#moss forest murk

[fantastic-fr-scries]

Guardian Male

Moss / Forest / Murk , Speckle / Shimmer / Koi

[toadlett]

A comic today for #repostober! this is a short comic about peat for an environmental-themed anthology that sadly never ended up happening.

ID/ comic script:

PAGE 1 (5 panels)

1. close on a mound of sphagnum

CAPTION: There it is again, that singing.

2. look up, see the expanse of the peat bog, the sky above, a mountainside.

CAPTION: Liquid, urgent, rising as it drops, a bright thread trembling, spun out of thin air.

3. close in on tiny bird flying and singing.

CAPTION: Ah, a there it is! A skylark.

4. back down to the sphagnum. Big panel, show a pool nearby maybe, asphodel and sundew and green stars of butterwort.

CAPTION: There is so much life here, tiny and bright.

5. series of small panels of newts, orchids, sundew plants, blue butterflies.

CAPTION: The air tastes sharp. All things struggle.

PAGE 2 (5 panels)

1. cross-section a sphagnum mound, if possible collage in real moss scanned in. fading down into thick dark peat.

CAPTION: The sphagnum lays down a history of everything that ever grew here. Pollen, tissue, documenting thousands of years. In a good year they might create half an inch of peat. Here, it is metres thick.

2. indistinct shape in the murk, humanoid.

CAPTION: Cold, acid and airless, tannin-cured, tea-stained. Sometimes, not just plants are offered to me.

3. blackness, maybe imprinted with leaf impressions – play around with ink and collage.

CAPTION: The smell of it is oak and smoke, whiskey, myrtle, bitter, icy and rich.

4. the blackness cut and segmented, stacked neatly, a person working on it with primitive tools.

CAPTION: They used to cut it, press the caramel-coloured water from it, and dry it to burn in their hearths, keep them warm through long winters.

5. see an empty, skeletal crofter’s cottage, a square scar on the hillside.

CAPTION: The scars they left in the moors are still there, centuries after they were driven from their homes. I watch bracken grow in their crofts. The glacial creep of lichen over hearthstones.

PAGE 3 (6 panels)

1. a modern garden centre, sacks of peat compost in rows.

CAPTION: They still cut it, though, faster than ever. Drain the land for farming or forest, more lucrative landscapes. Burn the peat or mix it into compost to grow prettier plants than my milkworts, sundews, orchids.

2. someone buying flowers at the supermarket, a bunch of tulips.

CAPTION: They used to stack it high to last through the winter. Something crueller and longer than any winter is coming, and every mile they drain or dig belches more carbon than can be replaced in centuries.

3. back to an asphodel flower, a bed of sphagnum.

CAPTION: It’s so difficult for them to see the consequences.

CAPTION (another voice): Yes, but they are realising.

4. open up, the whole red moorland hillside.

CAPTION: A third of the planet’s soil carbon held in peat. An archive they are just learning to read.

5. open up further, to the mountain.

CAPTION: They’re running out of time. I feel the change in my mosses, the seasons stretch and warp,.

6. the whole range of mountains.

CAPTION: One thing they have always been, these tiny, frantic creatures, is quick.

CAPTION: Quick to tear things apart,

CAPTION: But quick to learn as well.

CAPTION: I hope you’re right.

ENDNOTE CAPTION: You can help protect peat bogs by using peat-free compost in your garden, avoiding greenhouse-grown produce such as cut flowers unless they are peat-free, and choosing a renewable energy supplier!

[legendsofmyriad]

Legends of Myriad: Arc One - Chapter 36: Heart of Lucarian

Chapter 35 | Chapter 37

Arc One Masterlist

-- -- -- -- --

“The road forks in about half a mile,” Lysander spoke. “If we take the left track, it brings us straight to the river, but I think there might be a gorge in the way.”

Demetrius trotted to catch up and bent over Lysander’s shoulder, inspecting the map for himself. How he read it was beyond him, the pallid ink washed out to such an extent that a mere scratch would remove it from the treated leather and dust moth holes peppering the layered fabric. “Where did you find this thing? It looks older than Orenda.”

“There aren’t a lot of maps in the Phoenix libraries that chart this section Kraken territory,” Lysander told him. “This was the best I could get at short notice.” 

“Did the others have anything on them at all?” 

A muttered gripe bristled in the back of his throat. “Left road. Head to the ravine and then the river. Agreed?”

“Is that a ravine?” Demetrius shifted, almost nose to faded print to discern the symbols and the curvature script. “Looks like a mountain range to me.”

“No, there’s the dip.” With a precise fingernail, Lysander pinpointed the plunge in land and steered him onward to an estuary.  

“You sure that’s a dip?” 

As the two argued directions and suspected drops, Oscar pored over the pale trails and monuments on the outline. “Hold the edges tight,” he instructed, hovering his palm over the ink and saturating the struggling lines with magic. “Keep it still for a second.” 

Plucking from his power reserves, he coated the pigment in a regulated heat. Scant sparks exposed the original design, clear channels and divisions sinking in, defined as the day meticulous hands etched them. Whiffs of smoke rallied, and he retracted the spell.

“That’s nothing,” he shrugged at the two awed expressions. “I’ve seen professors lift ink from paper and transform it into gold.”

“You’ve definitely made it easier to read,” Lysander said, beaming at the renewed precision. “Ah, see! It is a ravine!”

“It’s obvious now.” Demetrius clicked his tongue as he contemplated their course. “If we head left at the split in the road, but then aim for this trail here, we’d cut out the problem of crossing the gorge.”

“Nice catch. It would take us a little off the path, but the forest doesn’t seem too dense.” 

With the map situation resolved and his hosts debating the next steps, Oscar took stock of his environment. Life strained, moss dousing and boughs contorted in glutinous cages like a petal bearing a dew drop. Some of the porous pearls lodged themselves in the trunks, eyes open but dead to the world. 

When he mopped the sweat on his cheekbones, the beads broke off sticky. A respiring breeze repeated within the murk as he detached them from his sleeve. Slogged steps skulked in the gloaming shadows and the sparse wind began to stink of decaying fish and stagnant water, rasped, cumbersome wheezes creating the illusion of a natural draught. 

Lumbering, lanky legs broke into the scant light, bough-like limbs slinking forward and dozens of crimson eyes blinking simultaneously as though mangled trees had fused and revived. 

“Um, what is that?” he hacked, colliding with his companions in his stumble backwards. “Please tell me it’s friendly.” 

Lysander snatched hold of him and stilled his careen. Weapons drew from their holsters slowly and nerves steeled. Neither moved, observing the ungainly obstacle as its flat nose wrinkled to sniff at a tangle of vines and recoil in a shudder. 

“We’re not in Lumbernix territory,” Lysander muttered. “What is that thing doing here?”

“Why don’t you ask it?” Demetrius replied, mouth parting at the graceless mass of twitching arms. 

Had the situation not been so dire, he might have taken his eyes off the creature to glower at his partner, but to remove his gaze from a Lumbernix was to invite death. 

“Shouldn’t we run?” Oscar suggested. Lysander’s steadying grasp on him loosened, and he swept him back. 

“Lumbernixes have poor eyesight and detect their environment using sound,” Lysander whispered. “And they’re fast. The moment we move, it will be on us, but it flounders in close combat. Only option is to fight.” 

Gigantic branches carried the bulk with the fluidity of agitated smoke and smaller roots suckered into the dirt. If anything, it seemed more inquisitive than provoked, smelling the air and shoving mossy logs with its spiky head. Oscar’s gut churned to kill it, not if they might sneak away. 

A flock of fire birds barged from the outgrowth of a disturbed tree and plunged at the trio to evade the bumbling beast. From deep within its chest, the Lumbernix discharged a harrowing roar, its attention snatched from the fleeing feathers and to the three forms scuttling for cover. 

Wings flapped and slammed, shoving Oscar onto the ground in their haste. Reacting on frightened instinct at the pursuing monster, he curled in on himself. Was this how he his life ended? Torn apart on a distant world, never to see home again? But the rapid thuds slowed for a fraction, a mere second, and he peeked out over his arm and met with disarming curiosity. 

“Now,” Lysander shouted, sprinting at the preoccupied brute with Demetrius hot on his heels. They moved like a pair of lightning forks, striking, and dashing, and piercing tough hide with blade and bullet. 

“Stop!” Oscar screeched. The Lumbernix’s fright cut the depths of his soul as it contended to throw them off. Lysander directed the long-barrelled gun again, and he spurred his magic beneath the chamber to glance the blow. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” the guard demanded, ducking to avoid a swinging branch. 

“Stopping you from killing an innocent.” Twinges in his ankle and dirt in his throat, Oscar straggled to the downed, whimpering creature. He buckled to his knees, gingerly reaching out and petting a quivering, elongated limb. “It was slowing down. Don’t you understand, it wasn’t going to attack.” 

Harnessing the energy of his Eventide crystal, he conveyed a soothing crest over the Lumbernix, a blanket of sympathy and care. Several wounds wept and lacerations gushed black and boiling. 

“Oscar, your actions are noble, but that thing is dangerous,” Demetrius said lightly. “The safest course of action is to eliminate it.” 

“You are dangerous to me, are you not?” the mage countered, sustaining the steady flow of Eventide and hushing the creature’s pain. “And I am a danger to both of you. You have no idea what my magic is capable of. Yet here we are, working together, choosing to trust each other.” 

The Lumbernix turned its multitude of eyes to him. Laboured pants abating, it whined, the discarded leaves and feeble twigs spurred away with each deteriorating exhale. 

Oscar’s head hung in defeat at the final rattled wheeze. From the moment he perceived the creature’s aura melting fast, he acknowledged his endeavours were a lost cause, but he’d had to try. Magic could produce wonderful acts, yet his power fell short enough to save a life so close to death. He doubted many held such a gift. Only soul mages practised such feats, and he was no soul mage. But he sensed them all the same, the lives of those around him, animal and person alike. 

“I’m so sorry,” he said to the fallen Lumbernix, withdrawing and letting the body run cold. 

The forest stilled, his spirit with it for a fleeting second, before he pushed himself up and patted his grimy hands on his trousers. A considerable time had passed since that stinging loss tormented the roots of his being, not since the war and all those lives blundering as the everlasting dark snatched them away. He’d blanked out how it felt. 

“We, um…” He coughed the queasy glob from his throat and sidestepped the felled Lumbernix. “We should keep going. There’s not much light left.”

In the guarded repose of the forest, the whining boughs sounded like screams and the vibrating echo their everlasting cry into the boundless abyss. Lashes of muddied wind dried out Oscar’s eyes, but the gnawing sorrow at the Lumbernix’s passing remained to ensure a lasting bite. Other lives simmered in the underbelly of the wood, peeping and retreating as though they understood what befell that mighty creature. 

The closer to the waters they trekked, the more the woodland thinned until a split clearing unfurled from the measly mist. Free of fog and surprisingly clear, Oscar stooped over the bank to glimpse the rocky bed tens of feet below the crystalline depths. 

To the east, slanted bridges and walkways clawed up the surviving hillside, hoisting in vain to reinforce the ruins of a rotting crossing fortress. River water and time showed no sympathy, stripping what was perhaps once a magnificent intersectional structure and mocking the remaining bricks for daring to endure. 

“I presume we’re looking for a gem or an artefact of some sort,” Demetrius supposed, squinting at the low light after hours in a dingy forest. “Are there any pulses?” 

“I can’t see anything other than water and dirt,” Lysander replied. “If I had to hazard a guess, I’d say it’s probably up there.” With an upturned finger, he beckoned to the ramshackle ramparts. 

“Well, unless someone left us a boat or a bridge, we’re not getting to the other side anytime quick. For all we know, The Heart is in the river.”

On the opposite bank of the watery tract, a squat harbour poked out from the precipitous land beyond. Oscar inched closer, his toes paddling into the edges. Wistful song danced about his ears from the silver-draped figure, one bare foot shaving the water and the other snuggled beneath her on the planks as her faint melody bled into the raw chill. 

Her movements suspended and the lamenting tune dissolved with it as her daydreams wrested from the temperate waters to the mage watching her. With an awkwardness at his staring, he pretended to occupy himself with the loose stones on the bank. Her persistent gaze studied him as she drove herself to her feet.

He suspected she might run, flee into the hills behind, but instead she fluttered her fingers and strips of frozen water rolled, solidifying into a narrow pathway. She assisted the icy trail forwards as she strolled, unaffected by the cold on her soles and the manifesting haze of ice.

Amusement peaked in her keen features as the three travellers gawked at her leisurely progression. “What are you doing at my river?” she asked, an ethereal chime and a multitude of voices in her words. “Are you lost?” 

“Not quite,” Oscar said, recovering himself within the intense aura. “I don’t suppose you have any idea where we might find The Heart of Lucarian.”

The friendliness that greeted them hardened as swiftly as the water, her welcoming beam dropping into a snarl and her dampened footsteps propelling her into an urgent retreat. “Why do you want to know?” she demanded, heels on the ice and rearing up. “More rapacious people in search of power they have no right to?”

“No,” Oscar hastily replied, palms displayed in immediate surrender. “I’m just trying to get home. Please.” 

Her bright regard veered to the clearing behind him, two distinct presences surfacing from the treeline. He wheeled round, keeping his hands where the newcomers could see them. 

“Don’t move,” the coal-black, wispy cloud demanded before reconciling into the shape of a muscled woman, a slackened hood obscuring her identity and a cloth protecting her mouth. Two magenta eyes steeled. The lithe, half-clothed creature on her right growled, the controlled vibrations of his warning becoming a bark at the Phoenix heirs. Fierce, dripping canines advised them to reconsider any attempts at retaliation. 

“I told you to remain hidden,” the demon said to the silver woman. “Go. We will deal with these… trespassers.” 

“There is no greed or a desire for power in them, Mal. Lower your defences. I would like to hear why they have come here searching for me.” 

Oscar swivelled so carelessly he nigh on lost his balance in the slimy mud. Naturally, her aura seemed odd, she possessed a magic that moulded her being into existence. While she resembled a woman in her youth, her power was ancient, born inside of time itself and lasting all these centuries, just as historians claimed. 

“Of course!” Lysander blurted, jolting Demetrius. “You are a Fate. Oscar, do you remember the symbols in the stronghold, the ones below the balconies?” 

“You said they resembled demon writing, but they didn’t look quite right,” the mage recalled. “Like they were reversed.” 

“They were because they are Fate markings. Fates and demons create a kind of circle, feeding into each other, everlasting. Sustaining. Well, they used to.”

The Heart bobbed her head, impressed by his observations. “My kin surrounded the gateways with our symbols and matched them with their demon counterparts. Reflected, they channel enough energy to preserve them. Unfortunately, there is little power left in them anymore. Little power in me.”  

“What happened to your magic?” Oscar questioned. 

“Greed,” Mal spat, shouldering by him to shield The Heart, the werewolf pattering at her heels. “You boys must know your history.” 

Lysander and Demetrius acknowledged the remark in silent understanding, but the mage blinked between them. “I’m not from here,” he reminded them. “What am I missing?” 

“People did terrible things to Fates,” Demetrius explained. “Awful, unforgivable acts to hack pieces of their power and seize it for their own. Those massacres have stained Lucarian for centuries and it was assumed they were wiped out.” Inside the sorrowful pause that proceeded his words, the sickening stories his childhood tutor relayed about those once revered creatures of light churned. How demons strove to protect them, and died in their droves, mutilated and ravaged. Honoured to meet one, a solemn grief engulfed him. “Nothing could ever compensate you for what happened to your kin, but I can offer you any help you require. On my honour, you will be safe in our lands.” 

“Under what authority?” Mal challenged, thumping her spear into the squelching mud. 

“I am Demetrius, son of Lord Alaric Volkar and heir of the First Seat of the Phoenix Clan, and my partner holds claim to the Second. We have the jurisdiction to grant sanctuary and aid to anybody.” 

Mal’s anger eased, and a grumbled puff of air shivered behind her mask. 

The Heart advanced on featherlight steps and hesitated near Lysander. The power in his blood writhed, sealed inside gracious, gold eyes and clawing for freedom. She wondered if he comprehended it, if any of them did. 

“The power remaining within me is meagre,” she said, unfurling her fingers to the mage, “but this should be enough to accomplish your task.”

The lustre billowed in her grasp, the key to getting him to his friends and his home right there. All he had to do was reach out and accept the gift.

But he stayed frozen.

His soul pined for the sea-fresh air of Mora and his exuberant city, but not like this. A selfish gnaw chewed at him, and he reigned in the sting of starved teeth that begged him to take away what she couldn’t afford to give. 

“Your power is your own,” he told her, curling her cold fingertips protectively around the luminous shreds. “I’m sure there is another way. I apologise for bothering you.” 

Receding from the river bank, Oscar started for the forest line, abandoning the hope of a speedy, assured return to Solgarde. It may take Bartholomew months, years maybe, to restore the Lucarian gateways, but he would rather delay his arrival home than snatch a power too many had before.  

* * *

Wrists dangling from his knees and the ruptures and rugged peaks of the castle ruins jabbing into his backside, Oscar tracked the scatter of wrinkled leaves snagging in the hollows of the stone. 

Hours of silence stalked them to their rest stop, the hushed conversation between his hosts sinking to the background of his mind. To their credit, their wasted journey neither deterred them nor dampened their purpose, trading ideas and hypothesising on their next move as though no obstacle existed. 

“Here,” Lysander said, setting a full canteen onto the flattest segment of wall beside him. “How’s your ankle?” 

“Not too bad. Must have been a root I hit when those birds knocked me over.” Oscar sipped at the water, his mouth dry and the daunting prospect of a lengthy stay on Lucarian rankling his anxieties. He had never experienced homesickness, never been out of Mora long enough to notice that itch for home. 

He tuned into his memories, pictured the zedite grey buildings and the elegant avenues, the bumpy cobbles and the high pavements his tiny legs stretched to climb as a child. Vibrant gala banners swaying in the humid breeze and the smoky scent of celebratory fireworks. The hospitality of The Citadel galleries and the promising familiarity of the artist pavilions, woven in thriving ivy and open to the cliffs and the ocean. His family’s smiles, the laughs of his friends as they shared lunch, and jokes, and grievances. 

“We’re not the only ones searching for a way to reactivate the gateways,” Demetrius said. “The Banshee clan are investigating, and there’s every possibility we missed something.” 

“If they use demon technologies, I’m sure they’re looking into it,” Lysander added. “We could contact them.”

“Judging by the stronghold gateway and what The Heart suggested, Fate magic seems to be the carrier,” Oscar replied. Mist coasted the puddles in the enduring flagstone, seeking to freeze the water over as the river did at The Heart’s command. Her energy dwindled in those lands, striving to exist and failing. “Without something to transport the demon input to the right place, it won’t function. I’m guessing there was just enough left to open them for a short time, but the stockpiles are gone.” 

“She may not be the only Fate to have survived,” Demetrius asserted. “There could be others.”

“She was the only one mentioned in the Banshee vision.” 

“So? Visions are a pointer, not a definitive answer. Even Lady Amelda couldn’t decipher it.”

Chin held high, Demetrius crossed the vestiges and debris. “We are not giving up. Where would any of us be if we submitted at the first failure? If you dare contemplate such a thing, perhaps you’re not the headstrong, resilient person I thought you were.” 

Oscar’s jaw stiffened, and he picked the soil from his nails where the grains had compacted. “Who says I’m giving up?” he challenged, rising from the damp wall and greeting Demetrius’s proud smile with an unyielding one of his own. “The answer is out there somewhere. I just need to find it.” 

-- -- -- -- --

If you enjoyed this chapter, please consider reblogging. Reblogging helps to get work out there and seen.

[transtundras-fr]

could i get a scry :] (fr blog is gaelbog)

GLADLY

You just have such nice dark forest vibes I love :3

Murk/Moss/Oilslick

[loveisafire-warriors]

SUFFIXES

A suffix is a Title, and must be used to show respect. Each Suffix represents the cat who earned it based on their leaders view, and it is important to instill loyalty early.

belly, chuckle, laugh - cat with a big sense of humour

berry, blossom, cloud, moss, most flowers - a sweet, soft and kindhearted cat

chime, song, whistle - a cat with a soft, approachable voice and demeanour

branch, wood, any type of tree - a supportive and nurturing cat

dream/er, hope, wish : a cat with many dreams

bloom, leaf, sprout, seed : a cat who has just begun to grow and shows great promise

beam, bright, day, glimmer, glow, light, shine, sky, spirit, summer : a cat with a bright personality

ripple, skip, slip, splash, spring : a very upbeat and active cat

dawn, dew, morning, twilight : a cat who is often first to rise

charm : a charming cat

evening, log , noon, yawn : a calm laid back cat

breeze, brook, creek, drift, gust, stream, water : a cat who goes with the flow

bay, cove, pool, lake : a calm, serene and intelligent cat

pond, puddle : a sweet sometimes shy or silly cat who is reflective and intelligent

field, forest, marsh, meadow: a calm and serene cat; an intelligent cat “vast/deep”

web : a cunning, intelligent cat

mew, mumble, whisper : a quiet cat

abyss, cave, echo, fog, ghost, haze, mist, murk, pit, riddle, smoke, trench : a mysterious, strange, and often quiet cat

dusk, gloom, midnight, night, shade : a cat with a somber “gloomy” personality

chill, frost, ice, shiver, snow, winter, freeze, icicle : a cat with a particularly cold or serious personality

bark, pelt, scale, shell : a tough cat, often emotionally tough

boulder, rock, stone, stump : a stubborn immovable cat

crest, hill, peak, pinnacle, ridge, spire : a cat who is noble and proud

cliff, mountain : a stubborn immovable cat AND a cat who is noble and proud

heart : a cat who is full of love and care and a cat who is noble, proud and brave

wolf : a cat who finds family to be very important, and cares deeply about their Clan; a large, strong cat

avalanche, crash, flood, gale, rubble, wave : who is an immovable force who will keep going no matter who in in the way

call, cry, hoot, howl, throat, thunder, yowl : a particularly loud cat who is not afraid to call out others

blaze, burn, char, cinder, ember, fire, flame, flicker, flint, lightning, scorch, singe, spark : a cat with a strong fiery personality; this cat often has a lot of energy; often a great fighter

claw, scratch, strike, swipe, talon : a cat who is very skilled in battle; they fight ferociously with their claws; may have distinctive claws, most likely extra large or sharp

blood : an especially vicious cat; alternatively: a cat who is especially devoted to their kin

bone : an especially vicious cat and an especially strong cat “has strong bones”; a dark and mysterious cat

bite, fang, jaw, teeth/tooth, snap : a cat who is very skilled in battle; they have powerful teeth and jaws and have a biting centric fighting style; this cat is out spoken and have a bite to their words; may have distinctive teeth, most likely extra large or sharp

bristle, growl, hackle, snarl : a particularly grumpy and/ or aggressive cat

snake : a quick, cunning cat who is good at fighting

briar, burr, needle, quill, shard, spike, thistle, thorn, hornet, wasp, sting : a cat who has a bite to their words

dog, hound : a loud, vicious cat who is especially good at tracking. Alternatively in Shadowclan, a kind and loving cat who is ferocious to defend what they love

blizzard, hail, rain : a cat who is powerful in battle; strong and fights like a storm; this cat has a cold personality

storm, whorl : a cat who is powerful in battle; strong and fights like a storm

dance/r : a cat who’s fighting style looks akin to dancing; a cat who is upbeat and always on their feet

chaser, comet, flash, leg, runner, rush, streak, wind : an especially fast cat; a cat who can run long distances; a cat who can keep up with fast prey and their opponent

bird, flight, swoop, wing, hare, rabbit : this is an especially fast cat and/or a cat especially good at jumping; this cat is often upbeat and/or always has energy

bat : this is an especially fast cat and/or a cat especially good at jumping; this cat is also especially good at traversing the night and dark places

jump, leap, pounce : a cat who is especially good at jumping and leaping

fall, tail : a cat with great balance and who always lands on their feet; often a jack of all trades as balance is used in almost every skill

catch/er, hunt/er: a cat who is very skilled at catching prey

crawl, crouch, snare, stalk/er, trap : a cat who is especially good at stalking prey or their opponent without being seen or heard

dive, fin, swim/mer : a cat who is very skilled at swimming Fisher : a cat who is a very skilled fisher

frog : a cat who is especially good at jumping and swimming; a cat who has tough skin

ear : a cat with especially good hearing; also possibly very perceptive

eye, gaze, seeker, sight, watcher : a cat with especially good eyesight; this cat can spot things that others cannot

nose, snout : a cat with a great sense of smell and tracking abilities

whisker : a cat with especially good senses and spatial awareness: this cat is especially good at sensing things with their whiskers

foot, pad, path, step, stride/r, toe : a cat who is light on their feet; a cat who carefully thinks out their steps and actions; a cat who is sure of themselves, and is confident in their actions

rat : a small and/or quiet cat; a nimble cat who is able to walk quietly; this cat is also aggressive and puts up a fight

feather, mouse: a small and/or quiet cat; a cat who is light on their feet; a nimble cat who is able to walk quietly

burrow, dig/ger, tunnel/er, mole : a cat who is especially good at digging and traversing tunnels and burrows

fox : a cunning and quick cat; a cat who is good at traversing tunnels and burrows

dust, muck, mud, soot : a cat who is not afraid to get their paws dirty; a cat who is hard working; a cat who often helps with building

brush, burrow(repeat), bush, hollow, shrub, thicket, twig, builder, den : a cat is especially good at building; a cat who spends much of their time helping around camp and fixing dens

beaver : a cat who is always busy; a cat who is especially good at building

bee : a cat who is always busy and hard working; a cat who is calm unless provoked, and will always protect their home

bug : a small and hard working cat; a cat who is always up to something

[storymakerdraconians]

A Tale of Two Dragons

Emerging from her cavern nestled within the rugged mountains, a dragoness with green scales and a fiery-scaled belly stretched her wings wide, feeling the cool mountain air brush against her powerful frame. Her green scales shimmered like emeralds under the sunlight, while the scales along her chest and underbelly glowed with a smoldering, fiery hue, hinting at the dangerous inferno she harbored within. Today, she ventured not to defend her lair but to explore beyond its safety—a journey that led her to the foreboding Swamp Forest.

The swamp lay in a distant valley, cloaked in perpetual mist and shadowed by towering, twisted trees whose roots clawed deep into the murky waters. This land was a stark contrast to her own territory—there, the skies were clear, the rivers ran swift, and the forest bristled with life. But here, the air was thick with moisture, filled with the pungent smell of decay. Vines draped down like curtains, and the buzzing of insects filled her ears. Yet, what drew her to this eerie place was more than curiosity—it was the promise of new challenges, of territory unclaimed by her talons. At least, that was what she thought.

The dragoness descended upon the swampland, her landing sending ripples across a stagnant pool. Her clawed feet sank slightly into the wet earth, and she inhaled deeply, the air tasting of damp moss and ancient trees. She felt a shiver run down her spine, her fiery underbelly warming against the chill that clung to the ground. This place felt hostile, but it was nothing she couldn’t handle—or so she believed.

Unbeknownst to her, this swamp forest already had a ruler. As she ventured deeper, the atmosphere grew heavier, oppressive, and a deep growl echoed through the fog. The ground beneath her seemed to pulse with an unnatural energy, and shadows twisted unnaturally between the trees. She halted, narrowing her fiery eyes, her scales bristling with tension. She had crossed into the domain of another dragon—one far more accustomed to the darkness of this place.

From the gloom, a figure emerged. His scales were the color of the night itself, each scale reflecting the faintest hint of light like polished obsidian. He was a black dragon, his form sinuous and sleek, his eyes burning with a cold, blue fire that cut through the fog. His wings unfurled, blotting out what little light filtered through the canopy, casting a shadow that seemed to envelop her entirely.

"Intruder," his voice rumbled, deep and resonant like the roll of distant thunder. "This land is mine, claimed long before your wings touched its skies. Why do you tread where you do not belong?"

She bared her teeth, letting out a defiant snarl. Flames danced between her teeth, casting a warm glow that cut through the darkness surrounding them. "I do not fear your shadows, black dragon. I came seeking new lands to explore, and I will not be turned away so easily."

The black dragon’s lips curled into a predatory smile, his eyes narrowing with dangerous intent. "You are bold, green one. But this is not a place for idle wanderers. You challenge my right to rule here, and for that, you must prove yourself—or leave as ashes."

With a powerful roar, the swamp itself seemed to come alive, responding to the black dragon’s command. Vines writhed, water bubbled, and the fog thickened, swirling around her like a living thing. She took a step back, but the ground beneath her feet seemed to move, trying to pull her deeper into the murk. She unleashed a torrent of fire, blazing a path through the encroaching mist, forcing the darkness to recoil.

Yet the black dragon was swift, his wings cutting through the air as he lunged at her, jaws snapping shut mere inches from her throat. She twisted away, her claws raking across his side, leaving shallow marks on his dark scales. The black dragon roared, retaliating with a surge of shadowy energy that wrapped around her, dragging her closer to the swamp’s depths.

She struggled, her fiery scales burning against the cold grasp of darkness, and with a mighty roar, she unleashed her flame, burning away the shadows that sought to bind her. The forest trembled with the force of their clash—fire against shadow, heat against cold. Sparks flew as their claws met, and the very trees seemed to bend away from their battle.

But even amidst the heat of combat, there was a grudging respect that grew between them. The black dragon saw in her the resilience of a flame that refused to be snuffed out, and she saw in him the relentless tenacity of a darkness that never yielded to light. As their battle raged on, their strikes grew less lethal, more testing, each recognizing the strength in the other.

Finally, they drew apart, both breathing heavily, steam rising from their bodies. The black dragon’s blue eyes glowed with something new—an understanding, perhaps, or the glimmer of a different challenge. He lowered his head slightly, acknowledging her strength. "You are not like the others who have tried to claim my land. You possess a fire that could burn even the deepest shadows. But if you wish to stay, you must offer something more than defiance."

She paused, her fiery gaze meeting his. A slow smile spread across her scaled face, and she inclined her head, the embers of her challenge cooling into something more. "Then let us forge a truce, shadow-dweller. You guard the secrets of this land, and I shall lend my flame to defend it. Together, perhaps we can make this place something more than swamp and shadow."

And so, the two dragons, once enemies, now allies, stood side by side amidst the misty forest, each bringing their own power to the land they shared. Their journey was far from over, but as they took their first steps into this uncertain alliance, they knew that they had found in each other a kindred spirit, fierce and unyielding.

========================================================================

========================================================================

A green dragoness, adorned with emerald scales and a fiery belly, leaves her mountain lair to explore the eerie Swamp Forest. Here, she encounters a black dragon, ruler of the shadows, who challenges her presence. Their clash of fire and darkness is fierce, but amidst the battle, respect grows. Together, they form an alliance, vowing to transform the swamp into something greater than mere shadow and flame. ==========================================

Title: Alliance of Fire and Shadow: A Tale of Two Dragons

Alt Texts:

"Green dragoness with emerald scales and a fiery underbelly stretches her wings against a mountain backdrop."

"Black dragon with obsidian-like scales confronts the green dragoness in a misty swamp."

"The green dragoness unleashes a torrent of fire in a dense, shadowy forest."

"Two dragons, one green and fiery, the other black and shadowy, face off amidst swirling fog."

"Dragons, fire meeting shadow, clash in a swamp forest as mist swirls around them."

"A tense alliance forms between a green dragoness and a black dragon in a dark, misty swamp."

Tags: Green dragoness, Black dragon, Swamp Forest, Dragon battle, Fire and shadows, Dragon alliance, Fantasy dragons, Mystical creatures

Keywords: Green dragon, black dragon, swamp, dragon battle, fire, shadow, alliance, misty forest, emerald scales, fantasy storytelling.

[cicadas-in-late-nights]

1903 ─ In the heart of the gloomy forest deep, where shadows dance, and secrets keep, tall trees, like sentinels, stand guard, their branches twisted, leaves charred. The air is heavy with whispers untold, mysteries hidden in roots so old, a canopy dark, where the sunlight weeps, in this enigmatic forest, darkness creeps. Yet, amid the murk, there's beauty rare, in the stillness of the damp, cool air, moss-covered stones and ferns so green, in this gloomy world, a tranquil scene. The eerie calls of creatures unseen, echo through the woods, serene, owls hoot and wolves softly sigh, beneath the solemn, starry sky. Beneath the boughs, a world of dreams, where magic lingers in moonbeam streams, the gloomy forest, a place of wonder, where nature's secrets tear asunder. So venture forth with cautious tread, in this forest of shadows, fear no dread, for in its depths, a tale unfolds, of mysteries and beauty, as nature molds.

/ 𝐨𝐧-𝐭𝐡𝐞-𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫-𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐟-𝐨𝐟-𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 /

In the heart of the jungle, where emerald leaves kiss the sky, lies a world enchanted, where ancient secrets lie. The rainforest, a lover, in verdant splendor dressed, a realm of untamed passion, where nature's love is blessed. The canopy, a tender touch, where leaves and vines entwine, in a dance of endless longing, where the sun and shadows twine. With every drop of rain that falls, a whispered, sweet caress, upon the earth's lush bosom, where love and life confess. Misty veils of morning rise, like a lover's soft embrace, as toucans serenade the dawn, in this wild, romantic place. In the heart of the rainforest, where passion's fire burns bright, each creature's song is poetry, in the soft and sultry night. Beneath the emerald canopy, where orchids brightly bloom, two jaguars may rendezvous, amid the silent gloom. Their golden eyes, like stars above, reflect the moon's sweet kiss, in the heart of the rainforest, where love is purest bliss. So, let us cherish this Eden, where love and life are one, in the rainforest's embrace, where our journey has begun. For in its depths, we find a love, both wild and deeply true, the rainforest, our beloved, forever entwined with you.

[bitmapimg]

some fun scries of these guys. the terts are so so so good

cottoncandy diamond / aqua spade / banana peacock

hunter diamond / forest spade /forest frills

murk ribbon / moss weaver / flaxen polypore

obsidian orb / white sarcophagus / white kumo

[saltminerising]

The only reason I'm so mad about murky, natural greens (murk, moss, camo, forest etc) is because it feels like they take up such a huge part of the color wheel where 70% of the rest of the colors don't match with them at all imo. They're very likely to show up in hatches alongside vibrant colors, thus ruining the combo. The sheer amount of brightly colored g1s with some dark green tert like peacock I hatched during NotN really frustrated me because I couldn't do anything I liked with those combos. I like them together with other greens, or browns, and maybe a few of the greys/blacks. The rest of the color wheel? Not worth my time. Also doesn't help that many of the greens seem to have some unpleasant orange or red secondary tone which clashes too much for my taste.

But hey if you can make a combo such as twilight/periwinkle/swamp work for you then I'm happy for you.

[msb-lair]

Clutch #1890 - Siowyn/Sionyn

Mated On: 2019-09-12 # of eggs: 3 Hatched On: 2019-09-17

Progeny:

Hatchling 4980 (Thyra) - Gaoler Female, Hickory Phantom/Spring Spirit/Moss Blossom, Common - 250,000 on 2019-09-18

Hatchling 4981 - Gaoler Male, Soil Wasp/Forest Spirit/Cerulean Blossom, Uncommon - 200 gems on 2019-09-23

Hatchling 4982 (Meliae) - Gaoler Female, Dirt Phantom/Spring Spirit/Murk Blossom, Uncommon - 175,000 on 2019-09-22

Comments: 

[elephart-hi]

Everything That's Hidden Beyond the Mist

Chapter 1: A Misty Revel

summary: Cardan accidentally walks in on Jude having a private moment with herself, and he catches her moan his name. Jude to her great dismay is forced to stop lying to herself about the attraction she feels towards him after being caught. In her embarrassment of her inexperience she almost decides to command him to forget the whole ordeal ever happen when he offers her a bargain she can't refuse: Cardan will teach Jude how to be a good lover but, if she accepts he won't make her orgasm- unless she reveals her fantasy to him. Cardan expects to seduce Jude and have her begging him for release while spilling her daydream to him in desperation, but like always, Jude has other plans. When she accepts his offer Jude decides to spin the bargain in her favor, only revealing bits and pieces of her fantasy to him at a time. She slowly learns the secrets of the bedroom while depriving Cardan of the ability to please her, since the magic of the bargain renders him unable to. The bargain turns into a competition to see who will make the other beg first. Will Cardan beg her for the chance to finally touch her or Will Jude beg him for sweet release

rating: M is for mature with multiple chapters.

AN: this is a prequel to Worthy of a Queen and shows how cardan and jude became lovers to begin with

but you don't need to read that to enjoy this. @jurdanhell this is for u huntie thanks for hyping it up and making me want to write more

AO3 Chapter 2

The night air was sticky, thick, and overly sweet. Fog clung to the moss and tangled roots of the crooked forest’s floor as the folk danced about on feather-light feet, the hazy murk like an intangible blanket that slowly swirled and spun in wispy plumes around the trees and dancers as if the fog itself were dancing with the fairies. Jude supposed it was dancing, her heart was pounding as she distracted herself, eyes tracked the spiral patterns that the air currents made in the white mist which was slightly illuminated in pockets by pixies of varying colors that fluttered about the revel. The pixies never stayed in one place for long and their faint glow did little for visibility, their glowing skin just adding another layer of wonder to the hardly visible fray before her. She tried her hardest not to look but the noises drew her in.

Jude lifted her gaze from the patterns in the mist and slowly-- regretfully-- brought them to rest on the hard-to-see dancers, all naked and sweaty with hooded eyes and heaving chests. She felt her eyes lock onto the sight before her, felt them glaze over and glue in place, she didn’t know if she could look away from it any more than she would be able to stop her mortal feet from dancing to fairy music. The mist swirled and parted around the revel goers allowing her glimpses of their swollen lips, flushed cheeks, and glistening skin cover in hickies that were passed around by everyone as if marks of greetings rather than love bites. The fog didn’t allow her to see everything but it did nothing to prevent her from hearing the moans and grunts intermingling with the debouched sounds of slick skin slapping against slick skin.

Her cheeks heated from embarrassment--- lust her mind corrected; that thought was unwelcome. As she felt her gown grow increasingly more restricting against her skin she insisted to herself that it was shame that heated her core and sped her heart-- nothing more. It was shame she felt from watching these dancers. Shame at their nudity, at how they rolled their sweaty bodies against one another with their hips grinding and sweat dripping. It was shame at how their hands groped and rubbed one another, at how their greedy lips feasted on each other. Shame was what glued her there.

Its desire that same sensual voice murmured in her head as her guts tightened and sharp tingles ran down her leg and up through her stomach; shame was something you learned from the mortal world, there is nothing shameful in this wanting, it purred at her. She felt her body pulse in time to the music playing; the song was the embodiment of lust, the notes like a low throbbing, like greed and desire, and the need for more more more. The music sounded just how she felt when her eyes finally locked on him in the crowd as the fog parted once more. There was the man who made the mist dance, who made the air thick and sweet; all of Elfhame was connected to his very being. When sweat coated his brow the fog grew denser, when his pulse quickened so did the music, when he felt ecstasy the air tingled with electricity. The fog parted and all she could see was the high king. But the mist shifted once more and he was lost to her. She felt her body ache. She longed to step into the throng, to strip off the dress that clung to her like a second skin, to feel the cool fog tickle across her naked body as she ran to him, to feel his hand cup the wetness between her thi---

Jude needed to get out of the forest, the thought shrieked through her mind in alarm. She knew better than to have attended this revel-- should have known better. Her heart pounded and her heat throbbed with it. If she stepped into the dance she wouldn’t be able to stop. It would be anyone’s hands caressing her, not his. Most fairies don’t mind that, anyone could be their lover and it wouldn't matter. But Jude wasn’t ready for that yet, to be touched by all and many. Perhaps someday she would have the courage for it but now all she craved was him. But she couldn’t get to him. Not without entering the dance.

Jude was choking on the smell of his desire, it clung to the fog that blanketed everything. Dancers swirled by causing a breeze to ruffle her skirts. Three embracing fairies from within the orgie glace at her then, their noses poised in the air. Their eyes looked mischievous when they appraised her, mischievous but not malevolent.

“Come join us,” the sprite’s moan was needy and whiny, “we can smell your desire locked within the folds of your gown my esteemed sechel, allow us to honor you and free your body from its constraints, allow us to worship you, sweet mortal.”

“Please join us, my lady,” one of her companions breathed, his chest heaving and cheeks flushed, his cock buried within their third, “I’ve heard that the nectar between a mortals thighs tastes sweeter than any wine, that one can taste the very life-giving essence that resides there. I beg you for a taste.”

Others from within the dance turned their gaze to her now, she could see the very breeze that caught the scent of her arousal make its way through the mist, she could see it swirling and spinning creating patterns in its wake as more and more of the folk paused and turned to her as her aroma passed them by.

One moment the air was pulsing, bodied grinding, music thrumming, mist swirling, and the next everything went still. The air chilled, dancers stopped, the music went silent and the fog hung frozen in the air as if it had turned solid, swirls and patterns frozen in place. There wasn't a single breeze to disturb it, the air completely unmoving.

No one did anything for a heartbeat, then two, when suddenly a breeze wafted from directly behind Jude stirring up dust and causing her skirts to lift and flutter. Jude watched the solidary breeze make its way towards the center of the throng, parting the mist in its way, creating a clear path before her where she could see everything she hadn’t been able to before, even the blades of grass. The fog parted at last to reveal Cardan, his raven hair ruffling as the breeze reached him, his eyes closed, and his lashes fluttered as he inhaled deeply, breathing in her arousal. He was buried within a fairy, with sprites clinging to his body where they had been planting open-mouth kisses on him, hoping to be the next he chose to have his way with. They were unmoving now staring at her with annoyance while his dilated eyes bore into her. His exhale came out as a cross between a moan and a sigh.

“Care to join your people Jude?” he asked her, his voice no louder than a murmur but she heard it as if he were right next to her, the revel was so silent it allowed her to. His stare was consuming her as he detangled from his lovers. He stood before the folk naked and gloriously erect while his tail coiled behind him; Cardan’s focus solely on her. Everyone was staring now. They were waiting for her response, Jude had to give one since the king addressed her. Her throat felt dry but she swallowed and spoke.

“I’m a mortal, my king, if the music was to play I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from part taking, even when I wanted to. I’m afraid I am unable to join in such festivities,” she ducked her head out of due respect and to hide her burning face. He was too beautiful to look at, he was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. His skin glowed beneath the moonlight, his iridescent hair shining. Light from the pixies cast a colorful glow on him. He looked very inch the high king at that moment, in every moment honestly. He gazes at her appreciatively and then turned over his shoulder.

“No music!” Cardan called out to no one in particular, his orders would nonetheless be obeyed, “We hardly need it anyway, since we were making fine music of our own,” he gestured about the naked folk gathered in the throng.

The faires laughed at his reference to the debauched sounds all their lovemaking created, the moans and wet slapping, the noises that had caught Jude’s attention initially. He turned his gaze to them and joined in their laughter before settling his burning eyes on her once more.

“Will you join us now my Jude? You will be able to be in control and have anyone you desire,” he called out to her. Jude’s toes curled when he referred to her as his.

Jude could hardly say no to his offer, not after he went out of his way to accommodate for her. Jude lifted her skirts allowing the scent of her heat to waft out and fill the space, she lowered herself into a curtsy, lifting the fabrics higher.

“What would I owe you for such kindness, my king,” Jude knew that nothing in fairy was ever given for free. Cardan grinned at her now mischief glinting in his eyes black pools burning with desire as his nose flared and scented her again. His chest was heaving and his cock twitched.

“You may have anyone you choose, but,” he amended his previous statement, now adding his price to the end, “you must choose me as your first partner. Do you accept?”

Murmurs erupted through the revel all wondering what was to come next, wondering if the mortal would dare reject the high king before all his people. The fact that he even gave her the power to deny him sent a thrill through her. She made her first step into the crowd and raised her arms.

“Help me remove my gown,” she called to no one, but all were willing to answer her, she was sechel to the high king, she was desirable, “but no one lays a finger on me… the high king requires I be touched by him first,” as she speaks, snickers and whistles go up around the gathering as faires flock to her and carefully remove the dress from her body, taking care to not to touch her skin. Cardan watches it all happen with a smirk on his face pumping himself as his eyes roam her body while his people remove her corset followed by one layer of her gown being removed by the next. His eyes feast on her skin once she was freed from her clothing; he takes in her body, toned from years of training and sword fighting and the air around them starts to thrum once more with every step she takes closer to him; her bare breasts swaying with each step she took. The noise of the revel resume, bodies grinding, moans spilling from lips, the noise gets louder and louder the closer she gets to him.

She’s a breath away from him now, he is beautiful and all hers, she moaned out his name as his hands finally reach her, “Cardannnn”

“Oh, stars above,” she hears Cardan’s voice catch, but it’s not the one before her naked and erect standing in the middle of an orgie. Jude is absolutely mortified because there is no orgie nor revel, actually happening. She was laying on her bed in her room moaning into a pillow. The orgie was just a scene she had painted in her mind as she gave herself some well-deserved relaxation. She surged up from her spot laying on her bed one hand still knuckle deep between her legs and the other massaging one of her breasts. Her chest is heaving and her eyes sting because she can feel tears of shame coming from having been caught in the position she was in. She has never been so embarrassed in her life because there, staring at her from her doorway, is the real Cardan, fully clothed and looking horrified at having found her masturbating to him.

Chapter 2 Ao3

[stargir1z]

collagen, honey, rose water <3

collagen: what common misconception do you hate to hear repeated as fact?

Uhhhmmm… i don’t know…that you can choose to be ‘apolitical’ . that there is a such thing as a neutral space

honey: describe one of the best days of your life.

oh god uhm oh. i think many of my best days have been with my ex boyfriend who i still love very much. i remember my parents were gone for a couple days in the summer and we just sat down on my living room couch and watched a movie i think it might have been full metal jacket and ate takeout. and then after he left i watched some b99 and went to bed. there was something about that day that lacked the ‘paranoid reading’ and constant self-monitoring that i usually tend to live life with. He is a taurus and some days (when i was less hungry of a person) he made me feel like everything was going to be just a good normal for me

rose water: if you could see love, what would it look like? describe love in terms of aesthetic (butterflies, stars, rainbows, etc).

my perception changes frequently, but recently i am thinking that love is not pure. love is when we choose to create rather than destroy, and to disseminate rather than to partition. however, most of us also strive for power, and love indeed cultivates power, even though we see the desire for power as love’s antithesis. love is a site of growth, but it also a confirmation and a furthering of one’s hunger. maybe love is not only the water but the algae, bacteria, and mosses which fester as the water gets older and older. the molecular compounds with longer and longer names, the necessity of division as creation goes on and on. love is murk, and love is the surveillance of the murk. it has rules. some of them fester more underneath the surface. like a forest pond, its oval formation shrinks and grows with the rain. it may disappear as a sustained, delineated body, but the water itself permeates throughout the soil and trees. love never dies once it’s born, that’s for sure

[wall-nerds]

Rare dragon part Colors 1

I’m alive! Even after my account got nuked. Heh. So let’s find the the primary color that is the rarest. Out of 177 colors. Yipee...

Obsidian 902,974

White 649,311

Midnight 454,901

Ice 391,195

Black 278,362

Shadow 214,386

Maize 199,738

Coal 187,502

Sky 186,847

Platinum 185,915

Rose 182,598

Silver 175,950

Orca 166,258

Charcoal 164,327

Royal 157,006

Blood 150,433

Grey 143,418

Azure 143,373

Crimson 143,137

Caribbean 142,625

Mulberry 142,295

Navy 140,945

Lavender 138,361

Seafoam 136,337

Splash 127,982

Teal 127,084

Moon 121,699

Storm 120,928

Blue 120,837

Pearl 118,698

Abyss 118,663

Purple 117,724

Aqua 116,304

Violet 114,961

Thistle 113,958

Denim 113,526

Gold 110,195

Eldritch 106,479

Steel 103,631

Stonewash 101,142

Banana 97,876

Phthalo 97,578

Watermelon 25,835

Oilslick 94,022

Ivory 93,996

Radioactive 83,150

Maroon 79,741

Lead 77,713

Chocolate 77,237

Pink 77,059

Jade 75,796

Teal 127,084

Fire 74,532

Red 74,464

Sunshine 72,977

Cyan 71,647

Coral 71,282

Blackberry 70,969

Cerulean 70,449

Magenta 70,182

Dust 68,728

Gloom 68,195

Soil 67,785

Flint 67,777

Cerulean 70,449

Brown 67,439

Stone 67,257

Beige 67,034

Slate 64,756

Jungle 62,582

Smoke 62,500

Sapphire 62,497

Orange 61,769

Sand 60,951

Mist 60,604

Lemon 60,128

Eggplant 59,521

Leaf 58,180

Lapis 56,771

Plum 56,639

Robin 55,780

Swamp 54,582

NightShade 54,571

Wisteria 52,417

Forest 52,287

Cobalt 52,076

Tomato 51,808

Rust 50,059

Orchid 49,885

Grape 49,884

Cornflower 49,462

Pistachio 49,372

Fog 48,945

Overcast 48,089

Indigo 47,904

Avocado 47,802

Iris 47,749

Copper 47,705

Wine 47,074

Heather 46,047

Amethyst 45,852

Green 45,320

Tangerine 45,249

Goldenrod 45,127

Ultramarine 44,904

Periwinkle 43,770

Twilight 43,582

Sunset 42,916

Garnet 42,516

Spring 41,561

Mint 40,246

Bubblegum 39,650

Metals 38,842

Turquoise 36,214

Rasberry 35,612

Umber 33,596

Spruce 32,505

Fuchsia 32,108

Berry 31,849

Peacock 30,577

Cottoncandy 29,927

Grapefruit 29,107

Mauve 28,111

Strawberry 27,487

Sable 27,421

Cherry 27,196

Thicket 27,176

Flaxen 26,853

Latte 24,961

Saffron 24,904

Tarnish 24,889

Tan 24,795

Clay 24,623

Sanddollar 24,590

Spearmint 24,211

Honeydew 24,190

Marigold 24,186

Brick 24,151

Buttercup 24,078

Hunter 23,879

Shamrock 23,745

Cerise 23,142

Terracotta 22,900

Hickory 22,845

Ginger 22,762

Dirt 21,939

Carrot 20,646

Peridot 20,317

Vermilion 20,066

Bronze 20,057

Caramel 19,755

Auburn 19,706

Pumpkin 19,559

Yellow 19,271

Mantis 19,104

Cinnamon 16,798

Chartreuse 15,708

Amber 15,067

Honey 14,022

Crocodile 13,724

Murk 13,495

Olive 13,355

Moss 12,861

Aaaand we have a winner! Moss is the rarest primary color! so what’s it look like?

Ohhh nooo! Well maybe it looks good in mosaic? But to truly know I’ll have to at least go to secondary. All 177 colors. Again. Hepl.

[gainstrive]

some kids up for sale! all gen one, all unbred. come get ‘em! buyers are welcome to put the art on another dragon. buyers are also welcome to color the pieces or have them colored, granted my signature remains intact.

eggplant gloom periwinkle - 350 gems - transparent portrait here

umber crocodile spearmint - 500 gems - transparent portrait here

murk brown marigold - 350 gems - transparent portrait here

forest tan umber - 350 gems - transparent portrait here 

moss swamp sapphire - 350 gems - transparent portrait here

[fr-smallswingshoes]

Unearthly Quagmire hatched these cuties on 4/28/2021! They’re all in the AH! Willing to hold dragons and take mixed payments.

Reblogs appreciated!

"Sveari". Bogsneak Female. 18,500t or 14 gems. Jungle Poison/Murk Butterfly/Honey Glimmer. Wind Uncommon Eyes. Note: 1 of 13 with these colors. 1 of 4 unexalted.

"Tildrine". Bogsneak Female. 18,500t or 14 gems. Forest Poison/Murk Butterfly/Radioactive Glimmer. Wind Unusual Eyes. Note: 1 of 14 with these colors. 1 of 3 unexalted.

"Oldika". Bogsneak Female. 21,000t or 16 gems. Camo Poison/Moss Butterfly/Blue Stained. Wind Faceted Eyes. Note: 1 of 2 with these colors. 1 of 2 unexalted.

[ahgems]

f, guard # 52423597 Moss Wasp Murk Bee Green Spines Earth Common

f, guard # 52423598 Murk Wasp Chartreuse Bee Forest Spines Earth Common

5g each