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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.

THE CURRENT SEASON IS:
Fall

The Sekkain Hatching has drawn to close with twenty-six surviving dragonets. While the healthy little ones grow stronger every day, the ominous circumstances of their birth has fostered a worrisome, grim atmosphere deep within the heart of the Academy. No one within the alabaster walls seems to know what caused the massacre of eggs, but far across the continent, things seem to be stirring.
Now that darker forces are skillfully knitting their designs over the tainted populace once more, things grow strange for both stirring factions. Questions must be asked. And they will be answered.
Give them voice here.

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Sekkian Lesson! #8/9 Flight Formations and Battle Strategies
Tainted Lesson! #8 Graduation
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 The Bowels of Hell, For Sen!
SemperMemor
Posted: Sep 20 2011, 06:27 PM


The Majestic Space Duck
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Aching talons, worn raw to the quick and smeared with crusted, oxidized blood clicked slowly in the darkness of the cavern. Her body shook with the cold. It was almost impossible to escape it. The uneven floor was sharp and held no warmth, rather absorbing what little precious heat she managed to preserve. Her extremities screamed for the warmth she could not provide. Rest was they only thing she could give it, and even then it was a disturbed sleep. The howling winds against the sheer mountainside were relentless; they whipped across the scragged opened, never quite offering a blessed moment of silence. She could at least be thankful of the relative safety that the location offered.

Iridae gave a weary moan as her legs gave out from beneath her in the makeshift nest. She sank to the icy gravel, curling into a ball of shivering limbs and half-reformed wings. Her feathers were slowly beginning to return, but at a painful cost. The stubs stung if aggravated, although, truth be told, almost everything did that. Standing, stretching, repositioning, anything, and she tinged with pain. The lack of food, too, did not help. The Fang mountains were barren and, save for the occasional rat or bat in the back of the cave, lifeless as well. In time, she would heal physically, but that was not the most pressing matter on her ragged mind. Far removed from the comfort of the Infirmary, the word was a horrible place. She had known this fact well the first time she stepped foot into battle, but being here, alone, destitute and abandoned, it only made the reality of it all strike home. Hao's heat was growing weaker by the day in more ways than one. She couldn't quite blame him; with the recuse the other females might have found, and her absence from the returning march, he had been crushed. She could very well feel it, the sickening feeling in every fiber of her being, the feeling of hopelessness. It was not as if she didn't try to find help. She had for a long time, but her weak, defenseless physique and wavering resolve barred her from a true search party. She could not fly, she could not run, and she could barely hunt.

The Influenza's wicked regime had done worst damage to her mind, much more so than she would have cared to admit. Her sense of self and security stolen from her screaming body, she had no choice but to hide and wait for some semblance of herself to return. The emotional wounds were, in some ways, far more gruesome than her physical wounds. Her voice...the Ruin's voice..., mimicking him. Iridae hesitated to close her eyes for fear of seeing the wicked headdress and countless reminders of her mate's ravaged body. But with the over-looming exhaustion, she was forced to surrender to plagued unconsciousness. The Rosemary knew better than most the importance of rest and recuperation, but it was a fact she wanted to outright ignore. It didn't work most of the time. However, she wouldn't succumb without a fight. With a ragged whine, she tucked her head beneath her misshapen right wing and prayed for void dreams.
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Senaru
Posted: Sep 20 2011, 08:09 PM


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Sometime after the laying of tainted children...

He'd been chained, held in a disgraceful position, one that exposed with no relief his whole underside, his tail locked in some unnatural position. He'd been plucked bare, cut upon, mocked, jeered at, experimented on, and starved. He'd had his scales pulled here and there, his blood drawn...Even his scent glands were pried at, all for some sick ruse the Influenza had played upon his beloved. He had to admit, if he were Iri, he'd have believed himself dead from all the evidence. The corpse of another rosemary, with his feathers carefully applied to the quills, minus its head, which she used as a toy for her own enjoyment in puppeting or wearing it as a hat, had served as the greatest evidence of his own demise. But, all in all, when the war had hit the castle where the dungeon was, they'd fled- without him, to somewhere else. He'd been left there, chained, unable to get free.

Days passed, and as they passed, the dragon starved. He had nothing with which to regrow his feathers, no watwe to quench his burning thirst. His wounds looked infected in places, and he was himself, a right mess. It was luck that had spared him in part, due to a massive group of dragons that had stopped at the castle. The grounds had shaken, and a wall had cracked- weakened by his weak bashing, the place the chain was attached had snapped, just enough for him to be able to move a few more feet, to right himself, and to sag from hunger. Not long after this, he was able to pull the rest of his limbs through the chain holds, most of them anyway. Once he had his tail free, he snatched at Con's tools, sickening things, but also useful. Prying at the last bolt in the wall, he'd gotten free. There, he'd collapsed, unable to move anymore for the hunger.

It didn't take him long to look at the corpse, half rotting but still....still edible. A brother rosemary, mutilated. Could he?....He'd have thrown up if he had anything to puke, but he'd decided. This things life was over, and there was nothing Disio could do. Perhaps in death, he could save Disio. “I'm sorry, brother with no known name...I am sorry...” and with those words, he ate. He felt sick from putrid meat but it gave him something, anything, to carry on with. With strength in him, barely, he was able to get to puddles of water from a rain, and this he lapped up greedilly. There were no survivors besides himself trapped in this hell hole. And now he had to find his way out.

It had taken days to find his way through the dark, and when he did, all he saw was hell. Everywhere, death and decay, torn bodies and rotting, putrid puddles and....he couldn't think of anything else. It was hell. And he could hardly walk, let alone fly. Some of his wounds had pus dripping from them, and he felt death lingering. But where could he go? Weighed down by the lingering chains he hadn't managed to get off, he began his journey through hell....

...Present Day....Present Time...

It had taken him a while, he was lost, going in circles, going in the wrong direction. He smelled putrid as a taint and with no visible rider, any taint who actually spotted him, had actually passed him up. Perhaps they were afraid. He had come to a mountain, and in despair, it hit him he'd gone the wrong way. He ambled on, mind in a fever, aware of the state of his wounds. He'd been able to lick some of them clean with his own healing spit and such, but he wasnt very good at it. He'd held death away with a thin shield and that was cracking.

He felt in his mind he was looking for a place to die. Delicate paws stepped through the rocks, finding a cave in the dark. This was nice, and cool, to his fever, and on he went, breath ragged, eyes half lidded. He stumbled and with a weak cry, fell, skidding to a stop. He did not get up. He had nothing left. “.....So,...” he spoke into the darkness. “I leave this world, without honor....By beloved,......I'm sorry.....” he whispered, and began to wait. The cold he knew, he felt was bad, but also felt so welcoming. It numbed the pain. Helped him to forget he'd failed.

To Her, the voice whispering in the dark sounded ghostly,...yet beneath the scent of infection or rot, that flowery scent remained....
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SemperMemor
Posted: Sep 22 2011, 06:11 PM


The Majestic Space Duck
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Dulled amber eyes stared out from hollowed sockets at the shadowed earth beneath her wings. Sleep would not come easily. Exhaustion clung to her bones, her chest, and her very mind, yet she couldn't force herself to sleep. A voice of trepidation whispered sinister remarks of paranoia and treachery that made such a feat impossible. The gnawing in the pit of her belly was not helping, either, but that couldn't be helped much in her current state of disrepair.

Claws scraped the stone near the entrance.

The words that followed the male's approach didn't register in her heightened state of mind. A violent blur of purple scales spun to it's feet and slammed into the back wall. She hissed, emaciated body arching in an aggravated posture. Ears pinned back, wisp of a crest and wing feathers sticking up like spires, she rose her neck high and released a threatening growl. The Rosemary appeared more akin to a newly mutated Bone than that of her birth. She had no idea just who the intruder was at that moment in time, or of his relationship to her, but she wasn't about to make the mistake of letting down her guard. The Rosemary had made that critical mistake once before and she'd be damned if she would allow it to happen again. In the gloom she would barely be seen. Her rib cage compressed to release a oddly loud command for her size. If the beast were an intruder, she might be able to fool them into thinking that she was larger than she really was. Hopefully.

"Who goes there?" she spat. Her voice cracked, dissolving the sudden display of defensive aggression.
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Senaru
Posted: Sep 22 2011, 06:28 PM


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Disoriented and confused, the male rosemary, looking well past his prime, could do no more than lay where he'd fallen, eyes gazing into the gloom. He wished that this suffering would end, wished to let the sleep take him eternal. But it was not to be quite as easy as that. An angry voice in the dark roared out, if one could call such a thing a roar, asking who he was. He could hardly form an answer, and he hardly cared whos side this person or dragon was on. Did it matter, in the end?.... “I am one who suffered, I am a fading echo of life that I once was,...” He replied cripticly, though his gagging and choking every few words was less than grand. “I am Sekaien, and if you be taint then I am powerless to stop you, nor do I care for my life now....Lost everything,....”

Some how, the last two words he managed without coughing phlem and slime, and rang in the air, his own voice. His mind was a place of darkness, and he figured, if he was going to die, he might as well talk to something, even if it was his own mind playing tricks on him. A gust of cold air blew in over him, into the caverns, bringing with it the scent of his dying body, as well as his real, tropical flower scent underneath, buried under putrid pus and blood and infection...
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SemperMemor
Posted: Sep 22 2011, 06:56 PM


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A thump resounded in the small cavern, the echo of the similarly emaciated dragon's ultimate collision with the floor jarring the bottom of the female's feet. She winced.The wind howled anew, bringing the rotten stench of infection and bile to the very posterior of the cave. The putridness was not new, not in a million eons would it ever be foreign, but the scent made her own bile rise in her throat. It wasn't natural. Disease and death, the odor screamed. Her training left the insatiable desire to be rid of it, to heal it and be gone with the pestilence. She flared her nostrils in minute retaliation, shutting them as best she could.

When he returned her demand Iridae nearly made to snap at him again in terrified fury. He called himself Sekkian. No Sekkian in their right mind would be here, much less so would they smell of Influenza as he did. A brief flicker of agitation ignited in her chest, casting an angered frown down the length of her narrow muzzle. How cowardice to call oneself that to ensnare her. She flared her nostrils again in a passionate fashion.

The faint underlying scent of tropical fruit hit her olfactory system like a sack of solid steel bricks. She started, body jerking spasmodically as if she had been quite literally struck across her haunches. Her heart pounded out of her chest, all too audible in her own ears. The Influenza's lingering voice cackled in her head as clear as day at the recognition of her mate's characteristic odor, sweetly mocking and viscous all at once. Horrors passed her mind's eye in twisted glory, the jeering little witch's body covered in the rotten corpse and decorated in his feathers.

Paradisio's accompanying voice put the demented terror's giggling in a strangle hold, choking her to silence. Iridae shivered, eyes wide and huge as she stared out at the collapsed figure. His voice was there, his body...arguably there. Was he a puppet? Did the witch persuade her horrible Ruin accomplice to play with her again? She knew the dragon couldn't possibly be her deceased mate, but the evidence was there, right in front of her. She shouldn't allow herself to believe it again. It would only hurt her and slice at the seeping wounds of the heart anew. Yet...she couldn't quite pull herself away from the idea of hope. Iridae's right foot took a shaking step forward, soon followed by another until she froze, sights locked dead and center on what was left of the normally vibrant Rosemary's enormous tail fan.

"...Disio?"
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Senaru
Posted: Sep 22 2011, 07:23 PM


Unregistered









Speaking so clearly, and speaking at all, had winded the fragile rosemary. He felt nothing much, but heard what could only confuse him in the gloom. He'd blacked out now and then, as he tried to focus. His memory of tortures, the jeering demon, yes his horrors and night terrors were the same as his mates. If they survived, they'd likely always have those terrors of the dungeon. A weak little croon escaped him, a pathetic sound the likes he'd never uttered. “Iri,........” the whimper rose in his panic, “...Iri?.....Am I....Me?” his body lurched as his innards betrayed him again, the bile rising in his throat to see the air again- the once elegant bird of paradise could not lift himself to be away from it as it pooled from his jaws.

His tail, which was hardly a fan anymore, looked tattered. The new growth was unhealthy, lusterless, and in some places the quills hadn't even grown fully yet. His wings looked bizarre, like poorly plucked chickens wings. A whimpering noise came from him, choked....The rosemary was crying. His twiggy, muscle-lacking limbs skittered as he tried to move and could not, the rattle of chains echoing louder than either of their voices. The dragging of these chains had probably been a terrifying sound in the dark, too. It trapped him in a far away thought, free, but captured. Sane, but lost...
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SemperMemor
Posted: Sep 22 2011, 08:29 PM


The Majestic Space Duck
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The shaken words washed over the disheveled Rosemary's body, her stomach twisting and churning with the accompanying tide. She shook where she stood, unable to do anything while the male before her spoke her name in questioning. Liquid ice filled her veins, both chilling and searing her innards with shock. She took a step back, shaking her head lightly, unable to process the incomprehensible idea that defied every scrap of logic she still clung to in this destitute existence. He had been dead. She had seen his body, his feathers, his blood! The soft croon of her name, however, shattered her grieving belief. It was too real to by any Ruin's mimicry...or if it was, it was damned good.

Disio's sudden lurch brought her back to the present. Even if it were not him, the dragon, this Sekkian, needed help...as if she didn't need it herself. She knew not if the medicinal properties would work even in her state of tragic disrepair, but being a healer, she couldn't sit and wait in thought while her mate died beneath her hands. The dragoness stiffly lowered beside him and draped a half-plucked wing over his unnaturally tepid body. It was downright pathetic to see such a vibrantly plumed being reduced to nothing more than this. His scale hues remained, yes, but they were dull and unattractive. The feathers, the most expressive and recognizable icon of their breed and of him, were mere studs and borked debaucheries that belied the honorable splendor that they once were.

However, it mattered not the physical appearance of the Rosemary. The violet medic rested her neck upon the cold floor beside his own and, with the precision like no other of their kin, gently nudged the tip of her muzzle into the softer scales below Paradisio's eyes. An Influenza was powerful and unmatched in their field, but they, even in their demonic trickery, could not replicate true sorrow. This was Disio, she ow knew. She purred a quick, staccato note to him and slowly pulled her head back as a great shudder ran the length of her spine. Her rib cage heaved as his did, but no bile came from her barren belly. She felt pinched, her body curling in upon itself as raw saline pooled in her eyes. A low sob, broken and dry in the dragoness' parched throat, escaped her parted jaws.

"You idiot," Iridae rasped. Another sob broke the fetid, frigid air of the dark cavern, tiny droplets of thick, unrestrained tears dripping onto her mangled forepaws. "This is the second time that you've died on me."
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Senaru
Posted: Sep 22 2011, 09:08 PM


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Shuddering for breath, Disio blinked his eyes in the dark and felt his mate. Was she real? He could hear her chiding well enough. “I don't feel dead,....” He said, completely seriously and mournfully... “Right?” He questioned it. Were they tainted and doomed together? The dull multitoned Disio weakly let his tail drape over her own, his shuddering a little less with her wing over him. He rested, heres blinking in the gloom still. Her nuzzle, her caress, how he'd missed it.

And almost as soon as he felt better, he felt the weight of guilt, pressing the truth out of him, strangling in his throat. It was his fault. He'd betrayed so many secrets to Con, her slow but painful and cruel tortures prying secrets from him the likes he'd never spoken. Things that Iridae had trusted him to take to his grave. He sobbed and choked, his distress evident. Whatever he was trying to say wasn't anywhere near comprehensible, but he still tried to confess. It sounded like she'd tortured him for days before the capture, while Yuurei was out hunting, getting juicy secrets out of him at all cost.

His talons dug into the stone as he shut his eyes, bowing his head away from her in his shame and broken body. How could she love him now, after what he'd done? He'd been the fuel in Con's fire, the bait, the cause of tortures. If he'd kept his mouth shut, maybe he'd be dead, and maybe Iridae's mind wouldnt have been so marred. But such was fantasy, for, if he had died, Con would have had his real body to work with and that would have scarred Iridae more permanently. He really needed to calm down, though, for he was working himself up to a point of hysterics that he hadn't the energy to maintain. “I'm..I'm so...Sorry...I'm sorry....” he'd repeat it, over and over, with words or without, half of them ending in sobs, acompanied by the slime that was dripping from his maw, snot and phlem all there...
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SemperMemor
Posted: Sep 24 2011, 09:47 PM


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Though she was hardly a picture of health herself, the violet Rosemary set to cleaning the open wounds on her mate's broken body. Her curative saliva could do many things, although it took time for something deep such as a blood infection to fully heal, if it did at all with the help of one sole healer. She could feel his fever through her tongue and lips and it did little to help quell her fears of the widespread horror of the Influenza's work. The heat was welcomed unconsciously, but it went against everything that her training had taught her. He was gravely ill, fighting infection, and a fever on top of it would only weaken the Rosemary further as the days passed on. Unnaturally high heat not only killed harmful foreign pathogens, but after so much time the it wore down at oneself, doing harm to the brain cells and other fragile membranes.

The pus, as strange though it might sound, was oddly tasteful in a twisted sense of the word. It was utterly disgusting, sure, but to a healer that was naturally inclined to be drawn to such horrible tastes, it was rather addicting. Iridae's stomach churned in the pit of her belly as the amount of wounds rose higher in number and severity. He was worse than she had thought. While he had no lethal wounds to his vital areas (of that she could tell), the sheer number of incisions, lacerations, and puncture holes to his haunches, shoulders, tail, and neck were staggeringly abrasive. Would she be able to counteract the sheer amount of damage? If wound fever didn't take him, an internal infection certainly could and would steal his life. She shuddered, the thought taking a solid stand in the forefront of her mind. Disio's continual sobbing didn't help her to banish the idea...what was she telling him? She couldn't quite make out the cracked, broken words.

"I don't care," she muttered solemnly, beginning to frantically comb over Disio's body with renewed energy. "What matters is that you're alive, here, and with me."
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Senaru
Posted: Sep 24 2011, 10:32 PM


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Disio's body was quite bad of, this of course, Iridae knew well. He was lucky that he hadn't already died. His will was iron and perhaps it alone had kept him going. He fell a bit still as she spoke to him, his rasping and grating breath calming only slightly, a rattling in each inhale and exhale. Sometimes his toes or fingers would clutch at the air for no apparent reason as he slipped into delirium. The night was long, and the day following was hard. Though the dragon did not seem to get worse, his progress was slow and his sanity seemed slightly flawed or off. He had flashes of himself, but at times he did not seem to know where he was.

At one point in the day, quite suddenly, he decided that the chains on him were trying to attack him, and he'd himself into somewhat of a child's mind, and was quite terrified. It had not lasted long, and the female had likely either calmed him, or kept him quiet. However, there was a sense in the air that they were not alone, yet no one attacked or came near. Soft whispers laced the night, though the words were hard to understand, it sounded like 'when all hope is lost and the frail weak, despair not for the fever will break' the voice was so kind and soothing, it was hard to ignore- and also hard to figure out how big or small its owner was.
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SemperMemor
Posted: Sep 25 2011, 05:47 PM


The Majestic Space Duck
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All throughout the night and following days, Iridae poured the scant remains of her energy into caring for her mate. He was, as she had thought, much...much worse that what he appeared to be. The infections were deep, well into the larger muscles and the pestilence had no doubt been able to seep into his bloodstream. It was a miracle that he was even in such a conscious state, or even alive, if one could call him either.

Over the course of the night the Rosemary became aware of just what her charge had taken to eating the in past, and the realization of it left her somewhat shocked, although somewhat understanding. The remnants of cannibalism littered the dark stone before Paradisio, small scales of, perhaps, another Rosemary within the grotesque gastric bile. The thought normally would have sickened her and given her great cause to chew him out for such a heinous crime, but out here...in the middle of nowhere in such a tragic state of disrepair, she couldn't come to fully blame him for it. The rats in the back of the cavern became fewer and fewer in number as she, too, took to what she could scrounge up for sustenance, and even then it was mediocre at best. Both of them were suffering from malnourishment, a disease that could leave permanent and irrevocable damage to them both if they persisted on eating such little food. However, it couldn't be helped. Despite the starvation clawing at her belly with knives, she couldn't leave him unattended for long, and he could not hunt at all.

A few days later, a calm vesper's soothing words filled the cave with an air of serenity. At her words, Iridae startled and stared out toward the dark night to see, yet she couldn't quite get a glimpse of the mysterious figure. It was no normal dragon, nor was it tainted. The overwhelming sense of security uplifted her chest, quelling the raging worry and anxiety to a more bearable degree. Iridae lifted her head up from Disio's side, lips pulling back in puzzlement. "Who goes there?" she queried.
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Senaru
Posted: Jan 15 2012, 04:27 PM


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The voice in the dark gave no word or name to identify herself, but hummed a little, deep in thought. After a short time, she began to speak in near poetic, song-like tones. “I am a whisper in the night, a demons only fright. I am a cure and a bane, yet unsure of name. Who or what goes hither or wither, means not, best forgot.” She hummed again, as if musing. “I am no danger to you, only to the demons.” Disio meanwhile, rasped, tail flicking limply. He didn't look well off, and the weird ooze that came from several older injuries had started up again. Even the rosemary who loved him would be puzzled by the means of it. As it was, the rosemary wasn't doing a whole lot besides rasping for breath with rattling lungs, clearly in some stage of probable dying. This alone would probably have sent his mate into a tailspin if that... Presence hadn't been out there, reassuring.

Elsewhere in the world, another sickly beast was on the move, and despite her wiry frame and outwardly viral appearance, she was far more fit than the quarry she hunted. She had seen the little ones hatch and now she was out for blood, tracking the scent of the violet one. She hungered for flesh and torture- and she'd get it at any cost to herself or others.
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