This page is a place for my drafts, as well as my personal index of what I've done on the site.
October 2019:
-Made a new map for the World Of Elrich Hub, sent to Roget and it is being displayed on the Elrich Hub
The Changing Sky at Dawn
In the days before the fourth allflock, before the prince from the city of the starkin came to lead us to the dawn of our new nation, we had so little in the way of power over the world. The First Scale, o mighty king of dragons, allowed us the freedom of our islands only because he remembered the grand heroes of our past. The Lord-O'er-the-Horizon united us for the first time in the reign of Scale Hrothion's grandfather, so the result of The Lord's valor was still easily remembered. But remembered means little when it comes to dragons, as the life of one of the clawed-kind only reaches its sunset after fifteen generations of our flocks see their day end.
When the allflock came together for the first time, it was the dream of a visionary. A unified force that shared all it knew, so that all stories would be remembered until the day the sun and moon return to the great boomclouds' whiskers. The Lord was the most clever fighter the islands had ever seen, for they had not magic nor fire, but they still defended our people from the middle islands and their strange ships. May their tale of unity always be shared.
The second time the allflock came together, it was for protection. Kavta, the swift flame of the depths, saw that our people had returned to their past flocks some years after the Lord's dusk, that the fractures of rivalry had blossomed since the day she donned the golden helm of the First Scale. She rallied her guard, and made to take our upper islands for herself. In the face of her want for our home, the Feather-in-the-Stone stayed strong and true. It was them that protected us from being yet another vassal to the federation of the dragons. May their anthem of preservation always be sung.
Next, was so tragically soon after the Feather's night began. When the middle islands collapsed into the void below, so sudden that few could escape their destruction, each flock was not enough to help them on their own. The people of the middle islands were once our enemies, but when they had lost so much the Scholar-from-the-Cloudland brought us together to aid them. We accepted them into our flocks with open wings and hearts, and to this day the middle's epics are still recited at every gathering, and the centuries have whittled down the difference so much that nothing can distinguish or separate us. The Scholar built the city of the shining light, so that all would have a place to call home when they pleased. May their teachings of kindness always be remembered.
It has been many centuries since the Scholar's city was finished. Our people still meet there on the longest days to dance and share tales, and our children still learn the ways of the world in those cloud-stone halls, but the influence of our home above the clouds faded as the dragons argued in their councils and the ones from beyond the sky came and settled on that cursed island. We watched them build their city on the place where thunder is born, and waited for the misfortune that came upon the people that followed the Dawn-Over-the-Hills, their red mantles tattered on the rocks, to come upon the starkin. Despite our warnings, they continued to build and live on the fields of the storm-mother. After a long time, we realized that no lightning or screaming wind would ever shake their resolve, and so we begrudgingly yielded the floating continent.
Their Balance-King, he who has lived as long as the void and the heavens, rarely attempted conquest, merely pressured us to allow his kingdom more leeway in how it moved through our land. We rejected him when we could, but his army of a million faceless ones stayed present in our minds, a faceless tide that could bring even the shining city to its knees. But how funny, that the kin of this king is the one that now leads us to stand firm!
The plotting of the king's advisers was what stripped the young prince of their magic - the power to shape themselves how they saw fit - and in their fear, the thought of disappointing their father, they used the last of their power to become one of us, taking to the sky in the darkest hour of night. The two guardians of this young prince were constructs loyal only to their command, so they took wing to aid him on his journey, not even aware that they could report his flight.
The Balance-King worried and raged, only knowing of his child's disappearance. But even the advisers did not know where the prince had gone, so after a time of mourning the King was pulled back to his duties, his other children needed guidance and his kingdom needed his wisdom.
The prince joined a flock of story-tellers, the flock-that-travels-the-shifting-sky, and they quickly learned the ways of our people. they lived as one of us so long that they became so, their form being not a mask but a true self. After many years they became their flock's leader, the one who sings the hymns of the great boomclouds at the festivals and speaks for his flock at the table in the spire. They and their twin vassals were beloved by all, they were swift as the wind and bright as the stars.
On their travels, the prince met Hrakonya, a glimmering scale of Hrothion's clutch. She was on her youth-journey, seeing the worlds without the filter of the court's tradition. The prince and Hrakonya were so alike, in the way that all who have cast aside their royalty are. It's been said that they did not even know that the other was their equal in birthright, but what matters is that soon after they met, they danced in the light of the moon, happy just to be with each other. Hrakonya joined the shifting-flock, a fierce force to balance the prince's lithe grace.
But eventually her youth-journey ended, and despite her not being the Third-Scale heir to the gold helmet, she still had to return to the capital of the dragons, to tell the tale of what she had learned on her path. the prince made up their mind and went with her, knowing the court proceedings of the dragons from his studies, unafraid of the Scales because he had been raised to think them their equal. When they reached the grand palace of Hrothion, the First Scale himself received the pair. He would not care that Hrakonya had decided on the prince, but the twenty lords of the dragons wanted tradition to be followed. And so, Hrothion issued a challenge to the prince.
"Young feather of the flock-that-travels-the-shifting-sky, you seek my daughter's horns. I demand you face the same fight that all suitors of the scales face. Feathers and scales shall clash in the coming dawn, and if you prevail Hrakonya may add you to the hoard of her heart. Quill-scales may come from any station of birth, but all must face the light of the morning."
And so, the prince prepared. They twirled through the grand ballroom, learning all they could of Hrothion's fine champions. They had met a few of these clawed-kin in their youth, but that connection was discarded with the royal mantle of the star-kind. The Changing-Prince and the Glimmering Scale danced and talked, knowing well that this evening could be their last together.
Walking through a reading room, you notice a table in the back corner, piled high with books and papers left unattended. Whoever left them here must have gone to find another volume, judging by the open drawer of the room's card catalog. Taken by curiosity, you realize that all of the materials left by this unknown scholar are about the history of riddles. In the middle of their work space, there are a few papers strewn about. Leaning closer, you can read them, a collection of riddles copied in a messy script.
At the hall in honored place,
there is a box of ribbon-lace.
Clutched by a dragon with a single horn,
the box is the heart of his hoary hoard.
When he pleases, the air he bites,
finding the envoy of a spire's knights.
But the messenger continues down the sky-road,
fast as the dawn-rays this courier strode.
Not daunted by his dated defeat,
he readied the sound the hall-troop shall meet.
Inspecting the chest of coiled stripe,
he sang a melody into the night.
Deep in the night where the leaf-giants lie,
gallops a stallion with four glowing eyes.
Faster than water and brighter than moon,
Saddle was woven on uncaring loom.
Never unique was this river-swift steed,
there are many more of his kin and breed.
So who is this beast that drinks the stone dry
and bellows his anger into hot sky?
On the lake in newest Spring,
the wisest wish-bird is crowned king.
In the sky above the trees,
colors dance on graceful breeze.
On the pond a flock does dance,
lovers watch in Summer's trance.
Autumn takes the wish-king's beak,
matched tears marking his patterned cheek.
Enchanted metal turns rock to smoke.
Yes it took a ton of edits and time for me to realize how the tab module worked, not my proudest moment.