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#The Wyvern's Spur
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Forgotten Realms: The Wyvern's Spur Cover Art by Clyde Caldwell
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creative-frequency · 2 months
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Raphael x Reader: Act II: The Dinner, pt.1
Summary: Your patron Raphael invites you for a dinner with multiple ulterior motives. Part 1 of 2. Word count: 2219 Notes: Dinner date with the devil man coming right up 😘
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The lanceboard was left in disorder. The white Cyric was toppled by the board. The match between the devil and the most cunning and ambitious tiefling child in the Sword Coast had ended in the latter’s victory – spurred on by some insightful advice from Gale.
You had no idea what a Theskan Double Counter-Gambit was, but you had an inkling that Raphael had let Mol win, just to grow her appetite for triumph. Concerned, but dedicated to not interfering, you looked after Mol as she returned to her friends. You had no right to moral superiority or telling her what to do. If a deal with the devil – your devil patron – was what she thought the best move in this game of survival, then a deal she would make. Just like you had done to survive. You might only advise Mol to read the fine print carefully.
It had been surprising to meet Raphael at the Last Light Inn, though you assumed it shouldn’t have been. No doubt he had something on his mind, and the presumption caused a buildup of anxiety and something akin to a thrill in you.
Raphael seemed to sense that you felt familiarity with Mol’s situation, because he gave you a cursory glance before turning to address Astarion with a pointed finger. What the glance meant, you had no idea.
“Now, let’s talk about you. I sense there’s something you want to ask me,” Raphael mused.
Taken aback, you turned to face Astarion, whose chin lifted up sharply. Gale and Shadowheart shared your impression and traded confused looks. Out of your whole group, you had always been the closest with Astarion. Secrets and thoughts had been shared just between you two, along with multiple bottles of wine. Raphael had not shown interest in any of your companions in your previous encounters, so for him to do so now was… disconcerting.
“I do. I have a…” Astarion hesitated, obstinately avoiding your gaze, “proposal for you.”
“A proposal?” Raphael repeated, clearly intrigued and chuckled. “If you’re hoping to taste my blood, little vampling, think again. It burns hotter than Wyvern Whiskey.”
“This is serious business, devil,” Astarion interjected and proceeded to explain: “My old – well, a long time ago, someone carved some runes into my back. I’d rather like to know what they say.”
Cazador. Astarion was talking about his old master. Alarms blared in your mind.
Raphael let out a long hum and looked more complacent with each syllable.
Right then you also realised why Astarion had been casually asking about Raphael and your contract earlier. He had even said he would like to have a chat with the devil. Completely out of curiosity, of course, and just because he thought the devil rather liked your miserable little group. You should have known the vampire spawn had something else in mind.
“What do you mean? What scars?” you asked Astarion, brows furrowed with worry. He still didn’t look back at you.
Raphael’s eyes glinted with interest.
“You haven’t told them? And you’ve kept your clothes on this whole time? How unlike you,” the devil said, exultant at this revelation of secrecy.
The comment filled your insides with icy discomfort on Astarion’s behalf. You could have sworn Raphael held back the beginnings of a smirk as his gaze glinted over to you.
“That’s enough, Raphael. Can you help him?” you said pointedly. A severe heart-to-heart would be waiting for Astarion at camp, but he didn’t deserve being debased like that.
“I might. If you ask nicely, little raven,” the devil prompted and you rolled your eyes in exasperation. Raphael and his theatrics.
He took another moment to contemplate. Astarion tensed beside you. Gale and Shadowheart monitored the situation, worry etched on their faces.
Raphael finally continued: “It’s something very important to your master. But is it a love letter, a warning, or a deed of ownership? I could give you all the gory details.”
“So you know what it’s about?” you pushed.
“Of course. But, you’ll have to do something for me first.” Raphael tapped his chin in thought, then casually pointed at you – not Astarion. “Let me think about it and get back to you.”
The motion made you feel ever more severely that the line was meant specifically to you rather than your group as a whole. Your pulse sped up.
“Fine,” you replied, cutting Astarion’s attempted reply off and ushered your party to leave. “Let’s go.”
You had just found out you rather hated the idea of your patron tempting your friends into contracts or roping them into acts of service. You didn’t remember harbouring any territorial feelings before becoming a warlock.
After merely three steps, Raphael cleared his throat behind you. It was enough to make you pause since you knew it meant he was not going to let you leave just yet.
“Tav, a word, if you will,” his honeyed voice rang out.
The use of your name shot a thrill up your spine. And the tone he said it in. It was smoother than the sweetest nectar or dark chocolate melting on your tongue. It indicated the transition from business to pleasure.
You glanced at your companions and gave them a reassuring nod, barely holding yourself together. Raphael waited until you were truly alone. Other people had just been going about their businesses in the Last Light Inn, but for the moment, you only saw Astarion, Gale and Shadowheart discussing with Jaheira at the other end of the large dining area. The Harpers were avoiding the little corner Raphael had set up the lanceboard in.
You sucked in a breath full of that scent of cherries, musk and sulphur and the world around you disappeared, along with any irritation you had just felt towards the devil.
“Tell me, O apple of my eye, how have you been?” Raphael questioned, a hand to his chin. “You don’t have any gills to get green around yet, but you do look a bit worse for wear in this light.”
His brown eyes flickered across you, more gauging and analysing than they had been moments ago in the company of others. His next words were added in a carefully crafted neutral tone, but they still served to make you uneasy:
“You haven’t been summoning me in a while.”
In the cold darkness of the Shadowlands, the unsaid words had often burned in your throat and hovered just at the tip of your tongue: Dominus, inferior ad te me flecto inferni. The verbal component to the ritual spell that completed the magic of the focus item on your left ring finger. The ring’s phantom weight made you hide your hand behind you. Raphael and your previous encounters with him had been in your thoughts often. Too often.
You cleared your throat and shied away from his measuring gaze.
“I’m fine,” you said curtly.
Raphael raised a brow in disbelief.
“Was there something you wanted to discuss?” you asked.
“Yes,  though mayhap somewhere better suited. Why don’t you join me for dinner tonight, my raven, after you’ve taken care of everything here,” Raphael ventured with a nonchalant wave of his hand.
A dinner? Your heart leaped at remembering the last time you had visited the House of Hope. How the warmth had radiated off Raphael’s body and how his fingers had travelled over your – well, his – shirt. That shirt you had now tucked away beneath everything else inside your travel chest. It still smelled like him.
More importantly, you hadn’t had a proper meal in days. Daydreams of the dinner he had served you on your first meeting had also often been on your mind embarrassingly often. Not that there was anything wrong with Gale’s cooking but the options were severely limited at camp.
You barely hesitated before replying: “I’d love to, thank you.”
The corner of Raphael’s mouth tipped upwards ever so slightly.
“Until later then.”
And he was gone with the usual fiery blaze. You had a feeling he had just rushed off to prepare for whatever would be waiting for you at the dinner tonight and your stomach twisted in anticipation.
Exhausting hours later, your party settled in the safe haven of the camp for the night. With each passing minute, you grew more anxious, knowing you should summon Raphael to let him know you were ready for the dinner. But, before leaving, you had to tell someone you would be away for some time. Maybe even until the morning. The thought made your pulse grow more rapid and your stomach twist into knots that had nothing to do with hunger.
Eyeing tentatively Karlach, you cowardly approached Astarion, who was reading a book. Karlach had thrown a glorious fit about the infernal ring on your left ring finger and the ritual it was used for. (“What the fuck were you thinking, Tav?!”) The situation had evolved into one of the worst arguments among your group and you were not looking forward to another one.
Karlach wasn’t an unreasonable person, but understandably, dealing with devils made her blood boil. She had almost “smacked the shit out of you”, but you had somewhat successfully argued that, while she didn’t have to like the fact that your powers came from a devil, she would still have to make peace with it one way or another. You were not going to forsake your powers as long as the tadpole swam in your head. Astarion had been disappointed to miss the brawl that the argument had – fortunately – never evolved into.
So Karlach absolutely hated the idea that Raphael had you curled around his little finger, quite literally, and you could bear no other explanation than you had made the pact out of necessity and, for the time being, would not consider trying to worm your way out of it – no pun intended. It was somewhat of a shock to find yourself unable to discuss the details of your contract, but what you could explain was that you needed the warlock powers to survive, and you still owed some ration of allegiance to Raphael because he was your patron.
He was your patron. An excuse you had already heard yourself using a thousand times over.
In her rage, Karlach had burned through her own tent and afterwards you had not spoken outside combat in days.
So, you paused in front of the vampire spawn, wringing your hands nervously.
“Um, Astarion?” you started.
“Yes?” he replied, obviously irritated at the interruption and didn’t lift his gaze from the book in his hands. He was likely still cross with you from the earful you had given him after departing from Last Light Inn. What he had been thinking trying to make a deal with your patron behind your back, you didn’t comprehend. There would be more conversations to be had about the topic, but later.
“I’ll be away for a bit,” you said quickly, “Raphael needs me for something.”
Astarion’s head snapped up as if he couldn’t believe his pointy ears. “What?”
“I’ll be back in a few hours, I think. I’ll see you in the morning,” you explained in a tone that hopefully was carefree enough to not warrant any concern. No matter that Astarion’s vampire senses probably caught your accelerated pulse.
“Seriously?” he protested in a hiss.
You shrugged. “I need to hear what he has to say. He is still my patron.”
Shit. The words had slipped out before you could stop it.
Astarion scoffed, rolled his eyes and went back to his book. “I’ve heard that excuse before…” He flipped a page. “Make him think faster about helping me, will you?”
You stepped forward and placed a hand gently over his shoulder. “I’m sorry you didn’t... trust me enough to tell me about the scars before.” The touch hopefully conveyed more than the words.
He didn’t meet your eyes, but you saw how his gaze glazed over for just a trice. “Well. Now you know.”
“I’ll do my best. Wish me luck.”
“Hah. I’m sure you don’t need luck with Raphael.”
You paced a short distance away from camp, not daring to venture too far away into the shadows. The pitch blackness seemed to breathe around you, impatiently waiting for you to take a step further into its embrace. You had seen how the shadows had snatched a Harper when you first arrived at this cursed place.
With a short inhale you recited the words:
“Dominus, inferior ad te me flecto inferni.”
Warmth filled the air and the sudden smell of sulphur was overwhelming. The ring on your finger felt heavy, almost burning your skin. Your heart thumped uncomfortably and you could feel the blood rushing in your ears.
“Shall we, little raven?”
You spun around towards the voice. Raphael stood there in his human form, dressed more casually than expected. Instead of the elegantly embroidered doublet, he donned a simple, dark shirt. The upper buttons were left open to reveal hints of his toned chest.
You swallowed. Maybe he hadn’t wanted you to feel underdressed in your camp clothing? At least your simple shirt and pants were mostly clean tonight.
Raphael offered his hand for you to take and just as your fingers brushed his palm, you found yourself in the House of Hope.
-
Part 2
My writing masterlist
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angelicalchaoticabyss · 7 months
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Royal Margarine X reader >:]
All mine, Royal Margarine x Slightly Possessive!Reader.
You were one of the few people to see the real Royal margarine, the coward with a heart of gold. You knew the truth, but you didn’t really judge him for wanting to lie. At this point you just wished the girls wouldn’t fawn all over your boyfriend. You knew he liked the attention, revealed in it, but he seemed to be getting more and more distracted by it.
You knew he loved you a lot, you just didn’t want to be that overprotective SO who didn’t want their boyfriend getting that kind of attention at all. Though…at the same time you did, you wanted to feel like your validation alone was enough for him.
Here you were, watching another girl flirt with him, that’s it. You walked right over to him with a mission, he looked up from the other cookie.
“Hellooo my dear- mmph!” He was cut off by you.
In one swift movement you grabbed and dipped Royal margarine into a deep kiss.
“Oh, sorry, my bad.” The cookie mumbles as she walked away.
“Mmph! Mm! Mmm…”
Slowly he relaxed from the shock and wrapped his arms around you, returning the kiss. You had even startled Buttercream and the now embarrassed Wyvern covered its face with a wing. You just kept making out with Royal margarine until he signaled that he needed to breathe, that’s when you pulled back.
“Oh, oh my sweetness what spurred that on? I’m not complaining of course!” He quickly added on.
“Hmph, you keep talking to the other cookies and let them flirt with you. So, I decided to show that one girl you’re well taken.”
He was silent, then caught on. You were jealous. Once he realized that he felt so bad and knew how his actions must’ve looked to you.
“Oh, my dear I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to make you feel like that!”
Royal margarine hugged you close and snuggled you tightly, you almost couldn’t breathe from how tightly he held you. You heard apology after apology and promises to be better, you just kissed his head.
“You can be a big idiot, but you’re my idiot.”
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dragonology101 · 5 months
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A very brief overview of dragon families (excluding the class Hydroserpenes, given the scientific debate about their inclusion within Draconidae) found in North America!
Wyrms (family Pachysquamidae) are wingless, four-limbed dragons with plantigrade feet, non-overlapping scales, and external ears.
True dragons (family Draconidae) are winged, six-limbed dragons with digitigrade feet, overlapping scales, and external ears.
Wyverns (family Bipodracodidae) are winged, four-limbed bipedal dragons with digitigrade feet, overlapping scales, and external ears.
Amphipteres (family Lepidoamphitidae) are two-limbed dragons with feathered wings, no legs beyond vestigial spurs, overlapping scales, and internal ears.
Only one dragon family is not represented in North America. Dragons in the family Draceous are exclusively found in Asia, North Africa, and Eastern Europe. They're distinguished by being wingless, four-limbed dragons with digitigrade feet, overlapping scales, and external ears. They were originally grouped under the family Pachysquamidae, but were split into their own family in the 1800s. I've been lucky enough to work with some captive specimens, and I may give them their own post even though they aren't included in my guide.
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animehouse-moe · 8 months
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Ishura Volume 1: Otherworldly Action
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Yeah yeah, Ishura's first volume is pretty old at this point, I know. I've had it on my shelf for a while too, and this is about a week removed from when I finished reading it. Bit of a mess, no? Anyways, I just wanted to chat about this series. My expectations, reactions, and my overall thoughts through this experience spurred on by the interest of a friend.
Right away, the world itself is an incredibly interesting one. In spite of the inclusion of "isekai" as a concept, the world they exist in stands incredibly comfortably on its own two feet. It's established, full of life and history, and much like the power and ability of our Shura, is an opaque well of indiscernible depth.
For example, the primary form of magic is called "Word Arts", an incredibly powerful but equally finnicky system, it takes the place of traditional mana in this story. But it's deeper than that. It's not just whether you have enough mana or ability to cast a spell, it's whether or not you're close enough to it.
Whether or not you are close enough to the earth around you to command it, to the water that runs through a stream, to the air or weapons or the very people around you. It's a magic system tied down by familiarity and association, which I think is an incredibly great idea. It means that it's usefulness is very sparing, relying both on the talent/affinity of the user as well as their positioning or location. Also, it's just a really great in world answer for how "Visitors" (the term used to describe people effectively "isekai'd" to this world), as well as any manner of minia (the in-world term for humans) or even intelligent beasts and monsters can communicate with one another.
Following that, a piece that might be a bit abrasive at first thanks to its late justification is the naming system. People have a primary/first name, of course. Soujirou, Alus, Higuare, Kuze, so on and so forth. But rather than a "last" name or "family" name like most are used to, they have a second name. The naming conventions for it might be a little on the nose for some though, as it's more like a "term" or turn of phrase used to refer to the characters in question. The Willow Sword, The Star Runner, The Pelagic, The Passing Disaster. They refer to the talents, perception, and feats of the individual Shura. So like I said, some might not like it, but if you think on it for a second, it makes sense. Words themselves are power, there's no better way to express a shura's/person's power than with a name that describes them.
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Alright, so where to next? Maybe I'll drop by the characters. The range of characters that exists is really cool, and continues to speak to the depth and scope of the world. A humanoid mandrake, a pair of intelligent wyverns, Visitors, a living tank (yeah, that's right). The variation within the cast of Shura appearing in this volume is delightfully fresh, and dabbles in just the right amounts of each to provide a sense of the scale of the world. They might not be expanded upon or overly well developed, but the very nature of them adds a great deal.
Alongside that, the focus of this first volume is surprisingly solid. Lithia is a principality that has seceded from the last Minia nation left in the world, Aureatia. Aureatia and it's 29 officials are the vestiges of the human nations that banded together to push back the True Demon King years ago, and they don't take kindly to one of their own officials trying to make it on their own. Because of that, what started as harassment and guerilla warfare balloons into an all out do-or-die assassination attempt from Aureatia.
The concept is incredibly interesting, and aims to add to the intrigue of the world.... but it falls short. It's sped through in a first volume that introduces several characters through their own chapters while attempting to juggle the political and strategic challenges of the squabble turned battle. The fodder characters are more fodder than you could ever imagine, considering their importance prior to the overnight battle. Specific Shura end up doing nothing, while others end up the center of attention in spite of their lack of charm or interest.
Let me explain. We have eight, maybe nine? Shura that are introduced in this first volume. Most have their own dedicated chapters exploring how they come to exist in the story, and what their pasts are. Sometimes, with characters like Kuze The Passing Disaster, that introduction intertwines with the story, but it's not all of them. Because of that, quite a bit of the time ends up away from the fight between the the nation-state and nation. It's a difficult middle ground to strike, that feels like Keiso wants to explore these characters, but also wanted to explore the political tension and couldn't decide which to do in this first volume.
So, the pacing is rushed and somewhat muddy at times. Not great, but not overly terrible either. Let's talk characters, some are good, some are very much not, and others don't get the light of day. These are all Shura, incredibly strong anomalies in their world. Sometimes that's exposed through things like a Mandrake that was a battle slave that continually adapted to his environment, other times it's a Visitor that can cut anything with any old sword. Sometimes it's a character that is essentially omnipotent but struggles with the concept of morality and violence due to their age and innocence, and sometimes it's a priest/paladin that can kill anything if it attempts to harm him.
See what I mean? They're not all created equal, not in the slightest. OP ability can be incredibly well contextualized with some characters, and be nonexistent with others. It means that there's a decidedly large gap between which characters are "good", and which are "bad" (though that's not to mention those that are thrown to the wayside like Nihilo).
And because of that gulf, battles can seem... disinteresting, at times. Once I got into Lithia vs Aureatia in full, I called every death except for one. The writing of the characters exposes them to Keiso's idiosyncrasies. They don't exactly drop hints as to who will die, but as you read you can very clearly tell who is the favorites/favored in the story by how their introductions and interactions are approached.
I think worse than that though is how the Shura force an imbalance in the world building. A standing army that can be wiped out by a single person that can be hired for next to nothing, an anomaly on the scale of a monstrous winged swarm that is snuffed out without the challenger exchanging anything of value, so on and so forth. The gap in power between the average minia and a single Shura is too wide, it creates holes in the logic of the world. Why would you create a professional army, pay them, house them, and train them, when you could hire a single Shura to do the exact same duty? It's an enigmatic question that you find several times over through the first volume.
And I think that's the best way to describe it, an enigma. Much like the Shura themselves, this first volume is full of incredibly interesting and great pieces, but is marred by a handful of egregiously bad and poor decisions, coated in a questionable amount of forgotten aspects. Keiso has some truly great ideas that have formed this world, and interesting angles to approach it via, but struggle greatly with putting it together.
I'm undeniably interested in this story, but am not all for it. I don't need to pick up the second volume right away to read it, but I most likely will at some point. I think that Keiso has a lot of potential, and even still, Ishura embodies that potential. It's just that the intrigue and excitement should be tempered with a series like this. So, if you like the idea, and are aware of its shortcomings, I'd certainly say there's a solid chunk of people out there that will enjoy this series.
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houserosaire · 7 months
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Prompt #20: Hamper
Alain did not usually let people see his leg. The scars were as ugly as they were painful and he did not like the way people looked at him once they had seen them. They could see the result of them well enough, the way he limped especially on rough days, the way he had to take a deep breath before facing the stairs. He didn’t know what they might have guessed about it, or if perhaps Guiscard the old butler pulled them aside and explained. But despite the tendency to gossip below stairs people rarely ever asked. Out in the city people were even less likely to bother.
So when the new apprentice at the armorer paused after collecting the pieces and his lord’s instructions to speak to him his question caught Alain just a little off guard. “Don’t that leg hamper you?” He asked. “You’re the Rosaire’s body man, right? Them big old houses got a lot of stairs. Don’t that slow you down?”
The questions might have angered him, worded another way. Or if they were not accompanied by such an open expression in the younger elezen’s dark eyes. Instead the implied concern caught him a little off guard. “It does a bit.” Alain admitted. “But I manage.”
“And his lordship don’t mind?”
He had been about this lad’s age, Alain thought. Newly come to his height not yet into his muscle. And he had not ever had any hope of being anything more than one more soldier for Ishgard until someone had chosen him to squire for young Ser Silvaineaux de Rosaire. Alain was never sure which one of the family had chosen him to offer that golden chance at earning his spurs. Even now he had never asked. It did not matter.
He had not known then that Ser Silvaineaux de Rosaire was a younger man than he was.  The knight was all of seven feet or more and rangy and big even out of his plate. He exuded a sense of calm authority that Alain could never have questioned then. He followed him, and men followed him because he walked like he knew the path through the battlefield and would show you. 
It had not taken him long to learn how far into the battlefield that path would carry him. Ser Silvaineaux was not content to wait or shout orders from the back. He went with his men into the thick of the battle and Alain went at his heels. And it was there at his knight’s back he had been that day in the thickest of it.
A wyvern swooped in toward one group and Silvaineaux turned to start toward that portion of wall. Alain was just turning to follow when the movement over head caught his eye, a shadow and then a blazing light. He had only time to think of fire and to see that searing trail would catch the knight in the worst of it. 
“DOWN!” He screamed and moved without thinking, throwing himself into a run and then a leap, colliding with the knight’s larger heavier body with all the force of his own. Either the yell or the force of his leap had been enough. Alain felt Silvaineaux topple sideways out of the way. Then he felt only fire.
Alain shook himself out of his memories lifted his hand from where it had been rubbing at the ache in his thigh. He could feel the roughness of the scar even through the fabric. The armorer’s apprentice was watching him with a small frown. Alain found a smile for him. “His lordship isn’t the kind of man to mind.” He said and left it at that.
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heartsy-artsy-pony · 7 months
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TMI Tuesday: What inspired all of your OCs?
That's actually a good question! Most of them are kinda experimental spur of the moment things, honestly. I think a basic answer I can give is something in a show or series sparked some inspiration, and I took that spark and ran with it. :) A couple examples are below though.
Heartistry was brought up from watching MLP and wanting a character in that universe. When I first made her, I couldn't decide between flight and magic, so I went with both. Then I got worried about her being a Mary-Sue kind of character since she'd have both powers, so I did some reworking to make it so she was just both and not some all powerful being!
Embi came from wanting a draconequus OC, but basing it off Discord being the Lord of Chaos, so I found animal parts that embody mischief and being playful for Embi. I made her the Embodiment of Disappointment as a result, because her antics would often cause distress and feeling of defeat.
Winter Prism actually was just supposed to be a random experiment on Pony Town and nothing more, but she got so much more attention than I realized, she became an OC. I wanted to play with color spectrums on an OC. Similar to the one Pink Floyd album everyone knows about with the black, white, and rainbow on it.
Alister was an interesting one because he was inspired by two things - the pet episode of MLP and the wyvern creatures from Kingdom Hearts. This guy here to be exact:
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He was originally supposed to be just a pet, but soon evolved into a armless and winged version of Spike that communicates in chirps that's always with Heartistry.
As I said before, most of my OCs are just wanting to put a character into a universe of some sort, but others have just a hair more to it! ^^
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lycianlynx · 9 months
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“Chad,” Lugh’s voice wavers ever so slightly, a crumpled piece of paper clutched tightly in his fist, “this can’t be true, can it? We saw Lord Roy stop the Demon Dragon with our own eyes..! Do you think it could be—“ His first thought is Bern, and soon the flames of anger are stoked in his heart. The thought of Guinevere pleading to Roy to end her brother’s madness, only to continue his conquest behind their backs—
“..Do you think we should go..? I’m worried about the littles— but..” He had left home with a purpose, to return to Elibe with the strength to protect, but even so..was he doomed to have to fight for the rest of his life? “..Are you going to go, Chad?”
The first and only thing on Chad's mind is to pack up everything he needs, as fast as possible, and head onto the next ship sailing for Elibe — Saints be damned, if he has to stow away, he will. It isn't anger that spurs him onward this time, but fear — Fear he'll lose what little he managed to keep for being selfish, for chasing what he should've never even dreamed of — Why would he have time for growth when he should be there to provide? Wide brown eyes turn to Lugh, the bundle of supplies obvious in his arms as he does so.
"Lugh."
He knows Lugh. He knows Lugh like the lock in his bedroom door, like the places Father used to like hiding the snacks. He sees the anger kindle in Lugh's eyes, in a place he can recognise it. The fear freezes over in an instant, because he can't be scared in front of Lugh. One fire stokes another, dragon-fire and a holdover vendetta rearing its ugly head again. He can see it — Death brought not on the wings of Bernese wyverns, but on those of a legion of war-wyrms.
His jaw clenches. His teeth bare without his meaning to. He directs it towards the window, looking out in the direction of home. He knows Lugh… And if this is anything like last time, he'll try to come along. Anguish crosses Chad's face for half a second, in the pinch of his brows, the raise of his lip.
"I'm going." He says, with finality. "I don't care if anyone thinks I shouldn't. I'm not leaving the kids alone. I'm sick of losing family." Unsaid: you're part of that too.
A pause, fall turning back to meet spring. "And I don't know what's going on for sure. But if it's that... Then I'll fight, with everything I've got."
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altairtalisman · 10 months
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Stella's Bio
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"Please, have some bread! It's fresh from the oven!"
More details on Stella is under the cut
Name: Stella Gavell
Age: 30
Height: 161 cm
Birthday: 21 Primna 1728 (Alfaba)
Orientation: Cisgender Demisexual Female
Pronouns: She/Her
Species: Human
Country of Birth: Relnivon
Likes: All baked goods, lemonade, seeing others being charitable, Noah
Dislikes: The Unois Empire's rule, burnt food, heights
Hobbies: Baking, arts and crafts
Personality: Extremely charitable and empathetic, which hides her burning dislike towards the Unois Empire's increasingly bloody rule. If rebellions had taken place when she was still alive, she would be one of its leaders due to her natural leadership qualities
Style: Comfy dresses that are suitable for both the bakery and out in Relnivon’s meadows, wears boots due to Relnivon’s cobblestone paths
Status: Dead (DOD: 29 Dia'ae 1758)
Abilities: NA
Background: Born to a family of bakers, Stella was raised to become one herself and started to help out at her family bakery full time when she turned 16. During this time, she noticed Noah passing by the bakery every morning and evening without fail, his skittish behaviour a contrast to his imposing height
It was also during this period that the current prince of Unois Empire starting courting her after she caught his interest during a parade, with Stella disliking him due to his relationship with the current emperor. As such, she hid her plans of starting a rebellion against the empire as well as her partnership with the Fifth Dullahan
When she turned 23, she had a chance meeting with Noah while distributing bread and decided to strike up a conversation with him. Though startled, the wyvern indulged her in a conversation and was offered some bread in return for chatting with Stella
Noah then repeatedly visited Stella's bakery in the evenings, stopping by to chat with her while purchasing bread. This annoyed the prince as it was clear that Stella was becoming closer to him, eventually falling for him overtime and asking him out when she was 27, which Noah accepted
Spurred on by his jealousy, the prince spent the next three years researching about Noah in hopes of finding a way to utterly ruin his life. Meanwhile, the couple lived together and Stella eventually learnt that Noah was actually a wyvern, a secret she promised to take to her grave after discovering Noah's panic. In return, she shared with him her efforts to organise a rebellion with the help of the Fifth Dullahan, which Noah promised to maintain its secret until the time was right
On 2 Alstas 1758, Noah proposed to her and they arranged to register their marriage as well as hold their wedding ceremony on 29 Dia'ae 1758. During this period, the prince had a breakthrough and discovered that Noah was a wyvern, which would make him wanted in Unois Empire. The prince, confident that Stella was loyal to the empire, shared his findings with her. He was horrified to learn about her sympathy towards dragons, and was utterly dismayed at the possibility that Stella would rebel against the empire
Betrayed, he decided to ruin Noah's life to remind him that the empire controlled the dragons' fates. As it was an Arjanite Wedding which was held in a shallow body of water, the couple had to prepare in separate areas. The prince personally showed up to murder Stella on her wedding day while she was getting ready, then sent Noah an anonymous note to warn him that Stella's life was in danger
Alarmed by the note, Noah rushed to where Stella was getting ready and discovered her dead. The prince then revealed himself, accompanied by a battalion should Noah chose to retaliate. The wyvern was then given a cruel verbal reminder to what dragons deserve, and was brought to the emperor. Noah was then conscripted into the empire's army as the prince had convinced his father that it was better to give the wyvern emotional trauma in order to keep the dragons under the empire's control, as seeing a wyvern serving the enemy would eventually dishearten the dragons who remained hidden in the Unois Empire
What the prince didn't know was that Stella's death was the start of the end of the Unois Empire...
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sezja · 5 months
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When Nerise was a child, her Echo visions were thought to be some manner of fainting sickness; it nearly disqualified her from becoming a wyvern rider. If Ratatoskr hadn't spoken in her favor (thus spurring Sohl Amh's interest in her), she likely would have never been allowed on dragonback for fear that she'd have a "spell" and fall to her death.
So uh, Lue-Reeq's reaction to her getting an Echo vision at an inconvenient time is, well.
She hates this man.
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theluckywizard · 11 months
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WIP Whenever
Tidying up the last bits of the next chapter of my longfic In the Shattering of Things so I will share a bit for funsies!
“She has a point. At the very least you could entertain me,” I remind him. “Might distract you as well, to be honest. You can tell me true stories about Hawke.”
“I’m not sure I could do that to the Seeker. She’s heard them all before,” says Varric, leaning around me to glower in her direction.
“Yes, and I’m certain you told the Maker’s truth,” says Cassandra. “Something tells me you know exactly where that man is.” Varric glances at me like I might have given something away but I just peer back out of the corner of my eye with an almost imperceptible shake of my head.
“Well I want to hear about this Hawke fellow,” says Dorian, “I’ve heard the legends of course– ended a Qunari invasion in single combat against the Arishok… Stopped the mad Templar woman trying to annul an entire circle…” Varric sighs.
“And I was there for all of it,” he says. “The infiltration of Chateau Haine is my personal favorite escapade.”
“Mine too,” I remark automatically, though I feel foolish immediately as I've had it from a book. “A whose who of Thedas’ Very Important People? Near death experiences with Wyverns? Ham and cheese jokes? What’s not to love?”
“You’re a real fangirl, you know that Freckles?”
“I know. I can’t help it.”
“It tickles me that’s all,” he says.
“Maybe you should gift Dorian a copy,” I suggest.
“I wouldn’t believe everything you read,” says Cassandra, her ire piqued.
“That’s what I’ve been telling her,” says Varric. “Adding a little hogwash here and there sells it though.”
“I stand by my love of it no matter the veracity,” I answer, remembering how I’d curled up in my window seat on a pile of cushions and devoured every word, immersing myself in the embellished exploits of a crew of very real people. And now I’ve had my own exploits with my own crew including the illustrious author of the very book. How sharply my life has turned and for the better in so many ways. It's a shame it might end in a towering torrent of magic this morning.
“I don’t deserve you,” chuckles Varric. As if responding to my momentary fatalism, a streak of white blinds me as the mark awakens, hungry, pulling at threads I can’t see, suddenly humming, buzzing, singing. I collapse forward against Juniper’s mane and then push myself back up.
“The mark?” asks Cassandra, the set of her features grimmer than usual, concerned.
“I think it’s just… waking up,” I explain, fumbling with my mitten to take a look. The tendrils of green look more luminous, pulsating, the Breach tugging at the energy within it like it’s tethered.
“Does it hurt?” asks Dorian, his expression suggesting reminders of our time in the future as each rift spurred the mark’s expansion.
“Not yet,” I tell him, but I know what’s coming. I steel myself for it.
Tagging: @mogwaei, @demarogue, @warpedlegacy, @plisuu, @doomhippy83, @monocytogenes, @bluewren, @nirikeehan, @rosella-writes, @crackinglamb, @ar-lath-ma-cully, @kiastirling-fanfic
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moonlitcomet · 1 year
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Skeletals of generic members of the three Cierian lindwyrm families. While they are all called lindwyrms, they are not actually closely related and are a result of convergent evolution.
Vathydrakidae, Almadrakidae, Trexidrakidae respectively. More info under the cut.
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Wingless Lindwyrms
Vathydrakidae
Wingless lindwyrms are the middle ground between an eastern-type dragon and a slithering wyrm, and what is most notable about them is that they lack the extremely powerful arcane magic of their eastern-type ancestors, as well as a pair of functional hind legs. However, like their ancestors, they have a small keel bone in their chests which protects their lungs, and remnants of their rear legs remain as vestigial bones in their skeleton or spurs by their cloaca.
Wingless lindwyrms are almost always ground-dwelling dragons, with no flight and very little swimming capabilities. They move much like snakes, slithering across the ground and using a combination of their arms and stomach muscles to get around. Wingless lindwyrms are known to build underground civilizations, making them quite uncommon to meet face-to-face as a human traveler.
Wingless lindwyrms almost always have scaly integument, with smoother bodies and very few spikes or decorative frills. Most of their interesting features come from their colorations and occasional scutes along their spine.
The way to differentiate a wingless lindwyrm between smooth-winged and frill-winged lindwyrms, aside from an obvious lack of wings, is present in the shape of their ribs and spines. Wingless lindwyrms have very long and mobile ribcages and short tails, smooth-winged lindwyrms have very stunted and fused ribcages and long tails, and fill-winged lindwyrms have gastralia and otherwise normal-length ribcages and tails.
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Smooth-winged Lindwyrms
Almadrakidae
Smooth-winged lindwyrms, unlike the other two variants of lindwyrms, do not represent the typical definition of a lindwyrm as much as they appear to. As such, they are frequently referred to as false lindwyrms, and are instead extremely stunted descendants of wyverns. While they appear to be a snakelike dragon with a pair of wings and arms, their "arms" are actually modified legs and their ribcages are nearly entirely fused together, much like that of a bird.
Smooth-winged lindwyrms are referred to as such due to their wing shape and style; unlike their wyvern ancestors, they only have membranous pterosaurian wings, and none have been discovered with feathery wings.
Their gait is mostly bipedal, using their false arms to hop or run along the ground and occasionally giving themselves an extra push with their large wings to take off. Smooth-winged lindwyrms have a notably awkward gait, and prefer to move solely in short bursts instead of long strolls.
Smooth-winged lindwyrms are not particularly any more sociable or arcane than other dragon families, and can be found in most climates with a particular favor for plains and other open spaces. They are usually nomadic, and quite enjoy racing alongside humans who are in vehicles or on mounts.
Like their wyvern ancestors, smooth-winged lindwyrms can have nearly any integument, but are most commonly seen with scales or short hair-like protofeathers.
The way to differentiate a smooth-winged lindwyrm between wingless and frill-winged lindwyrms is present in the shape of their ribs and spines. Wingless lindwyrms have very long and mobile ribcages and short tails, smooth-winged lindwyrms have very stunted and fused ribcages and long tails, and frill-winged lindwyrms have gastralia and otherwise normal-length ribcages and tails.
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Frill-winged Lindwyrms
Trexidrakidae
Frill-winged lindwyrms, also known as old world lindwyrms, are the only family of lindwyrm that have two pairs of true forelimbs, instead of just one pair of forelimbs or a pair of wings and hind legs. Despite their rather snakelike appearance, they seem to have the same skeletal shape as their winged longbody ancestors, minus a pair of back legs. Like all old world dragons, they have gastralia bones on their stomachs.
Frill-winged lindwyrms are referred to as such due to their wing shape and style; like their ancestors, their wing types can vary, most often appearing as lobed fingerless pterosaurian wings but can also be feathered like a bird.
Their gait is awkward and sluggish, and frill-winged lindwyrms spend most of their time moving through powered flight, gliding, or a seal-like shuffle or hobble.
Frill-winged lindwyrms are, much like their ancestors, extremely sociable and friendly, and spend much of their time lazing about in the company of other creatures. They are usually quite peaceful, and prefer to run or fly away over fighting; however, they usually have arcane magic strong enough to fling threats away from themselves if need be.
Frill-winged lindwyrms can be found in all environments, most often by the coasts or lakes where there is plenty of water to swim and play in. Of all the lindwyrms, frill-winged lindwyrms are the most adept at swimming.
Like their ancestors, frill-winged lindwyrms are exclusively covered in thick coats of fluffy feathers, though their feathers specifically are oily and waterproof.
The way to differentiate a frill-winged lindwyrm between wingless and smooth-winged lindwyrms is present in the shape of their ribs and spines. Wingless lindwyrms have very long and mobile ribcages and short tails, smooth-winged lindwyrms have very stunted and fused ribcages and long tails, and frill-winged lindwyrms have gastralia and otherwise normal-length ribcages and tails.
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ecoamerica · 20 days
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youtube
Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared
The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!
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justgoji · 2 years
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Made up my own Monster Hunter bird wyvern. Anyone got a nice name for it?
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This bird wyvern lives at and near coastal areas, feeding on aquatic animals and vegetation. Their main predators are flying wyverns like Rathian, and have evolved quills that cover the entire front half of their bodies, two spurs on each arm, and a special organ in the throat used for rapidly discharging water in order to defend themselves from such threats. Their back half isn’t protected, and is vulnerable to attack.
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selfdiagnosedeyemotif · 9 months
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BEAN DNI
I made this one with the intention of it taking place in Askr, cause there then there's specifically no war so everyone is just sorta hanging out. I am assuming you have played feh, or at least understand the premise.
When Valter comes, he is very fidgety and jumpy bc he loves fighting but now hardly gets to do it. Sure, there's the occasional bandit raid and you can spar with others, but the raids are uncommon and people get tired of sparing. He ends up spending a lot of him time just polishing his lance and obsessing over it. The other generals make friends and just have fun in Askr and he envies that they can talk and make friends so easily, while all he can think about is hurting people and how fun it would be to kill them.
Finally, after a few months of this lonely suffering, he finally decides to ask for help and asks Duessel what to do. Duessel says he has to destroy the lance, cause destroying it would also destroy the curse that has overtaken him. Valter decides he does not want to do this cause the lance is very precious to him. But one day he lashes out and almost stabs Sapphire (his wyvern, I love the name I picked for her) and finally decides keeping it is not worth risking hurting the only thing that loves him. He asks Duessel to destroy the lance for him, and he does. After it's been destroyed, Valter feels very sick and empty and he just wants to have it again, but Duessel anticipated that kind of reaction and completely disposed of it. After a bit more lonely suffering, he finally decides to talk to the other generals and ends up becoming close friends with Duessel, Selena and Glen. He's still not the same as he was before and he'd probably get violent intrusive thoughts, but he's much calmer and more normal
not super familiar with heroes because im not big on gacha games but this is definitely interesting. the idea of it being his wyvern that spurs him to finally bite the bullet and break his curse... that i like
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dragons-ire · 1 year
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Yvain -
It's good to hear from you. Seems like a constant of both of our days - too many things to say, never enough time to catch up.
I do have a story for you.
It doesn't come up so often anymore, but I earned my spurs out of the Convictory. I'll spare you the retelling of the banalities of daily existence there. It's enough to know that our visitors were few.
Michault de Vitroix was one such visitor. A dragoon in full kit was naturally the talk of the day he arrived. Just to winter over a day or so and catch up with some familiar faces - he was known to a few of the longer-term residents, even had a word with Ser Jantellot himself. He kept his conversations and company to that select circle, but the implications didn't escape anyone else: one of our own who had made it.
Until then, I'd never heard of anyone from that place actually making it anywhere.
The second day, Ser Michault entertained himself by challenging a few hopefuls, as we often challenged each other when things were slow. I can't quite forget the skill that he wielded his lance. Quicker than me then as is now. Though, to my credit, the living man got me more soundly than the dead one did. I'd relish the opportunity to repay the favor.
And after that, he went away, bound for some destination in the field none of us were quite privy to, no matter how much anyone tried to overhear or wheedle it out of him. Just the rumor that he was tracking a specific quarry - the elder wyvern Tryggvi - and was not of a mind to share bounty or glory with any aspirant there. He did not come back.
If you were to ask me where I thought such a creatures 'lair' may be now, I'd first think of somewhere in the direction of that last destination. Perhaps somewhere in the Slate Mountains, where Tryggvi is believed to have roosted - and may still.
I hope this is helpful to your investigations.
Regards,
Breandan Ducaille.
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kayzowl · 2 years
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Here is my spread for @scife-zine! I wanted to draw sentient spaceships, and @punch0uch helped me design them! the text in the image is under the cut.
Failnaught <<Wyvern Class>>
Much speculation has been written about how Claude von Riegan came to possess an Almyran radiation sink. Made from exotic RAM* only found in Almyra’s nebulae, these radiation sinks are near-perfect absorbers of both incoming and outgoing radiation. Failnaught was thus difficult to detect by conventional equipment, which contributed to its surviving the war intact.
After narrowly escaping an ambush by the Knight-class corvette HMS Inexhaustible in the Myrddin Belt ambush of 3185, Failnaught received significant upgrades in the Riegan shipyards. Among the parts fitted were House Goneril’s Freikugel cannons, House Gloucester’s Thyrsus shielding, and House Ordelia’s HadesΩ propulsion system. Failnaught was subsequently reclassified as a Wyvern-class battlecruiser.
*RAM: radar-absorbent material
Dreadnought: Amyr
Modelled after the dreadnought Yagrush, which 
was destroyed in the Insurrection of the 
Seven, Amyr’s gene code was laid down during the Great 
Tree Moon of 3180 and finished maturation under the Pegasus Moon of 3182, in time to serve as flagship of Emperor Edelgard von Hresvelg’s Black Eagles Fleet. Amyr operated throughout the Fódlani Unification War under Cpt Hubert von Vestra. Among its notable conquests is Areadbhar of House Blaiddyd, destroyed during the Battle of Gronder in 3185. A further six House ships fell to Amyr’s spurs over the course of the war.
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