Planeswalker
(#57133321)
Level 25 Ridgeback
Chomp
Alstroemeria Fox
Click or tap to view this dragon in Predict Morphology.
Energy: 0/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Water.
Female Ridgeback
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
20.03 m
Wingspan
19.57 m
Weight
6611.4 kg
Genetics
Radioactive
Python
Python
Orchid
Morph
Morph
Fire
Capsule
Capsule
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 25 Ridgeback
Max Level
STR
133
AGI
10
DEF
5
QCK
32
INT
5
VIT
20
MND
5
Biography
Planeswalker hates her name. It's a big name, a destiny written out for her, and it feels like a leash. Lane is better. Simple, short, and, dare she say, cute as heck. Chomp agrees. He’s a Alstroemeria Fox she found and dragged back home, and he’s the greatest companion she could ask for.
The name is not the biggest source of trouble for her, however.
They said it's her father's blood singing in her veins.
She knew since the first time she broke through the surface of the water and looked into the sky. It felt right. It felt... like she belonged there, even if Chomp could not follow her, and she was too tiny to fly with him yet.
There's a special kind of sadness in realising your home is not where you belong. There is a comfort in that as well. Planeswalker, Lane for her friends, knew where her place was.
The Tidelord has gone silent long before her birth. She used to listen to stories about streams of bubbles carrying secret words to the surface, about a mystery that would be revealed when you are ready.
She already knew.
"Ah, moping around again, I see." Her mother understood better than her father. Wish kept the old ways when she moved under the surface, the arcane energy practically overflowing her slight form. She was one of those who were sent to investigate Tidelord's disappearance - most of them did not stay around for this long.
Dream followed things nobody else could see, or feel, and Lane mused that this is most likely why they worked so well together. Wish did love a riddle, and Lane’s father was one of the most difficult one she's ever seen.
“Do you think he’d tell me the secret at all?” is not what Lane plans to say, but it is what comes out of her mouth. She’s not a great water dragon. There are better swimmers and fishers in the clan, and there are most definitely better oracles.
“You mean the Tidelord?”
“Yeah. I mean, sorry, forget it. It is stupid anyway.” Lane says but her mother is already in full research mode and there’s just no stopping her when she gets like this. Thankfully it seems she does not deem Lane a valuable source of information - and secretly, Lane agrees - but almost immediately turns back and goes for the enormous pile of books that used to be the study room.
~~~
“I can see no reason why not.” says Wish as she comes into the room and Lane needs a moment to connect the dots. “Even if your heart lies somewhere else.” There’s some amusement in her gaze, as she sees the scuff mark on Lana’s side. “Going at it again, I see?”
Lana is not gonna admit to sneaking with Chomp into the Training Fields after older dragons, and definitely not gonna admit they were ambushed by a munch of moths and had to run into a rabbit’s hole to hide. She’s absolutely not gonna admit it, especially since it definitely did not happen, not at all. Thankfully the rabbits were ok with having a tiny plump spiral, and a very happy fox, sitting with them for an hour.
“I have no idea what you mean.” Lana says petulantly, brightening up instantly as Chomp bounds towards her, all covered in loose dirt.
“Oh, obviously.” Wish shares a small, private smile with Lane. “I have good news, too.”
~~~
It takes her hours to fall asleep. Chomp makes little noises as he runs in his sleep, and she’s still up, rolling side to side on his soft fur, and petting the little flowers that bloom on his sides.
I’m moving to the Windswept Plateau is going through her head over and over.
Her father’s blood sings in her veins.
When she finally falls asleep she dreams of clouds moistening her wings and sound of chimes on the air.
Tomorrow is a brand new day, and she just cannot wait.
~~
Not everything goes alright. The flight takes longer than expected and even with her love for the sky she gets tired less than half way in. Her guide who introduced himself as Windwhistler - an advisor to the leader of Lane’s new clan, is an enormous Ridgeback with Arcane eyes, the spines on his back longer than her entire body. He stays quiet most of the time, the silks on his body murmuring in soft voices over the scales, and when she almost drops from the sky for the third time he offers a place on his back next to excited Chomp matter-of-factly, without any pity or mockery. She likes him.
She decides she wants to be a Ridgeback when she grows up. The wings call to her, trapping air currents with sheer power, but also... The wicked spines look like they would be so helpful in a fight. No moths would try their luck with her then. And she could definitely fly with Chomp then. Maybe give him a little harness, so he will stay safe.
They fly longer than she has ever been in the sky. She wakes up before they land for the night, right on the border between territories.
To her right there is the Sea of a Thousand Currents, it’s waves lapping at the coast. Deep sapphire, like her eyes, as far as she can see.
To her left as a forest of stone spikes, so tall that the figures of dragons jumping between them far, far above the water all look like Fae, wind carrying their voices towards them.
As they stand on the shore, Chomp whines questioningly. She looks at the sea, and Windwhistler gives her time, the last chance to turn back, to stay home. She knows that if she asks, he’ll turn back and bring her back to the depths.
She turns left, and raises her head, wind caressing her face.
They are home.
Her wing is all messed up from the training, and Windwhistler is not impressed.
“I told you not to charge off. Now you're paying the price.” He shrugs. She thinks he's being unfair - just because she's smaller and her wings are ridiculously fragile doesn't mean she ought to be coddled. She gets ready to coil around his let again, ready to keep an irritated silence all the way until Moonblaze steps in.
“Nope, I don't think so.” The bigger Spiral looks at Lane, uncharacteristically still. Squinting at the younger Spiral she repeats. “I don't think so. You decided to be stupid. You decided to put yourself, and your potential charges in danger.” She lands softly and walks around Lane, who bends to keep her within sight. “You walk.”
“What? But that's like, a week worth of walking. In beastclans territory!” Lane turns to face her more fully.
“What, are you afraid of a little fight now? You walk. And you” she turns to Windwhistler “don't even think about sneaking her in behind my back.”
“I'd never” he says, slowly taking back the leg he already extended in mock stretch.
“Ugh, whatever” Lane dramatically turns around, which can never be truly dramatic if you're shaped like spaghetti, and starts walking.
“I see you've decided to walk through the Scarred Wasteland. If you'd rather not get sick and die before the day is over, I'd advise to turn a little more to the west. Best luck” says Moonblaze before taking off. Windwhistler looks at her apologetically before beating his enormous wings twice and shooting off as well.
For the first time in her life Lane is actually alone in a strange territory and she lets out an offended huff before deciding she'll make most of this.
She does turn a little bit more to the west, however.
There is a hatchling in the hole, she’s pretty sure. It sounds like a hatchling, and it kinda looks like one if she squints a little, even if it doesn’t look like any dragon she’s ever seen. It’s more or less her size and armless, with horns on its head and long spikes along the spine.
There’re also snowflakes dropping from his eyes but she decides that is a mystery for another day.
It takes her most of the day to take the dragon, who she mentally started to call “Snowflake” out of the hole, and by the end of it she’s tired and covered in dirt. Her wing is still painful to touch and all she wants is to go to sleep, but the hatchling is now hungry, so she makes sure he understands to keep clear of the hole and goes off to find food.
She’s back fifteen minutes later when she realises she has no idea what the baby wants to eat, and realizes that there is a noise coming from the hole.
The ice-eyed hatchie looks at her innocently from where she left him.
There is a different one in the hole. She is so done with this day.
Before morning comes there are two more babies who managed to fall into the same hole and in her sleep-addled mind she starts to wonder if there’s actually something worthwhile on the bottom. Thankfully the hatchlings, young as they are, some of them with pieces of the shell still stuck to them, manage to lie down on her and go to sleep, so she finally gives in and joins them.
In the morning she manages to scavenge some insects, and to her relief the hatchlings seem fine with the meal she provided. The wing feels better now, good enough to fly with plenty of breaks, but there’s no way she’ll manage to take the babies with her if she flies, or that they’ll be able to keep up if they can fly at all.
She fills in the hole, with the help of the hatchlings, and moves on.
They sneak through the Tangled Wood, keeping her on edge with moving shadows and weird noises in the middle of the night. They reach the Sea of a Thousand Currents as dusk sets in, and she can finally breathe with ease. On the far away coast the bamboo plants cut into the darkening sky.
Now all she has to do is to teach the hatchlings to swim. How hard can that be?
She knew that Chomp will get them both into trouble one day.
The abandoned library seemed like fun at first. The very walls shimmering with arcane magicks, purple sparks mixing with the electric currents on odd machinery that was apparently responsible for the upkeep of the place. The place smelled of books and stale air, but the open space of the galleries and rows of books reaching high enough to be intimidating even to someone that can fly, are filled to the brim with languages nobody could speak anymore. There were pictures of places, things, and beings she did not recognize and Lane wondered why this place is not full of researchers, people gathering the artifacts and studying the books.
Some dragons must’ve found it before - there were sporadic traces of them, all quite old and muddled, impossible to trace the path they were following.
At this point Lane could use a hint.
The entrance they got in was nowhere to be found. Both Lane and Chomp could swear that walked right next to the place it was before at least five times, but there were only the endless corridors, the high-ceiling galleries full of bookcases, and the rooms filled with odd knicknacks, machinery and magic.
They were hopelessly lost. The only other exit they could find was a small opening in the ceiling of one of the galleries - small enough that Lane could barely press through by herself, but there was no way she could make it with Chomp, and she would not entertain the notion of leaving him in this place.
It takes them nearly half a day to find a staircase - a crawling, narrow space that was obviously never intended for dragons - the steps are too small, the space too cramped, the sharp angles at which the stair change directio make it difficult even for a Spiral to follow. Nonetheless, the light stone it is made from has claw marks all over it, there is also a slight indentation of the stone in the middle, apparently worn into the stone over time.
They descent.
It takes more time than Lane would like, and less than that could suggest. She squeezes through the opening right after Chomp, who still happily trots forward. She envies him the unending optimism that oozes out of him, even with dusty fur and cobwebs marking the ends of his tall ears.
The room is not what she expects. It seems to fill all of the space between the floor she’s on and the library above, easily forty meters or so, and Lane isn’t sure how she can tell, since the whole place is filled with mirrors and fog. A slightly bleak images of her own face are staring back at her from every side, watching her with interest, and slight warines. Chomp stays within wing distance, keeping by her tail when they have to squeeze through. The mist smells of herbs, and sea salt, and spring rain.
It takes her a while to realise there is no Chomp in any of the reflections, and she starts to wonder whether he can see her, or himself.
The further they go, the more different the reflections seem to become. Some have eyes of true amethyst, looking at her with distant curiosity of a scholar looking at an ant, others seems orange and burning, searing her with her own gaze - she cannot tell if they mean her harm or not. She presses on.
When Chomp whimpers, she puts one of her wings on his back - an old gesture of comfort they used to share when both of them were much smaller, but it still feels nice. It makes both of them feel less alone.
Finally, after what felt like hours, the mirror maze ends, leaving only the fog, milky and thick - so thick that if her wing was not rested on Chomp’s back she would not be able to tell he’s still there.
Something speaks to them. She cannot recall the sound of the voice even as it speaks, it sounds old, and young, shrill and low, like a whisper, or like a choir.
It asks her things. She answers. Both of those escape her memory as well. There are shapes in the mist, some look like dragons other look like… something else. Chomp moves closer to her side, his warmth seeping into her skin, making her feel more real, more like herself.
A limb stretches out towards her, her brain refusing to catalogue what it sees before the limb begins to look more familiar, more like… her.
“Here is the key. Here is your answer. Thank you for today. We shall see you… soon.” She cannot tell if it is a promise, or a threat, the voice reverberating in her head saying soon, soon, soonsoonsoonsoon over and over again, until the milky whiteness of the fog is all she can see, smell, breathe, be.
She opens her eyes and gasps. The ground is soft with young grass, vivid and sweet-smelling. Chomp, curled up by her side, seems to be fast asleep, and oddly tiny. She feels like she could gather him up into one hand and shakes her head, amused at herself, then stops dead in her tracks.
The weight distribution is all off. There are talons, sharp and wicked, on her hands and on her legs, her tail itself seems to be more than twice as long as it was before, and she has just one set of wings. She spreads them out and while her balance is all off, the instincts are not, an errand gust fills them up and nearly makes her take off, waking up Chomp. He stretches and ambles towards her face amiably, curiously sniffing before attempting to jump up, at her back.
Well, at least he doesn’t seem to see an issue with it. she thinks, oddly calm. The form feels natural, and right. The voice in her head insists there is no cause for alarm.
For a second Lane can smell herbs, sea salt and spring rain. For a second a maze of mirrors flashes in her mind, the odd limb holding a scroll filled with language Lane does not understand. It is gone before she can remember that she was afraid.
They half walk, half fly back to the lair, Lane working out slowly how to use her new body, Chomp patiently trotting along, then, even more patiently, napping at her back. By the time Lane gets to the camp it’s hard to remember that she used to be something else, and the whole story seems unworthy of sharing with anyone.
“Oh, Lane? You’re back so soon?” asks somebody, no trace of surprise or uncertainty in their voice, and that is that.
Later, in the middle of the night Lane thinks she can see a spiral with familiar patterns walking around the sleepy camp, occasionally stopping to pick something up and look at it from close up, or studying the scales and looks of the dragons sleeping around. When Lane looks up they smile at her, and nod amiably, before turning back and letting the mist swallow them whole.
Art Corner!
She loved to fly so much her clan looked for a better place for her.
img]rendern/350/571334/57133321_350.png?mtime=XeIp2gACAGk.png[/img 0.45 0.11 0.81 came in without a name forums/gde/2469655#post_2469655
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Exalting Planeswalker to the service of the Windsinger will remove them from your lair forever. They will leave behind a small sum of riches that they have accumulated. This action is irreversible.
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