Quests & Challenges

I'm a brand new player, but I've been so inspired by reading the various lore-based challenges on this forum that I wanted to create one of my own! Here it is: A double dynasty challenge that pits my Gaoler pair against my Banescale pair! The winner will be the dynasty that reaches 10 generations first! I’m having to rewrite the rules a bit, because I want to start with dragons I already own, so I can work them into my existing lore. So, here are my rules: GAOLERS: I’m starting with 2 triple-gened Gaolers, one being an XXX. That didn’t leave me a lot of options. So I’ve decided that the mate to the heir in each generation must have three new genes, and at least one new gene must be passed down. To make it more challenging, all mates must be Ice element (for lore reasons) and XYZ. I am also limiting my color options to the white/grey colorscale so that the differences from gene to gene stand out as clearly as possible. I can use gene scrolls that I gain through Coliseum drops ONLY, should the need arise. I'd like to end up with another XXX with all different genes from my progens. Ice Shaggy/Ice Spirit/Moon Wintercoat/Ice Common [img]https://www1.flightrising.com/dgen/preview/dragon?age=1&body=3&bodygene=29&breed=17&element=6&eyetype=0&gender=1&tert=74&tertgene=34&winggene=39&wings=3&auth=b57f89bac2c24638bad130e7c271de1d910e2edb&dummyext=prev.png[/img] AND Orca Falcon/Orca Peregrine/Orca Gnarlhorns/Ice Unusual [img]https://www1.flightrising.com/dgen/preview/dragon?age=1&body=131&bodygene=30&breed=17&element=6&eyetype=2&gender=0&tert=131&tertgene=27&winggene=30&wings=131&auth=4985ed63578689b35aebfb534faad3917d6361a4&dummyext=prev.png[/img] BANESCALES: I’m using the two Banescale G1s that I hatched. I’d already planned genetics for them, and have given the male 2 genes. The genes I’ve selected for the female, however, require Baldwin level 24, so she will be triple basic for a LONG time. Therefore, all mates for the heir must be Fire element (for lore reasons) and have at least one gene different from those already introduced. Colors will be random. And, like the Gaolers, I will ONLY be allowed to use gene scrolls dropped in the Coliseum. Orange Jaguar/Violet Basic/Nightshade Fans/Fire Common [img]https://www1.flightrising.com/dgen/preview/dragon?age=1&body=47&bodygene=44&breed=18&element=11&eyetype=0&gender=0&tert=175&tertgene=41&winggene=0&wings=17&auth=7d558b684201bbba5c128927b56ac98b6975efe6&dummyext=prev.png[/img] AND Iris Basic/White Basic/Flaxen Basic/Arcane Common [img]https://www1.flightrising.com/dgen/preview/dragon?age=1&body=82&bodygene=0&breed=18&element=9&eyetype=0&gender=1&tert=139&tertgene=0&winggene=0&wings=2&auth=e8b2ca9fd4990e5e1b38139ae87096d6ba267832&dummyext=prev.png[/img] THE CHALLENGE: The Gaolers and Banescales in my clan have resurrected the ancient feud between their races. They have split off from my main clan to form their own dynasties, although they maintain relations with my main clan for now. Each generation, the siblings of a hatch will be tested in the Coliseum (Training fields) to determine a Champion. The Champions from each dynasty will face off against each other in the Ghostlight Ruins, accompanied by my single Ghostbuster fodder trainer. The one who survives the longest will live to gain a mate. The other dynasty will be set back a whole breeding cycle and have to raise a new Champion, to face the next generation’s Champion. Example: Gaoler Gen 1: A, B, C, D vs Banescale Gen 1: Y, Z A vs B = A wins C vs D = C wins Y vs Z = Z wins A vs C = C wins Z waits C vs Z in Mire = C wins C gains a mate, and they produce Gaoler Gen 2: E, F, G. Banescale Gen 1 rebreeds to produce W, X. End result of this ends up being F vs X = X wins. Now the Banescales advance to Gen 2 and the Gaolers have to rebreed their Gen 2 clutch. THE LOSERS: What happens to the losers in each generational challenge is at my discretion; the only caveat is that I will not be allowed to breed any of them until after the challenge is over (exceptions will be made for the first Banescale descendants due to a deal I’ve made with an IRL friend in the Light flight). I will probably be selling or exalting most of my Gaolers except for the founders. The losing Banescales will probably be traded for mates for the next generation, with any that I desperately want to keep heading to the Hibernal Den until the challenge is complete. I must keep any dragon that I received in exchange for lore. THE LORE: Since I'm new at this, I'll probably have to adjust as things go along! The main purpose of this thread is to keep me writing on a regular basis; that is why the rules are somewhat relaxed compared to some others I've seen. As long as I've written each lore chapter to my satisfaction, I will consider this challenge a success. The emphasis is on the lore rather than the end result of the breeding; however, if anyone is more interested in the breeding side of things, I will additionally post technical summaries displaying offspring and mates only. EDIT 4/5/20 Regarding eye types: If a pair produces a goat hatchling, that child will automatically LOSE the battle for champion of their breed. If a pair produces a multigaze or faceted hatchling, that child will automatically become the heir for their breed, though they will still have to face off their opponent of the opposite breed. If a pair produces a primal hatchling, that child will not only become the heir for their breed but also automatically win against the opposite breed.

Chapter 1: The Way Home, part 1
Chapter 1: The Way Home, part 2
Chapter 2: Leaving Home
Chapter 3: Far from Home
Chapter 4: Making a Home
Chapter 5: Trouble at Home
Chapter 6: Life at Home
Chapter 7: First Generation
Chapter 8: First Blood, Part 1
Chapter 8: First Blood, Part 2
Chapter 9: First Gene
Chapter 10: First Attack
Chapter 11: Aftermath
Chapter 12: Eggs
Chapter 13: Second Generation
Chapter 14: All the Wrong Things (Part 1)
Chapter 14: All the Wrong Things (Part 2)

Summary for Generation 1








Summary pings @Koshka71

CURRENTLY AVAILABLE:
All rejected heirs will come with 1-2 paragraphs of Lore. Will provide scrolls of renaming on request.

*reserve just in case* [emoji=banescale laughing size=1][emoji=gaoler laughing size=1] And that should do it!

[b]Chapter 1: The Way Home, Part 1[/b] [img]https://www1.flightrising.com/dgen/preview/dragon?age=1&body=3&bodygene=29&breed=17&element=6&eyetype=0&gender=1&tert=74&tertgene=34&winggene=39&wings=3&auth=b57f89bac2c24638bad130e7c271de1d910e2edb&dummyext=prev.png[/img] The young Gaoler female had caught the scent again. She stood near the edge of the icy cliffs that made up the boundary between her homeland and the ocean. Barely visible against the horizon, the smokes from the Flamecaller’s forges could be seen, far away, ever tossed aloft by the Twisting Crescendo of the Windsinger’s domain. The smoke was not the scent that tugged at her nostrils and filled every part of her being with longing, however. It was another, more natural scent, but one she could not place. “Smell it again?” The teasing voice of her mother pulled her attention away. “I always do,” she confessed. “I’m not sure what it is, though.” Christine, the older female, smiled sadly and nodded. “You’ll find out. I think it’s time for you to go find it for yourself.” “Are you sure, Mother?” The daughter did not even have a name yet, for the tradition of Gaolers was to leave the child unnamed until they had proven themselves worthy of having one. “Quite sure, child. All my other children have left to find their callings. One would almost think I was raising Guardians, not Gaolers.” She chuckled. “But don’t worry about me, or your father. We’ll be all right.” “But where should I go?” “That I can’t tell you. But if you want some advice, you might be able to find some in the Flight of my birth.” The younger female gazed into her mother’s brilliant blue eyes, realizing for the first time that her eyes were not the same as the pale, frost-blue eyes of others in the clan. “You were born Water?” “I was. And now my daughter seems to be called that way as well. May the Eleven be with you, whichever of them you decide to serve.” The daughter bowed her head. “I will miss you and Father. And all the ice and snow.” “Yes. You’ll always be Icewarden’s daughter, whichever path you take. And that rings more true for us Gaolers than any other race. Our ancestral calling is to the Ice. But go, my dear, and remember your ancestors. Always be vigilant against the Shade.” “I will,” the younger female said. Without another word, she turned and made her way down the little path cut diagonally across the cliff, meandering down to the sea. The brilliance of the sun on the ice filled the whole air with dancing light motes, but the shaggy hair in her eyes helped to block most of it. For the rest, she was Ice. It was a part of life. When she reached the bottom, she paused a moment to take in the view of the majestic cliffs--her last. Then, having made up her mind, she plunged into the ocean and stuck out for the distant shore, never looking back. The swim lasted three days, due to the necessity of avoiding the Twisting Crescendo. When she was hungry, she dove under to catch a fish, or seal if she was lucky. When she was tired, she used her ice magic to freeze just enough of the water nearby to make a small iceberg where she could rest. By the time the ice melted so much that she could no longer stay afloat, she was rested and ready to move on. As she approached the Northern Continent, she noticed that her rests were becoming shorter due to the ice melting more quickly. She pushed on anyway, aiming for the place on the coastline where the Windsinger’s domain pushed up against the Flamecaller’s realm. She assumed that she would be less noticeable if she traveled inland along the border territory toward the Tidelord’s sea. She happened to make landfall a little closer to the Flamecaller’s border then she would have liked. The great volcano near the sea belched forth its endless smokes, and the ashfall made her cough. She had heard that, although most Gaolers remained in the Icewarden’s domain, many had traveled to become a part of every other realm. How any of them ever managed to survive the Flamecaller’s heat, she could not fathom. Her extra long and shaggy coat had been a great source of pride in her home clan, but it was not useful here. The acrid stench of ash and molten rock filled the air, making it difficult to scent if there were other dragons, prey, or enemies around. She suddenly longed for the clean, crisp scent of snow, and shuddered. “Are you cold?” a disbelieving voice piped up. She jumped, and looked around. “Down here,” the voice said with a touch of amusement. “A little closer and you’d have stepped on me.” She looked down between her shaggy bangs. Near her feet, just about long enough to wrap around her leg, was a small serpentine dragon with six tiny wings. Its mottled grey coloration blended in with the surrounding ash, but its eyes shone like a pair of hot coals. They were so bright, they almost sparked with insanity. [img]https://www1.flightrising.com/dgen/preview/dragon?age=1&body=8&bodygene=3&breed=7&element=11&eyetype=1&gender=0&tert=5&tertgene=1&winggene=9&wings=7&auth=86a5e5112e7bdde68357d5d1af8c12c8f0556555&dummyext=prev.png[/img] Satisfied that it had been seen, the little dragon sprang up and whirred around her head. “We don’t get a lot of Gaolers here, except for ones that are just passing through. Though I’ve seen a few working in the forges. They usually have to shave off most of their hair, and by the Flamecaller! you’ve never seen such an ugly looking dragon--no offense to you, of course, miss. I’m Pyro, by the way. Original, I know, most Fire dragons name someone out of their first clutch Pyro until they can come up with something more original, what’s your name?” The young Gaoler was completely bewildered. There had been a few other races in her clan--Imperials, Pearlcatchers, Faes, and even a Coatl--but she’d never seen this kind. “Let her alone, Sooty, can’t you tell she’s never met a Spiral before?” She turned her head at the sound of the new voice--a Ridgeback, apparently. She had never seen one of them before either, but the long snout of the male was unmistakable. [img]https://www1.flightrising.com/dgen/preview/dragon?age=1&body=48&bodygene=42&breed=5&element=11&eyetype=1&gender=0&tert=86&tertgene=19&winggene=17&wings=90&auth=51e24ebd194a41c00157864e9cfdfa70f11ed185&dummyext=prev.png[/img] The Spiral, unrepentant, turned his attention to the Ridgeback, flitting around his head in apparent agitation. “What have I said about calling me Sooty? You know what that means I get to call you, right? Right? Right? Snooty?” The Ridgeback moaned. “All right, Pyro, knock it off.” He turned to the Gaoler. “Sorry, I’m Mota, and this, unfortunately, is Pyro. He takes a little getting used to, but then, all Spirals are like that.” “I see.” The young Gaoler searched her mind, but still came up a perfect blank. “I have no name yet. I have to earn one first.” “Interesting!” The Spiral zoomed around her head. “Well, we can’t go around yelling ‘hey you!’ so I’ll call you Icy. How’s that?” She started to be offended, but the Ridgeback knocked the little Spiral away with his snout. “Only if she’s okay with that,” he warned. She sighed, and smiled. “I guess that’s all right. As long as you both remember that’s not my real name.” “Sure thing! Now come on,” the Spiral yelled, moving in large loops away from the other two, “it’s nearly time for supper!” The Ridgeback, Mota, looked down at the young Gaoler. “He didn’t ask if you [i]wanted[/i] to stay for supper,” he said, “but you’re welcome to if you’d like.” “I’m just passing through,” she said, “but I don’t mind staying for the night if you don’t mind having me.” “The crew’s pretty big,” he warned. Mota and Pyro belonged to a very large, loose-knit group of forgers right in the center of the Flamecaller’s domain. Their lives were spent altering between a life of metallurgy in the heart of the volcano and a life of foraging and scavenging outside for food and useful materials. “Right now, we’re the gatherers,” Mota explained, “so we haven’t needed to work all that hard. Just wander around until something useful shows up.” Privately, the Gaoler thought that was a sorry way to live, but the feast she was presented with changed her mind. Gradually, she came to understand that “something useful” meant a trader with the food the clan particularly wanted on that day. Workers in the Flamecaller’s own forge usually were paid pretty well. Pyro barely was able to sit still during the meal, constantly jumping up to grab something for his neighbours or interjecting himself into a conversation several bodies down the gathering area, keeping up a steady stream of chatter the whole time. During the few moments he settled down to eat, his entire body seemed to vibrate, as if sitting still was a violent effort. The Gaoler didn’t eat much either, fascinated as she was by this new type of dragon. Mota, by contrast, was fairly calm as he ate, turning his head carefully to avoid stabbing someone with his snout. The Gaoler was also fascinated with the massive variety of colors present. Her own clan had only been shades of white, grey, and light blue, perfectly blending into the snow and ice. But, although many of the Fire workers were either a sooty black-brown-grey or a glowing red-orange, many were of just about any color. Mota was a lovely red-orange, but his wings gleamed a royal blue. The Gaoler saw dragons in every color of the rainbow, and their eyes matched. Approximately half were from the Firecaller’s realm, but the rest were from other lands. There was even a Tundra from the Icewarden’s domain, a brilliant tiger-striped purple fellow with black wings. As they were finishing up, a silvery Coatl with red stripes on her claws, tail, and wings approached them. “Pyro dear? It’s time.” [img]https://www1.flightrising.com/dgen/preview/dragon?age=1&body=5&bodygene=1&breed=12&element=11&eyetype=0&gender=1&tert=86&tertgene=11&winggene=17&wings=5&auth=9687064e350cc061510fc32c5da83eb59884920b&dummyext=prev.png[/img] The Gaoler could have sworn the Spiral blushed. “Of course, dear. Be right there.” “Time for what?” she whispered to Mota. “Incubation,” the Ridgeback replied. “They have a nest, and they must go warm the eggs once a day until they hatch.” An odd compulsion swept through the Gaoler. “May--may I watch? Or is it something private that a couple does?” “Oh no, we can go with them. There’s nothing special about it at all,” the Ridgeback replied. They followed the silver Coatl to the nesting area, where several lava pools were scattered. Some held eggs, some were empty. Pyro and his mate stood over a nest of three eggs, gently breathing fire over them for about five minutes. The Gaoler watched as the Spiral began undulating around, manipulating the flame into strange figures and shapes. The Coatl trilled, amused. “Not necessary, dear. Come on, that’s enough for today.” The pair fluttered back toward the gathering area. The Gaoler moved closer to the nest. “Could I…” she wondered out loud. Mota frowned. “Normally, I wouldn’t care, but you ARE an Ice dragon, after all, and a Gaoler to boot. It might not be the best idea.” She contented herself with just looking, but she felt a desire to hold the eggs, to warm them near her fur, to growl soft songs of life and dragon-ness. She thought, for a moment, that she could smell the scent that had called her away from her homeland. But, perhaps not here, in the Firecaller’s realm. As they walked back toward the gathering area, Mota asked her conversationally where she was heading. “I’m not sure yet, exactly, but I thought I would start in the Tidelord’s domain. I didn’t expect to meet new dragons so soon in the Firecaller’s realm.” Mota looked at her quizzically. “You mean the Sea of the Thousand Currents?” “The what?” “The Sea of the Thousand Currents. That’s where the Tidelord lives...or did, anyway, there are rumors that he’s been gone for a while, but where, no one knows.” She shook her head. “I wouldn’t know. The ancient Gaolers did not have names for the different kingdoms. They only specified ‘where’ by referencing the deity who lived there. It is very formal and respectful.” Mota snorted. “Welcome to the modern world, Icy. And welcome to the Ashfall Waste, home of Fireworkers, Forgers, and Flamemomma.” The offhand way in which he referred to his deity completely stunned the young Gaoler. The Ridgeback chuckled. “You should see your face right now. Look, the gods are at peace, and none of them has really tried to expand their borders in millenia. Most of them haven’t even shown their faces in millenia, either, except the Earthshaker. He still sits in plain sight in front of that broken pillar, though he doesn’t say much. We are still devoted to them, and many dragons dedicate their lives to serving them. But for those who don’t, life is good, too.” It was growing dark, or would be if the landscape was not riven with lava flows and pits. Mota yawned. “You can sleep with us in the den tonight if you want, or head on your way. But if you’ll wait til morning, I’m sure we can find someone to show you the quickest route to the Sea of the Thousand Currents.” The young Gaoler accepted his offer, and as they lay in the den, a mass of wings, scales, claws, tails, and fur, she wondered if this how most other clans slept. She was sweltering underneath Mota’s wing, with someone’s leg directly over hers, a Spiral, not Pyro, wrapped around her antlers, and three or four tails lying over her body, and sometimes moving. She was afraid to move lest she crush someone, acutely aware of her size compared to the others, although Mota was close to her size, and there were several Guardians and an Imperial or two buried under the sleeping bodies of their clanmates. Eventually she somehow managed to drift off to sleep. Pings: @Mindrop @rosesinger

[quote name="fenshae" date="2020-01-03 18:44:28" ] This is such a cool challenge! Ping me for updates? [/quote] @fenshae She is having fun. And doing a good job with it! Edit: Oh yeah, I am the Light Flight friend who already had the Banescale trade set up. Since day 1! And then we had to wait and hope that we would break even with at least 2 males and 2 females. And we did!

@fenshae
Aww, thanks! I sure will. I was reading yours earlier today...yeah, all three so far. So many aspiring great writers on this site! And don't mind @Mindrop...the IRL friend mentioned in the rules. (Behave, you!)

[b]Part 2:[/b] Sometime later she found herself blinking awake as the pile of dragons shifted and moved. Morning greetings were passed around as the clan readied themselves for the day. Mota and Pyro made their way over to her. “Good morning, Icy. Are you ready to go? You don’t have to, you know, you could always stay here, there’s plenty of room, and you never know when a handsome young Gaoler might come passing through…ow!” The Ridgeback silenced his ebullient Spiral friend with a well-timed smack of his nose. “It’s up to her, you know.” The Gaoler smiled. “Thank you for offering, but I really must be going. It’s been great fun getting to meet you all, but the Firecaller’s--I mean, the Ashfall Waste is not for me.” Pyro looked disappointed. “I wanted to introduce you to our egglings. They hatch in two days.” “Tell them hi for me,” she said, feeling just as disappointed as the Spiral. Mota waved over a young Mirror male, whose dark purple wings and slate-grey body did not seem to match his surroundings or his brilliant blue eyes. “Icy, this is Flamesplash. He was born in the Sea of the Thousand Currents, and he still visits his former clan there now and again.” [img]https://www1.flightrising.com/dgen/preview/dragon?age=1&body=6&bodygene=6&breed=3&element=4&eyetype=0&gender=0&tert=133&tertgene=0&winggene=4&wings=16&auth=1706b46940e91e767f96a04129a07dbd98c4f860&dummyext=prev.png[/img] The Mirror smiled, showing rows of fierce teeth. “Every time I’m off forge duty, I go home to hang out with my brothers. We get up a big pack and go terrorize the Maren clans. It’s awesome. I was planning on leaving last night, but Mota told me about your journey and I offered to take you along as far as the Sea.” The young Gaoler said her goodbyes to her Fire friends with a heavy heart. She had not realized that other clans could be so friendly and welcoming to outsiders. [i]This clan will always hold a special place in my heart, she thought to herself, for it is here that I learned of my calling. I will be a Brood Mother, and care for all the hatchlings in my new clan as though they were my own.[/i] She followed the Mirror easily during their day-long hike, despite his speed, for she was able to take one step to his three. “Thank goodness neither of us is really built for flying,” she said aloud, as they stopped to seek out a place to spend the night. Flamesplash grinned. “I can fly, if I want, but Mirrors are built for land travel. Or sea, if they’re Water by nature.” She spread her short, stubby wings. “We can’t fly at all, but we can use our wings as an extra set of limbs if needed. They come in handy when climbing up steep, icy cliffs.” “Icy. That’s your name, isn’t it?” She sighed. “No. That’s what Pyro called me. Gaolers do not receive a name until they have proven themselves worthy of holding responsibility.” The Mirror shrugged. “Guess I wouldn’t make a very good Gaoler.” She smiled tentatively, figuring that he was teasing her. He guffawed. “I’m very responsible, in the forge, but outside, it’s time to play.” He stopped, and sniffed the air. “Do you smell that?” She shook her head, still getting used to the wide variety of smells on the mainland. “That will be dinner,” he said. “Wait here.” He slithered into the bushes, wings folded and pressed against his body. A moment later he returned limping on three legs, carrying a clawful of small partridges in the other. “Here you go,” he said, tossing four of them to her and keeping two for himself. “I hope that’s enough.” “This is plenty,” she said, not wanting to be a burden. She watched him wolf down his dinner and glance surreptitiously at her. “I only need three myself,” she said. It wasn’t a lie; she could survive on far less food than might be imagined when confronted with her bulk. Flamesplash brightened and snapped up the last bird. “So how did you get your name?” she asked, by way of making conversation. “Oh, my parents named me Rocksplash, and our clan leader wanted to send me to the Tidelord’s ranks early on,” he replied. “But I had other plans. So I set out on my own until a pack of Fire Mirrors found me. They took me in and trained me in metal forging, and I worked my way up the ranks until I ended up where you saw me. I changed my name to Flamesplash to symbolize both my devotion to the Flamecaller and my loyalty to my birth clan. And you know what?” “What?” she asked, as he twisted around to reveal some orangey flecks on his hind legs. “My Third turns out to be orange! And it’s starting to look a little like lava. It’s as though my destiny was to be a fire worker all along.” She murmured her congratulations, and they settled down for the night. [img]https://www1.flightrising.com/dgen/preview/dragon?age=1&body=6&bodygene=6&breed=3&element=4&eyetype=0&gender=0&tert=133&tertgene=6&winggene=4&wings=16&auth=a182342d8818469d7edb4f24c03f254c0c54c63a&dummyext=prev.png[/img] The next day they crossed the border into the Tidelord’s territory. It was a pretty sudden shift, from ash-covered pine forest carpeted with crumbling needles and shards of volcanic glass to a sandy floor with widely-spaced palmettos. The Sea of a Thousand Currents could be seen in the distance, and as they approached, they could hear it as well. The Gaoler sniffed the air appreciatively. The smell of water was evident, and the air was clearer, enough to where she could discern different scents. Her companion still smelled strongly of the forge, and her own long white fur was covered with soot, but she could smell the trees and the birds--and egg-scent. Voices nearby caught her attention. The Mirror was already staring in that direction. A trio of adolescent Mirrors was drifting through the woods, deep in conversation. Behind them loomed a dark purple Guardian female with dark green wings, about the same age as the Mirrors, followed by five small hatchlings. The hatchlings clambered over and tumbled off the Guardian’s tail, but she ignored them, too closely caught up in the Mirrors’ conversation. [img]https://www1.flightrising.com/dgen/preview/dragon?age=1&body=119&bodygene=0&breed=2&element=4&eyetype=1&gender=1&tert=14&tertgene=0&winggene=0&wings=81&auth=4e9392505e4c1458b463312e2f6a1f6715315d56&dummyext=prev.png[/img] “When I get big, I’m going to serve the Tidelord!” crowed the biggest hatchling, a reddish Guardian with purplish wings. He had managed to climb aboard the adolescent Guardian’s tail. [img]https://www1.flightrising.com/dgen/preview/dragon?age=0&body=57&bodygene=2&breed=2&element=4&eyetype=1&gender=0&tert=118&tertgene=0&winggene=7&wings=13&auth=6a85df90f40917645a5dc618f72478a3a70074a0&dummyext=prev.png[/img] “Me too!” said his sister, a Mirror in similar colors, as she climbed up beside him. [img]https://www1.flightrising.com/dgen/preview/dragon?age=0&body=122&bodygene=23&breed=3&element=4&eyetype=0&gender=1&tert=119&tertgene=0&winggene=7&wings=92&auth=d2822d438c11c9b751621fbf9432e83f426265c0&dummyext=prev.png[/img] “Me three!” said the smallest hatchling. The other two turned on her. “You can’t.” “You’re too little, Tidewrath.” [img]https://www1.flightrising.com/dgen/preview/dragon?age=0&body=86&bodygene=2&breed=3&element=4&eyetype=0&gender=1&tert=131&tertgene=4&winggene=7&wings=3&auth=c8bec1e48879ded613ec38444051e2685dc9201a&dummyext=prev.png[/img] “Can too!” The small Mirror crouched and pounced, attempting to climb aboard, but she tumbled to the ground as the Guardian kept walking. The others laughed at her. She stomped her foot. “Well, Puddenston loves me. He doesn’t think I’m too little!” “Oh yeah?” “Then where is he?” The three siblings looked around. Another hatchling, a light purple striped Skydancer with pale green wings, froze in horror. “He’s missing! Like the other one they told us about!” All four hatchlings let up a wail of fear. [img]https://www1.flightrising.com/dgen/preview/dragon?age=0&body=68&bodygene=25&breed=13&element=4&eyetype=0&gender=0&tert=131&tertgene=20&winggene=24&wings=152&auth=2ee1755d254cf89413359103f581e72484b58600&dummyext=prev.png[/img] The young Gaoler moved quickly forward. She had seen what the other hatchlings had not; the fifth one, a smallish pink Guardian, had wandered off the path after a feather floating on the breeze. He was heading away from her, but she could smell him easily. The egg-scent still lay strong on these hatchlings; they could not be more than a few weeks old. The adolescents had finally turned their attention to the babies. “Who’s missing?” demanded the Guardian sharply. “Puddenston again?” One of the Mirrors sighed deeply; her coloration was similar enough to the hatchlings that she was probably a sibling from an earlier hatch. “He’s always disappearing. One of these days…” [img]https://www1.flightrising.com/dgen/preview/dragon?age=1&body=106&bodygene=2&breed=3&element=4&eyetype=0&gender=1&tert=6&tertgene=0&winggene=7&wings=100&auth=ebb9cc95323cca303453c84c52a3f6fc88d60d93&dummyext=prev.png[/img] “Bricka, be serious,” a light purple Mirror chided. “It’s no laughing matter when a baby disappears.” He exchanged a long, sad look with the Guardian. Flamesplash followed the Gaoler as she skirted around the youngsters. Her white coat, which should have shown up in the palmetto woods like an iceberg in midsummer, was so full of soot that she looked more like a shadow of a dragon then an actual dragon. The hatchlings were too busy crying to notice, and the adolescents were at their wits’ end trying to get them to stop. The purple Mirror crouched low. “Come on,” he said sweetly. “Help me out here. Where did you see him last?” The Skydancer stopped crying long enough to point. “Good, Spiritus! Good! Do you think you can sense him?” The baby Skydancer looked around, feelers moving intently. “I--I don’t know,” he said shakily. “Maybe over there?” “Let’s look, shall we?” He gave Bricka a look, and scooped the little Skydancer onto his back. The reddish-brown Mirror sighed, and followed him. “I guess you stay here, Melete, and keep an eye on the other ones?” The Guardian crouched down, and scooped the remaining three babies under her wings. “Umm...what about me?” The third Mirror shuffled her feet shyly. She was beautiful, with varying streaks of blue, purple, and green proclaiming her suitability for the Water environment. It was quite a shock when the Gaoler realized her eyes glittered the wicked red of the Plague flight. [img]https://www1.flightrising.com/dgen/preview/dragon?age=1&body=27&bodygene=25&breed=3&element=2&eyetype=1&gender=1&tert=175&tertgene=7&winggene=24&wings=30&auth=ca0a3fb7034e1d5d6e0afd2fffe484c86f679177&dummyext=prev.png[/img] “You stay here with me.” The Guardian’s voice held such unusual tenderness that the Gaoler realized the Plague Mirror must be her Charge. That explained her presence to some extent. The Mirror awkwardly sat nearby, gazing after the departing trio. The Gaoler and her companion hung back in the shadows as the group approached them. “He’s getting close,” Bricka said after a moment. “I can smell him myself now.” Suddenly the baby Skydancer screamed. “No, no! Bad!” “What is it?” asked the male Mirror, but the female Mirror had already caught the scent. [img]https://www1.flightrising.com/dgen/preview/dragon?age=1&body=137&bodygene=0&breed=3&element=4&eyetype=2&gender=0&tert=14&tertgene=0&winggene=0&wings=76&auth=24e7e9b7e4016c4286d793d6c19b78144fc97f56&dummyext=prev.png[/img] “Get him back to the others, Aquilo, hurry!” She sprang forward, claws outstretched. The Gaoler and Flamesplash had scented it too, and without hesitation they, too, dashed toward the baby. A pack of feline golems had converged on the helpless hatchling, who had now crouched down at the trunk of a tree, whimpering. Bricka did not hesitate; she struck the nearest golem with all her strength. Her claws did little more than scratch some moss off its side. Undeterred, she snarled as loud as she could. The three golems turned their attention to the bothersome pest. Almost casually the one she had scratched flung her against a tree. She leaped up and snarled again. Flamesplash roared back. He leaped on the back of the golem and clawed between the stones, seeking to weaken the magic or mechanics that kept it operating. He succeeded in ripping out a few pebbles, but a mysterious force seemed to pull them back together again. The Gaoler clawed at one ineffectively. She had never had combat training. Big as she was, she was more of a liability than a threat, and the golems figured that out quickly. Three more roars and a chorus of terrified squeals informed her that the other adolescents had joined the fray. The babies had been set down a short distance away, but that wasn’t safe enough. With a terrible roar, she barreled through the combatants and scooped up all five hatchlings one by one. Stepping away, she crouched over them protectively. “There, there,” she growled comfortingly. “It’s all right. I won’t let them hurt you.” She was currently larger than the adolescent Guardian, she realized. The terrified hatchlings clung to her sooty fur and wailed. “It’s all right,” she said again, before looking up at the battle and realizing that it was not. The adolescents had no training either, and had not come to their full adult strength. Their strikes were hardly causing damage at all. Flamestrike was well-trained, strong, and agile, but even he could not be everywhere at once. And the golems continued to regenerate and repair themselves. The dragons were growing weary. The Gaoler noticed that the Plague Mirror was not fighting with tooth and claw, but rather drawing from her inner reserves of magical Plague-bound energy. The attacks were weak because of her inexperience, but the golems seemed to respond uneasily to her in a way that they did not to the others. “Flamesplash!” the Gaoler cried. “You’re a Fire dragon. Can you breathe fire?” The Mirror looked unhappily at her for a moment. “Can’t,” he grunted, as he flung a golem away, only to watch it rebuild itself a moment later. “I was born Water, remember?” The Gaoler watched, frantically trying to think of something, anything, that would help.[i] They’re all Water, except that she’s Plague...but![/i] She stood, and growled so loudly that the trees shook and the battle stilled for a moment. “I forgot...as I never will again. I...am...[i]Ice[/i].” Tendrils of frost hung in the air around her nostrils. She exhaled loudly, and cold erupted from her throat. The dragons shivered in the sudden chill, but the golems turned to run, terrified. It was too late. Ice began to form around their joints, freezing and coalescing between the stones where only magic held them together. The frozen air expanded, and the golems burst, showering rock and dirt and moss everywhere. This time, they did not reassemble. The other dragons stared in shock. Finally, Bricka said, “That was--[i]awesome[/i]!” Flamesplash agreed completely, as did the other adolescents. Introductions were made all around, with the hatchlings continuing to press closely into the young Gaoler’s fur. Suddenly the one called Melete looked up. “Puddenston? Not again!” They all looked around sharply. The baby Skydancer’s feelers were twitching again. Suddenly he buried his head in the Gaoler’s fur and whimpered, “No, no.” The Gaoler looked up. The little pink Guardian had enlarged an opening in a nearby hollow tree, and was making unintelligible cooing noises. A moment later, the tiny head of a small golem poked out, and ran over to him, purring. The two rubbed noses, and then started heading back in the direction from whence they had come originally. [img]https://www1.flightrising.com/dgen/preview/dragon?age=0&body=120&bodygene=2&breed=2&element=4&eyetype=0&gender=0&tert=70&tertgene=0&winggene=7&wings=5&auth=f23e22e0e1f6a579f9d1737eb85ca746d99501a3&dummyext=prev.png[/img] Bricka sighed. “He does have a way with familiars. I bring them home sometimes, but I have no idea what to do with them.” The group set out after the oddly-matched pair. Bricka kept asking questions about fighting techniques. Flamesplash did his best to answer. “Yes, the opening slash is very good, but it is best to follow it up with something more powerful, such as a stomp-strike or a bite. Or, if you’re clever, a slash of elemental magic never hurts.” He smiled at the shy Plague dragon, who was trailing along behind them pretending not to be interested in the conversation. “I hope I’m as good as you are someday,” Bricka sighed. Flamesplash grinned. “You show some promise, and you certainly aren’t lacking in courage. When you come to your full strength, you’ll be a force to reckon with. But Moss-Covered Golems are no joke. They are really only weak to Ice and Plague magic--and a little to Fire.” He looked disappointed for a moment. They were approaching the seaside now, with a rocky promontory jutting out into the water. The openings of a couple of caves could be seen. “We’re almost home,” Melete said. She sounded almost formal. “We thank you for your help, and you are welcome to spend the night with us if you wish.” Flamesplash smiled and shook his head. “My destination is only a couple of miles down the shore. I’ll be there before it gets dark.” He looked at his companion. “You?” The Gaoler gazed at the rocky caves. For the first time in weeks she felt something, a feeling she had not had since she left the nest as an adolescent. “I’m home,” she said simply. He smiled, as if he understood. “I felt like that the first time I set claw inside a forge,” he said. “Tidelord be with you, Icy.” “My name is not Icy,” she declared. “It is Genesia. It began to grow inside me when I knew I was destined to watch over hatchlings, and it revealed itself to me just now to tell me that this is home.” Flamesplash nodded. “Congratulations, Genesia. I’ll be sure to tell Pyro and Mota when I get back.” He waved at her, and loped off down the beach. A moment later he was gone. The Guardian shuffled her feet. “Not to be rude, but we are a pretty small clan. I’m not sure we will have room for you to stay for the long run. We’ll have to ask my mother, the clan leader.” Genesia smiled. “From what I’ve seen today, your clan leader will welcome me with open arms. You see, I am here to be the Den Mother.” “The what?” Melete asked. “I will be in charge of watching the hatchlings--all of them.” “YES! Oh, Tidelord bless you!” Bricka sprang forward and hugged her front legs. Then she jumped up again, embarrassed. “Not that I don’t love them and all, but…” “They can be a lot of work,” Genesia agreed. “Especially if your heart is not in it.” She smiled fondly at the hatchlings. “But they are always worth it.” The hatchlings let out a little cheer. Melete smiled for the first time. “Well, come on then. Let’s all go home.” [b]Founder: Genesia [/b] [img]https://www1.flightrising.com/dgen/preview/dragon?age=1&body=3&bodygene=29&breed=17&element=6&eyetype=0&gender=1&tert=74&tertgene=34&winggene=39&wings=3&auth=b57f89bac2c24638bad130e7c271de1d910e2edb&dummyext=prev.png[/img] ((@ Mindrop @rosesinger @fenshae I'd like some feedback on the placement of the pictures: did they help to keep all the characters straight or did they break up the flow of the story?))