Wabbajack
(#2672195)
Level 10 Tundra
Familiar
Trick of the Light
Click or tap to view this dragon in Predict Morphology.
Energy: 50/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Lightning.
Male Tundra
This dragon is hibernating.
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
3.58 m
Wingspan
3.49 m
Weight
263.29 kg
Genetics
Sunshine
Iridescent
Iridescent
Splash
Shimmer
Shimmer
Gold
Circuit
Circuit
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 10 Tundra
EXP: 65 / 27676
STR
7
AGI
6
DEF
6
QCK
5
INT
7
VIT
7
MND
7
Lineage
Parents
Offspring
- Zenith
- Panthera
- Brasil
- Evika
- Val
- Astyanax
- Echidna
- Endewyn
- Vrinde
- Eveleen
- Chervil
- Silmeria
- Mairi
- Katrine
- Sidhara
- Noverca
- Kenji
- Damianos
- Jazz
- Rafadel
- Menoetius
- Lachlan
- Sergei
- Yin
- Sophalla
- Chinarain
- Rahal
- Razzle
- Theol
- Ayida
- Quickgleam
- Meander
- Monet
- Avon
- Caron
- Ishara
- Centehua
- Olympus
- Starfire
- Frith
- Corundum
- Aradan
- Sonnai
- Vadik
- Aachnor
- Riorden
- Lavan
- Ghengis
- Cenue
- Kwahandya
- Arwyn
- Xylia
- Ramaz
- Ennion
- Maddox
- Premin
- Nihmedu
- Eleveld
- Gadget
- Khashada
- Nibulem
- Elros
- Spellwing
- Drankas
- Brychon
- Felixa
- Deidre
- Zhao
- Artur
- Pyrite
- Aldwyn
- Alaura
- Tryl
- Verjan
- Dindymene
- Bala
- Softvoice
- Mythic
- Charoite
- Lakendra
- Orchestra
- Chrome
- Zippy
- Epa
- Arseni
- Caesar
- Ahava
- Maelorwen
- Sidivin
- Kelly
- Etta
- Sivir
- Ruvell
- Raigi
- Daelin
- Windsong
- Arod
- Crystalline
- Laverne
- Mercer
- Fim
- Tempero
- Karnak
Biography
I am that merry wanderer of the night.
I jest to Oberon and make him smile
When I a fat and bean-fed horse beguile,
Neighing in likeness of a filly foal.
And sometime lurk I in a gossip’s bowl
In very likeness of a roasted crab,
And when she drinks, against her lips I bob
And on her withered dewlap pour the ale.
-Puck, A Midsummer Night's Dream
I jest to Oberon and make him smile
When I a fat and bean-fed horse beguile,
Neighing in likeness of a filly foal.
And sometime lurk I in a gossip’s bowl
In very likeness of a roasted crab,
And when she drinks, against her lips I bob
And on her withered dewlap pour the ale.
-Puck, A Midsummer Night's Dream
   
|
If you see something moving out of the corner of your eye, it's best not to jump, or turn too fast and try to catch it. Wabbajack loves to fool with those he knows he can get a good reaction out of. A laugh or a scream, they're two sides of the same coin, aren't they? It's all the same to him. He's the clan's self-proclaimed jester. Certainly no one disputes his title, but no one remembers giving it to him either. Or inviting him into the clan, come to think of it. He's just... been there. For a while. How long exactly? Who knows. Wabbajack certainly isn't telling, or at least telling anything but jokes. No one can quite muster up the courage to breathe the word, but “haunted” is a fairly good description of the lair with Wabbajack around. He floats, sometimes, although he never seems to notice that his feet aren't on the ground. Or at least, he pretends not to notice. He floats through things too, which most dragons quickly learn not to mention. No one can forget the sight, when they stammer out that he's standing halfway through a wall, of Wabbajack looking at himself with surprise, shrieking, and falling down sliced into two halves. They usually don't forget how hard he laughs at them later, whole and unharmed, as though the whole grisly scene never happened. He must be a ghost, surely? Nothing could do that and survive. No matter how much he crows about how clever his tricks are, those intestines were just too realistic. Right? He must be. Let's just say that no one has ever seen what's underneath that birdskull mask. If it is a mask. Wabbajack is easily identifiable by his incredibly bright colors, the sound of jingling bells that follows him despite the fact that he's not wearing any, and his incredibly loud, shrieking laugh. He's so easily identifiable that it always comes as a surprise when you see him standing all the way across the room, only to hear him whisper “boo” into your ear. He was right there, but now he's right here, and when you look back, he's not there and maybe there is no there at all, and how did you end up in the crypt, and who's standing right behind you? Wabbajack's jests are often like that, innocuousness mixed with horror, cliché mixed with innovation, immensely funny to him, of course, and perhaps not so much to the victim. It's best to laugh along with him anyway, though, otherwise he'll just keep trying until you do. No one is sure whether Wabbajack's apparent ability to bend the rules of reality, or just a dragon's mind, is an actual thing or not. He'll certainly pull out all the stops in pursuit of a joke, long long after any sane dragon would have abandoned it. No one is safe from his japes and jests (or safe at all really) until he's satisfied, and should that require filling their entire room with honey while they sleep, so be it. So bee it, even. Because all that honey doesn't come from nowhere, so he'll have to include bees. Many bees. Where did he get them all? He just laughs and laughs if anyone tries to ask. His sense of humor is indiscriminate and inscrutable, ranging from utterly terrible puns to grievous bodily harm, one after the other. ~by Mirrorstone |
Short Stories
1.
He waited just out of sight, his bulk concealed in a convenient alcove. Every so often his tail twitched, and he paid no mind as the blue fur phased through the stone walls.
Soon enough his patience paid off, as he heard the scratch of claws against the smooth stone floor. If he strained, he could hear the clatter of copper as well - Asmodeus. Wabbajack grinned. Perfect.
The Skydancer approached Wabbajack's hiding space, his mind lost in other matters. He didn't notice the tiny trickle of water dribbling from the ceiling of the passageway. Wabbajack's smile widened.
The trickle became a sprinkle, then a shower. Asmodeus stopped and glanced up, wincing as the droplets splashed against his skin. He hastily began to search for shelter. As he dashed down the corridor, however, the rain-shower seemed to follow him. It became a downpour, and Asmodeus backed into a corner. His feathers poured water and he blinked furiously trying to keep the liquid out of his eyes. A childlike moan rose from his throat as he tried in vain to escape.
Wabbajack began to laugh, the sound reverberating through the passageway. Asmodeus glanced about, trying to find the source. He pushed away from the wall, shaking water from his face and wings even as more continued to pour upon him. Suddenly, his wing tips met resistance. Cold leeched into his claws and his heart - he was surrounded in ice. He looked down and realized that the water was beginning to pool at his feet, swiftly growing deeper. Within moments it was around his waist, then gently rippling around his elbows. Asmodeus couldn't help himself. He screamed.
Wabbajack knew his cue when he heard it. He emerged from his alcove, a whispered word allowing him to pass invisibly through the air. He floated towards the icy prison and only when his face was inches from the panicking Skydancer did he drop the spell. He pressed his bony mask against the surface and gibbered at Asmodeus.
"Wabbajack!" the Skydancer shouted, or tried to. Instead, the water burbled around his mouth, and he choked. He began to thrash inside his tank as the hovering Tundra laughed.
"Isn't this fun, Asmodeus?" he cackled, hanging upside down in midair, clutching his sides in mirth. The Skydancer continued to struggle in the water, his claws pounding against the thick ice. The water reached the top of the pillar and began to cascade over the sides, obscuring his image even more. As it crashed against the floor it vanished, leaving an endless waterfall that flowed down the prison and nowhere else. Asmodeus scraped his claws fruitlessly down the ice walls, then his whole body heaved once, twice, then was still. Wabbajack turned, rotating in the air until his head hung level with the quiescent Skydancer. "No, you don't think so?" He gestured, and the walls shattered. Water poured everywhere and dissipated just as fast. Asmodeus slid to the stone floor, steam rising from his sodden feathers, his temperature much lower than the warm cavern. For a moment he was still, then gasped, a deep shuddering breath that shook his whole body. The Skydancer shakily pushed himself upright, staring up at the floating Tundra in horror, shaking from cold and fear.
"You didn't like my joke?" he asked, a note of distress in his voice. His lip quivered, the feathers on his mask shaking a bit. "I planned it just for you." The Skydancer pushed past him, struggling back down the passageway, leaving a trail of water in his wake.
Wabbajack drifted slowly behind, quickly losing sight of Asmodeus. He pouted, drawing his paws up around his face in disappointment.
No one ever seemed to like his jokes.
by Hatterlet
2.
"He's a menace," Asmodeus growled, shaking from fury and from cold, his feathers leaving a trail of water. A droplet dribbled from his nose and he snapped at it. "You're a soulcatcher, can't you do something about him?"
She stood in the center of her chamber, the shelves of soul spheres catching and refracting the light, sending rainbow fragments scattering across the room. With a gentle claw she reached out and lightly caressed one of them, the glowing essence within brightening at her touch. What am I to do? she thought, her heart heavy. She had spent years collecting souls, they surrounded and filled her life. She had taken members of her clan before, it was true, but never healthy, living members. If 'living' could even describe Wabbajack. She did not take souls by force.
"Pretty balls." Banshee heard a voice, and whipped around. The luridly colored Tundra sat inside the door to her rooms, his head tilted to one side. A spark seemed to gleam within the dark eyesockets of the mask he always wore. Banshee blinked, and looked closer at him. While his form remained solid, he was surrounded by a swarm of glittering orange fireflies.
"Hello, Wabbajack." she said, her breath catching slightly at the sight. He laughed, the sound loud and imposing in the whispering silence of her chamber.
"Pretty balls," he repeated. Banshee heard the soft clink of glass, and turned to see several of the spheres lifting from their stands and drifting towards the Tundra. He laughed again, and held out his paws. The light inside the orbs dimmed and seemed to quake, pressing against the confines of the glass. They did not want to be touched by Wabbajack. He caught them, the glass scratching against his claws.
"Please - " Banshee started, holding out a warning claw, but Wabbajack interrupted.
"Watch!" he crowed, the sound of phantom bells jingling in his laughter. He began to juggle, the glass spheres tossed high into the air. As more drifted from the shelves, he added them in, juggling three, then five, then ten. Banshee began to lose count, watching in helpless horror at the whirling mass of glass and glowing smoke. The air was filled with dancing orbs, both drifting about and caught in the maelstrom of Wabbajack's 'fun'.
"Enough!" Banshee cried, throwing out her arms. The spheres stilled, frozen in midair. All but one. It was a smaller sphere, resting in Wabbajack's palm. He looked at her, and his paw twitched. The sphere plummetted to the stone floor, smashing in to shining fragments. For a moment an orb of glowing golden smoke hovered there, then it dissipated, evaporating into the air with a lonesome sigh. Banshee stared in horror as all that remained of a once-great Light Philosopher, one who had served under the Lightweaver herself, vanished into the ether.
A rage grew within the Coatl, a fury that the gentle dragon had never felt in her life. Her arm snapped out, an empty sphere jumping to her palm from a tightly woven basket under the shelves. "Let's play a game, Wabbajack." she murmured, anger edging her voice. The Tundra looked up from the pile of shattered glass.
"Game?" he asked, lifting all four feet from the ground and floating in midair. She nodded, and hurled the sphere at him. A few of the fireflies vanished, a thin wisp of orange smoke appearing in the orb. But Wabbajack dodged, shooting up to dance around the ceiling. "Ooh, fun!" he cried, laughing as he zoomed around the motionless orbs, dodging and dipping to avoid them.
He folded his wings and flew out the opening of the chamber, his voice echoing down the hall as he cackled and jingled. Banshee followed after him, scooping up the sphere as she ran. She would have a new soul to replace the old, a new addition to her collection.
"I - I can try." Banshee murmured, not meeting Asmodeus' eyes. "I'll do my best."
by hatterlet
She stood in the center of her chamber, the shelves of soul spheres catching and refracting the light, sending rainbow fragments scattering across the room. With a gentle claw she reached out and lightly caressed one of them, the glowing essence within brightening at her touch. What am I to do? she thought, her heart heavy. She had spent years collecting souls, they surrounded and filled her life. She had taken members of her clan before, it was true, but never healthy, living members. If 'living' could even describe Wabbajack. She did not take souls by force.
"Pretty balls." Banshee heard a voice, and whipped around. The luridly colored Tundra sat inside the door to her rooms, his head tilted to one side. A spark seemed to gleam within the dark eyesockets of the mask he always wore. Banshee blinked, and looked closer at him. While his form remained solid, he was surrounded by a swarm of glittering orange fireflies.
"Hello, Wabbajack." she said, her breath catching slightly at the sight. He laughed, the sound loud and imposing in the whispering silence of her chamber.
"Pretty balls," he repeated. Banshee heard the soft clink of glass, and turned to see several of the spheres lifting from their stands and drifting towards the Tundra. He laughed again, and held out his paws. The light inside the orbs dimmed and seemed to quake, pressing against the confines of the glass. They did not want to be touched by Wabbajack. He caught them, the glass scratching against his claws.
"Please - " Banshee started, holding out a warning claw, but Wabbajack interrupted.
"Watch!" he crowed, the sound of phantom bells jingling in his laughter. He began to juggle, the glass spheres tossed high into the air. As more drifted from the shelves, he added them in, juggling three, then five, then ten. Banshee began to lose count, watching in helpless horror at the whirling mass of glass and glowing smoke. The air was filled with dancing orbs, both drifting about and caught in the maelstrom of Wabbajack's 'fun'.
"Enough!" Banshee cried, throwing out her arms. The spheres stilled, frozen in midair. All but one. It was a smaller sphere, resting in Wabbajack's palm. He looked at her, and his paw twitched. The sphere plummetted to the stone floor, smashing in to shining fragments. For a moment an orb of glowing golden smoke hovered there, then it dissipated, evaporating into the air with a lonesome sigh. Banshee stared in horror as all that remained of a once-great Light Philosopher, one who had served under the Lightweaver herself, vanished into the ether.
A rage grew within the Coatl, a fury that the gentle dragon had never felt in her life. Her arm snapped out, an empty sphere jumping to her palm from a tightly woven basket under the shelves. "Let's play a game, Wabbajack." she murmured, anger edging her voice. The Tundra looked up from the pile of shattered glass.
"Game?" he asked, lifting all four feet from the ground and floating in midair. She nodded, and hurled the sphere at him. A few of the fireflies vanished, a thin wisp of orange smoke appearing in the orb. But Wabbajack dodged, shooting up to dance around the ceiling. "Ooh, fun!" he cried, laughing as he zoomed around the motionless orbs, dodging and dipping to avoid them.
He folded his wings and flew out the opening of the chamber, his voice echoing down the hall as he cackled and jingled. Banshee followed after him, scooping up the sphere as she ran. She would have a new soul to replace the old, a new addition to her collection.
"I - I can try." Banshee murmured, not meeting Asmodeus' eyes. "I'll do my best."
by hatterlet
3.
Today was the day! Wabbajack left his private little hole of a nest and traveled fast through the clan grounds, sticking to the shadows. He careful wove himself through the other clan members, going unnoticed. Today was the day that Wabbajack did what he had always wanted to do. He had practiced on every other clan member and now? It was a certain Imperial's turn. A certain Imperial who had thus far been unaffected by even the most lavish of pranks, didn't even chuckle at the best of jokes, and never even paid Wabbajack any attention. Oh yes, today was the day indeed. The day Azrael held his sides in pain due to laughter. Or fright. Whichever one came first. Wabbajack was sure of it, he could do it this time. He was ready! That was why he had spent months planning this out. Everything was ready. He would get the Imperial to give him a reaction other than annoyance or anger. Wabbajack was sure of it.
"Aaaaazrae-l~!" Wabbajack said in a sing-song voice, skipping over to the large Imperial. Azrael looked down, baring sharp and deadly looking teeth. Wabbajack didn't even flinch and placed his paws on the Imperial's chest, resembling a puppy trying to tell someone hello. "Can you heeeelp me?"
"No," Azrael said, stepping away. Wabbajack fell onto his back and huffed.
"It's serious! There's someone in the forest threatening the clan!" The Imperial stopped. Wabbajack was able to hide his pleased smirk. "They say if they fight the strongest warrior we have, they'll leave. I saw them while gathering some tools for my hobby."
"You mean tricks."
"Same thing." Wabbajack stared into the dragon's eyes, almost feeling scared. Almost.
"This is another trick," Azrael said flatly. "Try someone else. I'm not in the mood."
Wabbajack huffed. "Fine, I'll go ask someone else. Seeing as you're scared."
Honestly, Wabbajack was expecting Azrael to keep walking, but the Imperial stopped short and glanced behind him. Now that was the look of bloodlust. Of anger. Oh, the prank was back on! Wabbajack took a step back and looked away. Azrael shoved him hard, towards the forest. Wabbajack silently led him towards the woods. While they walked, the excitement was building up. Azrael had no idea! Oh this would be just grand!
"They are around here," Wabbajack said, coming to a stop. Azrael looked around. "I don't want to go any further. They were… terrifying even for me." Azrael glanced behind at the Tundra, then kept moving through the woods. Wabbajack smiled and began to fade into the air, his spirit traveling close to Azrael without the Imperial realizing. The spirit darted further ahead and got ready. The pulled a lever and several logs crashed to the ground. Azrael stopped on the path and turned towards the disturbance. Wabbajack watched him approach and darted further into the woods, slowly leading the Imperial deeper and deeper in, mimicking mocking laughs and jeers.
"Coward!" Azrael shouted after going deep into the forest. "Stop hiding and face me!"
Wabbajack chuckled to himself and went into a puppet he had spent weeks making. A puppet he could control with his very soul, mixed with the left over magic he had when he was mortal. The puppet began to move, and the eyes glowed light blue, like the magic.
"You are the challenger?" the puppet said. Needless to say, Wabbajack cherished the look on Azrael's face.
The dragon's jaw dropped and he backed away in fear. The eleven-headed puppet reared all of its heads, facing the Imperial. Then it stepped forward with one leg, then the other. Despite the size of the puppet, it was easy to control. Oh the prank was perfect! Azrael never expressed fear, but no one could ignore the terrifying thought of facing an Emperor. Azrael turned and darted through the woods, Wabbajack charging after. The puppet wove through the trees easily, pulling levers as it went to trigger events in the woods. Wabbajack had so carefully planned this and- where did he go? The puppet came to a stop and Wabbajack, who was using the vision of the main head, looking around. Azrael was tricky, but not that tricky. He was too large to hide in these woods. Wabbajack's eyes narrowed and he moved the puppet forward, and soon felt something burying into the puppet's chest. Azrael's cleaver dug deep into the fake skin and bones of the monster, ripping it out quickly. His eyes were filled with rage. It even made Wabbajack shiver in fear.
The Imperial was not done, he jumped on the main head and ripped it off with his claws, reaching in and dragging out a feather Wabbajack used to provide control over the puppet. The device fell to shreds, collapsing to a limp pile. Wabbajack became somewhat solid again and floated there, giving Azrael a smile. "You should have seen your face!" he chuckled.
"Wabbajack..." Azrael growled.
"I mean, you should have really seen it! Your jaw dropped and you ran away and-"
"GET DOWN!" The dragon yelled, tackling Wabbajack to the ground. The Tundra heard something go over then and looked up. It was part of the trick, one that must have gone haywire. The trick was supposed to go slowly, to crash into the Emperor puppet and make Azrael think he was getting away, but instead it had swung by at a force unknown to Wabbajack. Now that was just poor planning. He could have gotten hurt if he was alive! Azrael got off of the Tundra and began to walk back to the clan grounds in silence. Wabbajack followed.
"Hey, Azrael~," Wabbajack said, "did I scare ya, huh?"
Azrael was silent.
"Azr-"
The hit came before Wabbajack had time to disappear. He skidded along the dirt and soon found a very angry Imperial on top of him, the glow of the fire around them making the dragon even more terrifying. Wabbajack would have died from fear, if he wasn't already a spirit.
"As much as I love practical jokes," Azrael said, putting pressure on the Tundra's neck, "the next time you try to prank me like that is the day you find out that spirits can feel pain." He lifted his paw and continued to walk. "You know nothing of Emperors… much less that they can't talk. They are mindless beast with the intelligence of a child. Much like you."
Wabbajack got up and huffed. "Says the sulky one willing to jump at a chance to fight at any moment…Were you at least scared!"
Azrael stopped and glanced back at the Tundra. "If you tell anyone, you'll wish you had never become part of this clan."
Wabbajack smiled. That was all he needed to hear.
by Dew
"Aaaaazrae-l~!" Wabbajack said in a sing-song voice, skipping over to the large Imperial. Azrael looked down, baring sharp and deadly looking teeth. Wabbajack didn't even flinch and placed his paws on the Imperial's chest, resembling a puppy trying to tell someone hello. "Can you heeeelp me?"
"No," Azrael said, stepping away. Wabbajack fell onto his back and huffed.
"It's serious! There's someone in the forest threatening the clan!" The Imperial stopped. Wabbajack was able to hide his pleased smirk. "They say if they fight the strongest warrior we have, they'll leave. I saw them while gathering some tools for my hobby."
"You mean tricks."
"Same thing." Wabbajack stared into the dragon's eyes, almost feeling scared. Almost.
"This is another trick," Azrael said flatly. "Try someone else. I'm not in the mood."
Wabbajack huffed. "Fine, I'll go ask someone else. Seeing as you're scared."
Honestly, Wabbajack was expecting Azrael to keep walking, but the Imperial stopped short and glanced behind him. Now that was the look of bloodlust. Of anger. Oh, the prank was back on! Wabbajack took a step back and looked away. Azrael shoved him hard, towards the forest. Wabbajack silently led him towards the woods. While they walked, the excitement was building up. Azrael had no idea! Oh this would be just grand!
"They are around here," Wabbajack said, coming to a stop. Azrael looked around. "I don't want to go any further. They were… terrifying even for me." Azrael glanced behind at the Tundra, then kept moving through the woods. Wabbajack smiled and began to fade into the air, his spirit traveling close to Azrael without the Imperial realizing. The spirit darted further ahead and got ready. The pulled a lever and several logs crashed to the ground. Azrael stopped on the path and turned towards the disturbance. Wabbajack watched him approach and darted further into the woods, slowly leading the Imperial deeper and deeper in, mimicking mocking laughs and jeers.
"Coward!" Azrael shouted after going deep into the forest. "Stop hiding and face me!"
Wabbajack chuckled to himself and went into a puppet he had spent weeks making. A puppet he could control with his very soul, mixed with the left over magic he had when he was mortal. The puppet began to move, and the eyes glowed light blue, like the magic.
"You are the challenger?" the puppet said. Needless to say, Wabbajack cherished the look on Azrael's face.
The dragon's jaw dropped and he backed away in fear. The eleven-headed puppet reared all of its heads, facing the Imperial. Then it stepped forward with one leg, then the other. Despite the size of the puppet, it was easy to control. Oh the prank was perfect! Azrael never expressed fear, but no one could ignore the terrifying thought of facing an Emperor. Azrael turned and darted through the woods, Wabbajack charging after. The puppet wove through the trees easily, pulling levers as it went to trigger events in the woods. Wabbajack had so carefully planned this and- where did he go? The puppet came to a stop and Wabbajack, who was using the vision of the main head, looking around. Azrael was tricky, but not that tricky. He was too large to hide in these woods. Wabbajack's eyes narrowed and he moved the puppet forward, and soon felt something burying into the puppet's chest. Azrael's cleaver dug deep into the fake skin and bones of the monster, ripping it out quickly. His eyes were filled with rage. It even made Wabbajack shiver in fear.
The Imperial was not done, he jumped on the main head and ripped it off with his claws, reaching in and dragging out a feather Wabbajack used to provide control over the puppet. The device fell to shreds, collapsing to a limp pile. Wabbajack became somewhat solid again and floated there, giving Azrael a smile. "You should have seen your face!" he chuckled.
"Wabbajack..." Azrael growled.
"I mean, you should have really seen it! Your jaw dropped and you ran away and-"
"GET DOWN!" The dragon yelled, tackling Wabbajack to the ground. The Tundra heard something go over then and looked up. It was part of the trick, one that must have gone haywire. The trick was supposed to go slowly, to crash into the Emperor puppet and make Azrael think he was getting away, but instead it had swung by at a force unknown to Wabbajack. Now that was just poor planning. He could have gotten hurt if he was alive! Azrael got off of the Tundra and began to walk back to the clan grounds in silence. Wabbajack followed.
"Hey, Azrael~," Wabbajack said, "did I scare ya, huh?"
Azrael was silent.
"Azr-"
The hit came before Wabbajack had time to disappear. He skidded along the dirt and soon found a very angry Imperial on top of him, the glow of the fire around them making the dragon even more terrifying. Wabbajack would have died from fear, if he wasn't already a spirit.
"As much as I love practical jokes," Azrael said, putting pressure on the Tundra's neck, "the next time you try to prank me like that is the day you find out that spirits can feel pain." He lifted his paw and continued to walk. "You know nothing of Emperors… much less that they can't talk. They are mindless beast with the intelligence of a child. Much like you."
Wabbajack got up and huffed. "Says the sulky one willing to jump at a chance to fight at any moment…Were you at least scared!"
Azrael stopped and glanced back at the Tundra. "If you tell anyone, you'll wish you had never become part of this clan."
Wabbajack smiled. That was all he needed to hear.
by Dew
4.
A flicker of yellow, a hiss of steam, and there was Wabbajack! –coalescing out of the fiery vapors. He looked around, his blue eyes sparkling, and he peeled back his lips in a big, toothy grin.
Wabbajack thought his clanmates should smile more. Why, they were always so serious. So grim! In the Ashfall Waste, where the fire always danced, he thought the dragons should be dancing, too.
He drifted down halls; he glided across the ceiling. He poked out his head, upside-down, to spy on the lair. His clanmates all pretended not to notice him, and that made him sad. He started to pout. Nobody ever wanted to look at Wabbajack. Their scales darkened with fury whenever they heard him laugh.
So he wended his way down the corridors. He went to where the fire shone brightest. It was by a boiling spring, where the lava entered the water. Hardy little plants waved their leaves at him, and bright red fish gave him curious looks. He smiled and dangled his toes in the water and tittered when the fish found nothing to bite.
Then Wabbajack heard the click-clacking of an approaching dragon, and he quickly hid himself. His grin dangled in the air for a moment before disappearing, too. The fish were very surprised.
It was Ker – the Mirror with blood-colored scales and blood-colored wings, the Mirror whose Gembond shone like crystal drops from the sun. Her gleaming jewelry clattered; her cloak was spangled in stars. They could not hide the darkness lurking deep in her eyes.
Wabbajack tumbled invisibly in the air. He held his furry belly and cackled with glee. Why, Ker was like a parade – a float! Arrayed in such finery and heralded by noise. Even in the glow of the Ashfall Waste, she shone like a miniature sun.
Such a great arrival – it could only be honored by gaiety. Wabbajack looked around, but there were no others to help him. The fish in the spring had flitted away. Well, that was fine, it was perfectly fine. Nobody ever helped Wabbajack anyway.
Ker lay down next to the spring. Her brooding eyes were fixed on the lava-glow. She blinked once, twice, quite wearily, as her beribboned tail waved from side to side.
“Ker should smile more,” Wabbajack declared, though none but the lilies heard him. They quivered in anticipation and turned to where he was.
Wabbajack held his toes as he tumbled slowly, lazily, through the air. Head over heels, upside-down, right side up, his sparkling eyes always on Ker.
He watched as Ker removed the diadem that covered her brow. She gazed at it for a long moment, staring deep into the light. Wabbajack raised his head and looked around. So much fire, so much heat...This place was warm and bright. Ker was always going towards the light. Always looking for brightness.
“Ah, but this place, it’s much too bright!” Wabbajack exclaimed. And with a flick of his tail, he brushed away the light. Darkness fell over Ker like a veil.
The Mirror sat bolt upright in surprise. Through her golden eyes, the world had changed. The lava flow had frozen into dark, inanimate chunks, and the nearby lair was a dormant husk.
Wabbajack giggled again. Ker spun around, her eyes wide in fear. The diadem thunked from her paws and onto the ground. It seemed to her that she was the only spot of light left in this dark, frozen world, and she tentatively started back towards the lair.
“Ker always moves slowly.” The Tundra yawned. “Dragons should be lively. Dragons should be quick!”
And that was when Wabbajack struck!
He melted from the ether and picked up the diadem. The illusion fell away from Ker’s eyes. She spun around, shouting in outrage – “Hey!” – as Wabbajack galumphed away.
Dragons watched from within the lair as Ker took up the chase. “There goes Wabbajack,” they sighed, shaking their heads. Ker the Lightbringer could take care of herself. For now, they were just relieved Wabbajack was gone. For now.
And meanwhile, the prankster was giggling with glee. “For this, I need no contraptions,” he thought to himself. “No spells and not much trickery!” A spontaneous trick, a simple trick – it made his heart soar just as much as the complicated ones did. He drew in a deep breath and let it out as a glad, booming laugh. He leaped and soared like flames into the air.
And Ker leaped and soared along with him, too. Ker the Mirror, always so steady, now raced after him like a deer through the trees.
“Give it back, Wabbajack, give it back!”
Wabbajack threw a laugh at her over his shoulder. He grinned back at her and bounced along, the diadem held aloft in his paw. It shone in the night like a lighthouse beam, urging the poor Mirror on.
Over the black earth and into the night – “Give it back, Wabbajack, give it back!”
Wabbajack led Ker on a merry chase. They soon left the lair far behind. Dragons shouted helplessly, knowing that the phantom prankster would slip through their fingers. They bowed sympathetically as Ker hurtled past.
The Mirror lady kept up her yelling. She wanted the diadem back. Wabbajack shot through the air, tumbling like a cartwheel, and he looked into the globe’s brilliant light.
They ran over the black rocks and leaped over flues. The Ashfall Waste blacksmiths paused in their tasks. They watched Wabbajack and Ker run on, and on....
They bounded over streams of lava and burst through vaporous swirls. Ker blundered into a mass of steam so thick, it was as if a cloud had settled onto the earth. She paused for a moment, unsure and afraid, but then she saw her diadem gleam like a distant star. Wabbajack’s cackle sounded out of the darkness like a bell.
Candles swirled around Ker, and with a grim smile, she pressed on.
At the edge of the Ashfall Waste, they paused. Only Wabbajack’s paw was solid, the better to clutch the diadem. The rest of him was as transparent as cobwebs. His brilliant grin shone like a slice of the moon.
Ker approached warily. She held out one paw. “Wabbajack,” she warned him, “you’d better give that back.” The gems she wore smoldered, and her eyes burned with wrath.
A lesser dragon might have given up the game there and then, but not Wabbajack. That chase had been too short – and a short chase was no fun! “Why are you so afraid of the darkness, Ker? Haven’t you gotten used to it yet? After all, we see it for half of each day.”
And he doubled over, cackling with glee; he thought his observation was particularly clever. Ker looked coldly at him; she hissed, “It’s not the darkness outside that I’m afraid of.”
“Maaaayybeee...no,” Wabbajack acquiesced. He shook his head slowly, his eyes blinking beneath his bird skull mask. The diadem remained in his grasp.
And he looked up again, and he grinned, knife-sharp. “Perhaps it’s the darkness above that you fear!”
Up he went, a golden rocket shooting through the smoke. It surrounded him like a sooty coat, and he chuckled to himself. Below him, Ker loosed another dismayed cry. She followed him up towards the night.
She shredded the smoke to tatters with her claws. Here and there, hunting for that patch of gold. Wabbajack’s disembodied head rolled past like a tumbleweed; he chortled as she flailed with her arms.
Ker’s blood-red scales flushed black with fury. She attacked Wabbajack’s wings, his legs. He waggled his tail in front of her face, and it dissolved into smoky wisps as she gave it a vicious slash.
He whistled – she looked up. He had reassembled his body and was hovering above her. The diadem was in his paws, and he made as if to throw it down.
“No!” shouted Ker. “It’ll break!”
She soared up towards him again. Naturally, he jinked aside. Ker was by then going too quickly to stop, and she sailed past him and burst free of the smoke.
Above the Ashfall Waste she hung, the dark smoke roiling beneath her. She coughed and spat out some soot. A cool breeze lifted some of the dirt away, and she gasped at the great white moon. It smiled down upon her from its courtyard of stars, and the stars in Ker’s cloak twinkled back.
Off to the northwest, where the Windswept Plateau loomed, the lights of the clans shone like fireflies. Luminous waves to the north, where the Tidelord held sway; flickering clouds in the east, where the lightning danced. And below, the glow of the Great Furnace, its warmth and light calling her home.
“Why are you so afraid of the darkness, Ker?” Wabbajack’s words rang again in her brain.
And there he was, hanging in the air! – posing casually, as if leaning on a banister. “Silly Ker!” he chuckled, “I think you’ve lost this!”
And he let the diadem drop from his paw.
Down through the smoke Ker dove, down and away from the moonlight. Squinting her eyes against blackness, through the illusions Wabbajack spun, her golden eyes fastened to that distant falling light.
And then the smoke peeled away, and she screamed – she would not catch the diadem in time!
And Wabbajack caught it for her. He appeared with a small pop, completely solid. The diadem bounced from his brow and into his outheld paws.
“There!” he declared. “Not a scratch!” He beamed his bright, toothy grin at her.
Ker’s paw darted out – to give him a scratch, yes – but he vanished before she made contact. He disappeared again, laughing uproariously, his grin dissolving into the smoke-laden air. Ker caught her diadem with her other paw.
She looked around cautiously, waiting some moments longer – but it looked as though Wabbajack had tired of the chase. He had grown weary of the prank, as he always did once it had run its course, and had wandered off looking for some other poor drake to torment.
Ker’s chase had taken her a long way from home. But she didn’t really mind. It was easy to fly back. And fly back she would, over the cloud of black smoke – she wanted to see the moon again.
She placed the diadem back upon her head and then spread her wings. The globe shone, emitting fierce white light, but Ker didn’t think she needed it that much now. For the moon was above her and there were fires all around – the darkness inside was a more terrible beast, but she was safe from the darkness outside.
~ written by Disillusionist
Wabbajack thought his clanmates should smile more. Why, they were always so serious. So grim! In the Ashfall Waste, where the fire always danced, he thought the dragons should be dancing, too.
He drifted down halls; he glided across the ceiling. He poked out his head, upside-down, to spy on the lair. His clanmates all pretended not to notice him, and that made him sad. He started to pout. Nobody ever wanted to look at Wabbajack. Their scales darkened with fury whenever they heard him laugh.
So he wended his way down the corridors. He went to where the fire shone brightest. It was by a boiling spring, where the lava entered the water. Hardy little plants waved their leaves at him, and bright red fish gave him curious looks. He smiled and dangled his toes in the water and tittered when the fish found nothing to bite.
Then Wabbajack heard the click-clacking of an approaching dragon, and he quickly hid himself. His grin dangled in the air for a moment before disappearing, too. The fish were very surprised.
It was Ker – the Mirror with blood-colored scales and blood-colored wings, the Mirror whose Gembond shone like crystal drops from the sun. Her gleaming jewelry clattered; her cloak was spangled in stars. They could not hide the darkness lurking deep in her eyes.
Wabbajack tumbled invisibly in the air. He held his furry belly and cackled with glee. Why, Ker was like a parade – a float! Arrayed in such finery and heralded by noise. Even in the glow of the Ashfall Waste, she shone like a miniature sun.
Such a great arrival – it could only be honored by gaiety. Wabbajack looked around, but there were no others to help him. The fish in the spring had flitted away. Well, that was fine, it was perfectly fine. Nobody ever helped Wabbajack anyway.
Ker lay down next to the spring. Her brooding eyes were fixed on the lava-glow. She blinked once, twice, quite wearily, as her beribboned tail waved from side to side.
“Ker should smile more,” Wabbajack declared, though none but the lilies heard him. They quivered in anticipation and turned to where he was.
Wabbajack held his toes as he tumbled slowly, lazily, through the air. Head over heels, upside-down, right side up, his sparkling eyes always on Ker.
He watched as Ker removed the diadem that covered her brow. She gazed at it for a long moment, staring deep into the light. Wabbajack raised his head and looked around. So much fire, so much heat...This place was warm and bright. Ker was always going towards the light. Always looking for brightness.
“Ah, but this place, it’s much too bright!” Wabbajack exclaimed. And with a flick of his tail, he brushed away the light. Darkness fell over Ker like a veil.
The Mirror sat bolt upright in surprise. Through her golden eyes, the world had changed. The lava flow had frozen into dark, inanimate chunks, and the nearby lair was a dormant husk.
Wabbajack giggled again. Ker spun around, her eyes wide in fear. The diadem thunked from her paws and onto the ground. It seemed to her that she was the only spot of light left in this dark, frozen world, and she tentatively started back towards the lair.
“Ker always moves slowly.” The Tundra yawned. “Dragons should be lively. Dragons should be quick!”
And that was when Wabbajack struck!
He melted from the ether and picked up the diadem. The illusion fell away from Ker’s eyes. She spun around, shouting in outrage – “Hey!” – as Wabbajack galumphed away.
Dragons watched from within the lair as Ker took up the chase. “There goes Wabbajack,” they sighed, shaking their heads. Ker the Lightbringer could take care of herself. For now, they were just relieved Wabbajack was gone. For now.
And meanwhile, the prankster was giggling with glee. “For this, I need no contraptions,” he thought to himself. “No spells and not much trickery!” A spontaneous trick, a simple trick – it made his heart soar just as much as the complicated ones did. He drew in a deep breath and let it out as a glad, booming laugh. He leaped and soared like flames into the air.
And Ker leaped and soared along with him, too. Ker the Mirror, always so steady, now raced after him like a deer through the trees.
“Give it back, Wabbajack, give it back!”
Wabbajack threw a laugh at her over his shoulder. He grinned back at her and bounced along, the diadem held aloft in his paw. It shone in the night like a lighthouse beam, urging the poor Mirror on.
Over the black earth and into the night – “Give it back, Wabbajack, give it back!”
Wabbajack led Ker on a merry chase. They soon left the lair far behind. Dragons shouted helplessly, knowing that the phantom prankster would slip through their fingers. They bowed sympathetically as Ker hurtled past.
The Mirror lady kept up her yelling. She wanted the diadem back. Wabbajack shot through the air, tumbling like a cartwheel, and he looked into the globe’s brilliant light.
They ran over the black rocks and leaped over flues. The Ashfall Waste blacksmiths paused in their tasks. They watched Wabbajack and Ker run on, and on....
They bounded over streams of lava and burst through vaporous swirls. Ker blundered into a mass of steam so thick, it was as if a cloud had settled onto the earth. She paused for a moment, unsure and afraid, but then she saw her diadem gleam like a distant star. Wabbajack’s cackle sounded out of the darkness like a bell.
Candles swirled around Ker, and with a grim smile, she pressed on.
At the edge of the Ashfall Waste, they paused. Only Wabbajack’s paw was solid, the better to clutch the diadem. The rest of him was as transparent as cobwebs. His brilliant grin shone like a slice of the moon.
Ker approached warily. She held out one paw. “Wabbajack,” she warned him, “you’d better give that back.” The gems she wore smoldered, and her eyes burned with wrath.
A lesser dragon might have given up the game there and then, but not Wabbajack. That chase had been too short – and a short chase was no fun! “Why are you so afraid of the darkness, Ker? Haven’t you gotten used to it yet? After all, we see it for half of each day.”
And he doubled over, cackling with glee; he thought his observation was particularly clever. Ker looked coldly at him; she hissed, “It’s not the darkness outside that I’m afraid of.”
“Maaaayybeee...no,” Wabbajack acquiesced. He shook his head slowly, his eyes blinking beneath his bird skull mask. The diadem remained in his grasp.
And he looked up again, and he grinned, knife-sharp. “Perhaps it’s the darkness above that you fear!”
Up he went, a golden rocket shooting through the smoke. It surrounded him like a sooty coat, and he chuckled to himself. Below him, Ker loosed another dismayed cry. She followed him up towards the night.
She shredded the smoke to tatters with her claws. Here and there, hunting for that patch of gold. Wabbajack’s disembodied head rolled past like a tumbleweed; he chortled as she flailed with her arms.
Ker’s blood-red scales flushed black with fury. She attacked Wabbajack’s wings, his legs. He waggled his tail in front of her face, and it dissolved into smoky wisps as she gave it a vicious slash.
He whistled – she looked up. He had reassembled his body and was hovering above her. The diadem was in his paws, and he made as if to throw it down.
“No!” shouted Ker. “It’ll break!”
She soared up towards him again. Naturally, he jinked aside. Ker was by then going too quickly to stop, and she sailed past him and burst free of the smoke.
Above the Ashfall Waste she hung, the dark smoke roiling beneath her. She coughed and spat out some soot. A cool breeze lifted some of the dirt away, and she gasped at the great white moon. It smiled down upon her from its courtyard of stars, and the stars in Ker’s cloak twinkled back.
Off to the northwest, where the Windswept Plateau loomed, the lights of the clans shone like fireflies. Luminous waves to the north, where the Tidelord held sway; flickering clouds in the east, where the lightning danced. And below, the glow of the Great Furnace, its warmth and light calling her home.
“Why are you so afraid of the darkness, Ker?” Wabbajack’s words rang again in her brain.
And there he was, hanging in the air! – posing casually, as if leaning on a banister. “Silly Ker!” he chuckled, “I think you’ve lost this!”
And he let the diadem drop from his paw.
Down through the smoke Ker dove, down and away from the moonlight. Squinting her eyes against blackness, through the illusions Wabbajack spun, her golden eyes fastened to that distant falling light.
And then the smoke peeled away, and she screamed – she would not catch the diadem in time!
And Wabbajack caught it for her. He appeared with a small pop, completely solid. The diadem bounced from his brow and into his outheld paws.
“There!” he declared. “Not a scratch!” He beamed his bright, toothy grin at her.
Ker’s paw darted out – to give him a scratch, yes – but he vanished before she made contact. He disappeared again, laughing uproariously, his grin dissolving into the smoke-laden air. Ker caught her diadem with her other paw.
She looked around cautiously, waiting some moments longer – but it looked as though Wabbajack had tired of the chase. He had grown weary of the prank, as he always did once it had run its course, and had wandered off looking for some other poor drake to torment.
Ker’s chase had taken her a long way from home. But she didn’t really mind. It was easy to fly back. And fly back she would, over the cloud of black smoke – she wanted to see the moon again.
She placed the diadem back upon her head and then spread her wings. The globe shone, emitting fierce white light, but Ker didn’t think she needed it that much now. For the moon was above her and there were fires all around – the darkness inside was a more terrible beast, but she was safe from the darkness outside.
~ written by Disillusionist
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