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The Return Reboot

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I've gotten permission from both the previous creator, Speedicus, and a mod, Walker, to repost this. This is already in the DC RP section, and I've been given permission to bring it back alive again. I do not own credit to this idea or the content written as of now.





After the year 2013, the humans were tearing themselves apart faster than any other time recorded in history. War, disease, and other things that had plagued the human race facilitated their abrupt and violent end in the year 3000. After the dragons were supposedly hunted to extinction, the remaining ones traveled to the extremes of the earth, going far out of their natural comfort zones. The dragons vowed to return to their mainland home, but they had to resolve themselves with eking out a life underground. They carved huge, cavernous tunnels. They worked their history and culture into the unforgiving rock, laid their eggs, and settled down to as normal a life as they could manage. They survived off animals that burrowed too close, and the few strays that wandered into the caves. Eventually, the original breeds of dragons left over from the massacres died out. Their descendants, however, have grown up and made lives and families for themselves. When they broke through to the surface, they were introduced to a completely different world.




It is the one-hundredth annual meeting for the Elder Council of Dragons. This meeting is held along with a festival, which dragons of all ages flock to every year for a night of fun and amusement The Festival of the Council is put on while the meeting is held. The festival honors each and every dragon, young and old, for being alive and surviving the long wait to reclaim the world. One-hundred years have passed since the third generation of dragons left their hideout and entered the above world, facing all of its dangers. The world changed since dragons roamed freely; instead of open plains, high mountains, and beautiful oceans, they were greeted with fields of fire, ruins of buildings, human waste, and mutated animals. The Elder Council did what they could to fix this bent and broken world. They organized cleanups, set up search parties for lost species and they even managed to purify the oceans, in a small time frame of fifty years.


Long before the council was even thought of, the dragons were governed by a king. King Dao was the first leader of the dragons on the surface. The dragons appointed the next king and queen through hereditary means, meaning the first hatched child of the monarchs would be destined to rule. King Dao and his family was the only royal line, so a child of royal descent could marry a non-royal and still hold on to their sovereignty. After King Dao, the firstborn in a long line of Daos, died without leaving behind any children, his brother, Lee, took over the reigns of the kingdom. King Lee began making horrible changes, killing many innocent dragons for no good reason and exiling them from the kingdom. By the end of his first year as king, he had exiled about twenty percent of his own kingdom, and had lowered the overall dragon population down by at least ten percent. Eventually, the dragons had had enough. During the second month of the second year of King Lee's tyrannical rule, eight dragons organized a coup. The coup was successful, and the Elder Council of Dragons was created.


The Elder Council of Dragons consisted of eight dragons; four female and four male. The eight dragons were supposedly the wisest and greatest dragons of all. The Council made tough decisions, but those decisions benefited the population greatly. The Council would handpick their successors after they have been on the council for one-hundred years. The Elder Council of Dragons handled everything, from political problems to economics, society, and everything in between. The current council consists of a Blacktip, Daydream, Flamingo Wyvern, Ember, Harvest, Horse, Sunset, and a Whiptail.


The landscape, due to the efforts of the council, was startlingly different from the wasteland left by the humans. The destruction they had wrought changed the shape of the land masses irreparably, but the environment was healed. The dragons reside on a landmass known as Louro, a continent with large snow peaked mountains, huge grasslands and coursing rivers that stretch long distances.




The world you and your peers, the one-hundred-fifty-first generation after the escape from the caves, were born into a very different world from the one your ancestors were faced with. The mountain ranges are even higher than before and the ocean is cleaner than ever. The land humans once occupied is completely cleansed and cleared of humanity. The world was never as beautiful as it is now. Finally, you attend the Festival of the Council. Your parents and friends tell you to relax and play, while they go and listen to the ideas and debates of the Council. You're hanging out with some dragons you met, when halfway through the night the sounds of a struggle and the screams of pained dragons echoes from the room where the Elder Council presides. You stare in the direction of the noises, when dragons burst forth, fighting and clawing desperately. Suddenly, a group of Bleeding Moons, vicious-looking and cruel, shoot into the sky. They raise their tails and rain down poisoned barbs on the teeming crowds. You watch, frozen, as they hit indiscriminately among the innocents. Dragons fall to the ground, blood pouring from the myriad of puncture wounds littering their bodies. Fear strikes your heart as you realize that the struck dragons are paralyzed. Your parents are nowhere in sight. What should you do now?



  • Follow all Dragon Cave rules.
  • No Mary/Gary Sues, god-modding, and overpowering a character.
  • You may only use Dragoncave dragons.
  • One breed of each species unless it has alts. For example, if there is a blue Nebula, you may make a green Nebula.
  • Keep mating, romance, and anything in that context on the low. Your dragon may not have eggs or get into a serious relationship as they are all hatchlings. Should the time arise for your dragon to become an adult, we'll discuss the problem of romance then.
  • Hatchlings only, unless you have a council member.
  • Mature hatchlings get privileges that hatchlings don't. For one, mature hatchlings can get into romantic relationships and curse. Although they may not drop a curse every five seconds and get into a serious relationship, they may still fall in love and curse every now and then.
  • All posts must be nine sentences long. Keep grammar and punctuation in mind when writing.
  • When fighting, don't have your dragon kill every foe he/she meets. That does not mean your dragon cannot be a great fighter, nor does it mean you cannot kill. Just don't have your dragon kill everything in sight and not get a single scratch.
  • When it comes to accepting and rejecting sheets, do not argue with my decisions. Be professional and do not lose your temper. Making rude and snarky comments will only hinder your chances of being accepted. (I also find it sad that I have to add this rule. You all should know better than this.)
  • If you are planning for your dragon to kill or get romantic with another person's dragon, PM them to make sure they are okay with you doing so.
  • Respect other people in the RP. Try to avoid being crude and remember that they are actual people, not text on the computer screen.
  • PM me all character sheets. Do NOT post them in the IC or OOC thread. All forms that are not messaged to me be will be rejected until I receive them in a PM format.
  • You may only have ONE hatchling and TWO council members if you manage to grab them. This does not include NPCs.
  • "Cursing" is allowed, however only mature hatchlings can curse. Please bleep the more vulgar words with "****".
  • People who have not posted for weeks on end will be put on the inactive list. Your characters will stay on this list until you post. If you continue to log onto the forum and never PM me or send me some sort of message explaining why you are not posting, then your characters will be deleted without your permission. If your character is deleted and you wish to rejoin the RP, then PM me, I always save deleted apps.
  • Put, "Maybe" in your character sheet as the code word.
  • If you do not get rid of the extra text in the character sheet section, you will be rejected. This means you will not be able to use the sheet you just created. You'll have to scrape it and start all over again.
  • If you wish to claim a text color, put what color you want to use in the "other" section. If a color is claimed, no one else may use that color unless the person who has claimed that color leaves the RP.
  • You may post in color, but nothing too bright like this.
  • No Spriter's alts.
  • You must be in third person at all times. No action brackets in your posts.

    For example:

    Person looked over to the side to see another person.

    Person: "How are you today?" *Waves*

  • Use common sense.
  • Don't go against breed descriptions.


    At any given time, the rules are subject to change. If the rules are changed, than all RPers will be notified by PM and by a post.

Unavailable Dragons

Any dragons from the completed section


Guardian of Nature

All Avatars

Any Holiday

Prizes (Tinsel or Shimmerscale)

Bleeding Moon (Unless given special permission)


Taken Breeds:


Black Tea




Nhiostrife Wyvern

Royal Crimson



Sunsong Amphiptere




[b]Forum Name:[/b] 
[b]Picture:[/b] Post the sprite here. Make sure it is the age stage your character is in.
[b]Personality:[/b] At least a paragraph long. (5 sentences or longer)
[b]Biography:[/b] At least a paragraph long. (5 sentences or longer)
[b]Skills:[/b] (Don't make me regret this.)
[b]Code Word:[/b] Will be removed on official form.

Edited by Doctortear

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Accepted Characters:




Forum Name: Doctortear

Name: Charlotte Eada

Gender: Female

Age: Mature Hatchling

Breed: Royal Crimson

Appearance: Charlotte, with the grand size of most Royal Crimsons, is a deep scarlet with twisting bends of crimson and burgundy swirling in her scales. She has an armored underbelly with saffron lining downwards on the harden edges of her plates. She has long delicate legs with onyx colored claws curving off of her paws. Her tail is smooth protracted, but the slate gray spikes at the end of her tail are salient when it comes to fighting. The gray spikes protrude out of the end of her tail and are arched outward. Charlotte's slim body is caped by her broad wings that cover her body like a blanket. Her wings are vast in size with a silky membrane and smooth fingers included in their almost identical and symmetrical design. Charlotte has a narrow face with an almost post presence to it. Bright amber eyes with swirls of a dark orange in it are plastered on Charlotte's face. A sharp intelligence can be easily spotted from within her light eyes.

Picture: user posted image

Personality: Charlotte is the epitome of a rich father's little princess. She is the what most people would call a, "snob" and a, "spoiled brat". Charlotte treats herself as though she is royalty and is rather prissy. She expects others to take care of her and is disgusted when she has to do the dirty work herself. She is more than capable of fixing problems on her own, but Charlotte prefers others to do the hard work while she sits around and lounges. Charlotte has a sharp tongue. She isn't afraid to state her mind and expects others to speak their minds as well. As long as it doesn't offend her, that is. Charlotte is rather rude and will outright insult someone if she feels like it. Charlotte, being well-educated, knows a vast amount of knowledge. She often likes to flaunt her knowledge and boast to others about how much more she knows than them. Although this is often unintentional, Charlotte will do this much more often when she is near someone she dislikes rather than someone she cares about.  Despite her flaws, Charlotte is a rather charming person. She can be clever and charismatic when talking to someone she fancies. She'll try to hold her tongue when around friends, but often finds it hard to do. She can be caring and kind, but only saves her kindness to those she thinks deserves it. Charlotte is, at heart, a bit of a tomboy, but has been trying to keep herself in line due to her parents' wishes. At times, Charlotte can let her true side out. She can be seen playing in mud or running around the grass. Charlotte rarely lets this side out and often keeps her "princess" self out to display.

Biography: Charlotte was born to a rich family. Her father was a well-known business man and her mother was born into money. Charlotte was pampered from the moment she hatched. She was taken cared by her parents' servants and spoiled with gifts most hatchlings could only dream of. Although spoiled, Charlotte felt a longing to see her parents. All she ever saw was the maids to take care of her and a growing stack of cold toys that never moved or tried to play with her. Charlotte wanted a friend, a real friend, and a chance to spend some time with her parents. Yet, her parents never spoke to her, nor ever seem to noticed her. She was often alone with her pile of lifeless toys and away from the world she longed for. The only time Charlotte could remember of her parents giving her their full attention was when they saw her jumping around in a puddle of mud. She had loved feel of the sticky mud coat her scales and the sound of mud squishing between her toes. Even though her father exploded and gave her a huge scolding along with a lecture from her mother, Charlotte had been heavily pleased at the interaction from her parents to her, even though it had been highly negative. When she heard about the festival, Charlotte thought nothing of it. It would be just another day where she would have to sit around where her parents went off to do more "important" things. She hadn't t he slightest suspicion that something might go dreadfully wrong.

Crush/Mate: None, yet

Skills: Charlotte has a vast amount of knowledge. Her words are fluid and roll off of her tongue. She has much knowledge of the natural world along with history of the world events and how the political world works. Charlotte is also rather decent at hiding her inner emotions.

Other: Charlotte owns the color maroon.




Forum Name: bailee101

Name: Makia Ezbren

Gender: Female

Age: Mature Hatchling

Breed: Hellhorse

Appearance: An average, or slightly larger, female Hellhorse.

Picture: user posted image

Personality: Like many other Hellhorses, if you get her angry or try to mess with her, she has a fiery temper and won't tolerate any nonsense. But when around other dragons she knows well, she can get along pretty well. She is usually very stand-offish though, not giving any effort to make friends, or to keep them for that matter. When angry, she tends to flame up a lot, and if anything around her is flammable, it will burn instantly. She gets along better with calmer dragons who she can boss around, and who won't cause any trouble.

Biography: By the time she had hatched, her parents weren't around anymore. They were helping with some of the cleaning efforts, when them and the group of dragons they were with disappeared. She never actually saw them, she just knew that they were both Hellhorse dragons, like herself. So, she was raised by another dragon, a female Brimstone. Because she has never had real parents, she finds it hard to understand being caring.

Crush/Mate: None, yet

Skills: She is mostly ordinary, with no extremely special skills. Her only 'skill' so to speak is that she usually has a bad feeling before something bad happens, like a premonition.

Other: I'd like her color to be purple please.




Forum Name: KoalaNoob

Name: Ipsum

Gender: Male

Age: Mature Hatchling

Breed: Black Tea

Appearance: Ipsum is fragile in appearance, due to his slight build. His bones are unusually thin, and he has an air of an underfed dragon. His wing membrane hasn't finished growing in; it's far too thin to fly with.

Picture: user posted image

Personality: Ipsum is weak, both physically and mentally. A mere insult is enough to make him cry, though he often does it just to earn sympathies. He uses his unfortunate history to trick others into caring for him. Once they've fallen for his ploy, he'll take advantage of them for as long as he can. Once they begin to suspect, he'll find a way for his sensitive feelings to get "hurt", and then he'll run away. After a day or so, he'll return to the dragons that he ran away from, and spy on them for a while. If they seem to miss him enough, he'll "accidentally" find his way back and make a huge sob story on why he ran away. If the family doesn't care, then he'll leave and find someone else to target. In reality, Ipsum's feelings do get hurt easily; he's just trained himself to cry in a way that makes others feel sorry for him. He isn't particularly strong or smart, so he uses this as a method of survival. While it isn't the most efficient way of surviving, it works best for Ipsum, so that's what he does.

Biography: Ipsum's mother died of disease before he was hatched, and his father died of the same sickness soon after. At the time, Ipsum could barely walk, and he was left alone and helpless in the cave his parents and lived in. Luckily, a family of Sunsongs found him, taking pity on his weakness. It was then that he realized how he would have to survive: by preying on sympathies. Since then, that's how Ipsum lived. He intentionally starves himself to keep a frail appearance, and through many other tricks, he has survived for the majority of his short life alone.

Crush/Mate: None, yet

Skills: Weakness is Ipsum's greatest asset. It allows him to sneak past other's defenses and worm his way into their hearts.

Other: Ispum's color is pale violet red




Forum Name: Backup77

Name: Saphia

Gender: Female

Age: Mature Hatchling

Breed: Nhiostrife Wyvern

Appearance: Saphia is small for her age. She is often mistaken for being younger than she is until her hind wings are noticed. While small, she is very long and slender, with her tail, horns, and claws being particularly long. Her blue stripes are incredibly vibrant, and she is very proud of the five blue stripes that she has instead of the normal two to four.

Picture: user posted image

Personality: Saphia has all of her species' natural curiosity, multiplied by ten. She is incredibly adventurous, and is always trying to find buried treasure or whatever else. She feels as if anyone trying to prevent her from exploring has some grudge against her or is just a dull dragon who lacks any will to explore. She doesn't like people she deems incurious at all. She's not one for thinking things through, and will dive headlong into danger. That said, if she did encounter real danger and/or got injured, she would likely panic and flee, unless someone else was in danger. In that case, she would do whatever it took to save them. Saphia is very loyal, and if she makes a friend she'll never leave them. She also expects others to be the same, leading to her being very hurt if others don't live up to her expectations.


Part of Saphia's rebelliousness comes from her need to feel special. As she has felt that her life has been dull and boring, she is constantly trying to make things more interesting. She in envious of those she sees as having more 'interesting' back stories, whether the dragon likes what happened to them or wished they had a normal back story. This can lead to her being insensitive to the problems of others, feeling that anything had to be better than her life. If she has has a problem she will likely give it a much higher priority than the problems of others. She is also somewhat vain due to her extra stripe, as Nhiostrifes put great emphases on how many stripes a dragon has. She also enjoys bragging about her flying abilities.


For all her flaws, Saphia means well and is very kind. If someone is hurt, she'll do all she can to help them. She is also a master puzzle solver if she actually chooses to think about something; her problem is just that she never does think before doing.

Biography: Saphia has never felt like anything special had happened to her. Her whole life has, so far, been normal and non-extraordinary. Both of her parents were normal Nhiostrifes, and Saphia felt as if she grew up overly sheltered. Whether or not she actually was sheltered is up to interpretation, but Saphia's sense of adventure left her constantly straining against the boundaries that her parents set up. Fights were had over where she could go and where she couldn't go without supervision. She thinks that the Festival might be interesting, but she's not sure.

Crush/Mate: None, yet

Skills: Like all Nhiostrifes, Saphia has great senses of smell and hearing and is an incredible flier (although she is still learning how to fly). This is balanced by her nearsightedness.

Other: Saphia's color is dark slate blue.




Forum Name: Eldricht-Aviary

Name: Changming Bo

Gender: Male

Age: Mature Hatchling

Breed: Sunsong Amphiptere

Appearance: Though his scales still share the stunning lighting and reflective nature of his father, he hasn't grown into full splendor yet, thus not showing his brightest in the sun's light. However, he's of darker hues than other Sunsong Amphipteres, seeming closer to red rather than rosy pink when the light doesn't hit him. He still illuminates like the others.

His wings are quite a ways bigger than normal, which he has yet to grow into despite his approaches to older hatchling age. He also showing bigger girth from the stomach and hips down the tail, with a diminutive upper body and thin shoulders to the wings. His horns curve low, like the crest of a fine bird, and seem just as soft. Though they should've grown harder at this point, his spines and horns still seem as soft as feathers, and presumably will remain such into adulthood. However, his eyes share the same brilliant gold as his father, as well as the thin and sharp beak-like snout.

Picture: user posted image

Personality: Though Changming holds the playfulness of the past deep in his heart, it's been hidden down in the past few months with the struggles his family has faced. Due to stresses at home bearing down on his head and duties as a noble coming down, his playfulness can only be shown when his humor, admittedly morbid and sadistic from his mother's side, shows through, or when he thinks he's alone enough to indulge.

He's a perfectionist raised to hold his head high and act mature under most all circumstances by his parents, but despite his calmly spoiled behavior, he feels more deprived than anything due to his inheriting sister being more cared for. But he feels he must act as the more adult of the two, otherwise something horrible could happen and he'd be blamed. While he'd rather not deal with his sister, he'd rather not take the blow for anything that happened. And he still wouldn't ever want to take the fall for someone else's actions. He also hides a childishly hot temper, but it rarely surfaces. Only when his ego is dashed, or he's disrespected or displaced.

Biography: The Bo family has always functioned well under its matriarchal reign. Huifang Bo, head of the house, was determined to honor and respect back to the line of Bo, after years of rust in reputation, though her lack of fertility hindered this. Eventually, she finally hooked together with Castello Braun, another upcoming noble, to try and produce a proper heir. Many unsuccessful attempts later, Changming, her only son, came into the world. Months after parting ways with that husband over another fertility debate and raising Changming with pride, Huifang finally found another noble husband to help carry on the family blood, and with this husband's new fertility, it didn't take much to produce an egg. However, this one came up female. This newborn wonder was named Jinjing, and so with Huifang's over-excitement to raise their new daughter well as they could, they pushed their son back into the shadows, and Changming was reduced from up and coming heir into Jinjing's hand servant.

Six months later, the Festival of the Council came. Normally an avid lover of festivals, he would be more than excited for this celebration, if he wasn't assigned to babysit his sister while their parents listen to the Council's words. With time taken to festivities, he only withdrew to dwell upon his own thoughts and wishes as he watched his sister play. He only wished for nothing more than to be back in the spotlight. He wished he had nothing to do with his sister or those awful chores anymore, to lead his own family, make his own rules, to be back in charge . . .

But Changming had no idea his wish would be granted on that fateful night . . .

Crush/Mate: None, yet

Skills: As he was raised more to fight for his family and sister rather than lead it, his training to defend himself and others started when he was old enough to fly. While he's nowhere close to skilled as an adult could be, he's still got enough grace and coldness to get himself out of scuffles. He couldn't fight off an adult, but being a fast little bugger for a serpentine air dragon, he's better with weak hit-and-run tactics more than anything. Presumably closer to ' hit a couple of times to try and disorient, then run like hell '. At his current age, he'll run from anything bigger than him, but may grow out of this. He shows no mystical power at his age. Again, he's nothing more than a hatchling.

Other: He seems to be fond of sweets and expensive foods, but hates accepting offering from others. He also tends to curl around branches or trees when tired, or if there are none nearby, he'll presumably curl up in coils or instinctively find someone else to wrap around. He can't seem to sleep alone yet. He also likes to imitate birds, but this is only to cheer himself up when he's depressed. He likes imitating doves most.




Forum Name: Tiga

Name: Liska

Gender: Female

Age: Mature Hatchling

Breed: Magi

Appearance: Aside from her purple eyes instead of green, Liska is like any normal mature Magi hatchling.

Picture: user posted image

Personality: Liska is a show-off. She pretends that she knows everything and makes a big deal out of what she can do. When proven wrong, she gets sullen and quiet, scowling as she hangs near the back of the group and dramatically sighing at every action she does. Liska just wants to be the leader, all the time. She often finds herself getting snapped at by her peers about her personality. When a dragon has snapped at her, she holds it together in front of everyone before running off to cry. Liska is often boastful at what she does, and tries everything out. When she has beaten someone, she acts smug, only making her seem even more unbearable. She is often performing dangerous stunts, trying to get other's attentions, but most of them result in scoldings from the adults. Liska has realized from experience that the only way to be noticed is to be in danger.

Biography: Liska's personality might be the result of her younger years. She was the last one to hatch of five other magi hatchlings in a group of adults of her species. She just wants to be different, but is always outshone by the others. Liska matured into a bitter dragon, always wanting to be better than everyone else. She has always been harsh, and is very determined to be noticed. However, these two traits grew even more extreme when the first of her siblings became an adult. Liska walked away bitter and ran into an angry female Hellhorse. In the face of danger, the new adult found her and teleported her away, and soon was recognised by the adults. However this only lasted for a short time since the rush of the festival made the adults ignore Liska.

Crush/Mate: None, yet

Skills: Liska can teleport and was taught this skill as soon as she matured. She has mastered this skill very well. Although she can only transport herself as far as 16 feet and a bit (5 meters) and can only take herself and two others. It is an ability she prides herself in however it tires her out greatly though and is forced to take breaks after six teleports.

Other: Her color is Mango Orange




Forum Name: Dream_Dragon

Name: Virmkik Rukuth

Gender: Male

Age: Matured hatchling

Breed: Electric

Appearance: He is mostly dark grey with a yellow belly and yellow paws. A yellow vein lines his tail and more are plainly shown on his wings, a stark contrast to his dark colour. His figure is slim and his eyes are a pale yellow, almost white. A thin scar trails down his left leg.

Picture: user posted image

Personality: Virmkik is one who always jumps to conclusions. He shoots first and asks questions later. He always returns a favour, whether it be good or bad, minor or major. As a result of this attitude of his, he's always doing things that he regrets later on. He will readily apologise if he is in the wrong. However, if he thinks that what he did was not his fault, he won't care to apologise. He has a fierce temper and he doesn't have much patience, thus making him a short-tempered dragon that's easy to provoke. He is a very serious dragon and also head-strong, often taking matters into his own paws. However, he can be caring and somewhat generous when he wants to be.

Biography: His life was somewhat hectic with his father's hot temper. Fights were sort of a normality in the family and though, they did squabble, his father usually only let loose his rage over serious matters. He always did believe that little matters weren't worth fighting about. Virmkik's mother was more patient than either of them and she was usually the one who had to break up fights between father and son. Although the family was a bit on the touchy side, what with all of them having hot tempers (it's a family thing), Virmkik loved his parents and couldn't imagine a world without them. Little did he know what was waiting for him at the Festival of the Council...

Crush/Mate: Open!

Skills: As an Electric dragon, he can produce electricity charges and often favours electric bolts as his line of offense. He can also create a small arc of lightning when he claps his wings together, just like a Thunder dragon - something that he inherited from his mother since she was a Thunder dragon. It is extremely weak at the moment, though, and will increase little in strength as he grows. Even so, as an adult, his arc of lightning can do no more than give someone a nasty shock, which is weak, compared to a Thunder dragon's full power.

Other: This character shall own this navy colour! biggrin.gif




Forum Name: MrSpyro

Name: Zephyr

Gender: Male

Age: Hatchling

Breed: Skywing

Appearance: Same as any.

Picture: user posted image

Personality: Zephyr pretty much radiates happiness. He always has that kind of smile that makes everyone around him want to smile too. He's also very kind-hearted and likes to help other dragons, give gemstones to his friends, and brighten everyone's day. Due to this, he's gullible and easily manipulated. But when a dragon is mean to him, he breaks down and cries. If something really bad happens, like Bleeding Moons going on a killing spree at the festival for example, he will freak out and go as far away from the scene as possible, and most likely never return.

Biography: Zephyr was born into a rich family; both his mother and his father owned major businesses. He was the only hatchling they had, so he was constantly spoiled. His parents would always buy him the latest everything, they would make whatever he wanted for dinner, and always talk about how perfect they thought he was to their friends. Due to this, for a long time, he was a spoiled brat, but had always felt like something had been missing in his life. Then came the fateful day at school when he learned about King Lee. He realized how cruel and twisted dragons could be, and he didn't want to become one of those dragons. At the same time, one of his classmates broke down in tears because she couldn't handle the story. He comforted her, and she smiled at him. At that moment, Zephyr realized what was missing in his life: Happiness. And then he became the happy-go-lucky dragon he is today.

Crush/Mate: Open


-Fast flyer (Like all Skywings)

-Can usually tell if another dragon is upset, unless they're really good at hiding it

-Good at sniffing out treats (His father is a Sweetling)

Other: His color will be cyan.


Inactive Characters:


None at the moment

Edited by Doctortear

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Complete and utter chaos had taken hold of everyone around Charlotte. Innocents were screaming, hatchlings cried out for their mothers, parents search the crowds desperately for their young ones, and just about everyone was either running away in fear or standing still, petrified by what was going on around them. The blood pouring out of those who had been hit held a glistening coat that shimmered in the moonlight. The scarlet liquid was everywhere. It was splattered upon the trees, slowly climbing down the base of the trunk and dripping off the mighty branches. It was scattered sporadically across the grass, making large dark splotches upon the ground. But, worst of all, blood was on just about everyone in the celebration. Whether if it was being gurgled at the mouth of the attacked or matted against the scales of the terrified or if streaked across the faces of the Bleeding Moons who had a mad grin plastered on their faces.


Needless to say, Charlotte was beyond shocked at the proceedings that had taken place before her. For once in her life, she did not seek her parents. After realizing what had happened, Charlotte had begun running for her life. She sprinted through the crowds, her mind reeling with terror. Each shriek of pain she heard, each and every cry for help, brought another needle of fear stabbing through her heart. She was no longer in a sane state of mind. She wasn't even thinking clearly. In fact, she wasn't thinking at all. Complete instinct took over her and Charlotte continued to run through the horde of people, not stopping to look or help anyone she passed. The glimpses of those dying on the ground, the mere sight of blood, made her run all the more faster. She had to get away, she knew that. Fleeing from the nightmare around her was all she could think of.


Charlotte didn't remember when she stopped running. She knew she had to of stopped running at some point. But, Charlotte wasn't going to bother with thinking about it and, instead, decided to merely regain her sanity. The hatchling leaned against a tree, the bark prickling her sides. Her entire body heaved as she took heavy breaths. Her eyes were wide with distraught. Her legs gave way and Charlotte let herself fall down to the ground. Her side scraped down the bark, leaving a sharp pain in her hip. It was... oddly comforting. The pain was real and what she just saw felt like a dream. She needed a grasp on reality, something to tell her that she wasn't losing it, something to keep her going.


Vomit, of course, came its way to Charlotte. She felt it lurching up her throat and threatening to spew from her lips. With a hard swallow, Charlotte ceased the climbing of the bile. The inside of the mouth, along with her throat, burned and tasted vulgar. Charlotte spat out saliva in an attempt to get rid of the horrid taste, but only slightly succeeded in her endeavor. Wiping her arm against her wet mouth, Charlotte pulled herself up unsteadily. Shaky breaths escaped the hatchling as she reared upward and pulled her rump to the ground. Charlotte began to form a calm composure as she tried to settle herself down.

Okay... I just need to calm down. Steady, Charlotte, you can do this. Just settle down and you'll be alright.

Charlotte looked up and scanned her surroundings. The dark forest around her wasn't very comforting, but at least there was no Bleeding Moons around. Although disheveled, Charlotte, on the outside, looked calm and composed. She had been taught to hide her inner emotions.

Just take a deep breath. Give yourself a few more moments of rest before standing up and figuring out what just happened. Take it easy.... you can do it.


(And, go!)

Edited by Doctortear

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A scream sounded in the distance. Keszpik looked up from the dirt to see who had cried out only to find it was a wave of dragons, not just one. Several were stained with blood, and many others were running. He looked around, unfazed by the shrieks of terror but annoyed by the throngs of bodies crashing into him. It dawned on him that his father was nowhere to be seen. Had he been swept away by the crowd? It seemed a similar fate was likely for the Thunder hatchling. He struggled to remain where he was, searching for his father. For a moment he thought he saw a bloodied, deep blue mass in the distance, but before he could get to it a limp body crashed out of the sky. It crushed someone else beneath it and in an instant both were dead. A fresh wave of terror pulsed through the crowd and Keszpik was swept away. "Father!" He roared, but no one parted in his favor. For an agonizing minute that felt like years he was at the mercy of the dragons around him, never slowing as more and more bodies fell. It was a long time before the swarm of terrified creatures thinned.


When could finally move on account of his own free will, the first thing Keszpik did was let out a long, distressed sigh. His father was gone. And if he wasn't, he was dying or lost. Was this what it was like to be sad? He didn't like it. It was like physical pain, but worse. He couldn't describe it with words. But it was also slightly nice. It felt somehow better, more fitting, to mourn over his father than to feel nothing. He watched the diluted dragons around him slow their pace, fear replaced with creases and distressed moans. Keszpik attempted to twist his own face into a frown, trying not to look like an outcast among everyone else. In the end, however, he had failed miserably and he decided that maybe it was best to stick with feeling emotions, not showing them.


After Keszpik got over his depression and once again had become a bland statue of a Thunder, he assessed the problem. His father had died: not good. He had been trampled: not good. He had been swept away: not good and extremely exasperating. He had gotten 'sad': very good. He was on the outskirts of a forest: maybe good. He peered into the trees. It exuded an unfriendly aura, but as he looked around he didn't have too many options. He certainly wasn't going back. That'd be a fool thing to do, especially by Keszpik's standards. But it would also be easy to ambush him in the depths of the woods. He had a choice to face, now. He rolled the consequences of either choice through his head. Ambush, food, buildings, enemies, Bleeding Moons, possibly the body of Father, bandits, a pack of anything, strangers... Many things rushed through Keszpik. In the end, he decided the forest was best. He inhaled sharply and stepped in.

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Blood spattered around Ipsum, several drops of the bright red liquid staining his pale scales. Immediately, the Black Tea panicked, stiffening and giving a weak, hgh-pitched whimper. He knew about blood. It was what his father had coughed out shortly before he died. Blood brought back memories he had sealed away, and the young hatchling didn't like that, not at all. Ridding the memories had been hard, and he didn't want to go through the process again. Krysta! Where's Krysta?! So began Ipsum's desperate search for his foster mother, but the search would soon prove to be pointless. He pushed against the desperate crowd, seeking the family of Moonstones who had adopted him. Any one of them would do, from his loving mother to his innocent newborn sister. His search was frantic, and not completely focused. While he was running, his mind whirred with thoughts about escaping and saving himself- but that was overpowered by the knowledge that he wouldn't last two days alone. Without someone providing for him, Ipsum was completely helpless, an easy victim for death. Eventually, though, his frail body gave out to the long and tiring sprint, and the frail hatchling collapsed on the grass below him.


The dragons passing by failed to notice the damaged hatchling by their feet. Although, it wasn't entirely their fault. Ipsum was small, and his red coloring mixed with the blood that now covered the landscape. The only difference was the shade- Ipsum was much paler. Unfortunately, it didn't help. Red liquid coated the Black Tea; making him seem even more like part of the background. The hatchling didn't notice. He was busy huddling into as little of a ball as he could, hoping to be picked up and not stepped on. In his current appearance, the young, frail dragon looked more dead than alive, like so many of the bodies he'd seen in his search for family. Save me... Someone, please save me... I don't want to die... I don't want to become like all those other dragons... It was more of Ipsum's bitter-sweet luck that he was grabbed by the Guardian. One moment, he was lying on the ground, shaking, and the next, he had been scooped onto the back of a large, powerful dragon. The pale-colored hatchling was forced to pull himself upright. Had he stayed in the fetal position, Ipsum would have fallen off, almost instantly. Gripping his savior's hide with his sharp claws, the Black Tea tucked his head in and clung on for dear life.


He was deposited a short ways away from the Bleeding Moons, far enough to be safe. Ipsum felt a wail rise in his throat, and for once, it was real, not twisted in any way. The frenzy back at the festival had scared him, scared him enough to be a normal, young hatchling once again. It was innocence that would last long, but nevertheless, it was there. The Guardian began to speak, presumably words of comfort to the crying child before him, but the first word never left his mouth. A barb pierced the the dragon's thick hide, and instantly, he slumped over, already coated in a slick, gooey substance Overhead, a Bleeding Moon, grinned wickedly, preparing to hit Ipsum as well. Ipsum, realizing this, did the first thing that occurred to him: he dived under the fallen dragon's still body, hoping desperately for shelter from the deadly barbs. The only thing he could remember after throwing himself under his giant protecter was the angry shriek of a hunter who lost his prey, because Ipsum fainted as soon as he hit the ground.



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After what seemed like an eternity, Charlotte began to explore her surroundings. The once friendly forest held an atmosphere of hostility with a strange sense of foreboding in the atmosphere. Charlotte found herself being troubled by the spooky forest. She was glancing over her shoulder every minute or two and jumped whenever she heard a twig snap or a bird chirp.

Get it together, Charlotte! You know what you're doing. J-Just find mother and father, and you'll be alright.

But where were mother and father? Stopping, Charlotte turned around and gazed towards the direction she came. She could no longer hear the agonizing screams of the dying nor could she hear the cackling of the Bleeding Moons.

My parents are probably still back there. But... I can't go back there! Those Bleeding Moons will kill me!

Realizing she was hyperventilating. Charlotte sat herself down and began to take deep breaths. Charlotte's wings draped over her back like a great cape as he chest began to rise and fall gently.

Calm yourself, Charlotte. Don't let this get to you! Mother and father will find you when they get out. They will get out of there and, when they do, they will find me.

"Stay, placid," Charlotte comforted herself. "Keep your head on your shoulders. Don't let some barbaric ruffians get to you." With one lest great inhale, followed by a greater exhale, Charlotte propped herself up and began to march through the forest with her chin up high and her tail raised above the ground.

I need to find some shelter, food, and clean water. As horrible as this revolting forest is, I must stay close to the festival if my parents are ever to find me. I'll have to stay here, for the night that is. Perhaps I will be found before I even need to find shelter. Oh, how I would be pleased with such a conclusion.

Edited by Doctortear

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A single bird let out a warning call. Whether it was because of the Bleeding Moons—who ironically had caused more bleeding than they themselves underwent—or Keszpik's unpredicted arrival was beyond his concern. The world had become a numb strew of sounds and textures. His humped grey shape blended in with the dark forest around him and he was moving at such a slow and depressed rate one would have to look twice to see him. Of course, dragons usually opted for scent instead of sight, but everyone was probably so indulged in sniffling and sobbing that they would likely have to run into something eight times before they even snapped back to reality. Keszpik's world had been shaken just as much, too, but mostly in its own special way. This awkward form of mourning was unique to the Thunder hatchling. The blank became blanker as he stumbled on. his face slowly lost its features, like chalk being washed away. It had happened once before, when he had been rejected. By society, of course: there was nothing more frivolous than love. But the pain had not come on so fast, so powerful as it did now. For the calculated and knowledgeable Keszpik, such a random event was far worse than being alone.


After a while, Keszpik came slowly back to his senses. His legs began to ache with the appropriate amount of pain, and the occasional moan of sorrow or bark of fox became less fuzzy and unreadable. His vision sharpened, and his mouth was suddenly desert dry.

"Water," he moaned. "I must have water." He sat down and scanned the area. Nothing. Nothing but foliage and panicked creatures. "This is ridiculous," Keszpik remarked. "I took that whole month of survival training for just such an occasion and I can't even find basic life elements, like, say, water." So he padded on, determined. This damned forest wouldn't get the best of him, especially on a night like this.


Eventually, however, Keszpik did indeed step in something wet. He smelled blood, too. Had something fought this puddle he now had found? He bent down to lap, but when his head neared the puddle he was faced with something red and sticky. Not water. Blood. He scrambled out of the disgusting pool ungracefully and as quickly as possible. How had he missed this? Had his senses still been dull? Maybe. Unlikely but possible. But when he sniffed his drenched paw an odd sensation came over him: the warm liquid wasn't scary at all. In fact, it was morbidly comforting. An odd phenomenon considering how nonviolent Keszpik was. Not necessarily merciful, but definitely not bloodthirsty. The trail led a short way off, and the Thunder was curious to see where it ended. He got up, not bothering to wipe his paw, and followed the path which seemed to have a mysterious pull. But the horrors only got worse: trees showed sings of mangling and struggle, red splatters decorating the entire area. A new type of blood had now also been intertwined in the mix, not nearly as pleasant. In fact, if made him gag a little when he first encountered it. Then something split the tense air. A low rumbling moan. A moan so deep in pitch Keszpik himself could scarcely pick it up. Slowly and cautiously, he advanced on the sound.

"H-hello?" He said shakily. Another, more distressed sound replied. He walked a little faster, then ran, before breaking into a clearing. It was a nightmare. Scales of different shades of blue littered the place, and bushes were flattened. All in the wake of two limp bodies now laying in the center. One, a Bleeding Moon. The other... Something caught in Keszpiks throat. A cry of helplessness and fear.


The other dragon was a Thunder. A very, very familiar Thunder.




Keszpik's father shifted, looking up at him with a heart wrenching expression. He rolled over, revealing a sharp blue tail lodged in his chest. It traced back to the Bleeding Moon, equally wounded, but it had clearly died sooner. There had been a full brawl here, that was for certain.

"You shouldn't have tried to be the hero," he said in a meek voice. "Now look at you. You're... d.. di.. hurting." His father moved, but his jaw was clamped shut by the relentless claws of paralysis. Keszpik walked over, his dry throat now feeling like it was full of sand. "I know what you did. You dragged this monster out of the fray, didn't you? And you tried to kill it. You thought that just one would be easy. But.. your underestimation killed you." His father nodded faintly, then looked up at him with a new look. A look that terrified him.




That's what his face said. Please stop this. He nodded back. He had no choice. He approached, licking his father's face once. "This is goodbye then. I-I wish... that.. I had something better to say, Father. I do." Then, soundlessly, he sunk his teeth into the Thunder's throat.

It was surprisingly easy, relieving, even. Like putting down a pet who had nothing left to live for. But when he lifted his head all Keszpik did was cry. He just sat there and bawled. Maybe because he wasn't prepared. Or maybe because he had just ended his father's life. Whatever it was, it had that hatchling riled up. He hated emotions suddenly. He hated being sad. He just wanted to be a canvas again, unpaintable and proud to be.

"It's your fault!" He yelled at no one in particular. "He did nothing wrong! I was the one at fault, the abnormal one! You should have killed me!" He collapsed, blood sloshing around him. He didn't wipe it off, though. He just lay there. He wished the stupid Bleeding Moon was still alive so he could commit suicide. The only dragon in the world who even tolerated Keszpik's arrogance and inability to sympathize was his father. Now that was gone, too. A death delivered swiftly by his own son. How ungrateful he was. Killing his own father.

"Yes," he convinced himself, "this is my fault. I did something wrong and this is my punishment. Well come at me, universe. I'm ready for everything you have"

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Saphia let out a shriek of terror when the Bleeding Moons attacked. The sickly scent of blood filled her nose, blocking out anything else, and trying to figure out where anyone was in the sea of screams was pointless. She felt completely trapped, surrounded by other dragons. Most of them seemed dead, although Saphia couldn't really tell. She'd never seen a dead dragon before, and there was so much blood everywhere. She had to escape, but when she tried to take to the sky she was almost crushed by a falling adult dragon. Running, then. Trying to fly off would also make her a target, but Saphia didn't usually think before doing things and certainly wasn't thinking now.


She weaved as fast as she could through the crowd. For once, her small size was helpful. It made it easier to avoid smashing into other dragons in her terror, and small things were always harder to hit. Her vibrant colors would have been a problem, but everything was red. No one could pick out one red speck out of a sea of red, and she wasn't important anyway. Just another pathetic hatchling, running and trying to hide from her doom. Nothing special.


Saphia didn't know when she managed to escape. All she knew was that eventually the blur of colors she saw through her nearsightedness changed from gleaming, silvery dark red to a dark green. The change barely registered through her fear, but even as scared as she was she couldn't keep running forever. Nhiostrifes weren't built for running, what with only having one pair of legs. At this point the adrenaline rush was starting to wear off, so she couldn't do anything but collapse into a bloody heap.


Saphia started to cry, sobbing and choking on tears. They flowed from her eyes and poured over her face, and would have been terribly itchy if she wasn't covered in blood and wasn't too exhausted and scared to notice such an inconsequential thing. She felt as if she couldn't breathe, and every gasping breath seemed to be ripped away by her sobs before she could exhale properly. The metallic taste of blood in her mouth didn't help, mixing with the tears and creating an even worst taste. She just wanted to go home, go to sleep, and forget everything. Forget the blood and death and terrifying grins of the Bleeding Moons that seemed to come from both nowhere and everywhere. Just forget and sleep.


Well, she couldn't forget, could she? She was lost in a forest, and it was likely that no one would find her. She'd have to get back on her own, back to her Mom and Dad, anyone that could help. And go where? Back to the Bleeding Moons? Saphia dissolved into tears again. There really was nowhere that she could go, was there?


Gasping, Saphia again tried to calm down. Exploring. Exploring was fun, wasn't it? This really wasn't how she imagined it, but there was no one to stop her. Just find something to do. You can't sit there crying forever. She managed to sit up, wipe the tears and remaining drops of blood out of her eyes, and look around. Trees. Trees were nice. The sounds of the breeze whispering through the leaves was surprisingly comforting, as were the occasional bird calls and... what was that?


At first Saphia curled up into a tiny ball again, still jumpy after everything that had happened, but soon her curiosity got the better of her. It certainly didn't sound like a Bleeding Moon, anyway. It was more like a dragon hatchling walking through the forest, but it could have also been some kind of dangerous animal. Still, she had to check, didn't she? It could even be help, which she was almost afraid to hope for. Having all of your hope crushed was not a fun experience, as she had learned a few times when she got caught while trying to explore. She sat up again. "He-hello?" she called nervously, her voice quiet and wavering. Louder this time, she called again. "Hello?"


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As soon as she heard a voice calling through the words, Charlotte heart skipped a beat. She wanted to sprint forward and away from the voice, but couldn't. Charlotte found herself paralyzed as the sudden yelling within the forest. It felt as though her heart lurched into her throat. She could feel her heart pounding madly. The fear matted the air as though it was a tangible object. It was so palpable that Charlotte could practically taste the fear. It wasn't long after the first shout when another sound follow. Now that she was listening carefully, Charlotte realized just what the voice was saying.

D-Did someone just call out, "hello?" Is there someone else out here? Maybe I could speak to them. What if they know about my parents?

With a nervous swallow, Charlotte began to walk towards where the voice emitted. She was careful not to step on twigs or anything else that could make a loud noise. She didn't want scare away someone who could be a potential ally. Every paw step felt heavy and second brought another wave of foreboding.

"Is anyone else out there?" Charlotte called, her voice surprisingly calm.

Please don't be a Bleeding Moon, please don't be a Bleeding Moon...

Edited by Doctortear

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"Is anyone else out there?"

Saphia nearly jumped into the air at the sound. Okay, good. Talking was very good. Wolves couldn't talk, and from what Saphia knew about the Bleeding Moons they wouldn't bother talking before killing her. Besides, she had already decided that an adult dragon would have much heavier footfalls. The owner of the voice had light, careful footsteps. Strangely, the speaker had a calm voice. Saphia didn't feel calm at all, and wouldn't expect anyone else to feel calm if they had been at the Festival.


Squinting towards the source of the voice, Saphia could see a small red shape against the background of dark green. The size was that of a hatchling, so she was either a hatchling or a pygmy. Saphia couldn't tell if the hatchling was naturally red or if it was just covered in blood. She hoped that the hatchling was naturally red; she'd seen enough blood for the day. Please don't think about blood, don't cry, don't cry, don't start crying now when you've just stopped crying... She swallowed and squeezed her eyes shut to stop the wave of tears she felt coming, and took several deep breaths. She could do this.


"I-I'm here. My name is Saphia. Who are you?" Her voice was still wavering, but at least she was saying them loudly enough for the other hatchling to hear.



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"I-I'm here. My name is Saphia. Who are you?"

Charlotte snapped her head in the direction of the voice as it spoke again. Her eyes shifted ever so slightly as she tried to locate the source of the voice. Alas, she saw nothing but a the trees and shrubbery. It was rather eerie speaking to someone Charlotte couldn't see. Her already strained nerves were only further stressed by the absence of a direct being to speak to. Although she was completely petrified on the outside, Charlotte manage to keep her fear within herself just as her family had taught her to do every since she could walk.

"Saphia, hm?" Charlotte said as her amber eyes scanned the treeline. "I would be much more willing to give you my formalities if I could actually see you. How do I know you're not a Bleeding Moon if I can't see you?" Although she seemed placid on the outside, Charlotte was panicking madly on the inside.

Oh gods, what if she is a Bleeding Moon? What if this is a trap? I-I don't want to die! Why the hell didn't I just run away? Oh lord...

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"Saphia, hm? I would be much more willing to give you my formalities if I could actually see you. How do I know you're not a Bleeding Moon if I can't see you?"


"I'm not a Bleeding Moon!" Saphia said, somewhat indignant. Of course she wasn't a Bleeding Moon! How could whoever this other hatchling was say that? To prove that she really wasn't a Bleeding Moon, she fluttered her wings and leaped into the air, landing a short ways away in a clearer patch of the ground. It was a bit closer to the red hatchling, but getting closer wasn't the point; the movement should have been enough to catch the other hatchling's attention. "I'm a Nhiostrife Wyvern. See?" she said, standing up, spreading her wings, and tilting her head to the side. Saphia didn't even think that drawing so much attention to herself and the other hatchling might be a problem, considering the circumstances. She did hope that they wouldn't be found by something that wasn't very friendly, but wasn't trying particularly hard to avoid being found. Besides, wouldn't a giant, scary Bleeding Moon coming after them make enough noise that they couldn't escape in time?

Edited by Backup77

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The sudden flutter of movement caught Charlotte's attention immediately. Her eyes darted to the side and landed upon a small purple figure. Charlotte studied the hatchling carefully. She didn't seem to be much older than the Royal Crimson. In fact, she might of even been younger. She was smaller than Charlotte but, of course, Royal Crimsons were normally large dragons. So, technically, she could of been the same age as Charlotte, maybe even older, and be smaller than the crimson hatchling.

"I'm a Nhiostrife Wyvern. See?"

Charlotte watched as the hatchling spread out her wings in an attempt to show that she wasn't a Bleeding Moon. The first thing that caught Charlotte's eye was the hatchling's extra stripe. She hadn't seen many Nhiostrife Wyverns in her life, but Charlotte knew from those she had seen, and her studies, that they only had four stripes, not five. So as soon as the hatchling unfolded her wings, Charlotte spoke her mind.

"You have five stripes," she blurted out. For a moment, Charlotte was startled by her abruptness.

Damn, why did I say that? Get it together, Charlotte. Just... get it together.

"Though, I doubt that matters in our current situation," Charlotte said, trying to brush over her mistake. "Saphia, was it? I give you my greetings, Saphia. I am Charlotte Eada. I presume you have fled from the festival as well? Have you possibly gathered any information on what event was taking place there. It all went.... too fast for me to figure out what was going on, unfortunately. I only saw barbs raining down upon a sea of red. You wouldn't happen to know what happened, would you?" Charlotte mentally scolded herself as she spoke.

Of course she isn't going to know anything, you idiot! She's half your size, she probably just reached maturity! I bet she acquired those wings a week ago! How the hell would she know more than I do? Why does this have to be so difficult?

Edited by Doctortear

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It felt like the Festival had started so long ago. Instead of hours drifting by, it felt likes eternity. A whole other life, long out of reach of his crooked beak. It was difficult to remember that just that morning, Changming smelled fresh peaches on the air, felt fresh wind beneath his wings as he flew, confidently, with his family along to the celebrations. He remembered them smiling, laughing as they'd stop to fly alongside other families they knew, chattering like old maids while he had to keep his beak sealed shut over his portly little sister's scruff to keep her from falling. But he had forgotten the sound, the scent, the sensation now. He was overcome with something far more grim, that which set his spine on fire, which brought the crests upon his head and his neck to bristling and made his wings jitter and jump like static. It was that sensation that blurred the world around him. It was that sensation that sharpened the sounds of screams, the squelching squeals of hatchlings breaking short upon their death. It was that sensation that made his heart almost burst.


He knew that sensation as fear. He was no stranger to fear, no, for when his sister started arguments with bigger, older hatchlings that she couldn't finish, or ran off, later finding herself threatened by the larger variety of wildlife back home, he felt it. It bit at his neck like his incessant mother, scolding him after he was forced to take the blame for his sister's theft from the local apple merchant's stall. It bristled his scales like the chill of icy water, shocking him after a long, hot day in summer, when his sister would startle him by shoving him into the nearby stream.


This wasn't the same kind of fear. He thought he knew fear, back then, that it was only a singular range of sensations. Now, instead of biting his neck, it lunged at his wing joints, it snapped at his spine, urging him onward. Now it burned him to his core. It set his lungs on fire. It made him want to scream. Desperately, he wanted to, it was almost instinctual; the Festival was thrown into complete and utter anarchy, now. Folks were dying all around him, left, right, forward, back, almost on top of him - - Folks were screaming, folks were shrieking, folks spat blood upon him as he darted through their legs and out of the line of fire, friends were dying, hatchlings were dying, everyone was dying. He wasn't used to dying. He wasn't used to death. Not now. He didn't want to get used to it yet. It was all he could focus on. Old man Bartholomew's spine snapped with splintering cracks as one Bleeding Dragon's tail slammed into his back, bringing him down hard. Changming had to dart to the right to avoid getting hit by him on the way down. Old man didn't have a fight in him. somewhere else, he recognized Ulrich, Ulfric, and Alfred's voices cutting off mid-shriek. He knew their screams. They screamed like that when his sister accidentally rolled a beehive onto their heads when he was getting beaten, sending them packing tails between their legs. He tried turning away from every familiar voice. He darted left and right, he ducked behind stalls, his wings beat so hard and fast he felt sorry for the hummingbirds. That was what they felt like, right?


He was trying to find Jinjing, though. The round little lady couldn't take care of herself if she tried. She might've been sneaky, but she wasn't sneaky enough to outrun the badger from their fifth night out camping that one time. She was clumsier than he was at her age, not to mention more fearful of the outside world. But she was smart! She was smart, right? Of course she was! she knew the right places to hide when trouble came, because that's exactly how he kept getting framed for her thefts in the first place! He flew as quickly as he could back towards the peach cobbler stand, ignoring the feeling of bile and burning disgust rising in his throat with the overpowering smell of blood. She loved peach cobbler. That little sunset pest couldn't resist the smell whenever their mother baked some for dessert. She always got a bigger share than him -


And just when he came around the back of the stall, he came to witness her also getting a bigger share of the battle. More or less the bad end. the other hatchlings were stomped on, or slammed aside, but no, his eyes were fixed upon the squealing, piggishly fat little lady who was just cowering in front of the stall. Her cowering was halted by the slamming of the old attacker's gigantic paw smashing her down. The snaps of twigs and the squishing of berries would've been more pleasant imagery, but she made a far more hideous sound.


He didn't bother looking back. The old rat had seen him. He turned and was flying faster than his wings were trained for when the attacker smashed the stall apart and took chase after him. Maybe he could've screamed, maybe he could've called for mother, maybe he could've vomited, he really didn't care, he didn't have the nerve to stop for any of that. He stopped to vomit, he was dead. He stopped to scream, he was dead, he stopped to cry for help, he was most assuredly dead. Stricken into blind panic, he was so dead set on his escape that he didn't notice one of the Council's veteran guards tackling the enemy from the side, derailing him from pursuit. He didn't notice, and for that matter, he didn't care. He just flew. He flew past the old fruit stalls, he flew past his family's share of fireworks, he flew past the inn, he flew long after he'd left the border of the Festival to the forest. Everything around him blended, blurring far too quickly for him to keep focused, but he just kept flying forward, not even looking back to make sure he was safe.


Changming's wings burned beyond what any fire could give. His breathing was quick, short, hardly a pace away from hyperventilating, and his pace slowed. Soon he found himself exhausting from the sudden burst of energy. His pace slowed, he made a few clumsy turns, too dizzied from his flight to notice the smell of blood coming back as he whizzed past another pair of bodies, and the next thing he knew, he'd hit his head into an old, dead tree. The resounding snapping of dead wood cracking under fast, quickly hitting weight was definitely made audible as he crumpled, falling limply as a shaking leaf to the grass. The groan that tried to escape him out of pain hardly came out as a cracked squeak before he curled up in shivers, the lump growing on his head nonexistent compared to the burning in his system. His wings instinctively draped and folded to cover what greater part of him they could, but it wasn't like it'd help. He wasn't being chased anymore. It wouldn't protect him from anything, anyway.


That certainly hadn't protected Jinjing. He wasn't even there to save him in time. He didn't even stick around to watch her. And then she died. If he had any sense to him at that moment he would've thought that was his fault. Which it probably was. But he could only shake, shake and coo in blind fear and dazing misery.


After all, his eyes felt too hot to cry.


{{ Too much of a headache to check for typos, I'll correct them in the morning. I'm off to lay down now. Sorry. Gni }}

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"I only saw barbs raining down upon a sea of red."


A strong and powerful, yet young-sounding voice inched its way into Ipsum ears. He had begun to drift towards semi-consciousness; small bits of the real world floating into his peaceful land of nothingness. All he wanted was to shut everything out and return to his unconscious state, but part of him, a tiny part, wanted to see the other dragons. That miniscule part of Ipsum wanted to crawl out of his pathetic shelter and seek out others like him. He subconsciously began weighing the odds, comparing the risks and rewards of each option. Time had trained survival to be his first priority, and though he wasn't particularly smart, Ipsum could be crafty, just not cleverly so. He began to shift back to life, carefully listening to the people talking near him. From what he could tell, the speaker was female, and quite strong, but other than that, there was little he could glean from the dragons' conversation.


"Know what happened..."


Excitement raced through the small body, enough to wake up its owner. The black tea wasn't groggy when he woke up. Almost instantly, Ipsum was alert, his wakeful mind still in the time when he was being attacked. His pale red head jerked from side to side, the eyes flickering wildly, like a candle in wind too weak to blow out the flame. Now, sheltered under a carcass, the hatchling's eyes seemed like fire. They flashed, filled with fear, reflecting what little light penetrated a gap between the guardian dragon's body and the ground. He didn't recall the voices he heard while sleeping, but he certainly remembered what he wanted to do. Flattening himself against the ground, he pressed his snout against slimy dirt and poked it outside. As he suspected, he had gotten just low enough to let his eyes scan the outside, which he willingly did. The intensity of the sudden, harsh light bothered him, but not enough to deter Ipsum from his mission. Quickly, he located two shapes in the distance. Both had vague resemblances to the monstrous dragons he had seen, but had obvious differences. One, while large, did not have the draping wings, and while the other was a similar color, it didn't have the same bulk and size.


Recognizing that they were both likely safe to approach, he began wriggling himself out, smearing blood across his stomach in the process. It was quite a scary sight- a dead, bloody dragon with and even bloodier hatchling squirming out from beneath it. Soon, he had escaped the protective grasp of the guardian, and had begun a full-out sprint towards the other two hatchlings.

Edited by KoalaNoob

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"You have five stripes."

Saphia nodded proudly. "Yep," she said. It really wasn't a good time to be proud of her appearance, but the red hatchling had brought it up first, hadn't she? It wasn't Saphia's fault if they got a bit off topic.


"Though, I doubt that matters in our current situation. Saphia, was it? I give you my greetings, Saphia. I am Charlotte Eada. I presume you have fled from the festival as well? Have you possibly gathered any information on what event was taking place there. It all went.... too fast for me to figure out what was going on, unfortunately. I only saw barbs raining down upon a sea of red. You wouldn't happen to know what happened, would you?"

Saphia's face fell a bit when Charlotte said that her extra stripe didn't matter, but quickly tried to focus again. Come on! You almost died, and others did! Of course it doesn't matter now, even if it is the one special thing about you! Besides, she said that it didn't matter 'in our current situation'. That means that it would matter if we weren't in danger, so pay attention. "Nice to meet you, Charlotte," she said politely, trying to mimic the oddly formal way that Charlotte spoke. Saphia wasn't used to others speaking that way, and certainly not other hatchlings. Was Charlotte's family super rich or important or something? Saphia's face twisted into a worried frown as she thought about Charlotte's question. "Well, no. Sorry. I was just trying to escape."


Soon after she spoke, she heard the sound of something crashing through the trees with her sensitive ears. With wide eyes, she turned her head to the source of the sound. "Eep!" she squeaked in surprise. With a few quick flutters of her wings, she found herself in the branches of a tree. What was that? Was it a Bleeding Moon? Soon after her initial panic, she calmed down. No, not a Bleeding Moon, not an adult at least. Far too small, even if it's very loud. A panicked hatchling? When the hatchling came into view she let out a sigh of relief and jumped out of the tree, spreading her wings out and gliding to the ground. Her landing was a bit awkward; she hoped that neither hatchling noticed in the dark. Beside her landing, she was rather embarrassed about her flight to the tree. Sure, she was still jumpy, but that was no excuse for cowardice.

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Every sound was magnified to him, at first. From the wind through the trees - once quiet, now whistling through his skull - to the rustling of leaves turning into the scrapes of nails against glass and stone; he wanted to block it all out. Maybe, somewhere in his helpless little head, he thought sheltering himself by those wings of his would block out the noise. Or maybe he thought it would've fought off the burning in his bones. But it did none of those things. It only let the burning in his core amplify. The burning reached its' epitome in his gut, rising through his chest upward. Whatever must've been left of his ego arose in a last defiance as he tried to uncurl himself in time not to vomit upon himself, but he couldn't stop it when he wished. It burst forth from the burning feeling in his core through his throat in a harsh spray, littering a large portion of the grass in front of him in bile. He hardly managed to breath until the burning came right back, he hiccuped naught but twice before bringing forth a second wave. It bathed his laying half in a horrible mixture of half-digested apples and syrup from his own meal before the festival, that which he had forgotten about before then. Possibly also tea. Unfortunately, it no longer smelled like any of that.


His lungs shook when he tried to breathe next. His wings shuddered, his tail flicked unevenly, and his feathers ruffled in a manner most unsettled for a time, until his senses made their first sign of coming back. After vomiting, the loudest sounds softened, steadily, back into normalcy, for his head rang no longer. It was oddly quiet. Peaceful, it seemed. There was a brief thought on wondering how far he had flown from the festival, not to hear anything from it anymore, but that was pushed aside.


With the smell of bile and blood still fresh to him, he groaned. Flying right back into the awful smell of iron wasn't good for nausea. His voice scratched his throat as much as the vomit burned it, his own unsettled heartbeat covering his annoyance at his hoarseness. His ego only gave him the weakest amount of gall to swallow back another flood of burning fluid, in disgust. " . . . That . . . was be-yond gross . . . " Changming choked out. And talking brought forth two things to his attention. The first was that, yes, it did indeed hurt like heck to talk loudly. The second was that trying to talk loudly after hitting his head against a tree made matters worse. He rubbed one wing against his head, curling back up against the tree to try to nurse his headache in his quivering. Okay, he had to calm down. He just had to settle. He had to. Just sort things out quietly, maybe, try to recollect what happened. He momentarily forgot with the knock to his head.


He didn't forget the sound of wings, though. He knew the difference between a sparrow and a hatchling, at least. Education in hunting had to go somewhere. The Sunsong heir glanced up to look, and his spine grew rigid. He recalled his pursuer with that sound. A great Bleeding on, older than his mother, bearing gnarly teeth crooked and vile, and heavy wings - - He hoped the pursuer hadn't caught up, he hoped, he hoped - Oh, wait, no. That wasn't a Bleeding Moon. That was a . . . what was it? Multiple wings, stripes, dark, pretty colors, pretty build . . . Nhiostrife Wyvern? Nhiostrife had to be it, right? Oh, thinking made his head hate itself. didn't help at all. That had to be it, of course. Not that he saw them a lot, he only had his mother's books to go by, but he was hardly ever wrong. He uncurled more against the trunk of his inanimate aggressor, anxiety peaking for a moment. That nervousness turned to confusion when he settled his shaking.


" . . . w . . . Who're you . . . ?" he asked, in a rather hushed tone. His eyes almost narrowed, but initial bewilderment kept them looking like a startled deer instead, wide as saucers. It was possible potential shame had something to do with it, too. He did just vomit on himself in front of her. Twice. The shame only amplified when he saw the other hatchling as well, so it didn't help he had an audience. But he had his priorities. His voice softened further when he continued.


" Are you with . . . are you with them?" he breathed. When he processed his first question, he slowly shook his head, before asking something entirely different to nullify the mistake. " No, that's . . . n-no. No, I mean . . . it did stop following me, right? I-is it gone . . . ? "


{{ I'll edit in a color or something when I get my allergy pills in-system. Sorry for any grammatical errs, mi amigos, I checked thrice, I'll edit any I find checking it later ;;; }}

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"Well, no. Sorry. I was just trying to escape."


Charlotte frowned in disappointment at Saphia's response. Of course she knew nothing, she was just another ordinary hatchling. There was no conceivable way for this wyvern to know anymore than Charlotte. Especially since she was obviously not eulogistic as Charlotte was. "Yep?" Really? Was Saphia never taught to properly speak? Sure, Charlotte expected some people to not be as well educated as her, but she didn't expect someone to speak so poorly. After all, Charlotte was only allowed near other hatchlings and dragons who had been through similar schooling as her.

Now, now, Charlotte, you know better to judge someone based on their tongue. Perhaps she is just poor at selecting her vocabulary. Yes, that makes perfect sense. She is probably just lacking in her vocal skills. I'm sure she has as much education as I have.

Before Charlotte could open her mouth, Saphia snapped to the side, her eyes as wide as an owl's. A prick of annoyance spiked through Charlotte's conscience. How dare she so rudely turn her head away from the Royal Crimson while they were in an important discussion! Did she not realize what perils could fall before them? Just as a growl began to emit out of Charlotte's mouth, Saphia let out a squeal of surprise and launched herself into the tree towering overhead. The first thought that came to Charlotte's mind was quite negative.

She abandoned me! Rotten coward!

Despite Charlotte's spiteful thoughts, she found herself rooted into place. Her amber eyes went wide with fear and her and long draping wings snapped open in an act of instinctual intimidation. Charlotte's spiked tail slammed into the ground furiously and the growl that had formed moments ago rumbled in her throat. Charlotte want to bold away, to remove herself from the stranger's path, but she lacked the strength to to so. Her paws were rooted to the ground and pure fear consumed her mind, making her petrified.


As soon as Charlotte saw the recognizable pink scales of a Black Tea, she settled down. Not only did this hatchling look nothing like a Bleeding Moon, he looked weak. He had a slim body structure with two thin wings that still looked like they were developing. He seemed to be slightly pale, but Charlotte wasn't sure. His entire body looked like it would break at any moment. Charlotte thought that if she touched the Black Tea, he'd poof into a cloud of dust. However, despite his anemic appearance, Charlotte found that she could push past her pity and take authority.

"You shouldn't run amuck like that in a feral forest," Charlotte scolded as she relaxed her muscles. "Even if a catastrophe proceeded naught more than an hour or so ago, that's no reason to run blindly into a clearing, especially with how, if I may, feeble you seem." Charlotte curled her grand wings against the slim frame of her body. Letting herself sit down upon the itchy grass, Charlotte tried to make herself more comfortable.


Just as she about to speak, Charlotte was, once more, interrupted by yet another hatchling. A Sunsong Amphiptere appeared out of what seemed to be nowhere. He might of been there the entire time, Charlotte wasn't sure. The Royal Crimson would of never noticed him if he didn't spew forth the contents of his stomach. Charlotte's immediate reaction was to let out a yelp of surprise and leap out of the way. By the time the Sunsong was down vomiting, Charlotte had recovered from the shock of seeing someone vomit on themselves. A strange sound of disgust escaped her lips as the hatchling heave once more. She scrunched up her nose in revulsion and let her tail swing back and forth in irritation.

"Do you lack the strength to move your mouth away from your body before you eject that putrid bile of yours?" Charlotte gagged, obviously repulsed. "You have all of the woodland to retch and yet you do so on yourself. Have you no virtue?"

Charlotte stepped backwards in an attempt to set distance between both her and the vomit stained hatchling. She could not handle such filth. Sure, she did almost vomit herself, but she swallowed it! She forced the vomit back down her throat! Charlotte ignored most of what the Sunsong said as she was too busy setting a distance between him and her. It was only until he gave his last question did she decide to answer.


" No, that's . . . n-no. No, I mean . . . it did stop following me, right? I-is it gone . . . ? "


"Unless you mean the goon over here, I would say yes." Charlotte said as she nodded over towards the Black Tea. Glancing back over at the Sunsong, Charlotte opened her mouth to speak but closed it as soon as she saw the bile. She would not associate with this being until he cleaned himself up! Surely he knew it was only polite to clean oneself up once an accident occurred. Feeling a draft of cold air, Charlotte braced herself in her large wings in an attempt warm herself up. It didn't go exceptionally well, but she did feel more secure.



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((Sorry for any errors, I'll check it later.))


The hatchling which had startled Saphia soon got close enough for her to identify its species. It had pale pink scales and black wing membrane, which would have been enough, but she could also smell the distinctive scent of the species. It was a nice smell, Saphia decided. Spicy. Unfortunately, she couldn't enjoy it. The metallic scent of blood was still heavy in the air, and although Saphia had gotten used to it she still couldn't completely ignore it. The hatchling, too, was covered in the stuff, giving him a somewhat frightening appearance. Still, it was just a hatchling, and Saphia wasn't going to flee again. Not ever.


"You shouldn't run amuck like that in a feral forest. Even if a catastrophe proceeded naught more than an hour or so ago, that's no reason to run blindly into a clearing, especially with how, if I may, feeble you seem."


Feeble? Well, he could be. Saphia couldn't quite notice the difference between the hatchling and the other Black Teas she had seen, but she supposed that there could easily be one that she didn't notice. It was best to pay attention to her sense of smell and hearing, and let the other dragons notice details that a Nhiostrife couldn't.


Then a Sunsong appeared, covered in vomit. The scent was awful- bile and some sort of sweet thing. It certainly wasn't a pleasant combination, and it made Saphia squint her eyes together while they filled with tears. She turned her head away, trying not the vomit herself. That smell...


The Sunsong was trying to say something, but seemed very weak. Before Saphia could hear much, Charlotte interrupted him.

"Do you lack the strength to move your mouth away from your body before you eject that putrid bile of yours? You have all of the woodland to retch and yet you do so on yourself. Have you no virtue?"

"Hey!" Saphia objected, angry that Charlotte would talk to such an obviously tired and weak hatchling. Oh, no, he vomited on himself. Sure, it was gross, but so what? Saphia could tell how exhausted he was just from his voice! "Don't talk to him like that! He's obviously tired, and could be hurt." The anger in her eyes quickly turned to concern when she turned her gaze to the Sunsong.


" No, that's . . . n-no. No, I mean . . . it did stop following me, right? I-is it gone . . . ? "

Saphia didn't know what he was talking about. A Bleeding Moon? "I'm Saphia. Are you hurt?"


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'Do you lack the strength to move your mouth away from your body before you eject that putrid bile of yours? You have all of the woodland to retch and yet you do so on yourself. Have you no virtue?'


Oh, certainly he had virtue. Didn't the little lady think he tried to keep back the bile? It's not like he had much control when he'd A, physically exhausted himself to the point his wings and spine burned numb in shakes, and B, witnessed his younger sister get crushed like a grape in every gruesome, clear detail! If he could've raised his voice, he was quite sure he would've had some words for her. But the Nhiostrife girl spoke before he did.


'Hey! Don't talk to him like that! He's obviously tired, and could be hurt.'


It softened his initially harsh facade some. At least she was concerned. Not that he felt much better for soiling himself in bile in front of them, but the defense calmed him down a bit.


'I'm Saphia. Are you hurt?'


He swallowed dryly. Moving a wing to rub his throat, he only swallowed another few times, hoping the minimal saliva he generated would soothe his voice some bit before he found water. Once the burning had died down, even just a little, he looked from the rude Royal Crimson back to her. " I'm not hurt physically, no . . . " He responded, making himself just a bit clearer, even if not too loud, " I mean, my ego's dashed, my head hurts, my body burns, and I don't think I'll be sleeping for a while, with what I've seen, but other than that, you know, it's tolerable."


He straightened up some more, uncurling himself from his fetal position held previously. He was bigger than he looked, by far, and definitely older. He must've had his wings for a while, though they were bigger than what fit him. He straightened himself out, flattening down his feathers from the panic before looking back to Saphia. " But after being overwhelmed by the smell of blood, darting to and fro past and through bodies being thrown about, watching your sister get crushed by every crystal detail, and exhausting yourself flying away from a Bleeding Moon attacker, I'd say, for once, vomiting was justified. I just wish you didn't see that, or that it was over myself." A momentary glare was thrown to the Royal Crimson as he gave his next comment, obviously sarcastic despite hoarse tiredness. " I don't know, maybe if this particular heir had focused his dizzied head under the circumstance, he could've aimed at someone painted more like a big, Red target, if he wasn't so disoriented by hitting his head against a tree. "


Another swallow of scarce lubricating fluid, and he seemed to have at least minimal required control over his voice. Not as hoarse, no, not as raw, but still sore, it seemed. He dipped his head respectfully to the azure hatchling. He'd keep it held higher than her, normally, but with her kindness he'd rather not remain the higher-up noble kind of pompous. " Informality aside - - I am Changming Bo, of the Bo family." he finally replied. " It's an honor to make your acquaintance, miss Saphia."


Once he'd lifted his head back up, he looked back down to the three. Royal Crimson, Nhiostrife Wyvern, and what looked to be a bloodstained Black Tea, now that he focused. Nice little party they had going, he'd think. He wondered if they should look for other escaped hatchlings, but it could wait just a moment longer." Are the rest of you alright? None of you look to be in the best shape, either, and it looks like at least two of us could use a dip in the pond right now . . ."

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"Hey! Don't talk to him like that! He's obviously tired, and could be hurt."


Charlotte let out a snort of disgust at Saphia's words. Such ignorance! How dare she tell Charlotte how to speak! She would say whatever she damn please. She didn't need some prissy genetic mutant telling her what to think! Who did she think she was anyhow?

I bet she isn't even a noble! I've noticed she's neglected to tell me her last name. Is that because she's ashamed of her ancestry? That would explain her abrupt and rather rude words. Hm... alright, I'll let it slide just this once, but if she continues to berate me with such insults, I'll have a hard time keeping her on my good side.

"Speak not for me, wyvern" Charlotte warned Saphia. "I speak as I see fit, my words are not for you twist or castigate." Pleased with her small speech, Charlotte held her tongue as Saphia turned her attention to the Sunsong. Charlotte watched the two converse with mild interest. Every once in a while, she'd glance back at the Black Tea before looking back at the other hatchlings.

I wonder if I should go check on the Black Tea. He hasn't said anything just said and it seems the other two have forgotten he was there. He may be a bit confused, perhaps I should-


"I don't know, maybe if this particular heir had focused his dizzied head under the circumstance, he could've aimed at someone painted more like a big, Red target, if he wasn't so disoriented by hitting his head against a tree."


Charlotte nearly grinded her teeth together at the the Sunsong's comment. Not only had he interrupted her thoughts, he had insulted her in a rather immature fashion. Threatening to vomit one her? Really? That would only make her think poor of him (not that she was thinking highly of him at the current moment.)

"Oh hush," Charlotte snarled as her barbed tail flickered angrily. "You are in no state to to try and intimidate me. Although, I do applaud you for trying, however bare of a threat you give." Although Charlotte did not fancy the Sunsong, she did see the honor in his attempt to insult her. The Royal Crimson was programmed to respect anyone who held their honor, even if that person was someone she didn't like. It was one of the many things her parents made the servants teach her. They, of course, couldn't be bothered with teaching their only daughter. After all, they were busy people and didn't have time to spend it with Charlotte. Their business and reputation was much more important than their only child obviously. Charlotte knew this and made sure to remember it whenever she began to feel lonely.


Keeping her gaze away from the hatchlings who spoke against her, Charlotte turned her attention to her body. Raising up one arm, she examined the nails on her left paw. The onyx claws still curved nicely, but they all seemed to be rather dull. The end of each claw ended in a fat nub. Although still potentially dangerous, they were not as pretty Charlotte wanted them to be.

Looks like I'll have to find a nice boulder or something to sharpen them on. Ick, I'd rather not get my talons on a random boulder in a foreign forest, but it doesn't look like I have a choice.

Lowering, her paw, Charlotte gazed down her forearm, frowning all the while. She must of ran into some barbed thicket while escaping the festival because there were several scales on her arm that were either scratched or partially ripped off.

I'll have to tear these of when I get the chance. The last thing I want is for my parents to find me only to scold me on my imperfect scales. They might even refuse to take me with them until the issue is resolved!

With of a huff of slight irritation, Charlotte placed her limb back onto the ground and stood up. Seeing how these hatchlings had treated herself, Charlotte could assume they wouldn't care for her company. If that was the case, then she would just leave. After all, she didn't need to waste her time on these hooligans. Charlotte didn't need them anyhow. She would find her parents and live her life like she always had. Deciding not to respond to the question the Sunsong, who revealed his name to be Changming, Charlotte padded over to the edge of their small "clearing" and tilted her head to the side. She couldn't see the exit to the forest, which was typical. Scanning the ground, she found no evidence of a clear pathway. There were no footprints indicating that someone else had been through the clearing recently and hundreds of different scents wafted through the air. Charlotte couldn't pinpoint which scent was the closest, nor could she identify which scent was which.

If only I had that map the Elphaba gave me before we arrived here. It had every section of the forest and festival listed on it. Wait! What if I try to draw it onto the ground from memory? Maybe that could tell me where I am and how to get back to my parents! But, it's too dark in the forest. The trees block out too much moonlight and there's no open patch in the grass for me to draw in. Damn, looks like I'll have to find a more open area to draw in.


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Screams. That was all that Liska could hear. The terrible sound filled her ears as blood rain splattered across her bright orange back. She froze, her fear rooting herself to the ground and could only watch dragons fall to their deaths. She glanced around to the group to see that the adult magis were teleporting themselves away from the festival fast. Liska closed her eyes and willed herself to move. And she did. She teleported forwards and in shock, her purple eyes flew open. There were a few whiptails fleeing into the forests beyond, only to have their bright scales colored in crimson blood. A whiptail hatchling cried out as one fell, before jolting as a barb larger than her hit her back.


Liska tore her gaze away from the gruesome vision and willed herself to teleport again. She reappeared closer to the tree line, but she could feel exhaustion racking her limbs. I can't teleport anymore or else I'll be too tired to run, she thought. Abandoning the idea of teleporting herself to safety, she saw some hatchlings racing into the woods. Liska moved fast now. There were not many dragons left; most died or have already fled. She would be a moving target now. She raced along the bloodstained ground, breathing through her mouth to block out the vile stench of blood. Only to see the large barb hit the ground in front of her.


Her lilac eyes were wide with shock. The sheer size and force it had when it hit the ground, it was incredible. But it also brought her to her senses. Liska ran around the poison object into the safety of the woods. The trees rocked gently above her as she fell into a pile of leaves in exhaustion. She certainly hadn't run that far or fast in her life, but if she didn't, she wouldn't even have a life now. But Liska wasn't safe. A Bleeding Moon began to prowl the first few trees, banging his tail against the trunks every-so-often. She froze in her little ball in the leaves, willing that she would be safe. But the Bleeding Moon parted the bushes and swished his tail on the ground, she could see his tail heading for her.


But in a yowl of fury, a brute tackled him down, biting down on his neck. The dragon fell limp as the Brute looked directly in her eyes. "Go! Run into the heart of the woods!" He ordered as his eyes rolled into his head. He collapsed onto the body of the fallen Bleeding Moon as a barb poked through his back. Numb with emotions and gratitude, Liska tore into the forest, remembering the Brute's words. She saw shaped up ahead. They were small enough to be hatchlings of her age. She sprinted forward with her last ounce of energy, only to trip and tumble into the ground, a mess of orange and red blood.


((I'll edit later))

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"Speak not for me, wyvern. I speak as I see fit, my words are not for you twist or castigate."

What did 'castigate' mean? Well, it didn't really matter. Saphia got the gist of what Charlotte was attempting to say. Really, what kind of freak spoke like that? Making everything more difficult for others to understand, probably just so that she could feel better about herself. "Oh, so you can tell me how not to talk, but I can't tell you how not to talk?" Saphia retorted. Who did this dragon think she was, anyway? Looking down on some poor dragon who had exhausted himself from trying to escape. And what about Saphia herself? No one cared about how she felt, least of all Charlotte, who didn't seem to care much about anyone who wasn't herself. "I'm sorry, but that doesn't make much sense to me. I guess I'm just not snobby enough," Saphia said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. Once she was finished speaking to Charlotte, she turned her attention back to the Sunsong.


"I'm not hurt physically, no . . . I mean, my ego's dashed, my head hurts, my body burns, and I don't think I'll be sleeping for a while, with what I've seen, but other than that, you know, it's tolerable. But after being overwhelmed by the smell of blood, darting to and fro past and through bodies being thrown about, watching your sister get crushed by every crystal detail, and exhausting yourself flying away from a Bleeding Moon attacker, I'd say, for once, vomiting was justified. I just wish you didn't see that, or that it was over myself."


Saphia's face knit itself into an expression of worry. That didn't sound like he hadn't been hurt. Well, he obviously wasn't bleeding everywhere from a gash on his head, but exhaustion was painful. Not to mention his sister getting killed... Wow. Saphia didn't have any siblings, but having one get killed in front of you couldn't be okay. "I'm sorry about your sister," she said, her eyes flashing to the ground. She really hoped that the Sunsong would be okay after seeing that.

"Are the rest of you alright? None of you look to be in the best shape, either, and it looks like at least two of us could use a dip in the pond right now . . ."


"Well, I'm fine, mostly," Saphia said, glancing down at her bloodstained scales. The blood had dried to become horribly sticky, and she didn't even want to think about where it had come from. Getting it washed off sounded lovely, but she didn't know where to find a pond. The only direction that she knew about was the way she had come, but they didn't want to go there. They'd have to do some exploring to find a pond, which Saphia thought would be great. "We should go find a pond. There's probably one nearby."


((Sorry, this one's a bit short and late. I was waiting for KoalaNoob to post.))

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