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Welcome to Sekkai Fractures!
We're a moderate to advanced original fantasy roleplay set in an original world where humans can bond to dragons with the use of magical crystals. The land is currently in celebration after the Tainted Lord has been removed from his black throne and his legions have been freed from his nefarious influence, but whether or not his soldiers will face punishment is yet to be seen.



Sekkian Lessons #12 Graduation
Tainted Lessons #3 Combat
Dire Lessons #8/9 Advanced Riding and Formation Tactics.
Draux Lessons Graduation Event Pending

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 Tainted Lesson Four/Five, elemental training and combat
Posted: Mar 13 2012, 08:08 PM

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The tainted lord, within his dead flesh golem, had been brought down by the hand of the sekkians. He had been caged and taken, like spoils of war, back to the heart of their operations and, there, he had been locked away like a wine, left to gather vintage or become vinegar. He was chained and, in turn, his hold over his disciples and slaves had been torn asunder. His leash had been broke and the tortured souls of his army were now free, within their own minds, to finally do as they pleased. And some very much pleased to continue doing just what they had always been doing, spreading confusion and chaos and tormenting the poor little taintlings that they’d been charged with. Jadra and Chon, now to their own devices, were given that much more freedom to feed their insatiable boredom.

It had been more than a month since the last lesson and, after the taint hold of the hand had fallen, many among the remaining dark groups wondered what would happen to the young ones. And, for that while, they were left alone to live as themselves and feel out the new sensations given to them. However, upon the rise of a misty morning, the tides of old began to wash anew.

There was no call; no breaking, shattering, bristling sound. There were no dream tormenting nails on the chalkboard. There were no exploding windows. There were, however, a sudden appearance of groping hands and burlap sacks and something that may have been chloroform. Eh, whatever it was, it probably wasn’t that harmful. Only somewhat harmful. Maybe. They may want to see a doctor.

One by one, like a factory line, the large, hefty forms of adult tainted loosed their kidnapped cargo onto the bare earth of the Murk’s edge not unlike bales of hay. And, as the little ones piled up, the bone pair half hoped to themselves that most of them didn’t suffocate on the way there. It was always a possibility, but, it was just a chance they would have to take. Not like it was their lives on the line anyhow. Together, compatriots in baleful apathy, the two stood against the rising sun like gods. Accordingly, they struck poses. They were, though, lacking a third member for anything resembling the Charlie’s Angel’s silhouette (not that, of course, they had any access to earthly 80’s TV shows). While the first of the bemused greenhorns peered out of their respective sacks, Jadra spoke out. “We’re well aware that the taint has fallen and the sekkians have won and whatever. And we’ve heard the talk about being free minded and all that hippie nonsense. And we’ve just decided to keep on doing what we do best.”
“Getting amusement out of trying to get you all killed.” Chon chimed in, her voice remarkably strong, having not been used to break eardrums today.
“So far we’ve succeeded for the most part… On the amusement, not the killing part unfortunately.” Jadra snapped her fingers in disappointment. However, there was no time like the present. “And we’ve brought a few friends along to help.”
“Yes we have friends.”
“More like aquantences, I guess.”
“Anyway, they want to see you flail about to, so, we’ve given them a front row seat to your stupidity.”
“You’ll notice that we kidnapped you for this.” Chon seemed very pleased with that. It had taken a little bit of scheming to find all the little muppets. “And, wasting no more time, we bring to you … drumroll…”
“Your lesson.”

They cackled. Some among the wyrmlings probably half expected another explosion, but, they were not given that privledge. Instead, they were ordered to part by species. Humans went with the lengthy bone, a cat smile upon her lips. And dragons went along with Jadra, who led them farther away from their bonded partners.

“Ok you little runts.” She spoke to them as if she’d had Chon right beside her. It didn’t seem to matter that she was staring into the faces of a fair number of rather deadly predators probably intent on pulling out her guts and practicing their knotting skills with them. “Your objective for today is to hone your elemental skills.” One hand on her hip, she pointed upward in a sort of lackluster way. “See those circling dragons. They’ve each got an important little package for you that’s probably both pissed and crapped their pants at the moment. Good luck with that. Anyway, what’s going to happen is, one by one, santa’s little helpers overhead are going to drop their cargo and, you, in whatever dumb order you choose, are going to kill those men, women, children, pets, sea urchins, whatever. And you have to do it… before they hit the ground.” She smirked slyly. “And if, for whatever reason, you miss your mark, well…” She paused for effect. “I’ll just have to eat you myself. …You think I’m joking. I’m not.”
“She really isn’t!” Chon’s voice called out from across the area. “You should have seen her with the last group. They gave her dinner every night!” Muffled, the whipping creature mumbled and scowled about how she’d only ever gotten the darn stinky bits.”

However, the bone soon brought herself out of that nonsense and looked down, very down, upon the ranks of tiny meatbags before her. She giddily wheezed and then, quite suddenly, went very serious and stern. She looked at them with one eye, then the other. “Now, you lot, we’ve got something different… more… in line with your lack of general power and strength and pretty much anything that makes you somewhat useful.” The creature, who had been seated just a moment before, rattled her scales and stood upward to full height. She loomed over them. “You’ll notice the weapons at your feet.” The ‘weapons’ were a menagerie of makeshift junk from a bat coated in razorblades to a trash can lid. There was even what appeared to be a cookbook, though, not for anything anyone would ever have the stomach to eat. “Your task is simple.”

The dragon, trying her best to keep serious, backed up and, with the flick of her wrist, cut a tie that had been embedded into the dirt and dust. Instantly, with the snap of a mousetrap, bars shot up from the earth on a tilted axis and they folded together like a grand dome around the unwary riders.

She screamed at the top of her lungs and, unable to contain herself, ran circles around the tightly formed metallic structure. “WELCOME TO THUNDER DOME BITCH!”

Jadra looked over, having just finished explaining. Tight lipped, she looked over at her partner like a parent does when a toddler has just used their own poop to draw stick figures on the wall. Something a mixture of pride in innate talent and disgust in … poop on the wall. It was mostly disgust.

“Chon, shutup.”
“You’re trying way too hard here.”
“Aw comeon! I’ve planned this for days!” Chon slowed down and pleaded, but, the buxom rider just stared at her in exasperation. And, after having a bit of a fit, the dragon sat down in a huff and made a frown that looked so tightly pressed that it may be permanent. “Whatever… get quicker with the dying already.”

Back to Jadra’s half, a splat hit the pavement-like ground. “Whoops, looks like someone was too slow. It’s musical chairs now.”

Wyrmlings Are 5 Month Old
Morgoroth Garack and Earth Ate : 40-58ft
Verris Belrun and Glass Fomhóire : 7-35ft
Calait Valspena and Disruption Kronos : 40-58ft
Quinnlen Aberdane and Bulkhead Pompeii : 37-49ft
Desriya Valkhar and Fire Paraffin : 32-44ft
Jonna Itahn and Toxic Pantera : 25-23ft
Marmalade Sextus and Bone Mise en Garde : 11-20ft
Arden Sorstow and Lightning Etrigan : 18-21ft
Damien Scicario and Lightning Bucha : 18-21ft
Chelydra Srasri and Ruin (Brother) Lapin : 13-25ft
Caldre Versailles and Sonic Knell : 14-20ft
Ganja Fishman and Abyssal Heulighkreuc : 25-23ft
Isil Hywel and Razor Guillotine : 11-14ft
Valkyrie Trebuchet and Air Bête Noire : 13-25ft
Xorthor Dothmer and Bone Osteoclast : 13-25ft
Jezebel Yanaan and Influenza Carcinoma : 4.9-14ft
Xareya Dhar'skel and Mycotic Myxoma : 4.9-6.3ft

You’re in charge of your own pairs. xD Haha! Sorry for the slapdash put-together here. I needed it out. Anyhow, you get the idea. You control the drop for your dragon and if they get it. And, for your rider, just pair up and have some shenanigans! Feel free to make up ridiculous weaponry.
Posted: Mar 13 2012, 09:47 PM

Table Flipper

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Joined: 28-September 10

Morgoroth taking lemons and making crass jokes, Ate doing some stuff and accidentally killing things
Rising groggily from the ground, Morgoroth attempted to gauge his surroundings. Immensely confused due to being jettisoned like a Xenomorph Queen from a spaceship, the strong human spent more time contemplating how anyone could actually drag him or Ate for any real distance before keeling over from a heart-attack. After the lesson was completed, Morg would have to seek out their charge and congratulate them for a job well done. Dragging two behemoths of either species was no task to mock. Though he couldn’t deny, he felt a bit insulted by the act. Only weeks ago he had used the same tactic to steal several villagers from their home before torturing them with the unwitting assistance of a classmate. That sure was a fun day, he wondered if his new “friends” were there today too.

And then it hit him harder than Ate’s dome skull: someone kidnapped them! He had never felt more insulted in his life. How could he have let his guard down long enough for some sneaky bastard to poison him? He changed his mind immediately. Whoever it was that kidnapped the Earth pair did not deserve congratulation. They deserved a swift kick to the genitals, followed by a slower kick to the head. The old fast-dick, slow-head was taught to him by his great-grandfather and it never failed to decimate any foe stupid enough to stand before him. Yet, it seemed too akin to schoolyard bully tactics. Morgoroth would have to rethink his plan of attack, for he was no longer a schoolyard bully. He was much too big for that, and may or may not have failed out of primary education.

Still, the time was not to reminisce over the thirteen years spent in elementary school, as Morgoroth found himself herded away from his bonded. As much as he despised the beast, he felt a sort of longing as the lug lumbered away, following the buxom lesson-master. Morgoroth felt more gipped that he had to follow the bone dragon while his dragon got to follow what he wanted to bone. He ceased his striding for a moment; that was a funny one. He’d have to remember to tell that one to Ate later, even if the beast couldn’t properly comprehend a good dirty joke now and again. Morgoroth resumed following the other students. There would be time in the future to teach his bonded a thing or two. Then he shook his head as he realized how close he was beginning to feel to an oversized turtle.

He stood idly with the others, not fully paying attention to Chon as she hissed and weaseled her way through a bunch of nonsense that didn’t particularly matter to Morgoroth. That was, until, the cage sprung up all around them, trapping the greenhorns inside. He listened to the threatening catcalls the bone made, but ignored their words. Morgoroth understood the situation, he had been in many more Thunderdomes than he had fingers, and he had ten fingers. Contemplating only briefly, Morg realized he had hosted his fair share of death matches as well, pitting servants against one another for his own amusement. Now it was his turn to be on the receiving end of this punishment. Twice in one day, first kidnapped and now forced to fight. If he didn’t hate his teachers, he would attempt to hug one of them, most likely Jadra.

Wasting no time, Morgoroth eyed the strange wooden contraption coated in razor blades. If it was thing dear, deceased daddy taught him it was this: if life gives you razor blades, you make a bat covered in razor blades. His father was a wise man, though constantly preoccupied with referencing movies that didn’t even exist yet or at all in this universe for that matter. And here Morgoroth stood, becoming distracted by an increasingly insane tangent. He snatched it up immediately and backed toward the cage’s perimeter, refusing to expose his back to any potential threats. He held the bat high, ready to crack a makeshift ball (ie: head) to the farthest fence post. Although he maintained the defense stance in preparation for assault, he realized he was most certainly one of the largest humans here. There was no reason he couldn’t utterly stomp a mud-hole in any that stepped to him. Confident in his ability to beat small children to a pulp, Morgoroth issued a challenge:

“Well, if it’s a fight to the death were to do, who wants to come against a man with 803 confirmed kills the arena? I can promise it won’t be quick!”

803 might have been a bit of an exaggeration, but it could have also been an understatement. You could never really tell with Morgoroth, who slipped in and out of sanity quicker than a lonely man into a prostitute during a half-of hooker sale. And could anyone really blame that man? His wife left him for his best friend and his children didn’t properly respect him. I couldn’t blame that man, and neither should you, you judgmental weenie. Again with the tangents, Morgoroth wondered what went on in that spastic mind of his, and why it was so apt to refer to things that didn’t exist, like homeless vagabonds with spread-based projectile weaponry. None of these things made sense, and Morgoroth returned his attention to his classmates. He didn’t really have any qualms about murdering any of them, so he prayed one of them was dumb enough to approach him. Even if they just had a question to ask, he’d split their wig regardless.


If he was being honest, which he typically was, Ate would admit that he knew he and his bonded were being kidnapped. It didn’t much matter to him. Life was simple, and if someone needed to kidnap you every once in a while to spice things up, then who was he to question? After all, Ate was still young and naïve, he didn’t have time to question the greater powers that be. Sometimes you just needed to get kidnapped, a sentiment anyone could get behind if you examined the positives and negatives. More than anything, Ate was impressed another dragon, likely fully grown, had hauled his hefty ass form point a to point b. That’s a dragon that deserves a clawshake at some point.

Ate found he was particularly unattached as the humans were separated from their partners. He didn’t much care for his bonded, who attempted to hide his true feelings under layers of resentment. Ate knew full well that squishy little worm worshiped the ground he stomped on, a process which was getting particularly annoying for the Tainted Earth. Some servant guide in this realm Morgoroth proved to be. He wept with the slightest provocation and was always so ready to murder his fellow humans. The man was clearly compensating for something. Ate filed the knowledge into his folder of “things to belittle the human over later” and stored it for safe-keeping.

While Ate busied his time contemplating how to further subjugate his weakling human, he grew certain that the pink bastard was probably thinking up more of his disgusting human jokes to tell him. They weren’t funny and too readily referred to human reproductive cycles. Even worse, Morgoroth’s references to Jadra were beginning to get downright creepy. Realizing that the human female was leading the dragons, Ate contemplated tattling on his partner, just to embarrass him in front of the superior female. Human males hated that. However, such a betrayal wasn’t yet necessary, so Ate filed it away for future reference alongside Morgoroth’s over compensation.

Yet, much like his foolish human counterpart, Ate entirely missed the part of the lesson where Jadra explained the parameters. A loud splat alerted his attention back to reality as the destroyed form of a young man slowly expanded into a blood-pudding on the ground. That was new. Now more intrigued by his surroundings, Ate turned his attention skyward with the other wyrmlings, noticing the circling dragons carrying strange forms. Judging by the man reduced to a stain before him, Ate was willing to wage his tail-maw that the adult dragons carried more humans to drop.

Then, now properly intrigued, Ate caught the gist of Jadra’s words. He had a human to kill? That was it? That was the big scary lesson for the day? Hmph, it was sheer elegance in its simplicity if you happened to ask Ate. Not that he particularly cared. He was ready for a simple task. He at least hoped that Morgoroth fared worse. If anything pleased Ate, it was his bonded’s suffering. But that was elsewhere. For the here and now, Ate had a human to reduce to paste. The only issue regarding that little process; however, was how to get the human down to ground level? Ate circled like a belabored hippo, suspiciously eying the circling adults. He wasn’t prepared to fly, nor did he think he possessed the proper ability to lift his girth all the way up there just to wrestle around over a human. That was beneath him, the mighty Ate.
In his contemplation, he froze and began to concentrate harder on a plan of attack. Unbeknownst to Ate, a particular Ruin who volunteered for the task grew tired of the obese man she carried. Not wanting to embarrass herself by struggling with the buoyant mass, she simply released he claws, letting the screaming jelly roll plummet to his death. Reaching terminal velocity, time slowed for the doomed man. He remembered the decisions that led him here. Did he really need that second cheeseburger? Did he really need to sit inside on all those sunny days? The answer was no. And now, as is suffering at the hands of some unholy deity, blubber-ball Gary found himself preparing to become incredibly intimate with Ate’s mighty obsidian shell. Dear Gary offered a quiet prayer to whatever god may be listening at the time, closed his eyes, and muttered his final words:

“Momma, I’m coming home.”

Somewhere, in his mind, violins played a somber tune for his short life. And then he noisily connected with the death turtle beneath him. Ate flinched at the impact, which felt as though someone slammed a hefty bag filled with jello and raw meat across his expansive backside. He felt strange, warm goo begin to ooze of his sides and pool at his feet. Confused, Ate attempted to turn his head to examine himself, wondering what could have created such a powerful smacking sound. He grinded his teeth, frustrated that he couldn’t see what offending animal would dear leave a dropping on his mighty, draconian backside, especially when he had a human to kill. Now how to go about doing that…
Posted: Mar 14 2012, 03:15 PM

Lurker Queen
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The passing of the Tainted Lord's power had gone all but unnoticed to Paraffin, but Desriya noticed almost immediately. The seeping darkness that was slowly staining her own soul and taking over that of her dragon had dissipated, leaving only the barest traces and the conditioning wrought by their situation. Paraffin wasn't evil, she had never been evil, not to Desriya, she was only misguided, and being further misguided by the Taint that ravaged her soul and their bond, but now it was gone. What was left in its place was a dragoness more or less the same as before. Perhaps it could be branded as insanity rather than true evil, but Paraffin still liked to watch and take part in simple destruction. It mattered little to her whether or not there were lives involved, she just seemed to enjoy the chaos of a structure (literal or figurative) being blown apart or burned to cinders.

But with the end of Nidhogg's reign, that spark of hope re-ignited in Desriya. In the last several months she'd been honed into something more capable of surviving in this harsh, broken wilderness. The straw that had broken the camel's back had been nearly seeing her dragon ripped apart by another, one that was simply burnt to a smoldering crisp for even attempting to harm the young Fire. Paraffin's magic, even at this age, was strong and not to be easily trifled with. She'd made that clear.

But even that wasn't enough to keep them from getting kidnapped and taken back to the clutches of their horrid teachers. Just when Desriya thought they might be able to escape…slowly make their way back east, they were dragged back into the heart of darkness for another not-so-fun lesson. And even worse, they were separated, Desriya forced to follow Chondrocyte while Paraffin had to follow Jadra. What they had planned terrified the girl beyond belief. She might be more apt to side with her dragon nowadays, but it didn't make her any better a fighter. A survivalist, on the other hand, she could be.

Herded into one location with the other wyrmling riders, she thought she might be able to slip away and escape, or run from whatever torturous deed they'd put her up to this time. Until the spikes erupted from the ground, effectively caging her in with all the other miscreants. "Fuck," she whispered quietly to herself, trying desperately not to look like a caged and frightened animal. That would just draw the predators to her. Instead she swallowed hard and steeled her resolve, her dark eyes searching around for anything she could use to defend herself. It didn't look like she was going to have much time to choose, and if all the best weapons were snatched before she could get to them, she'd be shit out of luck for sure.

When first bonded, Desriya might have just picked a corner and devolved into a blubbering mess of tears and fear, but months in the Murks with very little shelter and food had hardened her both to the elements and to the plights of others. Having nothing oneself certainly did have a way to make any human being a creature bent only on survival even at the expense of its peers. She scrambled to find a weapon, trying to ignore the shouting of the big rider that swung a bat over his head daring any challengers to come at him. As much as she preferred a shield to block attacks, there didn't seem to be many of those…most of what was present being just weapons to harm rather than protect. With all the weight she'd lost since being dragged here, she couldn't wield anything too bulky, so most halberd-like and mace-like weapons were out of the question. The best she could do were two short-sword like pieces of metal, notched in the middle to make them large hand-blades. She would have to get close to do any damage, but with any luck she'd at least be able to move fast enough to avoid blows and protect herself long enough.

Putting her back against the arena wall, she waited, alertly observing the rest. She wasn't exactly wanting to fight anyone, but she would protect herself. Because Paraffin could not.


The Fire, now fully able to see and control her actions again, was extremely unhappy to be separated from her rider. She had no choice but to follow, however, since there were likely dragons in lying in wait just as there were in the sky to have at her if she tried to harm Jadra at all. She could take a human, and perhaps a tired Sekkaian Air, but not a hoard of angry Taints if she did something that deviated from the norm she was expected to follow. Worse still, she could not abide the thought that they would take her human pet from her if she did not comply. So she seemed completely impassive as she stopped to hear what they were expected to do as Jadra spoke.

Paraffin glanced up, looking rather bored, to see the dragons circling overhead, though she was distracted by Chondrocyte and Jadra's bickering. It made her twitch, the flames on her back dancing in annoyance. She likely wouldn't even be here if they hadn't been forced. In her mind, she had better things to do than destroy falling sacks of whatever unfortunate human flesh had been captured for his heinous exercise. If they were dumb enough to get taken for this, then they likely deserved to die anyway, but that didn't mean Paraffin didn't like to choose what she killed and when she killed it.

One of the bodies hit the ground with a sickening splat, another soon following as it landed on the large Earth wyrmling's back. Paraffin rolled her golden eyes and blew out a heavy sigh. What a boring lesson. As though she hadn't already had enough target practice.

"If we must," she said quietly and spread her bright wings. She vaulted into the air in a graceful movement perfected by many take-offs since her hatching, and spun quickly as a sack of something flew screaming past her. She followed, belting out a liquid burst of fire that consumed and destroyed the thing, ending it before it even hit the ground. Paraffin landed, and for good measure—and just to see the fire get bigger—sent another stream of her element at the burning pile of dead refuse. Desriya wouldn't be happy to learn she'd killed someone, but it was either death by fire or falling, and Paraffin didn't care enough to chance a rescue with Jadra watching.
Posted: Mar 14 2012, 06:04 PM


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The death of the tainted lord had not gone unnoticed to the slight, weasely little rider. Not that it had really changed anything, but when she realized what had happened, she'd gone looking for Arden and Desriya and their dragons, the two she and Lapin had made an agreement with to watch out for one another if they could. What she'd found, instead, what Morgoroth and his behemoth and whole lot of angry villagers. Not exactly what she'd been looking for.

Then, because apparently life wasn't interesting enough for some, she'd found herself scooped up in a bag along and carried, shouting obscenities, to a new location. Similar irate sounds from nearby alerted her to Lapin's presence, but she certainly couldn't see him. They were both dumped unceremoniously to the ground, and Chel threw the bag off in a rage. Nearby, Lapin slunk out and looked around, and for a moment, went to stand by his rider. Then they were shepherded apart, to Chel's dismay. She gave a backward glance and followed Chondrocyte, skittering along at the back of the group. As she ranged around behind them, she looked for somewhere to duck out, not especially eager to see what torture the pair had cooked up for the day.

The clang of metal and surprising sudden movement of metal bars rising from the ground made her jump backwards right into several other wyrmlings, half-dropping into a fighter's defensive stance well before she realized there was nothing overtly hostile about a lot of metal. She straightened, and looked around, realizing they'd all been trapped with each other. Of course, the first one to decide that clearly this was a death-match was none other than Morgoroth himself, and she rolled her eyes at him from a very pertinent distance away, and while he wasn't looking. Scattered around were weapons of various kinds, as well as non-weapons. What the better part of someone's kitchen was doing here was really beyond her abilities toeven guess, but besides the cookbook, a rolling pin, and a handful of spoons, she saw a big cast-iron frying pan. It happened to be near her right foot, so she bent down to retrieve it, and brandished it experimentally. She could swing it one- or two-handed, and shrugged. Good enough, anyway.

So what were they supposed to do? Desriya was over cowering defensively against a wall, and since no one else was charging around challenging others to a duel just yet, Chel jogged over- though she stood out of range of the girl's weapons, whatever they were supposed to be.

"Y' gonna try and chop my block off with those if I get too close?" she asked the other girl, her own "weapon" held by her side, but in a hand whose white knuckles attested to her grip on the pan.


Like his rider, he was not the least bit amused by being kidnapped and chucked around like so much baggage. Unlike his rider, he had some grace even in very unexpected circumstances, and didn't end up covered in twigs and things from rolling out of his bag. He managed, he thought, a sneaky entrance into the area, and he was glad to rejoin Chel's side. Unlike some of the wyrmlings, he was fond of his rider, when she wasn't hurting his brain with that thing she called "morals" and he called "boring".

He gave Jadra a narrow-eyed glare as she led them off, away from their riders. Then he slunk, very quietly, over in Paraffin's general direction, while also looking around for the amusingly verse-speaking Etrigan. He didn't actually say anything, just stood there half-crouched like a waiting attack dog, face impassive, as always, except for his trickster's grin. Chel kept joking with him that someday his face would stick that way- only half-kidding, because one day, his face /would/ freeze. And as often as he had his lower jaw gaped in that wily grin, it was as likely to freeze that way as any way.

After they'd been given their dull instructions, he cocked his head to look up at the sky two-eyed, ears flipped forward and swiveling a little in thought. Oh, look. A little falling thing. It smacked into the ground, revealing itself to be an ex-human, and now roadkill. And there was another one. Lapin followed this one with all four eyes, watching as it landed on none other than Ate. With a gleeful little giggle, he hop-walked over near the Earth, who was looking around in seeming confusion.

"Hey, Ate, you got a little somethin' on your back. Think it used to be some big fat guy," he said, and then in a show of either complete idiocy or... complete idiocy, sprang forward and rebounded off the obsidian shell with a flirt of wings that carried him into the air. He wasn't going to be any more obvious about the identity of the thing that had hit Ate than that, but he did owe the big Earth for his unexpected favor when his rider had condemned Chel to fighting the horde of angry villagers weaponless.

Some of the others were already in the air, snatching or burning or crackling or whatever at falling bodies, and Lapin looped right up to join them, all four wings a flurry of motion. Something fell past him.

"NOT MINE!" he shouted, whirling away. After all, he got to pick his target. Didn't he? Oh, did he not? He was supposed to chase that one? Well, crap. He hurriedly tucked all wings and shot himself after the falling body, and at the last possible moment, turned his head and neck to the side and smashed into it bodily with his shoulder. It wasn't graceful. It wasn't technically using his element. But it was effective- there was a loud crack as the person's back snapped and cut off their scream mid-breath.

It was also dangerously close to the ground, something Lapin realized only belatedly as he saw the dirt coming up to meet him far closer than he'd really planned.

"Waaaaugh!" he squealed in surprised, opening wings and backwinging furiously to slow himself as much as dragonly possible. He swung his sturdier hind legs forward so they impacted the ground first, and then his front legs hammered down and his momentum carried him forward, causing his jaw to thud forward last, dirt and mud and things plowing up in front of his face as he skidded to a stop, wings all akimbo, tail fanned unevenly behind him, and groaning.

"Owwwww," he mumbled, pushing himself up with his front legs. They weren't broken. That was good. He moved his jaw, and found that it, too, was not broken. His back legs felt like he'd landed on them going way too fast, but they were not broken either- just really, really painful. Muscles had been pulled, he was sure. Owwwwww. Talk about poor planning.

"HEY! NICE LANDING, BROTHER!" he heard, shouted loudly from waaaaay across the area, from the direction of the caged Wyrmlings. Lapin's ears dropped in embarassment and he hunched his shoulders.

"LIKE TO SEE YOU DO BETTER, SISTER!" he howled back a moment later, but the comeback was weak, at best. And he was just sure everyone had seen his faceplant landing. Pffffff.
Posted: Mar 15 2012, 05:40 PM

The Owl Waife

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Stinking Murks? He could cope. An evil overlord in his mind who had mysteriously vanished? He could deal. Getting kidnapped with some sort of mysterious chemical, burlap bags, and possibly a blow over the head noted by his throbbing skull? Not okay. Not at all. The heavy drop onto the murks, was the last straw in his groggy waking and he sat up, tearing the burlap from his body and casting a livid glare around him, only to spy Chon and company. Of course. Only the blonde wonder and her ridiculous homunculous of a dragon could conceive questionable kidnapping and dumping as a perfect concept for a lesson.

Jadra and Chon had herded him and his dragon apart. He could see Knell shaking muck from her hide, her large front canines bared in an angry growl. She was getting bigger, almost as tall as him at the shoulder now, and longer still. She turned her head sharply, the crowning growths of twisted spires outlining her skull as she cast sea-green eyes to find him. They spotted him and a sharp query emitted over their bond and he cast a reply back. Nothing injured, nothing broken. Her own mental grunt in reply and appearance of rage rather than irritation indicated that the wyrmling as well, was unharmed, though she wasn't happy either at the sudden predicament.

Caldre and Knell's attention turned to view Jadra and Chon as they gave their preamble to all the chaos that was no doubt ready to follow whatever ridiculous notions of teaching they had comprised this time. He knew that Nidhogg had slipped from his mind. The black oozing beast had receded, the darkness slipped off into the distance of his mind to never be seen again. He was thankful for that, but it had left Knell more confused than ever. She had planned to climb the ranks and prove to herself and her lord that she was able to be on the top. But the Taint had lost the war. What was there for her now? Where could a whole Sonic dragon that was born to the Taint find place if their legion was a scattered force with no purpose?

He was torn from the reverie of Knell's sudden feelings of lost by a heavy groan and ear-raping squeal and crash of heavy metal reverberating with the after-effects of the strike. Where the hell...He stared at the bars of cage around them. 'Thunderdome?' He looked over at Jadra and Chon dubiously. No, he didn't even have to think they were insane. They were. Obviously. He swept quickly by the pile of weapons that had been presented to them, and quickly dug through for something that would work, others were already snagging weapons and skittering away from others quickly, he was surprised none had decided to strike at those who hadn't picked a weapon yet. His hand finally looped around something that felt right and he yanked it from the pile.


Most of the pile, scratch that, all the pile was pretty much comprised of zombie weapons that might have been fantastic if they weren't elements that tried to fit together like a breeding otter and elephant. His 'weapon' if it could even be called as such, was no exception. It looked to be the remnants of an umbrella that a Metal or Razor had decided to cough or sneeze on. The handle and main spine was still in tact, but the actual membranes of the parasol's covering fabric was stripped away, leaving despondent clinking arms of limp metal. Affixed to the top with sloppy metal welding and extra gobs of spiky and limp cool metal was what appeared to be what was once the head of a sledgehammer. Battle hammer maybe? He shifted it experimentally. The actual body of the parasol was wood and relatively sturdy, though he figured if he tried too hard, he'd probably break it. What then? Well...he'd survive obviously.

Glancing about, he spotted his wyrmling companions readying to fight anything that dared so much as breathe in their general direction. His mouth twisted into a grim line and he leaned the top-heavy make-shift hammer on his shoulder and decided that he'd wait. Desriya, who looked scared out of her skin was facing off against Chelydra....Morgoroth...eh he'd leave Morgoroth to his own devices. He'd seen the man only once before, and a part of him figured that the black armor that he wore wasn't for show. He was a hunter, not a warrior. He was a quick on his toes mayhem maker, as the Taint legion was trying to make him anyway, he didn't face large foes well. Stealth however, was unavailable here. He'd have to make due depending on what decided to screw with him.


Being kidnapped was insulting. How dare that Bone bitch and her rider with her atrocious sense of amusement do this. Knell shook the remains of mud from her wings, the Sonic's growing spires letting loose an unhappy whistle like a boiling tea-kettle. She was still glaring at the pair, attuned to the ways that her Caldre was doing the same without even realizing. Though her hatred for them knew no bounds, she still absorbed the topics of their lesson this day, knowing that if she didn't, it'd probably end up in another unpleasant beating like their little hunting fiasco had. She still blamed Pompeii for fucking that hunt up. She had almost had something worthwhile...then he'd steam-rolled it.

She snorted a sharp sound and turned to face her rider across the way. What were they having him- A sharp clang of metal and a sudden rise of heavy metal bars caused her imaginary hackles to raise and her head lowered and fangs bared. "I swear to the damned gods Caldre, if you die I'm going to dump you in a hole!" she roared. She could do nothing about his current situation, though he knew no doubt her fury matched his irritation. "Love you too, loud-mouth." came the dry reply.

Huffing, she turned and suddenly startled at the noise of a human hitting the ground with the unhappy sound of crunching bones and the wet sound of sucking mud and squishing flesh. Another moment and the large earth suddenly had a large wet smear across his back, dripping shades of red from the black and mixing with the mud below. She snickered at the Ruin's comment. "Oh, leave it for him to find later." she said to Lapin and cast her harsh gaze up to the dragons that were circling above.

Far above, a Mycotic the size of a well grown Air, a mutation of a Forest cousin that had grown far beyond what genetics decreed hefted his own catch of the day. The human squirmed like an unhappy fish, but it was caught within the talons of the metaphorical osprey, and he wouldn't be letting go until it was time by his standards to drop the messy thing. It had already emptied it's bladder in terror once, much to his amusement, but the sharp tang of human piss was quite irritating to his nose. He wrinkled his muzzle and finally decided that the damn thing he'd been charged with was no longer worth his time. Claws unlatched and with a shrill cackle of "Bombs away!" the screaming human woman fell.

Knell watched the woman fall and trotted over to a general range. She couldn't kill with sound yet. She could cause irreparable damage to the ears and had once managed to make a human's nose bleed, but nothing beyond that. This was a retarded challenge for most of them. A lot of them had elements that would perfect and grow in danger with the passing of months. A deep thunderous rumble built in Knell's chest as she screamed a concussive blast up at the woman, the sonic boom of sound didn't do much besides ripple the woman's already waving clothes though the screaming cut off abruptly as she clutched at her ears. Close enough.

Two options left. Spear the damn loud-mouth on her spires as she fell and claim 'element' kill, and risk a few broken spires. Or just say screw it and crunch the human out of the air. She decided she wasn't up for another bath in stinking Murk water to try to get blood out of her pipes. A crouch and spring with a cat-like rush of movement sent Knell soaring up to intercept the woman. Jaws gaped wide and she snapped them down on the woman's shoulder and chest, catching her arm in the midst too. There was a heavy snap as the ribs beneath her powerful jaws broke and Knell landed with heavy drop of sound back onto the hard ground. The wave of powerful bass noise emanated from her feet swept over the ground, causing a few stones to rattle here and there.

She dropped the dead (or dying she didn't bother to check) woman onto the ground. She didn't so much as twitch. Her nose was bleeding and spatters of blood from the sudden equivalent of malevolent shark-bite had rendered her unconscious as her body fell into shock. Oh well, Knell could lie that the sound blast had killed her. The blood leaking out her nose could always be the back up to that. Truth be told, Knell had no idea, nor did she really care. She turned with a snort back to the 'Thunderdome' to see if her caged rider had managed to survive.
Posted: Mar 16 2012, 12:02 AM


Quinn; Absolutely pissed off by recent events and ready to kick some ass as an outlet.

No fucking way. Quinn had spent the last few weeks in an absolute, miserable rage. And no one could blame him. You wouldn't want to blame him, otherwise he might find the most interesting ways to cut you open alive and show you what your innards consist of.

Quinn had retreated into himself, talking very little to even the bulkhead he was bonded to. But their bond was strong enough that Pompeii knew it was him that was the problem, in a way.

Quinn had survived the sinking of his ship. The devouring of his crew. He lived through being kidnapped and held hostage by the dragonic she-bitch from hell. He adapted, learning to flatter Retsu and keep her from getting tired of him and eating him alive. He survived the goddamn Tainted hatching, and being bonded to the monstrous volcano, and he even halfway overcame his absolute, heart-stopping, so-afraid-you-bleat-like-a-wounded-sheep terror of dragons! And for what?

Only for him to finally accept his fate as a cursed rider of the living volcano and a warrior for the Taints and then be left with no purpose, all because the damned Sekkain forces managed to capture the one stupid being holding the ratty mass of dragons that used to be known as the Tainted Army. And it fell apart-- or most of it as Quinn found out in a rather unconventional way.

Kidnapped! Caught unawares like some fresh bilge-sucker. But on top of it all, it was by possibly the only duo that had decided they wanted to stay on the path they had been going.

Just his fucking luck.

And on top of it all, he was being herded away from Pompeii, the one thing that had probably kept him alive here in the Murks for so long. That alone was enough to make Quinn mildly uneasy.

A cage snapped them up around them out of no where. The circling and maniacal laughing of the Bone dragon left Quinn startled, looking around as one usually does when they've fallen for a trap. Old instinct kicked in. His new boiling rage mixed with it, forming a dangerous and unstable mixture inside of the pirate. In short, hell was about to break loose and someone was going to get severely hurt.

Quinn lunged for a weapon. If all else failed him, he could kill with his hands. He had done it before. But if he had the choice of having a weapon or not, he would obviously pick the aforementioned choice. He grabbed hold of what he (sadly) recognized as a bar-stool leg that, strangely enough, had rusted nail punched through it at all sorts of odd and dangerous angles at the very end. Fine. It would do. If nothing else, the leg was sturdy enough to clobber someone upside the skull with it. And the first person to attract Quinn's attention was loud, foolish Morgoroth, bragging senselessly. That alone told Quinn that the man was nervous and/or insane. He quickly moved so his own back was to the outside of the cage, inching along to close the distance between his target.

If he had to kill, then so be it. He was done playing nice. If life was going to be a dick and treat him like its bitch and surprise him from behind over and over again like this then he was going to give himself a fucking purpose. And right now, it was to beat the hell out of at least one of his "class mates".

Pompeii; more or less spitting loogies of molten doom at hapless victims before they go splat.

Pompeii hissed at being separated from his rider. The bulkhead was no less cranky from the capturing of the Taint lord. In fact, he still seemed intent on causing destruction once full grown. The thing was, Quinn's sudden dark anger had caught him off guard and he wasn't quite sure how to react to it. So for now, he sat and watched, wondering where this change would take his human.

But for now he had something else to pay attention to. While his rider was busy fighting the other humans, Pompeii was supposed to be using his element to shoot down the sudden issue of randomly falling creatures from the sky. He shifted away from Ate as a particularly fat human splattered messily over the Earth's shell, most of the eyes on that side of Pompeii eyeing the bloody mess. Well... if he ever had to bet on whether a human would win in a collision against Ate's shell, at least he knew which to bet on.

Pompeii sneered at that thought. Disgusting. He was thinking like his Quinn now. Horribly atrocious. He was better than that. His human was supposed to be thinking like him.

The bulkhead shrugged that off for now. He watched some of his hatchmates leap into the air to get their victims before they got near the ground and growled lowly. How could he allow some of them to get so ahead of him? of course he wasn't expecting to be the most agile, being one of the largest, but still. He had remained unaware of this and now he was unpleasantly surprised. Well fine! He would show them that he had been practicing too!

They weren't the only ones coming along as destructive and deadly hunters.

Pompeii rose onto his hind legs, using his tail to stay balanced. He wouldn't dare open his wings. Not with it suddenly raining humans and what not. Pompeii thought ahead. Some of his hatchmates scrambled about, trying to pick from the numerous falling targets. Pompeii knew better. He picked one still in the claws of a dragon and kept his many eyes locked on it. He tried to block out Quinn's sudden blood lust but it didn't work and in the end it fueled Pompeii's own. His determination rose. So far, few of the others had succeeded in using their elements.

He was different. He lived as his element, with ash rolling off of his scales, and magma dripping from his hide. Pompeii was practically made up of what he controlled. And it was with this confidence in his abilities that helped Pompeii focus. The bulkhead inhaled when the dragon released its burden, dropping a screaming man around his own rider's age. Pompeii gave no mercy to this little fact. He waited, holding his breath deep within his chest. Once the human was in range, Pompeii exhaled, six jaws splitting wide, spitting a chunk of molten god-knows-what at the human. It collided with a sickening 'plop', the man's scream becoming an agonized choked noise of a dying animal before silence. When he struck the ground, he was well dead and more than half melted.

Pompeii was pleased with himself. In fact, he was downright proud and he even took out another victim just for fun, the molten remains of this one raining down around his fellow hatchmates.

Two in a row! Could he make it three? Blood lust made him feel almost giddy and he found that he actually enjoyed this lesson and he didn't want to stop. He was tempted to take out as many as he could and even lower the odds of the others getting their own. For the moment, though, it was only a temptation as he pondered whether or not to try for a third.
Posted: Mar 16 2012, 10:13 AM

Lurker Queen
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Desriya to Chel

At least it didn't appear that some of the class was dumb enough to just start hacking away with whatever they picked up. Most grabbed their weapons and took defensive stances while they glanced around for partners to spar with. Granted, with some of them Desriya wasn't sure if they were going to be sparring or beating each other to a bloody pulp. She certainly wouldn't survive if that were the case. She silently cursed her mother and sisters for forcing her into so many feminine habits. She should have just ignored them and hung out with her father and Mykhail as much as possible. At least then she might know how to even hold a weapon right. But the will to survive and desperation flooded her mind, and her body seemed to know what it was doing…sort of. It wasn't like she had any conventional weapons. They were practically beat up sheet metal with handles tied on with whatever could be found.

A familiar voice reached her ears, and the young woman's eyes peered out from between strands of dirty hair that had grown back to roughly her jawline since the hunting and stealth lesson. The memory came back to her suddenly of the three girls and their dragons sitting in a dry spot in the marsh, agreeing to work together in order to survive in general, considering how out for themselves most of the Legion was. A smirk pulled at her features. If Chel remembered as well as she did, they could at least fake it enough without fatally wounding one another, even if one of them had to pretend as though they had been for Chondrocyte to be pleased.

"Maybe," she said, searching the girl's face for any sign of the facts she was recalling to herself, "Unless you can stop me," her voice held the hidden contract. You don’t kill me, I won't kill you. Now she just had to wait for some kind of agreement, and the skirmish could begin. She didn't even want to know what Paraffin was up to.
Posted: Mar 17 2012, 09:46 PM

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Aside for the fact that he had been kidnapped Damien had never felt better. He had woken up to feel... free for lack of a better word. That looming presence in the back of his mind and the whispers in his dreams at night were gone. He could think for himself again. He was still in a state of slight shock. After all the events of and leading up to Nidhogg's capture had come right after he had actually accepted himself as a Tainted rider. But now he was free to do whatever he wanted. He didn't have to throw away his life because a voice in his head commanded him to do so.

He had been awoken by the sound of shuffling wings over head when he and Bucha had been resting. It was pretty useless to try and run away from a dragon but they put up a pretty good fight. During that time period Damien found out that he really hated the smell of chloroform. He had landed pretty hard on his side when they arrived at their destination but it wasn't anything that he couldn't shake off. Despite the rough handling of him and his dragon he wasn't going to let the lesson and his treatment rain on his parade and spoil his rare good mood.

Furrows found their way to his brown when he and the other humans were herded away from their dragons. He cast a quick glance at Bucha. She was getting harder and harder to overlook with her bright scales, and adding to that was her new found size. She was now 21 feet long and the size of a fully grown Rosemary. Her shoulder was atop his head and if she was feeling cooperative she would let him ride on her back while she walked. As he watched her grow day by day he could just taste flying.

Once he was in the dome with the rest of the riders he had to suppress his his good mood and focus on covering his back. As he had figured he had lost his knife in the struggle of the kidnapping. He rushed to the pile of weapons at the center and grabbed at something without even looking. Taking a cue from everyone else he pressed his back against the bars of the dome. Looking down at his hand he looked at the weapon that he had grabbed in his haste. It was a black pipe about 4 feet in length with jagged edges on both ends and small orange spots at the tip showing the corrosion that was rust. It wasn't his first choice of a weapon but he could make do with it. He had a bit of experience with staffs and things of the like, so using a pipe probably wouldn't be too much of a deviation from the former.

He cursed as he turned his head to the left and then to the right of him. It was at times like this that having only one eye put him at a serious disadvantage. If he wanted to look over to his left he would have to physically turn his head which would leave his right vulnerable.

He tried to keep tabs on all of his classmates, especially the ones at his sides. The ones directly across from him would take the longest to get to him should they decide to rush him. If one of them did decide to go after him, he would spare them no expense. He was a trained killer and he always put his life and the life of his dragon above all others.

She knew it.

She knew this was going to happen.

She had tried to tell Damien but he hadn't listened.

They had lost the war just like she predicted. The Tainted lord had been captured and all that had been under his mind control had been released, including her. She didn't really feel all that different but Damien had acted as if he was on a sugar high the past few days. She was starting to get annoyed with his behavior. It was disgusting to see such happiness 24/7. Yay so the Tainted lord was captured. That didn't make the world all sunshine and rainbows now did it? No. The world was still a shitty place and she felt like she was the only one who saw it.

She was in a more sour mood than usual that particular day. One reason was due to the fact that Damien's happiness was flooding their bond and she hated such feelings of sweet and blatant joy over something so trivial (in her mind). The other reason was the kidnapping had set her off and turned her into a blue blur of fury. How dare they kidnap her and Damien! She had fought tooth, claw, and element when they swooped down and cornered them. She had planned on fighting some more but they threatened her with her unconscious rider's life if she resisted. So without further scuffle or word she had followed them to where they were now. The only satisfaction she had derived from the encounter came from the fact that the other dragons blood still caked her claws and spotted her ankles. At that moment she was too mad to worry about her appearance. Later she would get Damien to give her a bath, but right now she wore the stains as a mark of honor and pride.

She barely gave the buxom woman a glance as she looked above to the crates that were being carried overhead. She didn't know what was in the crates and she didn't really want to know. All she wanted to do was complete the lesson and get on with her life. The lesson sounded simple enough. All she had to do was zap a crate before it hit the ground. Snorting she fanned out her wings and took a small running start before she took off. Her flying had been steadily getting better over the last few weeks. Initially her wings had been heavy and awkward to coordinate, what with the membrane being attached to her tail and all. Eventually after some encouragement from Damien she got the hang of it. Now all she had to do was work on her stamina. It took a lot of energy for her to fly and she tended to get tired faster than her classmates.

She circled higher and higher until she finally leveled out and scanned above her to look for anything being dropped. Out of the corner of her eye a small box was being dropped and she winged over quickly to try and catch it. As she neared the object sparks gathered around her horns and her claws. Swinging she latched onto the crate with hind feet first and then pulled it up to her foreclaws. Gripping the not too heavy object she winged to stabilize herself. From there crackles of bright blue electricity surrounded her and the box. Her wings pulsed erratically while doing so, hopefully there wasn't anyone under her lest they fall ill mid flight due to her ability. The contents of the box began to thrash in her claws as she sparked off. The thought of something getting testy with her made her anger rise once again. Acting on her emotions she doubled the voltage and heard a sickening pop as whatever had been in the box abruptly stopped.

Dropping her cargo she watched as the crate crashed against the ground with a pool of scarlet blood forming around it like a macabre halo. Spiraling down she backwinged and landed shakily on her hind legs. Curling the tip of her tail she walked around the crate to avoid getting anymore of her body dirty.
Posted: Mar 19 2012, 07:37 PM

The Majestic Space Duck
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Jezebel (to Damien)


Fetid eyes cracked open at the rough handling as his body was unceremoniously deposited on the ground. He bared his blackened fangs, pulling his leaking body out of the sack with tiny bursts of fluid as his pustules opened at the tearing. He shook out his wings and stood up, silently sending a curse of the most unpleasant terminal ailments to the one who had managed to drag him away from his chosen human.

Carcinoma flicked his gaze toward the separated humans being drilled into oblivion by the incessant Bone. He spotted Jezebel taking arm as soon as the iron gate bolted up, locking them into a battle royale-styled cage match. He blinked, tongue flicking out with interest. While he didn't necessarily need his human to live like the Sekkains did, he had grown fond of her personality and advice in the five months that they had been bonded. He watched them for a moment longer, idly hoping for her success in the brawl, before turning back to the commanding human at their feet.

The little Influenza was presented with quite a problem as he absorbed the intent of her instructions. He could fly, certainly, and he could kill a small target with relative ease, but the issue lie with the extreme speed with which their captives fell. He was scarcely eleven feet in length, smaller than any of his hatchmates, but weighed half the mass of a normal Forest wyrmling at this stage in his growth.

He stared up at the circling dragon with a frown, his crest rising and falling as he thought hard to concoct a plan of his own. Even as he did so, one of the larger wyrmlings launched herself into the sky and roasted her human. He watched her with a a brief flicker of envy before he steeled himself, the feeling melting away to be replaced by cold, calculating mirth. Carcinoma turned back to the task at hand, eyeing up the falling burlap sacks of animals and humans. What a waste of prisoners, he thought. No need for them to die so needlessly, not when I could have inoculated the wretches for my trials.

He watched out of the corner of his eye as Bucha rose after the next falling sack and killed it by electrocution. Now that was a handy tool to have, if crude.

The Influenza sprung from the ground, frail wings spreading out and up to cusp the dead air and pull it beneath him. He rose quickly, emaciated form hardly offering resistance to the air unlike his heavier kin might have. He fluttered skyward and hovered, gasping for breath as he realized this was his first true attempt at powered flight. A joyous occasion it might have been had he not been preoccupied with the overzealous duo of Tainted misfit minions. Carcinoma rose as high as he dared, watching the dragons below become little more than parasites of the earth, and hovered tentatively, waiting with cold determination for his target.

The sack fell faster than he thought it might have. It wasn't a full-grown man, that was for sure, but perhaps something the size of a young woman or teenager. In either case, he let his wings fall limp and glided as close as possible to the writhing trajectory of the sack, and quickly flipped his wings to turn his belly toward the sky. No one said anything about catching their victims.

The sack hit him square in the chest, the force of which knocked the wind from his lungs. The Influenza's wings folded above him as they fell together. He quickly recovered, grabbing the sack with his smaller pair of arms to fold it in place, grabbed the squirming teen's shoulders, and released the needle from its bulb with a shink. He flicked his tail around and stabbed where he thought the neck of the creature was, dragging the horrid needle across like a carving knife. It screamed and thrashed, blood pooling to the surface until the needle slice through the vertebrae. The sack suddenly went limp.

Carcinoma heaved his wings back and flapped vigorously, turning right-side up as the earth below rushed up to meet him. He let the dead thing fall with a sickening splat across the ground and allowed his wings to act as parachutes. Inexperienced in free-falling flight, he was powerless to stop his own descent completely. He back-winged as he fell too fast, colliding with the ground a little distance from the main part of the group, and skidded. He stood back up, shuffling his wings, and turned around to observe the others with a toothy smirk. It wasn't the best job, but it would suffice.
Posted: Mar 28 2012, 08:01 PM

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It’s a strange feeling, the sharp split from somnolent, darkened un-thought to heightened consciousness that comes from being hefted around in a burlap sack. Moments ago, it seemed as if the world was just as it had always been, then, the toxic was suddenly aware of something amiss… something course and rough and much like the entire universe had become and overlay of very cheap painting canvas. There was a moment of panic as he was thrown around, no more than a bag of bruised apples. He hissed and spit and thrashed the way a wild snake does trapped in a basket, but, he quickly came to feel the slack of his own weight against the scratching fabric of the bag. Were he to cut his way out now, there would be no telling how far he’d fall. They were in flight. He could even hear the rush of wind around them. It was like a jarring laugh, something taking enjoyment in his sudden, unthinkably base situation. And he was stilled within the sack, waiting to be born.

Jonna was wide eyed. She, too, was now a quiet, tiny ball within her sack. She breathed and she shivered and she desperately clung to the burlap as if, at any moment, she could fall right through the bottom and onto the rocks below and be dashed to nothing. Her struggle would be ended. There would be no more survival. She couldn’t, wouldn’t. Survival was all she had. The instinctual compass within her head spun wildly, trying to settle on a course of action. The irony, however, was that despite her fighting and resistance of Pantera’s control over her, moments ago, the connection between them had never been stronger. Both human and dragon, as if in synchronous, had panicked. They’d gone wild, wild with fear and constraint and sudden conscious thought searing through their heads like fire. Both had thrashed, trying to break free and both, almost instantaneously, had quieted with the knowledge that they could do nothing except wait to land. For that mere moment, against all that was right in the universe, the two were as one. They reasoned, reacted, and they thought as one soul.

Despite the distance of the flight, the duration was short and, strung along by Jadra and her bonded’s will, the taints that had carried the toxic pair were quick to let their captive charges free… if a little early. In a tumble, both bags were roughly set loose from the ensnaring claws and they rolled, scuffing and scumbling to the muck and dust of the ground. They came to rest, finally, separate, but, equal in their desire to break themselves free. As Jonna, having rubbed the blooming bruises gathered, cautiously sought the end of the bag, a hiss seared up from Pantera’s. The sack about him began to pit and smoke like butter burning on a hot stove. Holes pulled free from the continuous length of fabric until, without any effort at all, the pitch wyrmling stood loosed. With ceremony, he lifted himself from the still burning bag with long, precise strides as his tail curved out behind him in a length of whip. He stepped with aplomb into the gathering herd. The creature was all self-assured and dignified, but, internally, he was but biting back his curses. How dare they… How dare they profane his hide with the mars and stripes of… Uhg… Burlap. A hiss split his lips and, as he shook himself of the lingering fibers, the young taintling glanced back toward his little dog. The girl, now reveling in the freedom of the outside world as well, managed to look up in time to see half a dozen of those eyes on her. She narrowed her eyes, but made no move otherwise.

Just as Pantera seemed about to call his rider to him, false sincerity coating his tongue, a clamor arouse elsewhere and the lesson masters spoke to their quibbling students. Instinctively, the toxic seemed to want to shift his attention. He may have held no respect for his masters, but, there was something in him that just would not allow anything as improper as neglecting rules. And so, with one last flicker of a look towards his bonded, he set his ears to hear what ridiculous thing they’d cooked up now.

Quickly, he was very unconvinced that these two should have ever been given a position of authority. However, it was his will to finish these disreputable events as soon as possible, so, he had no choice but to obey. On his way to the other side, the slipping creature craned his head downward to snip his vain reigns of authority over the wild child that he’d claimed. “Little hound, go to where your other weak fleshed mortals are. Finish quickly.” And he was gone, padding toward Jadra. He left the girl, crouched and alone, by the bag she had just so recently climbed out of. She had no idea where she was, what she should do… who these people were around her. She’d seen them, been with them the past lessons, the hatching, but she did not know them. She did not trust them, just as she did not trust anyone. And, around them, she was in just as much danger as she’d ever been in. With hesitation, she lingered and settled on the 8ft tall, 32ft long creature’s words. He was nearly twice her height now… so much bigger than he had been. And, as he grew, she was ever more aware of the danger he posed to her. And she, just so, let her caution of him grow accordingly.

Jonna hunkered down, rooted to her spot. It was only when Chon began detailing things that she felt attention was diverted enough for her to slink over, a creature into the shadows of her peers. And there, she hid like a cat among dogs. Pantera, however, opposed his rider. He stood tall, though not the tallest. And he held himself strong, though not the strongest. There was no reason he would not be in the end, though. He would be powerful. He had aims, wishes, desires. He wanted control and he would get it… but first, he needed to earn that right. And, so, he listened and he watched. Outside of speech, however, he quickly became aware of a hinged, grating sound. A heavy snap shuddered the landscape and, instinctively, the wyrmling looked over at the riders in gathering only to find that they were all trapped with the confines of yet another cage. He pulled his lips tight with displeasure. …His dog was not properly socialized enough to be an eager adversary in that arena. Though, truly, he was curious as to how it would end for her. And, with one eye toward her and one eye on the skies, he bided his time for his turn.

This would be a challenge of speed and prowess. And he was well enough versed in both to be confident in what he could provide. He was no flailing idiot like these others. He had yet to grow to full height, but, he was powerful. He took pride in honing himself to his wishes. This would be a challenge, surely, to complete, but it was no herculean feat. Taking his piercing stare from his entombed charge momentarily, he flicked all his eyes upwards, snapping to a particularly low flying set of predator and prey. Something had stolen his attention there and, just as he was searching them for timing hints, the slinking creature was given what he wanted. The razor above flicked its wings and, with swift action, Pantera caught the sign and shot forward, rippling along the bounds of the land. He was a blinking shot, a flicker of deep black and brilliant blue and his teeth were bared in an excited smile for only a fellow hunter to understand. He didn’t need to see the release to know what was coming, but, he could hear the whistling, the screaming as whatever was above came down at terminal velocity. And he positioned himself well before its arrival.

The woman, ragged, beaten and feeling the most terror she’d ever felt, surged downward. A flood of air whipped past her body as she was flung headlong at the oncoming ground. She could not bear to look down, but, inadvertently, she found herself turning toward her own impending doom. With her face turned, however, an acrid trail of turquoise flushed over her face in a stream. It seeped, stung, crept into every corner of her mouth and eyes. And it kept spitting to her, in a never ending rinse of hell. She hit the ground, every bone in her body breaking to bring her to a pancake flatness. Blood flecked around her like collateral damage. The acid, however, had done its job… though… it had taken more of his reserves than Pantera had anticpated. Soon, he’d need a fraction of his element to do the job. He wouldn’t even need the facilitation of easily passed facial membranes either, just bare flesh. But, for now, he had accomplished his job. And he was pleased.

Jonna, however, was not dealing with her situation in the same sort of confident manner. As soon as the cage doors had entrapped them, she’d shot to the edges, tried to pry the bars apart with her bare hands, but, she’d only met the thorns that adorned it’s steel. Her hands, bloody and rough, ran their surfaces over the cold metal, seeking any sources of weakness, of escape, but, she was not strong enough to break its hold and, like the others, was trapped for entertainment.

In the end, she was plastered, back against the solid vines of metal behind her. In her hands, what appeared to be a glass vessel. She was only there to preserve herself. In the here and now, there was nothing else. She wouldn’t fight. She wouldn’t argue. Were there problems, she’d solve them. She’d just hit these bitches with a bottle. Pantera would have been secretly proud.
Posted: Apr 2 2012, 01:42 PM

Meathods of Madness
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With a kingly flourish, the scratchy canvas sack was removed to reveal the coiled woman beneath. Laying patiently awake and still as a lurking snake she crouched, huntress' eyes immediately locking onto her retreating captor. Already they were vanishing, far outracing the reach of her hidden blades. Muscles once tensed for a deadly spring slowly released their stressed tautness, relaxing only as much as the svelte woman dared lower her outward guard. The sais were still on her person, she could feel them in the folds of her lavish froth of flowing skirts, weighted against her skin. So they'd failed to strip her of weaponry before the seizure? Interesting...

And most unwise. Definitely most unwise.

A twitch of annoyance played past her honeyed eyes, scouring her surroundings before settling on the silhouetted forms of their notorious mentors. How the audacious pair had plucked both mistress and adoptive feral child from the faction's newest Abyssal pair Sheathes she hadn't the foggiest idea. Perhaps their strings were just that far-reaching, or perhaps Novy had been too distracted by a passing cotton-ball of a rabbit again. Or another arrogant butterfly to elude him. That was certainly not outside the realm of plausible possibility.

Isil's gaze shifted from her rambling tutors, appraising her bonded momentarily. She could feel the mirrored displeasure at being snatched away like common wealth from their lounging quarters, annoyance at the audacity to drag them in rustic bags like delivered groceries. Outrage simmered just below the surface of skin and metallic armor alike, barely contained within outer shells. Only the propriety and eloquent abilities of a learned predator kept their forms in check, their metaphorical claws sheathed from a deadly draw. They would play along... for the moment.

Only when the red-haired woman realized she was to be shepherded away from her bonded did Isil balk externally. Ever they had sought to work as a team, a flawless single unit built to articulately complete a common goal. Dividing them was to part their buffered strength, that unique shine of two like minded lionesses conjoining into a working pride. Isil realized this disadvantage with a wave of fresh, heated choler. How dare they? What could they possibly portray to the pairs by severing them from one another?

Before any further venomous thoughts could scathe her mind, a suitable answer and visual distraction sprang around the corralled humans. Around herself and the others snaked metal bars like accelerated vines seeking to ensnare and secure its cache of victims. The steel dome enclosed them swiftly, leaving no room for escape. Amidst it all, Isil merely stood, as if bored. She remained blissfully calm, sharp eyes carelessly taking in the cage as their skeletal lesson master galloped gleefully around the edges, harping out her supposedly clever challenge.

Predatory eyes nearly rolled exasperatedly in their sockets. Truly, how quaint. To think that she, an accomplished huntress, should scuffle with common man for some worthless victory? There was no seductive challenge, no delicate art. Why would she bother? Listlessly she cast her vision about the fellow wyrmlings, disregarding the women young and elder. There was no demand of prowess to be found there. As the masses scrambled to arms, Isil leisurely waited before stalking forward with a curving, rolling gait. Deftly she collected the thick, heavy cookbook into her dexterous, manicured hands. Whist the rabble sought to take up defensive stances, pressing backs to the jailor's wall, Isil offered no such nonsense.

She strode aimlessly forward, fingers slitting open the volume to a random chapter. Her eyes skimmed the pages, drank in the horrid formulas for later use. Novy seemed to have a stomach as tough as the ore-wrought bars that now bound her, so why not accumulate subjects to test him with? Isil mused to herself, looking altogether more akin to a bookworm strolling through a peaceful library than a potential victim trapped in the proclaimed 'thunder dome'. No anxiety ever creased her brow nor stray glance peer from her reading. Despite her seemingly innocent weapon choice, the real blades lay out of sight but close at hand, should any be fool enough to elicit provocation from her.


Reluctantly the Razor was herded away from her bonded, forced to follow the impudent Jadra alongside the shabby lot of peers. The aversion was etched into ever jagged angle of her face, plain for all who looked upon her unique beauty to bear witness. Narrowed eyes cast a sweeping glance to the trudging group, disdained by none paying any small piece of their microscopic minds to her higher troubles. How disgraceful. But what could she expect from lesser minds? Nothing of value, clearly. Silly little lambs, following the good, kind shepherd right to the altar. The mindless flock couldn't even take care to notice the ritualistic robes beneath the modest cloak, nor the dagger hidden in the folds of fabric, waiting to slit their sacrificial throats.

Such stupidity. Guillotine trounced to herself.

The lesson was finally laid out before them with the woman's coy, crafty words. Kill something before it hits the ground? Ugh... dull. Someone really needed to give their lesson conductors a course in creative thinking. Surely this wasn't the best they could come up with. She could kill with her element while sleeping, and quite literally if an unfortunate passerby tripped and impaled themselves upon her polished coat. She was a Razor, proud and honed to be a weapon of exacting, precise execution. A sigh escaped her narrow lips, boredom exhaled in the haughty breath. Best get on with it, the day would be ill spent if she had to remain out with this rabble for its entirety as far as she was concerned.

Guillotine shifted her armored body, tensing the slender muscles beneath smooth copper planes. Her malachite eyes scoured the sky, gleaming gems analyzing each of the moving targets weaving high above. One elongated foreleg was delicately placed before the other, a subtle prelude to the deer-like bounds she'd found carried her figure with its peculiar limbs into the sky with the least amount of difficulty, as well as the highest obtainable amount of grace. Before she could take the first loping spring forward, an unceremonial thud of bones shattering and body contorting as it met hard packed ground at high velocity echoed in the wyrmling's ears.

She broke her skyward gaze and peered ruefully at the obscured corpse, watching the sack slowly darken as blood filled the fibrous threads that wove it together. A dainty snort is all the little queen managed in reply to her interrupted takeoff. The nerve. Whoever it was that couldn't keep their talons wrapped around their measly package should be flayed. Alive. Musing, she added the malicious thought to her future list of wicked things-to-do. A second sickly splat heralded the arrival of a second earth-bound casualty, this one's fall broken by the shelled back of one of her grossly sizable hatchmates. And with it, hell released its hounds for the taking. Young dragons winged into the air all around her, striving to claim a meaty parcel of their own to avoid becoming dinner for their devious teaching duo.

Patiently the sunset hued Metal-born waited, lazily surveying the chaos of frantic kills above. With little preamble, she set aside dramatic favor and took to the heavens in a clean leap. Lethal wings snapped their bladed edges open, catching the drafts with calculated care. Flight was still a newer sensation for the young Razor, having only attempted it a short distance here and there in the recent months, but a providential feeling all the same. She dipped her narrow figure, slicing the air as crisply as a fresh knife through supple skin. A packaged body fell past her in a trail of piteous cries and desperation's pleas. Briefly she watched it descend further from her gliding form, pitying the wretched creature for its deplorable weakness.

Banking the triangular wings, the copper set her deadly plan of attack into swift motion. The decreased momentum was shifted with a sudden fold of her angular pinions, pitching her forward into a half spiral. At the crest of her revolution she lashed her tail, whip crack notion sending a barrage of loosed spines careening viciously after the falling victim. A choked gurgling announced the final breaths of her chosen prey as one or many needles pierced the human's vital organs, extinguishing his life in the lazy wave of a reflective extremity. Smoothly the Razor closed her distance to the ground, landing in an easy lope of gated elegance.

“Next,” purred Guillotine sardonically while languidly taking a keen interest in perfecting the lay of her remaining tail quills, polishing and preening them into alignment to cover the negative space while fresh arsenal began to grow anew.
Posted: Nov 15 2012, 05:53 PM

Artistic Veteran

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There was murmur of the tainteds end roaming the Desolation. For one, there had been no lessons for over a month, a blessing as far as Dante was concerned. As much as learning was important, their 'teachers' were blatantly psychotic and hellbent on getting them killed. He supposed it was good preparation for real life fighting against the Sekkians... but then again there was the other reason for the buzz of imminent end. The tainted Lord had fallen. Even Dante, who had been connected only a few short months, had felt the severing. It did nothing to his anger, as if the severing of a small connection would rupture a hatred that had brewed for years prior to being tainted. But, it did leave him with a bit of an empty feeling.

Etrigan seemed to more enjoy the feeling of release. Dante suspected the dragon was quietly planning to leave the island altogether, tired of these honor-less heathens who were his brothers and sisters in arms. He even had the quaint notion that Chon and Jadra had been killed in battle, hence the lack of lessons. Every morning he woke, he felt pleased by the lack of murderous noise, calling them all to the same filthy place to do some meaningless or disgusting task.

And he was, in fact, planning a departure. Etrigan was only 21 feet in length, a mere fraction of his true growth, however he was taller than and longer than most full grown rosemaries already, and his rider was short in comparison to the others. Not to mention he was a strong and well built dragon. He was sure he could take Dante and swim off the island. His lightning powers were starting to get better, and he could surely fend of minor dangers. Or perhaps they could steal a ship and hitch a ride. Etrigan could simply fly along side the ship...

However these thoughts didn't have much a chance to brew, as one day both dragon and rider were met with a rag to the face that held a chemical that knocked them both out faster than they could blink.

Dante reawoke sometime later, frustrated that he had fallen for such a trick. And, in a sack of some sort. At least he was on the ground... Pushing around he found the sack loose, and not bound shut. He crawled out, seeing his peers were also taken in the same manner and placed before the bone mistress and her rider. He growled to himself, feeling a lack of weight on his back and side. No shield and no sword, taken during the 'capture'.

"Gan," He muttered, looking for his dragon. He didn't have to look far, as the dragon was beside him, stirring from his own chemical induced slumber. With a hefty yawn, the lightning stood, shaking his scaled hide.

"Filthy mud and dirty tricks, there better be some explaining and it better happen quick," He snarled, lip curling. Etrigans sunked red eyes focused on their teachers, a small gleam of hope sinking at the sight of them. So much for an escape plan. Their keepers were alive, and had others at their command to reel them in like fish to a net.

"Belated lesson," Dante replied simply, eyes narrowed as he inspected the others. They also seemed to be without weapons or shields. Something was going to happen. Perhaps they were going to pick them off. Etrigan snorted, frowning deeply.

"Why even bother if their Lord is dead? I'd rather be planning an escape instead."

"So long as we're here, we'll learn what they have to ... teach... us," Dante replied, hesitating on the word 'teach'. It was still more akin to throwing them in a den of starving lions and waiting to see who escapes. Etrigans tail twitched as they were told to be separated.

"Do not die, rider mine. If you do, upon your flesh I will dine."

"You're really stretching it."


"That wasn't a rhyme."

Etrigan strode off with the other wyrmlings, refusing to give a retort to his rider. He felt it unnecessary. He didn't need to rhyme all the time and if he slipped now and then so be it.

Dante rolled his eyes, a small muscle twitch by his mouth denoting a smirk. However the expression vanished near instantly, seeing that he and the other human taintlings had to follow Chon. If there was one thing he was wary of, it was being with the bone bitch herself. Especially being without his weaponry... They followed her away from the younger dragons to a seemingly random spot with piles of... junk.

“Now, you lot, we’ve got something different… more… in line with your lack of general power and strength and pretty much anything that makes you somewhat useful. You’ll notice the weapons at your feet. Your task is simple."

"Weapons?" Dante muttered. It was an assortment of garbage. Sharp garbage. But still garbage. But he could already see uses in them all.

“WELCOME TO THUNDER DOME BITCH!” shouted the dragoness as a trap of metal rose around all of them, her voice echoing outward.

So they had to fight each other. Simple enough. Dante rushed forward, grabbing a makeshift polearm. And by makeshift, he meant really make shift. It looked like the broken scimitar had been tied crudely to an old broomstick. He spun it around a few times to make sure the blade would stay connected to the stick, before spinning and lunging at an unarmed wyrmling.

Meanwhile, Etrigan walked dutifully forward among his hatchmates, curious as to what the brave bonded of the bone was planning for them. They stopped some distance away from the human tainteds, and their eyes were directed to the skies. There were a variety of adult tainted dragons flying, carrying satchels. Their instruction was simple. Use their elements to kill whatever was in the package before they struck ground...

But the satchels held children, women, men, innocents... He kneaded the muck, lip curling. A task to kill the unarmed, to take perfectly innocent beings and use them as target practice. He opened his mouth to refuse and walk away when a stray thought caught his mind. They would die, no matter what. Death upon impact would be more painful then a well aimed lightning strike, and they at this point, probably needed the release of death... The lightning could only guess what they had been put through before being stolen away and dropped from hundreds of feet within the air...

"If death I must bestow, then death will be given. These people deserve release from you horrendous heathens." He declared, rearing his thick neck.

He focused on a falling satchel, opening his maw and spitting forth a line of hot, yellow lightning. The bolt struck through the satchel, burning a hole and striking the human within it. He then darted forward, and launched into the sky to catch the sack. He landed and placed it gently on the ground, opening the burn hole to show a middle aged man, a burn hole directly between his eyes. At least it was a swift death.
Posted: Nov 16 2012, 01:46 PM

The Owl Waife

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There were worse ways to wake up, Carter decided. Not many, but there were some that were a lot worse than what was currently happening to her. It didn’t stop her from being terrified, and it didn’t stop the fact that her mind was replaying it’s own rendition of when she’d been kidnapped by Bisporus all those months ago, but at least Osteoclast was with her, even if he didn’t really care a lick about her and he seemed to be knocked senseless for the time being, hanging limply in the larger dragon’s claws. She herself, was in a cage of claw and bone as the pale colored Fire angled higher into the sky. There was blood on these claws, old and new. She wondered if it was hers, or Osteoclasts, or even Gytrash’s. She hadn’t been fully aware when she’d been grabbed. She didn’t feel injured, but adrenaline could do a lot to a person until they calmed down.

Screaming from the fear, tears streaming unbidden down her face for worry of her Cerberus and her dragon, she could only watch as her limp bonded and she were taken who knew where. Though it soon became apparent that rather than being assaulted randomly in the night for a snack, that it was their lesson master’s idea of an escort. She trembled in a mixture of fear and rage. If they wanted them to show up, the least they could do was scream like always. This…this was far too much. Gytrash was probably dead. Or bleeding and dying back in their home. She couldn’t think about what was going to happen as she was dropped alongside the other candidates after the much larger Bone had left Osteoclast in a heap near the others.

Any leftover rage she had towards her lesson master dissipated in a fresh wave of fear as the heavy clang of metal resounded around them and their mad Bone instructor raced around the cage shouting something about thunder and domes and how there could only be one left. She shuddered. Just one of them? They would be fighting to the death? No…they’d be fighting each other, and any maiming or wounding that they did to each other was on their own terms. She stared with round eyes at each of the other humans that stood around her, eyeing their own competition. Many of them looked as if they would very easily run her through with whatever odd assortment of weapons that were doled out to them. She certainly didn’t see any swords, spears, or maces, but rather mutant combinations of the three or other oddities. It would hardly be a clean kill…

A sudden touch to her mind, foreign but not caused her to jerk upright, recoiling away from it. Her mind settled as she realized it was simply Osteoclast, who was now awake and standing in the milling crowd of Tainted Wyrmlings, his stark white and dusky brown form obvious amongst the other colors. ’You will be of no use terrified.’ his whispering voice in her mind said. ’Even less if you are dead. Pay attention.’ She sent back a small, uncertain affirmative, but she knew at the very least, that Osteoclast was keeping an eye on her. Or as best of an eye as he could from so far away and past an array of large, imposing iron bars.

There was a sudden surge of humanity as all of the Taintlings rushed in for weapons. Carter dove in after them, not wanting to be left without a means to defend herself. All seemed to have grabbed the more worthy weapons, no matter how gruesomely put together they seemed to be. Eyes frantically seeking something she could heft, let alone use, she came across several broken spires of what appeared to be….er…someone’s horn. She blinked at them and gulped, snagging two of them, their ends having been sharpened to a point for whoever decided it was a good idea to use them.

It wasn’t so different, Carter decided, from the bone spires that Osteoclast crafted for her to use from time to time. Aside from the fact that the width of these were as wide as her fist and didn’t fit her grip comfortably, and that they were different lengths all together. If she could use them as crude daggers, then at least she would have some means to defend herself. Or at least as well as she had been taught by Osteoclast when he felt it was a good day to sit her down and teach her one or two things. Since she had attained her knives, Osteoclast had her holding them at all times, becoming used to holding them comfortably and knowing them as she moved, being aware of them. Her knives were familiar. These were completely different.

Nonetheless, there was hardly time to be picky as she skittered back away from the crowds of the wyrmlings who were all now staring each other down.

She gulped as she came face to face with a dark haired boy, the rider of the Sonic dragon if she remembered rightly. His weapon was a bit more impressive than hers, if not just as poorly thought out. He surveyed her grimly for a moment before heaving a sigh and hefting the weapon on his shoulder. “Do you even know how to use those?” he asked her, one brow quirking. Her eyes narrowed and she gripped the sharpened horns as she would her own knives. “Yes.” His incredulous expression turned into a half smirk, though there was nothing demeaning or arrogant in it. “Alright then. See if you can hit me.” He waved her forwards. He glanced once at his own weapon and with a puff of another sigh tossed it into the mud. “You’re going to fight me unarmed?” she asked, suddenly thrown off. “No.” he said with a shake of his head. “I think fighting you would be terribly unfair. What with size difference, weapon reach, and the fact that I could probably kill you in under three minutes if I really wanted to. We’re going to spar. Just don’t poke too many holes in me.” He bargained.

Carter heaved a shaky breath in and out. It looked like she’d gotten lucky. This boy didn’t want to maim her or beat her senseless. He was just as uninterested in losing life and limb as she was. “Alright.” She said with a small nod. The man eased into a stance and she shot forwards. If anything, it would help her improve, and she wouldn’t have to worry about going back to Osteoclast in pieces. Not that she thought he would really care if she did…


Well he had to hand it to his teachers. He certainly was a hard dragon to get to show his temper, but they’d taken the cake on this one. Osteoclast tended to be a light sleeper by nature, it came along with his wary and watchful aspects. When he’d started to catch the sound of movement beyond their little den of shadows, he’d awakened immediately. Gytrash as well, had lifted all three heads, and all six pairs of ears. Three sets of pearly white fangs bared in a silent growl that had rattled his sides had tipped off Osteoclast that it wasn’t simply something skirting past where they were. Something wicked their way came…

He put up a pretty good fight too, though he knew that it was hopeless enough. The Bone that was sent after them was once a Fire, and quite massive in comparison to the younger of its breed that faced it down fearlessly. A fifth the Bone Fire’s size barely reaching twenty feet and five feet at his shoulders, he’d managed to put three quills into its eye socket and score a line down its shoulder before it’d knocked him senseless and seized him. Gytrash he could hear still putting up a fight before as abruptly as Osteoclast had been taken down, he went silent. Carter as well, he could hear. Shrieking, sobbing, calling for both Gytrash and for him. It amazed him that it wasn’t embarrassing or irritating, but rather distressing for him to hear her screaming in terror. Apparently his charge had wormed more thoroughly under his guard than he’d initially believed.

It was easy enough however, to convince himself that the only reason he hated to hear her screaming in the Bone’s claws was because it endangered her life. Something that only he had the right to do, not this other Taint. It was a strange sort of possessiveness that it seemed all Taints were prone to.

When he was dropped into the dirt alongside his classmates, his irritation only grew alongside the pounding ache of his body from where the Bone had struck him. So this wasn’t merely the Tainted scrounging for food or easy pickings, this was their Lesson master’s idea of fun and an introduction to their latest study. As his Bone jailor walked away, Carter in tow towards the other humans that were being dropped, he felt a small bit of smugness that he had destroyed one of its eyes and managed to at least put a dent in the dog of their Lesson masters.

Carter he could see by her shock of blonde hair, huddling deep in the cage that had suddenly clattered up around the humans. He could equate her mentality at this present moment to something like a terrified rabbit. It would do her no good to be this way if she had to face the horrors of the lesson. Even worse if she had to face them alone. With an internal sigh, his stoic expressions revealing nothing to his peers, he reached out to Carter and brushed a calm thread into her emotions. She eased just a slight bit at his touch. He sent over a thought, ’You will be of no use terrified. Even less if you are dead. Pay attention.’ It wasn’t exactly reassuring, but it was as close to comforting as Osteoclast was going to give. He couldn’t waste all his efforts on her.

He had his own portion of a lesson to attend to, after all.

Killing with his own element. Easy. Amusingly so. Unlike Carter he had very few reservations in regards to the acts of cold-blooded murder. At the smug atmosphere around him, he knew that many of his peers felt the very same. There were a few eyes shifting to where their own bonded resided, wondering if they ought to keep an eye out for them as they fought each other to the point of maiming, but worries were slight, and nearly everyone turned away as burlap bundled humans began to rain from the sky from the aerial force above them.

Osteoclast loosened a few choice muscles near the tip of his tail, muscles he’d grown accustomed to learning and to contract and expand as he experimented more and more with his own marksmanship and element. The spines that coated the end of his tail were razor sharp upon the end, and much more damaging than what simple feathers would be crafted of. Reinforced by calcium that came from the Bone’s own elemental prowess, they were like well aimed needles that penetrated deeply into whatever vital organs that were in the way. It would be somewhat difficult this time, to hit a moving target, as well as to guess just where to aim as he had no thoughts on which end was head or legs. Oh well… He smirked just slightly.

Planting his feet and angling himself so his tail was held just a bit off the ground, as if ready to sweep something’s legs out from under it, he took aim at a bag that had just been dropped from a Lightning. One quick swipe of his tail and a barrage of eight tawny needles soared upwards to pierce whatever part of the poor soul in the sack they hit. When the bag hit the ground, its stained surface was already crimson with blood, and whatever was inside didn’t move. Osteoclast gave it a cursory glance before curiosity got the better of him. With one sharp talon, he split the bag and inspected the corpse. Two needles in the ribs. One in the thigh. Another in the arm. One had pierced the neck, most likely the killing blow. The other three had caught in the burlap where no parts of the body resided, or missed completely, rendering themselves useless. But he had managed to do what was required and kill his target.

Eyes drifted away from his kill and back towards the other falling bodies. The Bulkhead child had not stopped at simply one victim. He twitched his tail experimentally and glanced at the results of his last kill. Well…He did need to practice his aim…With a low, throaty chuckle, Osteoclast picked out another target.
Posted: Nov 22 2012, 10:29 PM

Lurker Queen
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The passing of the Tainted Lord into seclusion behind enemy lines and the broken grip over his Legion was nothing more than a passing itch to the Mycotic pair, who barely noticed the absence of their venerable Lord’s darkness in their hearts, so full of their own they were. Myxoma felt the break more than Xareya had, but even for him, it was more of a moment of forgetting if he left something burning or not before they left their small hovel. They would have gone to their lessons without a fight if there had been a call as always, to see if there was another opportunity to hone their skills of ending life, but as it was, what remained of the Legion must have thought them deserters, for they were hunted like rats, poisoned and thrown into sacks like so much garbage.

Even Myxoma felt the seething anger in his bonded’s gaze when she dug herself out of her own sack to glare up at their teachers, her heterochromatic eyes burning with hatred. As if they hadn’t done their utmost to please those two degenerate fools. Granted, they’d enjoyed it more than most, but they had done everything they’d been bidden without question. It had been fun, up until now.

“Now see here you brute!” Myxoma bristled, all of his fins standing out like the fur of an angry cat as he rolled out of his bag. He spat at the adult Bulkhead who, along with his rider, had captured him and his rider. “We’d have come for the asking. You will pay for this one day, so help me I’ll--,”

“Myxoma,” Xareya didn’t exclaim his name, but her voice was like a whipcrack that sliced his tirade in two. He didn’t even realize he was mouthing off to a dragon easily twenty times his size that could flick him like a flea across the Murks and not even notice it did anything. “Don’t bother.”

The bristling Mycotic harrumphed and smoothed his many frills and feathers back to their original positions. “So be it,” he growled and turned gracefully on his heels back to his rider just as Jadra began to speak and split up the groups of humans and dragons. Had they been more recently bonded, Myxoma might have worried about the hands his rider was in, but after being with Xareya for five months, it was clear she could take care of herself, and then some. He didn’t worry for an instant that Chondrocyte could do the frail looking young woman any harm. Besides, now that her anger was abated, Xareya didn’t feel worried in the least, so the Mycotic Rosemary flounced off with the other wyrmlings to see what task Jadra had in store for them.

Once the Bone rider started to explain what they were to do, however, Myxoma grew unsettled. How the hell was he supposed to kill something before it hit the ground? His breed wasn’t imbued with fire or lightning or any of those wonderful things that some of his other classmates were. It would take a miracle for his spores to suffocate his prey before it hit the ground. Well, he was going to have to think outside the box a little on this one it seemed. But he couldn’t miss. Before anyone even had a chance to take off, a sickening splat alerted them to the contest at hand. “Bullock’s,” Myxoma growled under his breath and spread his spore-laden wings. With a leap, he was in the air, his small body rocketing toward a falling satchel.

He didn’t have time to gauge size of the object. What he got he got. At least he had a very small ability he might be able to use that would work much faster. Small claws reached for the sack as it fell, tearing into the burlap as though he were viciously unwrapping a gift. “Oh hello,” his voice rang wickedly as he revealed the squealing child within. “Xar will be pleased with me for killing you,” he cackled, feeling the rush of liquid to the glands in his jaws. Frills spread and rattling with fervor, he spat a stream of acidic goo onto the small child. It screamed as the acid burned through its flesh, its terrible descent slowed only by Myxoma’s thin wings spread to slow the fall.

The screams stopped only a split second before the sack impacted the ground, throwing the small Mycotic off of his grip. Flitting away and landing roughly, Myxoma sneered happily. “That was close.”

Xareya, meanwhile, with the Bone dragon, had chosen her weapon. Unconventional as it was, the rusted surgical saw she held in her hand was already coated in a layer of blood. Over her face was marked the trophy of her first kill. Four long, blood-red streaks on her pale skin stuck out as a warning to anyone that wished to try their skills against hers. What she wanted to be perfectly clear before one of these other miscreants tried her patience was that she would not hesitate for a moment to kill them. Any of them. There could only be one left standing in a fight with the Mycotic rider, and that was fact.

Another wyrmling did seem bold enough to try her it seemed. A beefy male rider, whose dragon she didn’t remember and didn’t care. She was more focused on the giant bludgeoning hammer he wielded in his hands, a severe look in his eyes. Apparently, she was the only one ready to take a life, but she was the only one of them ready for any potential situation. He swung and she slipped out of the way, the breeze of the weapon’s passing yanking at her hair. Xareya dropped to the muddy ground, her rusted weapon barely gleaming in the dim light of the Murks as she slid behind him, slicing easily through the tendons that connected his feet to his legs. He went down with a howl of intense pain and Xareya moved to straddle his back, her knees digging painfully into his arms as he was forced prone.

Grabbing a fistful of his hair, she yanked his head back and growled into his ear, “You really think your dragon will let you live if you can’t walk?” She asked. “I’ll save it the trouble.” Without allowing her opponent the chance to stand, the ruthless wyrmling rider reached forward and sliced her serrated blade through the soft, yielding flesh of his throat and crimson ran over the ground beneath him. Two down, if another dared, she wouldn’t stop. Myxoma would have to tolerate the blood all over her clothes. She could blame her victims.
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crept in uninvited skin made by esmé (everything and more.) of red carpet & rebellion, caution to the wind and spotlight.

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