#Archaios (OC)

[ostensiblywhump]

Practiced Prey

Whumpuary day 13: close call | sleep | choking

Word count: 1,080

Content warnings: none

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Rock presses him back, keeps him in place, when Archaios flails awake with a gasp that nearly shrieks. He knows humans bury their dead, entomb them; the harsh confines of the space he’d carefully maneuvered himself into, once comforting, now makes every nightmare and the dim memory they’re based from reel through his head.

(Limp and savaged bodies left to the elements; what if his corpse is left in this coffin sized just for him—?)

He catches that thought, puts it back in the dark corner it belongs to. Makes his exhale come out measured, if shuddery. If his senses are right about the thing that woke him up—and he’s had centuries to hone them—then panicking is death, and he needs to move, now.

First things first. He grimaces at himself, the expanse of his body fit snug into the cave. Well, cavern, more like. His true form is large. And freeing though it is, to finally unseal it and spend hours reacquainting himself with it, it isn’t at all stealthy to be the very thing someone is hunting for. Better to be a dime-a-dozen human.

He moves his right paw to rest on the seals scarred into his opposite foreleg, trickles the barest flicker of magic into it, and braces.

An indeterminate amount of time later, Archaios wheezes on the ground, braced on palms and knees instead of laid down on his haunches. Every inch of him is alight, but he doesn’t have time to recover slowly from being forcibly rearranged into a human shape.

Left hand going up this time, trembling fingers instead of steady claws, and it’s a different kind of agony, having one’s magic being crushed down and shoved into a form that’s far too tiny, but it’s an agony all the same. It’s also worth it. He has no idea what got someone on his tail this time, but having his magic unsealed is just asking to leave a trail of it, letting someone track him down no matter how far or fast he runs.

He crawls at a snail’s pace to the pile of clothing he left behind when he unsealed himself, aftershocks vibrating through him and making him fumble his grip as he pulls on his shirt. A tearing sound makes him hiss—he only has so many clothes!—but there’s nothing to be done for it. Not when he’s not moving fast enough. He’ll take accidentally-ripped clothes over being killed.

Standing is … an experience. He sways, nearly eats stone when his senses scream at him and he collides his face with the wall. His confined magic already affects how much space he feels like he has to inflate his lungs—now, with impending doom encroaching, unwilling to be ignored, it catches at something and makes him hack, silvery wisps wanting to travel up with his hitching breaths and flee. He is every inch a scrabbling thing, desperate to escape.

“Calm—” he says, as he recovers a regular rhythm of air. Inhale, exhale. Like a normal person. Like a human. Not some terrified creature. He’s spending precious seconds keeping himself from screaming, instead of running like he needs to. Forfend, but he’s supposed to be old hat at this by now.

He goes upright again, steadier this time. His first step forward is more of a shuffle, but he speeds up as he goes, no matter if the freezing rock prickles at his pain-sensitive skin as he speed-walks with bare feet. A swipe that’s more of a jerking motion, and his wards carved into the entrance of the cave shatter with a sound like breaking glass, the wind gouging an unrecoverable strip out of the runes.

This location is a bust, now that someone’s found it. Shame, really—he’s paranoid about having dens big enough for his true form, so he only has so many. He can’t hide all the signs that he was here, but he can make it harder to tell how recently he abandoned this place.

His toes brush snow, and he breaks into a run, only wobbling a little—over the surface, not through. Better for not leaving footprints, and he doesn’t have to masquerade as completely magic-less just yet. Hmm, would it be better to use the wind to propel him, while he’s at it?

No, probably not. Walking on top of snow is undetectable, but wind isn’t. He’s fast enough with just his feet.

He gets … fairly far. He can still see the cave entrance, a distant gray smear against white, when his ears pick up on something large and way too fast for its size. At the same time, his magic sense sends a frantic shiver down his spine, and he needs to find a hidey-hole now.

The cave he was in is part of a large mountain range, steep enough that it’s a mosaic of dark rock and blinding white. This is good, because his clothes are dark and he’s pale in human form, so he’ll blend in. He just needs some place where it’ll be hard to see him and be unbothered by animals looking for a meal.

He’s in luck—well, he’s been lucky to be alive for the past centuries, so thank goodness that’s going strong for him. On a severe slope, trees have stubbornly dug in, snow-covered and prickly. Even better, a couple steps into the scraggly treeline, he spies two trees that are particularly close. One was tough enough to thrive; the other, not so much, branches bare or with brown needles, snapped at the base of its trunk and long since fallen. It’s formed a little v, bracketed at one side by its still-living companion. Partially obscured by needle-full branches and snow, it’s the best he’s going to get.

No sooner than he’s hidden himself in the little hollow and gone absolutely still (just because he’s human-shaped doesn’t mean he has to breathe and fidget like a human), a furious bellow rips through the air, echoing off the snow. Snowflakes drift from branches, disturbed from rest by the shockwave of it.

Swirling silver scratches at the confines of his ribs, whispers to run, reaches up and claws up his throat—he breaks his stillness to clasp a hand over his mouth, teeth gritting and lips pressing tight together against the choking cough trying to break his silence.

He rides out the seize of his lungs and the rage of his hunter. He waits.

[clockys-soul]

Just wanna make sure sorry for the second ask, but I've saw people have ocs for your story and I'm wondering if I can make a character or two?

If so do you have anymore info on Bloodreapers, Light reapers and Snow reapers.

And any information on the things like Thunderborns, Frostborns, ect. Like is there bloodborns 🤔

I will also take as much info about the story as you will give me

No need to apologize! Im always open for questions!

And yes you may absolutely make some characters! I’m always happy to see that.

One thing is very important to know about the world I’ve created:

"There’s a legend that says that if one is meant to ride a dragon, rider and dragon will always find each other."

This applies to all creatures that can be tamed too.

A good way to figure out if you are meant to bond with a certain creature is to check if the creature shares your eye color, if you share your eyecolor it means you share your soul color so a soul bond is possible! Not everyone gets to ride dragons though, even if they wish to.

Here’s the Bestiary page on Bloodreaper Wyverns! Im gonna change the design a bit (just the head and not much so no worries, it’s still accurate). There’s all kinds of info in that text! None on taming one though and just like all other Wyvern breeds you cannot simply tame an adult, taming adult Wyverns is impossible as you’d be killed before even getting a chance to get close. So what to do? You need to acquire an egg! Some buy them off the market (which isn’t good as that usually means dragon hunter killed the parents and took their eggs (dragon hunting is illegal). Maybe you happen to stumble upon an abandoned hatchling, but hatchlings are fierce even if they are young. Bloodreapers do not have a breath attack and Bloodborns are in in fact not a thing! Lesser Wyverns such as Bloodreapers do not posses a connection to an Elemental (Fire, ice, Lightning, Sun, moon).

Now the second rarest Wyvern species! Lightreapers are very rare and also very strong, they are cousins of the Fire elemental Wyverns (Flame/Fire/Ember/Ash and Magmareapers) and so are Nightreapers!

Lightreapers are Greater Wyverns! Their usual coloration consists of a mainly white body with yellow to gold wings and gold accents! Males will usually have markings on their crests (like a triceratops for example) and have a brightly colored throat (this is a trait all male Wyverns share) males like most other Wyverns are also bigger but less aggressive than females.

Lightreapers are only found in the desert areas of a continent! They are considered holy steeds to the Temple of Solis' Members! Some members ride Lightreaper Wyverns or Lightstalker Drakes.

Some Known Lightreapers and their riders:

Aurum (first recorded Sunborn Lightreaper)—Imera (first recorded Sunborn human)

Whiteray—Liora Solar (mother to Aelius Solar)

Daylight—Albus Luminos (Arch Priest of the Temple)

Zenith—Aelius Solar (father to Elaine Solar)

Meridian(oldest current living Lightreaper)— Soleil aka the blind Sunwalker (mother to Elaine Solar)

Solis (this century’s Sunborn Lightreaper) — Elaine Solar (this century’s Sunborn human)

Snowreapers are relatively docile compared to other Wyverns but still aggressive enough that going near one will end in death.

Some known Snowreapers and riders:

The white Warden of the North (a Wild, elder female Snowreaper living in the mountain ranges in the north of Achaios.) —riderless

Northwind (half Hailreaper; oldest living dragon on Archaios)— Hebe Duratus (deceased)

Snowwing — Cailleach Duratus

Rimewing — Meili Duratus

Blizzard (this century’s Frostborn; half Frostreaper)— Boreas Duratus (this century’s frostbornn father of Skadi and Aquilo)

Frostbite (night/blood/snow/Frostreaper hybrid) — Skadi Duratus

Snowfall (night/blood/snow/frost) — Aquilo Duratus

Hope any of this made sense and I’ll post some more on my story!

[renmeo]

OCs

On the left is Hirsch Archaios

On the right is ieros lefkitis