#fegult

[incalyscent-fr]

what is this???  a lore????

@fr-blackiebelle @fr-tangelojack @carnifex-rising (cause you asked what i did.  this is the beginning oops) @korozo-fr

Of all the ways Atlas thought his life would progress, following a beast across the Boneyard with a god at his side was not one of them.  But, here time has lead him, clutching a leatherbound book in his claws and hoping to whatever he was allowed to pray to that the Lightweaver’s army would get lost in the carcasses, and the silent Mirror before them isn’t leading them to their deaths.

Why do we trust him, Atlas says to Arepo, who just smiles.

I have a good feeling, that’s all.

Atlas’ ears pick up every sound around them, heightened by fear.  The vultures feeding on carrion.  The shrieking of feral Mirrors.  Slenuma’s quiet footfalls.  The clank and clang of the army trudging behind them, far enough away they can’t see them, but close enough to hear.

Where are you taking us?  Slenuma doesn’t answer.  When will we get there?

Soon.  The Mirror’s voice is less than a croak, just a suggestion on the wind.  For some reason, that just scares Atlas more.

Atlas has never been to Plague before.  Even his refuge in Shadow was short lived.  He’s lived his whole life in Light.  He’s been nothing but faithful.  Why, after all this time serving his Lady, had he turned to readily on his breed?  It’s not his fault, the way he was born.

This?  This was his fault.  A act of rage and heartache.  He looks at the book in his hands and nearly drops it to the parched earth, so that the army can find it and pick it up and he’ll never see it again.  But what does that mean for dragonkind?  It would be selfish now, for him to abandon the book.  The warplans inside speak of genocide, and Atlas will not be responsible for it.

They’ve been walking for ages, it feels like.  Atlas can feel the hard ground all the way up to his knees, but Arepo seems unfazed, and Slenuma hasn’t changed the beat of his step.  But now, the Wyrmwound rises up from the horizon, sickly white, the smell of death closing around Atlas’ windpipe.

No, he says.  Slenuma stops, and looks at him with crimson eyes.  Arepo looks uncertain as well.  But Slenuma just stands, calm to the point of unnerving, unmoving, silent.  No one moves, and the sound of chainmail and warcries echoes across the unforgiving flatness of the Wastes.  Though Slenuma doesn’t speak, it becomes clear what he means; Atlas can either follow him, or perish at the hands of the Lightweaver.

Atlas steps forward first, his legs shaking, and as soon as he does Slenuma turns and trots ahead, like a hound dog on the scent of an injured kill.  Arepo stays very close to Atlas’ side, his face stoic and his footfalls controlled and quiet.

The closer they get to the Wyrmwound, the more at peace Atlas becomes with his death.  He was going to die at the hands of a silent Mirror on the edges of the Wyrmwound, far away from home, or he was going to die by the hands of the Lady he loves so dearly.  Arepo, while not talkative, has gone mute as stone, and Atlas has to try not to cry.  He did all this because he wanted to live.

But as they get closer, Atlas realizes that they’re not going towards a path.  The fear melts away.  And then he hears the noise.

He must have been too scared to notice it before, because the shrieking is something pulled out of a nightmare.  Hellish howling fills the air, crazed cackling and screams of rage.  It’s so overwhelming Atlas cowers, folding his wings in tight, lowering himself to the ground in terror.

Oh, Eleven, no, he gasps, but the sun in glinting off the breastplates now, the light shielding the soldiers from sight.  But Arepo puts both hands behind Atlas’ wing and pushes, says nothing, eyes wide enough to show the whites.  Slenuma sits, waits, that insufferable calm, and Atlas refuses to budge.  He can see the Mouth of Hellreek, its glittering white teeth, smelling of death, sounding like a torture pit.

This is our only salvation, Arepo says, please.  They won’t follow us here.

The Guardian, Ruzo (he knows the name, because Light told stories of these animals, these fiends, to ensure order and obedience, and not once until now has Atlas broken the rules) is dozing, cracks an eye and stares down at Atlas as he passes by behind Slenuma.  He doesn’t even glance at Arepo, but lifts and turns his head to watch Atlas and it shakes him all the way down to his bones.

Inside, it’s so dark, and the smell is so harsh Atlas vomits on the floor.  During his retching he loses Slenuma entirely, the dark Mirror blending in with the red rock.  The sound is deafening, the howling making his ears ring, the shrieks drilling right into his skull.  When Atlas gathers his wits enough to take in his surroundings, his blood runs cold.  There are Mirrors, hundreds of them, all staring.  But there’s one that commands his attention, her face covered, her eyes the colour of sick blood, hellish pits of almost black.

When she approaches, he throws himself at her feet.

What have you done, she says, and it’s a low snarl that he feels more than hears.  He chokes.

I’ve either saved or damned us all.

-

They wait.  The days pass.  The most they hear of the army is the clink of armour and fearful wingbeats.  It is on the third day that Ruzo tells them the army has gone.  And it is the third day that Atlas tells Akeelah of his story.  That he served as the Lightweaver’s bodyguard, how he loved her more than love itself and then she scorned him, told him he was a mistake.  How he stole her warplans in a minor scuffle and then stole away to Shadow, where he was tracked.  How he met Arepo on the way there and Slenuma on the way out.  How scared he is, clutching the book, looking into the eyes of a beast whom he has only heard horror stories about.

Okay, says Akeelah.  Okay.  Stay.

It’s three days after that that Ruzo tells Akeelah there’s something on the horizon.  A twisting mass of light.  He doesn’t have to tell her that it’s the Lightweaver, scorned.  Her bellows can be heard across the Wasteland, over the voices of her own family.

Oh, please, please can be heard over the rest, Atlas clutching the book, mumbling something that would have been a prayer not even a moon ago.  He’s vibrating, the magic stuck to his wings pulsing with Her light.  Akeelah would pray if she had any love for her Mother.  Her lair is all she cares about, but she doubts she can fight off a goddess herself.  She’s about to try, when a soft hand touches her shoulder and doesn’t crumble away.  She turns to see Fegult, his round face determined.

Let me try? he says, like she’d deny him.

Of course.

And Fegult teeters to the Mouth, ducks through the gaps in the teeth.  Akeelah watches but does not follow.  She filters out Atlas’ wailing and the cries of her children, and sits just in the darkness, close enough to spring out but far enough away to stay hidden.  He watches her beloved perch on his haunches just outside the Mouth, his face turned skyward, with no tension in him.

When the Lightweaver comes, it is like all the light in the world has collected itself in one spot.  The lair, dark and deep for centuries, is lit up, every cavern swallowed whole by light.  Akeelah has to hide her eyes, a hiss escaping her.  The rest of the lair explodes in a cacophony of noise, scrambling claws and yelps.  The Lightweaver doesn’t speak a language that Akeelah knows, so old it would have turned to dust in her mouth had she tried to speak it.  But the ringing, it gets louder, and then suddenly She is gone.  The darkness she leaves behind is all encompassing, and Akeelah fears for one irrational second that she has gone blind.

Fegult comes back, dazed, his pupils blown wide, glimmering with light.

What did you do? Akeelah asks, and Fegult looks at her like he’s seeing her for the first time.  He shakes his head.

Nothing.  I did nothing.

-

In the pits of Hellreek, something shakes.  It’s nothing like an earthquake.  It sounds like the creaking of old bones and feels like the restless shift of muscle.

What was that? Ramiro says.  Mariette levels him with a look, and it’s the first time he’s ever seen anything close to fear in her eyes.

I have no idea.

[incalyscent-fr]

warning for semi graphic death scenes???

@fr-blackiebelle @fr-tangelojack @korozo-fr @carnifex-rising

the heartbeat starts first.

Ramiro doesn’t think much of it at first.  Maybe it’s Lilith, trying to break out through the wall again.  The acid would take care of that soon enough.  It always did.  He doesn’t break his post to go check.  He was on his own, for it was midday and Mariette had taken her leave to go and sleep.  Ramiro wasn’t tired.

But it happens again, and again, methodically.  It was slow, very slow, one beat per few minutes, but after an hour or so, it was starting to make Ramiro’s heart beat faster and sweat to break out over his skin.

He’s sure it’s nothing.  Just his mind playing games.

-

Brandgul wakes from her sleep, the shakes rattling her bones, tears on her face.  She rolls in her nest, digs her claws into the fabric over her eyes, blocking out the Wasteland sun.  The eyes on her body blink rapidly, trying to flush out the images, the blood and bone, and sounds of death.

Oh my Gods, she says, oh my Gods, because she’s far too late to save anyone.

In the distance, she can hear Anguta crying.

-

We have to go!

Brandgul yells loud enough to be heard over the morning Mirrors, loud enough they turn and hiss and snap.  She shoulders them out of the way, locks onto the burning eyes of Akeelah.  Akeelah doesn’t ask for clarification.

Go get the Order! she barks at Tacenda, who is out of the lair like a shot.  As soon as the words are out of her mouth, she ground starts shaking.

Go warn the Burrick! she says to Chamois, who has to duck a piece of the roof as it crumbles.  Brandgul starts escorting dragons out, the weak and frail.  Dragons dart to and fro, the walls shaking, the air groaning with the sounds of destruction.  Akeelah herds Mirrors out of the Mouth, and through the chaos, she sees Phenris and Liena holding cloths full of hatchlings, eggs.

She also sees dragons crushed by rocks.  Unnamed Mirrors, but the plates in Crest’s body crack so loud that Akeelah can hear it over the falling rock.  Her heart lurches.  She thinks she might be sick.

She’s the last dragon out.  She won’t leave until Hestia has clambered through what remains of the ceiling.  Then, she darts out the Mouth, her clan huddled in the dry dirt, some blinking in the sun for they have no left in hundreds of years.  Gutch is covering her head with her mantle.  Afilade glowers against the sun.

As she turns, she joins the crowd to watch the lair fall.  She can just see the shape of it, outlined against the sun, wither and die.  The rock caves in, leaving the white line of the Loop pushing through the earth, and the white struts that kept the inside up.  When the rock is gone, Akeelah has to squint.  Her eyesight isn’t what it used to be.

Holy shit, says one of her clanmates, far in the back.  It sounds like Xarouqu.

In the place of what was once the Hellreek lair sits a skeleton so big the pelvis of it rivals the low struts of the Wyrmwound, the ribs blinding white obelisks drilling into the reddish soil.  The skull, massive, ugly, full of horns, the teeth garish yellow, the eye sockets, bottomless.  But even without skin, Akeelah recognizes Her.  She says nothing.

What do we do now? It’s Zeelie, Pechu perched on her shoulder.  Akeelah says nothing.

Mother?

When Akeelah looks back, the eyes of the skull are glowing red, and the ground starts to tremble.  She can hear the cries of her clan behind her but Akeelah’s eyes are glued to the thing before her.  Two arms burst forth from the ground, showering her in dirt.  Their claws plunge into the ground, knuckles straining, before Her skull raises.  She looks out across the Boneyard, towards Light.  Her wings come up, swirling in ropy magic, creating skin and membrane, covering her beating heart, her back, her legs.  As soon as She has skin back the smell in rotting meat, vile, wasted food.  She hauls her legs from the ground, and part of the Wrywound comes crashing down, and the acid comes rushing.

The clan scatters shrieking.  Some take to the sky, others further out to avoid the rush of killer green.  Akeelah flies, though she hasn’t in years and years, her wings remember.  The Plaguebringer is moving now, heavy, rickety, labored steps.

Akeelah looks down just in time to see Fegult disappear under one of her feet, unable to get in the air, wings stiff.

No! she screams, despite herself.  And the Mother lifts her head, and looks her in the eye.

Akeelah tucks her wings in a tries to dive to her feet, but there are too many dragons weaving in frantics.  So she climbs again, now so close to the Plaguebringer she knows it could kill her.

She rears her head back and spits in the Mother’s eye.

Yowling, the Plaguebringer stumbles.  Fanaa is there, grabbing at Akeelah’s shoulders, pushing, shoving.

Mama!  We have to go!

But Fegult, Fegult-

I know, Mama, there’s nothing we can do.  We have to go.

Akeelah takes a look at the ground, so far away.  She thinks she sees a speck of gold, cold, unmoving.  She can’t quell the pressure in her chest.  Her tears hurt her skin as they hit her face.

When she flies away, there’s something in her that feels like it’s being stretched tight, twisting, fraying.  She wonders, briefly, how far she’ll have to go before it breaks.

-

The Plaguebringer’s foot burns.  She scoops up the tiny body from where it was crushed, his bones limp, eyes wide and dull and forgetting.  Red eyes, Light magic, Ice body.  She turns him over with a claw.  Pokes at him like he’s a ragdoll.  She hadn’t meant to kill him.

So She fills him up with magic again, keeps Her hand on him until he splutters breath.  She sets him back on the ground while he’s still getting his bearings, and watches the armies come in from the East.

[incalyscent-fr]

i rewrote fegult’s too

[incalyscent-fr]

i tried to make akeelah's family tree and i. uh

[incalyscent-fr]

Codex Entry: Hellreek and tied factions.

@fr-blackiebelle @fr-tangelojack

The Hellreek – Akeelah to Splicer

A massive, Ancient Lair of the Wasteland, Hellreek has been around more thousands of years.  The lair only has three entrances, one peeking out at ground level in the Rotrock Rim, one though the membranes in the ceiling in the main hall, and another from the Burrick via tunnel.

Hellreek is often compared to a hungry beast by passers by.  The mouth is a gaping cavern lined with the Rotrock Rim’s white teeth, and its insides are a series of twisting tunnels and caverns that are easy for visitors to get lost in.  The very belly of Hellreek is right underneath the Wyrmwound, and the further in you go, the more hellish the dragons look.

Hellreek is often mistaken for folklore, for its mightiest battles are hundreds of years in the past, and the dragons that it houses are common legends in the Boneyard.

 Akeelah to Mariette – The Blood Court

              Dragons of the Blood Court are of high status, either Akeelah and Fegult’s direct children or those born to the leaders of allied clans (with the exception of Ruzo, who protects them all and must be within earshot at all times).  The name Blood Court was, funnily enough, coined by the bastard daughter of the Virulent, Rusvai, under the assumption that all within it would be killed if blows came to pass between clans.  This is not the case, of course, as those in the Blood Court affectionately refer to each other as ‘Team Chosen Family’, and all dwell in dens connected by a larger room near the front of the lair.

              The term ‘Court’ is used deceivingly, for while these dragons command more respect, they have no word over laws, nor do they have any special status.  The clan is run only by Akeelah, with Fegult as her advisor.

 Hestia to Phanuel – The Schools

              These dragons are the revered trainers of Hellreek. Every dragon who has come to train has done so under the burning eyes of one of these dragons.  Anything from war to healing can be taught here, though those looking for something a little more under the radar may choose to study elsewhere.

 Dalliance to Pietra – The Intel Unit

              Some of Hellreek’s most beautiful dragons put their good looks to use in a formidable intelligence unit.  There are rumours that Hellreek has eyes everywhere, and these are them. Dalliance is currently attempting to restart her brothel in the hopes that she can attract more gullible drakes, as well as more members to the group.

 Morchella to Razor – Patrol

              Hellreek has little need for a border patrol these days – the lair is mostly underground and only has three entrances despite its size, but these dragons have been with the clan far so long that it is ingrained in them to walk.  Morchella is the only night patrol, born into the Shadow of the Vogelzang, but she is plenty scary enough to keep unwanted visitors a good while away.

              Yune and Grovish patrol at all times, and Phenris does well enough on his own during the daytimes.

 Xibalba to Demesne – The Hellreek

              Hellreek is home to many, many dragons as various skillsets and beliefs, and while every dragon has its place, they tend to mingle within the winding halls without much segregation.

 Mephistopheles to Abraxas – Dajoji’s Bane

              All children who, according to their father, shouldn’t exist.  Each of them have bested them in their own way.  Mephistopheles was the one to drag him to the depths of the lair into lair arrest. Now these five form a fierce raiding party, or sometimes free slaves on the Road.

 Ezio to Evie – The Assassin Brotherhood

              A formidable force specializing in stealth and poisons.  Mentor Ezio may be one of the finest assassins Sorineth has ever seen.  Dragons come from far and wide to employ these dragon’s talents, looking for anything from a silent blade to a potent poison.  The Brotherhood takes these contracts willingly, but also has a quieter, less profitable motivation stirred by Ezio’s rough past.

              Corrupt leaders of penniless clans beware, for it is sure that your name is scribbled in blood on the parchment on each breast of the Brotherhood.

 Iapteus to Kronos – The Runesteel Shadehunters

              A relatively new faction, these dragons where allowed entrance to Hellreek on the accord that they would hunt Shade.  After a Shade outbreak that left Hellreek splintered and mourning their losses, Akeelah vowed not to let such an affair ever happen in her walls ever again.  Iapteus was but a Shade researcher until the induction of his mate, Clymene, and now the pair train new recruits for the Shade-hunting army, as well as train each of their children in the art of Shade-repelling runes.

 Fenharel to Splicer – Lair Arrest

              Convicted of crimes too vile to be unleashed upon the world, these dragons have been corralled into the deepest gut of Hellreek’s lair, right underneath the Wyrmwound where the ceiling is thin and the acid drips down.  Killing these dragons would be a waste, and downright merciful.  They are kept as howling beasts with only Marriette tending to them.  There have been breakouts in the past.

 The Wanderers – Azrael and Slenuma

              While Azrael was born in Hellreek’s walls, it would be a stretch to call her a member.  She travels Sorneth reaping souls of the dead, and while she often returns for rest she never stays for long.  Slenuma was sent to Hellreek for being unnerving, but the time he spends in the lair is minimal, and Hellreek is content to let him wander the Rotrock Rim for as long as he sees fit.

 The Road – Caroline to Shutu

The Road was once a popular slave trade route through the Scarred Wasteland and running to all of the surrounding flights.  Travelling it was treacherous, with roving Mirror swarms looking to make treasure by capturing unsuspecting victims.

A bloody battle was fought against the two most aggressive slaver clans, and since their eradication the Road has been transformed into a freedom call for any escaped slaves.  It is now common knowledge that the Road is a safe place to go, with many fierce warriors that will escort them to safety.

The Road isn’t to much a paved path as it is a slightly more trodden, winding piece of the Boneyard.  Many dragons pass over it without even knowing.

 Caroline and Caleem – The Tipping Point

              Caroline and Caleem were part of a massive overthrow of another influential Plague clan, and now wander the Road.  They sometimes help Furiosa and Max, and surprisingly the four have formed an odd bond.  The two sometimes stop in Hellreek for rest and supplies, but otherwise do not interact much with the clan.

 Furiosa and Max – The Road Warriors

Since the Road’s liberation, the duo Max and Furiosa have been using it to transport escaped slaves to freedom. They have struck up a partnership with the Vogelzang's ferry service so that even further flights can be accessed. Tacenda and his group of vigilantes’ often help with liberation and transport.

 Ipilya and Shutu – The Beastclan Sympathizers

              While their goal is similar to the others on the Road, this pair only goes out of their way to free imprisoned Beastclan. Other dragons are left to the devices of Max and Furiosa, and sometimes the two pairs clash if a dragon is enslaved to a group of Beastclan.

 The Burrick – Basso to Zara

The Burrick is a seedy bar and inn parked squarely in the middle of the Boneyard.  It isn’t usually found unless it is being looked for, and those who stumble upon it looking for a place to stay are in for a surprise.

The Burrick is a short and squat wooden building that is very clearly beginning to rot.  There is a tall, crooked clocktower behind it, and it has a soundproof basement in which rowdy betting fights are held.  The bar is stocked with swill, and the mattresses are thin, but that’s not usually why most are there in the first place.

 Basso to Rashiel – The Thieves Guild

              Basso owns the Burrick.  It was designed after the one he left behind in wind, complete with rundown clocktower to house the master thief, Garrett.  He can get you anything if you ask for it, with connections all across the world and a set of talented thieves at his disposal.

 Resheph to Altschmerz – The Mercenaries

              A brave group of sellswords lead by one of Akeelah’s blood, these dragons can be counted on to clear out whatever issue a dragon with a full purse could ask for.  Very morally grey, this group gets tied up with other more radical movements seemingly on the daily.  Resheph dug a tunnel between his den and the Burrick for easy access.  Also includes Tenskawatawa, when she is not doing her diplomatic duties.

 Sonder and Monachopsis – The Fighting Ring

              A popular way to blow off steam, the Burrick’s fighting ring brings dragons from far and wide to earn glory and gold.  Hellreek dragons tend to dominate, but the twin powerhouses that run the pit are undefeated.  The whole thing is gaudy to the max, and set in the Burrick’s soundproof wine cellar, not that it would contribute much to the chaos of the bar itself.

 Grey and Zara – The Rogues

              Two dragons who are generally up to no good, these two are up for anything, as long as it makes them some coin.  Jacks of nefarious trades, these two will do anything from fight to steal to fight in the ring, if it’ll put something shiny in their pockets. Grey can’t die, and Zara is going to in just a few more years, so they make a brave and reckless team.  Stereotypical rogues, these two will even charm their way into some information for a price.  Nothing is off the table.