridatha decided that as long as she was here, she might at least try to warn the rest of the building. She’d already seen on her way up that Moros’ ground-floor chamber was empty, but the sound-mages Arven and Halamshiral lived above Isildur. They were, in fact, her parents, though none of them really found that particularly significant -- as evinced by the fact that Isildur had felt no need to ensure their safety. Aridatha scrambled up the trunk of the structure’s central tree.

Arven stood in the center of the room, watching his delicate harps and flutes vibrate on the walls. He turned to Aridatha as she entered. “What is all this commotion? I was trying to work.”

“You need to get out of here,” Aridatha said shortly. “There’s a magical plague spreading across the lair. Take what you can carry, but don’t let it slow you down -- just go.”

Arven started to ask a question, but Aridatha was already gone, climbing further up into the thin branches above, where she had to balance herself carefully. These areas were not designed for the use of any dragons above fae size, but she could see Halamshiral’s nest above her …

“Help!” The cry came from Cobalt’s nearby lean-to, though it was higher-pitched than the imperial’s typical voice, and sounded absolutely desperate. “Please, help me!”

Pausing only to shout a warning at Halamshiral’s nest, just in case the fae was in there, Aridatha spread her wings and glided into the lean-to, where she found a harshly glowing Cobalt casually crushing a blue spiral in his claws. The tilt of Cobalt’s head was more curious than malicious, as if he honestly just wanted to see what would happen to the smaller dragon’s body if he kept squeezing; and Aridatha had never seen the spiral before in her life.

That didn’t slow her intervention, though. She wasn’t large enough or magically skilled enough to fight Cobalt head-on, but she fluttered into the imperial’s face and threw sparks at his eyes, distracting him enough that the spiral managed to squirm out of his grip. Having escaped, he stood, panting, on the ground before Cobalt, staring up at the imperial in bewilderment; Aridatha dropped down next to him and shoved him towards the exit. “Go! Now!”

Cobalt shook the sparks from his eyes and roared, and the spiral at last fled with Aridatha on his tail. She glanced back, to see if Cobalt was in pursuit, and saw him flashing and spasming with rainbow light instead; quickly, she threw herself at the spiral, hurling both of them behind a large mirror. An explosion, and when she peered out again Cobalt was gone, leaving only the odd shred of that awful glow.

“Cobalt …” the spiral said, clearly in shock.

“Who are -- never mind. Questions for later. Just run, get out of here -- not that way!” This, when the spiral would have fluttered for a crevice in the lean-to’s construction, one where the multicolored fire was already spreading. “This thing is everywhere; there’s no hiding from it. Just get out of the lair, and we’ll all meet back up later.”

The spiral nodded quickly, several times, seeming to absorb the information a little more with each jerky movement, and then he was gone. And maybe it was time for Aridatha to get out too.

[starwood-stranded-archived]

Illyan: It's nice to be around other pearlcatchers. Nothing against other breeds, but there are things that only we understand, right, guys?

Aridatha: [sweating] Uh, sure. Pearlie things. I totally know what you're talking about. Because I am a pearlcatcher. And have been one all my life.

Rakgi: I lost my pearl again.

[starwood-stranded-archived]

“Rakgi, catch!” Lorette called, tossing a scroll into the air. Rakgi didn’t react in time to grab it, and it fluttered down over his face, draping itself across his horns.

“Thanks so much,” Rakgi said, keeping his voice as flat and unenthusiastic as he possibly could. “I always wanted a blindfold.”

Lorette laughed, high-pitched and a bit nervous, and said, “I just got back from the market. Now I’ll go get the rest of the clan -- they’ll want to see, won’t they? You’re going to be a Pearlcatcher!”

“Wait, what?” Rakgi started to tear the scroll off his face, but when he heard it rip, he had to stop and take his time to disentangle it -- because if it was what he thought it was, it was too valuable to ruin. By the time he could see again, Lorette was gone, with no indication of which tunnel she’d twisted off into.

He turned his attention to the scroll instead. Yep: there was the vague drawing of a Pearlcatcher on an outer leaf, and the magic humming within. Rakgi sat down rather suddenly, startled. The clan had been spending a good bit of treasure on altering his appearance lately, and he’d known a breed change was the end goal, but ... he hadn’t realized it would be today. It would be weird, wouldn't it? The sudden change to his body, suddenly being much smaller ... He wasn’t sure if he’d like it. Of course, he could always change back, but that would mean buying another scroll and negating the great expenditure of treasure ... While changing one’s appearance with a gene scroll had become common, no one else in the clan had undergone a breed change yet, and Rakgi wasn’t sure he liked the idea of being the first.

Footsteps brought the Guardian -- or should he say Pearlcatcher-to-be -- back to the situation at hand, as a gaggle of dragons emerged from out of the tunnels. Rakgi swallowed hard as he surveyed the crowd who’d come to witness his transformation: Nesita, Lorette, Geras, Kelsus, Jarith, Sovari, Zura. That was a lot of eyes.

“I, um, I wasn’t aware that we were ready for this,” Rakgi said, into their stares.

“The purchasing opportunity came up rather suddenly,” Nesita said. Her voice was calm and soothing, as always; it reminded Rakgi as being a hatchling. He’d been small then; surely he could handle it again? “It was an abrupt decision -- so you can wait till you feel comfortable making the change, if you prefer; we can always hang onto the scroll.”

Lorette looked disappointed by this prospect, but Geras was nodding. Rakgi checked the others’ reactions, but Zura didn’t seem to have understood the statement, he couldn’t read the Faes’ body language, and Sovari was just staring at him with terribly blank eyes.

“No, it’s OK,” he said. The longer he put it off, the more nervous he’d get, right? Not, of course, that he was afraid. Not at all. “I’ll do it. There’s no point in waiting.”

“Great!” Lorette said. She grinned. “I think you’ll make a great Pearlcatcher, Rakgi.”

“Pearlcatchers are known for their vanity,” Jarith added, deadpan. Rakgi shot the Fae a glare.

“Never mind him,” Nesita intervened. “Go on, Rakgi.”

“Go on,” Sovari echoed. Rakgi couldn’t exactly consider that support -- if the other dragons had been jeering him, so would Sovari. But he might as well do it. As he’d said, no point waiting.

“OK,” he said. “Here I go.”

He reached for the scroll, opened it, and began to read the spell inside. It should work, even though he had no magical abilities -- would he suddenly gain them as a Pearlcatcher, a magic-enabled species? He hoped not; that’d be almost as difficult to deal with as his size.

Rakgi didn’t get far into the incantation before he started to feel the effects. Spots danced across his eyes, purple and green and gyrating, and he saw and felt nothing but bright light, he couldn’t say how long -- and then he was back again, his entire body feeling wrong, different muscles connecting to lighter bones. Before he could react, his neck jerked back -- a much shorter neck, and smoother -- and he coughed and heaved his head forward, narrow muzzle opening and regurgitating a perfect iridescent sphere. His pearl. He picked it up, clumsily, although it wasn’t as hard to maneuver his shorter arm as he’d feared -- the spell must have some adaptation built in, so users wouldn’t have to completely re-learn all movements.

“How do you feel, Rakgi?” Nesita asked, and that was when Rakgi remembered that he had an audience.

“Ah, good, very good.” There wasn’t as much resonance behind his voice anymore; it had gone higher. Rakgi struggled to get his feet under him, managing to step on his new whiskers, which really hurt. “Ouch! Uh, I’m fine. I got it.”

“Are you sure you don’t need help?” Geras asked. Rakgi had trouble locating her for a moment; then he remembered to look up. He let out an involuntary squeak; she was huge. His memories told him that he should be bigger than her, but there she loomed. Looking around quickly, he saw that even Zura was bigger than him; Nesita and Lorette were smaller, but not by as much as he’d like, and the Faes had swelled from tiny to -- well, to the size Nesita used to be.

“I’m fine,” Rakgi repeated. He backed away. “I think I’m just going to go, uh, try and get used to this. I’ll be in my room.”

“Pearl!” Zura said, darting forward, and Rakgi realized that he’d left his newly-created pearl behind. An unfamiliar panic shot through him, and he snatched it quickly from the Coatl, turned, and dashed out of the room, stumbling on new legs.

[starwood-stranded-archived]

< Part 1 | < Part 2 | < Part 3

The Carmine Serthis tried to lash out at Fee at first, and Geras started forward automatically, but Fee swayed back easily and hissed at her. Geras’ ears couldn’t resolve the sounds into words, but apparently the two Serthis made something out of it, because Fee slid back to Geras’ side a moment later. The Carmine lunged after her for a moment, then fell back.

“She hasn’t seen the sun in a month,” Fee noted. “She’s going stir-crazy.”

“That’s all?” Rakgi said, incredulous.

“Rakgi!” Geras scolded.

“What?” The red Guardian turned to her. “How was I supposed to know -- ”

“That maybe you ought to let your familiar get some air once in a while?” Geras said. “Flamecaller, Rakgi.”

“Maybe Rakgi needs a familiar that’s easier to care for,” Kelsus suggested, from the top of Geras’ head. “Like maybe a mushroom, or a snail. Or a rock?”

As usual, Geras couldn't tell whether the Fae was joking. Rakgi didn’t take it as particularly friendly, though, glaring up at Kelsus. And perhaps he would have gotten the chance to retort if his Serthis had not chosen that instant to launch herself, snarling, at Fee, who’d slid forward again to try to talk to her.

“Fee!” Geras said, leaping forward at once so that the Carmine’s fangs latched onto her wrist rather than Fee’s shoulder. The Opheodrys Serthis launched herself over Geras’ intervening limb, throwing her counterpart onto her back and slashing at her with scything claws as she struggled to rise. Rakgi was making small distressed noises and otherwise being completely useless, so Geras was the one who grabbed Fee around the waist and pulled her off the other Serthis. The Carmine tried to follow, despite the blood leaking from half a dozen cuts on her thin shoulders, and Geras batted her away with her other forelimb. A bolt of magic from Kelsus, who’d taken flight as Geras’ movement upset his perch, sent the red Serthis to the ground -- unconscious, Geras hoped.

“You're bit!” Rakgi said, shrilly.

In Geras’ talons, Fee was hissing, eyes slitted, still watching the other Serthis. Geras tried to put her thoughts in order, which was hard, because there was blood pumping in her ears and her bitten wrist was burning like no fire she’d ever felt. She was a large enough dragon that the Carmine’s venom probably wouldn’t kill her -- but it would hurt like the Flamecaller’s own fires, and she couldn't put Fee down because the Opheodrys Serthis still looked liable to attack the limp snake-creature, even if she wasn’t fighting Geras’ grip.

“Rakgi,” Geras said. “Rakgi. Get your thrice-cursed familiar out of here.”

He moved to obey at once, wings drawn tightly to his body.

“I’ll get Nesita,” Kelsus suggested, and he had already darted out of the room by the time Geras nodded. That was a good idea. Out of all their clan, Nesita knew the most about healing; Nesita would have the best idea of how to help Geras. And once Rakgi got his Serthis out of the room, she could finally release Fee, she hoped.

Part 5 >

[starwood-stranded-archived]

< Part 1 | < Part 2

“Oh, you’re here,” Kelsus chirped, his high-pitched voice as unexpressive as ever -- but since he fluttered down from the stalactite he was clinging to to perch on Geras’ head, she was fairly certain that he was glad to see her.

"Yep, here to save the day,” Geras said, with a sarcasm she knew Kelsus wouldn’t catch. Fee gave her a sidelong look, but that wasn’t necessarily appreciation of her humor: the Serthis could have been annoyed, since Geras really contributed nothing but her familiar’s abilities.

“It’s inside,” Kelsus said, unnecessarily: Geras could easily hear Rakgi’s familiar screeching. “It tried to bite me, so I had to stick to the ceiling, and then Rakgi sent me out here to wait for you.”

Geras said nothing in reply, just led Fee into Rakgi’s cavern, but her jaw clenched. So the Carmine Serthis had tried to attack Kelsus. She didn’t blame the creature for that -- she blamed Rakgi. There were more than a dozen dragons he could have asked to watch his berserk familiar, and he’d picked the smallest and most vulnerable.

“Fun, isn’t it?” Kelsus said, bending over to look into Geras’ eyes from above. She hoped the Fae was joking -- you could never tell, with his delivery.

“Hmm, something like that,” she said, trying to humor him. She couldn’t tell what Kelsus’ reaction was: his crest waved, but she didn’t know what that meant. Beside her, Fee hissed, sudden and hostile, and Geras looked up to see... “Rakgi! What are you doing?”

“I -- I just wanted it to shut up,” the red Guardian muttered guiltily, releasing the Carmine Serthis, which he’d held down and shaken a bit as it hissed and spat at him.

“I don’t blame her for attacking you, if this is how you take care of a familiar,” Geras growled, though she couldn’t have said exactly where the hot rage in her chest had come from. He hadn’t been shaking the Serthis hard enough to really hurt her, and restraint was only sensible with the creature going berserk -- but no wonder the familiar didn’t like Rakgi. Geras glanced down to see Fee coiled next to one of her fore-talons, watching her clan-mate with narrowed eyes.

“Oh, come on, Geras,” Rakgi said. “Don’t be... Come on, can your familiar help or not?”

“I guess we’ll see. Fee?”

Part 4 > | Part 5 >

[starwood-stranded-archived]

“Um... Lorette? Nesita? Can I get some advice?”

Lorette looked up from where she was curled around the clan’s unhatched eggs to see Rakgi vacillating in the doorway of the hatchery. He was fidgeting, claws scratching at the floor, tail twitching, and generally looked as upset as Lorette had ever seen him.

“What’s wrong?” Nesita asked.

“I, uh... I sort of made Bartos really mad and I, um, was wondering if you have any idea how to placate him.”

“Bartos?” Lorette echoed. The studious Tundra didn’t seem to have much of a temper -- what was Rakgi so worried about? “I’ve never seen him mad.”

“Me either,” Nesita said, concern in her voice. She would know, wouldn’t she? She was his mother. “What happened, Rakgi? What did you do?”

“I resent the assumption that I did anything,” Rakgi replied, his voice brittle with injured pride. When he spoke again, that certainty had dropped away, leaving him sounding nervous and miserable. “But I may have, er, accidentally, um, set some of his scrolls on fire.”

“How did you manage that?” The words fell from Lorette’s mouth before she could filter them, and she flinched when she realized that her tone had been disbelieving, even accusatory.

“It’s a long story and I really don’t want to tell it and just tell me how to apologize because Bartos keeps giving me this death stare and I’m afraid he’s plotting revenge and the next time we go into the Coliseum he’ll push me into a pack of phytocats or something.”

“Have you tried to apologize?” Lorette said. “I know Bartos isn’t always the most open dragon, but he can’t hold it against you if you acknowledge that it was an honest mistake and you’re very sorry.”

“Mmm,” Nesita said, her tone doubtful. “Yep, I think you might be in quite a bit of trouble, Rakgi. I’d stay out of the Coliseum for a while if I were you.” Now she sounded amused.

“That’s super helpful, thanks.” Was that true fear under Rakgi’s heavy sarcasm? “Any other great tips?”

“My recommendation would be that you replace the scrolls you destroyed,” Nesita said. “I doubt Bartos will hold much of a grudge once his reading materials have been returned.”

Rakgi’s wings drooped. “But -- that could take weeks. That’s dozens of scrolls, some of them rare -- I’d have to go out trading for them -- it’d take all the gold I could earn, wouldn’t it?”

“Something to consider before you ‘accidentally’ burn scrolls,” Nesita said, and Lorette realized that she might be as miffed as her son about the destruction. Well, Lorette wasn’t thrilled by it herself, but if Rakgi had just made a mistake... A moment later, Nesita seemed to take pity on Rakgi, and she added, “You could see if anyone’s read them and can perhaps copy them back out -- try talking to Kelsus, Jarith, Zarya, Sovari... Lorette here might actually be able to help you out.”

“Oh! Yes, I probably could. What scrolls are gone? I have some memorized.”

“Great.” Rakgi still didn’t sound thrilled about the prospect. It must have been better than facing betrayal in battle, though, because he started to rattle off a list for Lorette.

Based on this prompt.