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Lumikkja

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  1. The slime tensed around the hard, undissolved substance within itself, the new stubby sections on its underside working to propel it forward. Its motions slow and hindered by the resistant bit of organic, the slime probed the sand and grime, hunger motivating it to find more organic even as it continued trying to properly consume the hard-thin stuck inside. There seemed no way to get it out, and now way to make it dissolve any faster. The slime had not encountered an impasse such as this before, and its limited instincts could not help solve this odd problem. To keep itself from dwelling on the stuck organic bit, the slime directed its top-pokey-stems to the sand around it. Here and there, faint organic traces... nothing substantial enough to sustain the slime's continuing metamorphosis. The coarse ground beneath the slime turned soft in some places, then smooth and rough in others. Still no organic like the vast sharp-soft that fueled its last transformation, and no new tastes. The slime also sensed a few old tastes - pointy black dots, stale pointed-softs - but they were too small to provide nourishment, and the slime had their tastes already, no need to taste them again. The hard-thin piece remained inside, prodding at the slime from within, refusing to dissolve. The slime slowly came to a halt, nubs squirming against the sand, newly textured top-side arcing to the heat overhead. The feeling of absorbing, consuming swam in itself, coiled in faint memory like all the tastes, like the sharp bit that did nothing but slow and distract the slime. Was there a way to get rid of it? The slime's instincts were... fuzzy. The hunger inside the slime demanded that it consume, that it find biomass and pull it inside, shape itself around the tastes. Nowhere in its patchwork instincts was there a demand to push things out. The slime's purpose was not to make in things out. But the hard bit did nothing but slow the slime. It could not be consumed, not quickly enough to be useful, at least. Holding still upon the sand, the slime grew tense again, its body stiffening around the hard piece. It recalled absorbing, and began... reversing the process. Out instead of in. Slowly the hard bit moved, working its way through the slime, up to the surface. It took far longer than most of the consumption processes, but in the end, the slime spat the hard bit out onto the sand. Finally free of its obstruction, it left again in search of organics that it could actually use. Like the tastes, the experience stuck inside the slime's rudimentary consciousness. It took a long time to expel the irritating organic bit, and it took a long time to properly absorb and taste organics it encountered. Perhaps there was a way to streamline the process. Perhaps there were parts of the tastes it had taken, particularly the most recent one - organic sections it could graft to itself, to make it easier to consume. But the slime was hungry. It needed organic matter, before it could attempt a more dramatic metamorphosis. Pushing forward, the slime searched for taste, its new nubs digging into the sand and the faint memory of the sharp bit ever prominent inside itself.
  2. The slime drifted over the soft-yet-thick, its underside working at absorbing the new organic as it went along. Push inward, eat. Stretch out, shift, move again. The new taste was vast, still vaguely tainted with a sensation of wet without the wet points actually being there. Twitching its sharp sense-bits, the slime examined the soft-yet-thick and its own inner hunger, what little there was left. The slime felt filled again, puffed and teeming with organic fuel. It was time to pull organic from its insides and put the tastes and touches to its outsides, make itself better again. It settled beneath the soft-yet-thick, shaded from the bright. The slime set to work picking at its recollection of organic tastes. The most recent one, the hard-and-bitter, was prominent in the slime's scope of awareness. Also the hard-black from the thing that crumbled and scattered into small black points. And the soft from the gap in the sand... that was more distant, but the slime remembered it all the same. What would serve the slime best? It still had its spined back-layers, but the slime did not feel the need to produce more of the same. It was time for new, more. Something to help it move. The slime as itself slipped, had no way to cling. It called inside to memory of small things, soft, yet squishy, with little moving bits. In made out, hunger slowly returning. The slime's exterior tensed along its underside, rippling and shaping. Slight protrusions, like the sense-sticks but not as pronounced. Little and many, each gripping the ground beneath on their own. A new sense, a new manner of propulsion. The slime could now cling. This would be useful at some point, perhaps. The slime had no real way of knowing. But if it was organic, it had to have a use. Next, retracting some of the spine-back. The little black scattering-organics provided better than the first spiked organic. The slime remembered black, and its body pushed again, throbbed and went rigid, then flaccid again. The spine part of the slime was sharp, yes, but also soft. Easy to flex, and break. It called the hard black sensation, formed it over its back in more than one place, more than one piece. And the slime made it ripple, cracks throughout, like the flaky organic it had consumed so recently. Finally its renewed hunger made the slime stop. Now it had parts to cling, and a firmer upper side, shaped like the flaky-bitter but hardened like the scattering black-organics. The slime was not empty, but the hunger had returned. Twisting its sense-sticks, the slime consumed the rest of the soft-yet-thick, and then set out to test its new adaptations as it hunted for more organics in the coarse sand. - (OOC: added silk worm legs and rattlesnake scale-shaped chitin. Still got a few barrel cactus spikes, but that's mostly gone now.)
  3. Updates 1/20/2016 Finally bred the last breeding partner of the Burn Notice lineage!
  4. Bitter dusty tastes creeping up all along its underside, the slime squirmed around the crumbling sharpness and focused on the clinging hints of sand-like particles that tasted of organic. A taste so faint the slime could barely pick it up even while touching its entire side against the crumbling inorganic... and its long extensions couldn't pick up the sensation, either. There was only one way to know if the bitter-dust was useful, and that was to consume it. The slime set to absorbing the dust, its body shifting around the inorganic and reeling against the feeling of having something it couldn't eat inside of itself. But there was no other way to take the dust from the sharp, so the slime bore the horrid, disgusting feeling on half-absorbing inorganic matter for as long as it could stand. The bitter sank in until there was none left on the crumbly-sharp. Peeling its body away from the inorganic, the slime rolled the new taste in its mouth. Still vaguely similar to the sharp, and to the bitterness it had encountered earlier. The slime had no way of knowing what kind of use the bitter would have, and it provided only negligible amounts of organic sustenance, not nearly enough to craft new linings for its outside or new helpful bits like the soft parts that helped sense new things to absorb. More. The slime needed more, and better, if it wanted to grow. Its soft sensing-sticks on its top swiveled in search of fresh organic tastes. Leaving the bitter-dust behind, the slime headed out of the flat place with the wet points. Soon it found itself advancing up an incline, a new organic taste fresh in its senses. This one was different than the others to an extent, promising helpful tastes and touches, if only the slime could reach it. The ground beneath the slime was growing unsteady, crumbly like the sharps. Still the slime carved its way forward through the sand. - (OOC: hahahah I'm terrible am I even allowed to participate in this anymore after vanishing for so long and now I have no idea what's going on in the larger plot )
  5. Updates as of 1/2/2016 : finally got a Blacktip for the Burn Notice lineage!
  6. *gentle bump from the ashes*
  7. The lack of wetness wasn't what had the slime's attention - no, it was the sharp inorganics. Not sharp like soft things it had eaten at the very beginning, and not quite pokey like the pointed things down the scratchy pit... different kind of sharp. With the wetness now going away, the slime could focus on the sharpness. It piled upon itself, going up and up... where? The slime left the organics it had consumed to go investigate the sharp. Odd how the pile was so dry, despite there being wetness all around just a moment ago. The slime shifted around the pile, trying to match it to something it already knew. But there was nothing really to compare it to, and the remaining hunger in the slime was annoyed. There was no way to eat this inorganic sharpness... no real reason to stay. Besides, the slime could sense organic things elsewhere. But the sharpness... It held the slime's attention. If the pile went up, did it go somewhere? The slime didn't have much of a concept for up. As best it could figure, 'up' was a version of elsewhere that went in a different direction than other things. It was the same place the wetness had been coming from. Did the pile make the wetness? The slime pressed itself up against the sharp and made sure to remember the taste. Maybe it would be useful later. - OOC: super sorry about not doing anything in this... life smacked me in the face with stuff...
  8. The ground... it ate the wet points. Ate them, absorbed them like how the slime absorbed other organics. That disoriented the slime. For a moment it feared, if the ground could eat the wet, could it eat the slime, too? But the idea passed soon enough. The wet was different. It was small enough, light enough to be eaten. The slime was not. So the slime went back to ignoring the wet and returned its attention to the now-disorganized small-fast organics. The something the slime had perched itself upon was rapidly vanishing, being eaten... by the wet? As the wet fell down upon the something, the something became less. It made the small-fasts move in ways that were chaotic. Whatever the something was, the small-fasts did not want to lose it. As they scurried around the vanishing something, the slime continued to absorb the ones that came too close to it. They were small, but numerous. They filled much of the hunger the slime felt inside. And yet the wet points still kept coming. As the slime found itself satisfied with the small-fasts - and as they started to scatter in all directions - the slime began to pay more attention to the wet. It came down harder, faster, more. It still did not stay. Instead it was eaten. But so much of it came down now that it almost didn't matter. Now the slime was getting disorganized. Flicking its soft extensions from side to side, it tried to sense far-tastes, only to find that the wet made it difficult to sense anything. Choosing a direction, the slime fled the small swarm and the now-gone something, hoping that there would be more organics there, and less wet.
  9. As more of the wet points started encountering the slime, it paused, stretching its soft points towards the swarm and staying put. The cold was increasing, and it annoyed the slime in the way the heat had annoyed it, but the hunger was greater. The nearby swarm was still bumping around the slime, and against the something. From this distance the slime could feel the small, fast-moving organics, but it could not yet figure out what the something was. Closer? Yes, closer. Then the slime would be able to taste. More of the cold points started touching the slime, creeping in between the little spikes now lining its outside self. The slime obeyed the pull of its insides, the emptiness, and moved into the center of the swarm. Some of the small organics rushed away, but some stayed near. But they still moved, faster than any of the other organics. The slime paused again. It did not know how to make the organics stop moving. It felt the instinct to consume them, but how to get to them? The slime twisted its soft parts, keeping its attention on the moving taste of the swarm. They were still gathered around the something. The something drew them. Almost hesitantly, the slime pushed forward, over to the something. It pressed up against the thing, but still could not understand it. But it attracted the swarm, and when the swarm moved back, darting between the wet points hitting the ground and the slime... The slime twitched, rolling itself forward and over the something just as several of the small creatures halted near it. The motion and near-taste of the creatures almost overwhelmed the slime's newborn senses, but it was still able to overcome the little organics and turn them into fullness inside of itself. Soon the creatures were gone, yet many remained. Their taste was strange, as was their texture, and they squirmed more than the other organics the slime had absorbed previously. But in the end they were consumed. As the cold points from up above intensified, the slime stayed put at the something, waiting for the rest of the swarm. As they came near, the slime would consume them and replenish itself, put away the hunger. Maybe after that, it would be able to again pull its inside fullness to its outside self again, give itself more parts. Good. Good was something the slime was beginning to understand, as things that helped it find and consume more organic. Anything that helped send away the hunger was good. The wet points kept hitting. The slime bunched itself upon the something and waited for the swarm.
  10. There... soft, small. A strange layered texture. If the slime encountered this same combination of things again it would know it had found the same thing. It worked the same as the spiky-rubbery it had first encountered, and then the pointy-soft. And now the slime tasted bitter and dry-hard that didn't even taste remotely similar to the other things. But it had taste, which meant organic, yes? Yes. Despite its ugly taste, the slime enveloped the bitter first, rolling over it and consuming it quickly so as to less taste the bitterness. With that done, the slime felt a strong sense of fullness. It had consumed quite a bit of organic, tasted several new things since it had first started moving on its own. As the slime slowly started tasting and absorbing the dry-hard (disgusting, disgusting, was it really even organic?) it let physical reflex take care of the absorbing and turned its concentration towards itself. The slime had discovered several organics, sharp and soft and bitter and textured. Most prominently, it recalled the thing it had just discovered. While the slime had no understanding of how it knew, it accepted that it now knew things about the small-soft organic, same as it knew things about the rest of the organic material it had found. The fullness inside the slime was good, and now it would be useful. So far the slime only had a vague sense of feeling and of taste to guide it to organic matter. Making use of the new instincts it had gathered, the slime concentrated on itself. The slime pulled the inner fullness outwards even as it absorbed the harsh-tasting organic beneath it. It pulled slowly, but soon enough the slime felt its outside self change. Softness appeared on the edge of itself, poking upwards and billowing out into broad soft pieces. The inner fullness rapidly decreased, but the slime still had some left. After creating the soft extensions, the slime turned the pull to the rest of itself. This took much less time to do, and in the end the slime's fullness was almost depleted, but it now had a coating on its outside, on the side that faced upwards. Textured with small, sharp poking pieces, like the first thing it had found. Now the slime was hungry again, and quickly finished absorbing the matter beneath it. But now - now the slime had a better concept of the things around it. Faint new senses began to mingle with taste and touch. The slime could now be aware of things it was not yet touching. Extremely faint pulses, like a tremor against the slime's self but far away. And a sense like taste, but also from far away, coming towards the slime and being felt at a distance. Suddenly the slime could sense organic from a distance, thought how long that distance was, the slime didn't know. It would take some time for the slime to get used to being able to sense things without directly feeling them. And the new sharpness on its back - that was interesting. The slime didn't know what purpose the sharpness on itself would serve, but for the moment that didn't matter. The slime was once again hungry. Somewhere nearby there was more organic - the slime could far-taste it. Twisting its soft extensions a little bit, the slime figured out where the far-taste was coming from and started sliding across the ground in that direction. # (Serket grew moth antennae and a bit of barrel cactus skin.)
  11. With the flappy thing now fully absorbed, the slime permissed itself to keep moving forward, but it halted before it get any recognizable distance. Despite the absence of the flapping organic, the slime had the distinct feeling that there was something more close by. Feeling near the space the flapping thing had so recently occupied, the slime detected a substance that was not part of the other things around it, but was merely... there. Touching, but not a part of. Was it organic? A distant instinct in the slime promoted an idea of hopefulness. The slime was beginning to understand that organic meant good. It was positive, helpful to the slime. Inorganic was not necessarily bad, but not as good as the organic. So, the slime hoped that this new edge-substance was organic like all the previous objects it had consumed. Hope was new, and for now, it was just the feeling of the slime remembering organic and the fullness of absorbing it. The slime pressed up against the edge-substance. Yes, it was organic. Different, unfamiliar organic, but soon enough it could be committed to the slime's memory. Still putting the heat changes out of its focus, the slime moved over the new organic and absorbed.
  12. Flat, flopping. What was it? Why was it here? The slime tried, but found no recognition in this strange new thing. Organic was the only determining attribute that was familiar. Between the flopping thing and the changes to the heat, the slime almost froze in place, stupefied. These changes seemed erratic, more erratic than before, but perhaps that was only because the slime had no way of understanding these things in comparison to how things had been before. And the thing - it continued to flop. Its movement combined with the motion of the air confused the slime almost enough to keep it moving away, but... organic. Stranger still than the sharp-soft substance found and learned in the deep circle, but organic. The slime pressed against and overwhelmed the flat organic. Pressed further, and absorbed. The annoyance rapidly disappeared. Now only the heat remained to confuse and irritate the slime.
  13. I died laughing while reading this I need to get these Xenowyrms were they a one-time thing (I missed the June release) or if not what's their rarity? I REALLY hope it's not rare...
  14. NOOOOOO I CAN'T BELIEVE I MISSED A JUNE RELEASE!! These are BY FAR my favorite looking dragons (or wyrms!) and I'm so mad that I missed the release! I need two of each of these at least... oh god I'm gonna be hunting for a while aren't I??? What's their rarity? I really hope they aren't rare, I'll never get any...
  15. Wings-wings-angry-wings. Under his breath, Mardero acknowledged his thrall. "Yes, wings." That was all he felt like saying at the moment, and instead he focused on the two demons in front of him. "Hello, hello, and welcome to Abach. I am Icabal, also known as the Screaming Terror for reasons you absolutely do not want to know, and I will be your class guardian. Which basically means I'll try to prevent you from killing yourself during missions or otherwise. You two might as well introduce yourselves - there might be a latecomer still arriving sooner or later, but time is quite a fleeting thing for us." Icabal. She was small, a dark-skinned human child by all appearances with the exception of her two-pronged tail. So, she was guardian of the students, which now included Mardero. To be honest, Mardero wasn't sure what to make of her yet, but there was an intimidating aura surrounding her. She was very calm and collected as she introduced herself, and Mardero had noticed a slight smile when he'd walked up to the steps. Maybe she'd been impressed by his display? He couldn't tell, but he hoped she was. She felt like the kind of person whose respect - or at least approval - would be valuable. Now, the other demon... Mardero took one look at him and suppressed a shiver. Something... something about this demon, this fellow student, was unnerving. Maybe that was just Mardero's social inhibitions talking, but he had a feeling that Kai was on to something when he said angry. Mardero wasn't quite picking up on anger, more... disdain? Something along those lines. Dissatisfaction, arrogance... yes, there was definitely arrogance in the demon's posture. Maybe it was in the way he held his wings, or the way he still hadn't bothered looking in Mardero's direction. Away-away-stay-away. Kai pressed his thoughts insistently against the inside of Mardero's head. For a moment Mardero considered dismissing the salamander, but instead he reached up and scratched the underside of Kai's jaw. In a moment or two the thrall calmed down. As soon as the salamander was calm, Mardero took a few steps closer to the other demons and raised his voice just high enough to be heard. "My name is Mardero," he said softly but purposefully, "child of Tephros the Ashmaker." If they wanted to know more, they would have to ask. Otherwise, that was all Mardero felt like telling them right now.
  16. The heat was changing. At first it was subtle, too subtle for the slime to notice, but soon enough it changed distinctly. The inorganic was crumbling around the slime, brushing against it and filling in behind it as it moved forward. The slime continued upward and followed the now fainter traces of good organic. As the slime began to notice the changes in the heat, it paused, letting the inorganic textures slip around it. After a moment it forged onward, halting when it got outside of the circle. There in the heat, the slime lingered, testing the ground and the air. There was warmth all around, but... not the same warmth the slime had experienced earlier, before it had gone into the circle. Somehow this heat was different, but not necessarily in a bad way. At least, it didn't irritate the slime. For the moment it was just... strange. The slime could deal with strange. What it didn't like was the absence of organic. There were traces in the ground, leading away from the circle. Faint traces, indistinct and unrecognizable, but they were there. Shifting its mass over the crumbly textures of the dry ground, the slime ignored the strange heat changes and continued moving forward.
  17. ~ More. More? Yes, there was more. The slime continued to absorb the point and the edge, feeling an unusual light texture as it did so. Light, an odd kind of soft, and sometimes not there, but it was connected to the pointed part. It was still organic, and so the slime continued to absorb it before moving on. There were more, and they were good. As the slime shifted over the organic, its movement caused them to tremble again. This time the slime payed ignored the trembling and simply concentrated on absorbing. There were many of the pointed soft organics, scattered upon the soft curve of the circle. As the slime dissolved them into itself it felt a sense of fullness, but it did not occur then to the slime that this sensation should be acknowledged. The only feeling that mattered was texture, and organic. Both of which were present in the pokey irritants. More. There was more, and it was good. The slime didn't recognize the difference between good or bad. It only understood the difference between absence of organic and presence of organic. If there was organic, the slime could absorb it, and on some primal level the slime knew that meant good. The slime pursued the organic, following minute changes in the ground's texture and committing the taste of the pointy-soft to whatever kind of memory it had. Perhaps this understanding of different textures would be useful? For the moment, the slime had no way of knowing. All it knew was to absorb and consume every shred of organic that remained in the circle before retreating to the hot outside.
  18. It seemed like the entire environment around the slime had shifted. The circle, the smoothness, and this new, hard organic texture... the slime pursued the nearest movement, the sliding movement that pulled to the bottom of the circle. It pulled and tensed as the slime moved itself towards the center of the movement, to the hard, thick, irritating organic. The irritation brought a sense of familiarity, similar to the first organic the slime had encountered. Almost sharp, but not quite. The slime neared the circle's end, sliding over the soft-skin, and moved itself close to the organic. While the slime's attention was drawn to the circle's curve, the smoothness, and the trembling motion surrounding the new textures, it began to shift its focus to the hard, to the new, the strange. Organic. Organic was good, even if it created irritation. Still distantly aware of the trembling, the slime pushed itself up against the hard organic texture. The irritation returned again, and the slime could feel the thing shudder. The shudders seemed to travel all through the smoothness, creating new tremors that distracted the slime for a moment. Then the new organic squirmed, and the slime began to absorb it.
  19. Edge-black-drops-high-cold-stone-sharp-black-black-black-dark-don't-like. "Shhh." Cold-void-close-too-close-leave-edge-please? "Shush. We can't fall." Falling silent, the salamander curled around the young man's neck. As the flames lining its neck and limbs dulled down as a sign of fear, the demon turned his host's head to the side and glanced out over the edge. The demon's summoned thrall only knew that there was a cold, unfriendly void close by and was afraid. Thralls were like that. Mardero didn't fear the emptiness that lay between the school's island and the roots of Yggdrasil. He didn't like it - too cold for his tastes - but he didn't fear it, not like an animal did. The fire salamander was especially unused to the cooler climate. Creatures of fire should stay where there was fire. The young demon knew he ought to release his thrall, but keeping the salamander nearby brought a feeling of familiarity to an otherwise alien environment. Black-black-stone-sharp-soft-light. "Yes. Black stone." What else would a demon school be made of? It was the lights that took Mardero by surprise. He thought most demons liked darkness and broody atmospheres. The lights emanating from the school in the distance reminded him of fire. That brought him some comfort. Perhaps he could learn to enjoy this place. Leave-now. Mardero snorted softly. For a summoned creature, Kai could be strangely insistent at times. Tugging the brim of his hat over his eyes, the demon trudged towards the school entrance, taking in the surrounding field. Yard? Arena? Arena sounded correct. Mardero could distantly sense the presence of animals, antsy and aggressive and likely caged up somewhere. As he neared the school, he began to pick up on the presence of other demons. Only a few. This school felt curiously empty. The young demon was content with that. After all, he was here to learn, and to hone his talents. Social interaction would be a reluctant bonus. But then again, it might be pleasant. He had no idea what to expect from this place. As he approached the school's front steps, fire flared around Mardero's hands and flickered around his eyes. A subtle display of his powers... yes, that would work. If he wanted to be accepted here, he might as well try to make a good first impression.
  20. Organic... skin but maybe not? Weak and fragile, easy to push away, but it still had the organic substance that the slime needed. It had good texture, even if it was flimsy, and the slime made the sensation familiar. Next time it encountered this kind of softness it would know it was good, it had organic. But if it was skin, or like skin, where was the warmth that should be there? There should be warmth. The slime did not understand why, but something told it that there ought to be warmth, where there was skin. If this was not skin it wouldn't be a problem, but if it was...? Perhaps there was more organic. The slime had collapsed the soft, but it still clung to the sides of the smooth earthen texture that surrounded the slime and the skin-but-not-skin. It clung, and when the slime brushed against it again, it felt a movement. Still settled against the softness, but unmoving, the slime waited. The skin-not-skin trembled. There was something else here, something organic, or at least the slime's instincts told it so. They could very well be wrong, but at the time the slime did not understand 'wrong'. It waited for a single moment longer, and then pushed onwards, following the flimsy-softness towards the tremble. ~ ((Silk? Oh boy. This smells suspiciously like spider.))
  21. For a moment, the slime halted when it encountered the softness. It used this pause to test the texture, trying to find the taste of organic. The edges of the circle had widened to the touch of soft, and for a second it seemed as though the slime might backtrack, back to familiar ground and familiar textures and tastes. Then the slime continued onward, moving itself closer to the softness, stretching its negligent mass across the texture, committing the pattern to whatever kind of memory it possessed at the moment. It would turn this new softness into a familiar sense soon enough, but first, it looked for organic. There was more organic, a good organic taste! It was there, hidden in the softness. The slime began to absorb it. ~ ((I can still be in this, right? 'Cuz I've been absent from the RP for a while now...))