This is where I'll be shoving any snippets that aren't ready to become full stories.
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A Sphinx's Flights of Fancy (snippet thread)
- Thread starter BastOfTheXV
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Red Like Roses I
BastOfTheXV
Ave Imperator! Remember Prospero!
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I'll be working on this one once I've gotten a bit further with On Shining WIngs.
"So you have come to listen to an old queen ramble hatchling?" I ask, turning my head to look at the amber-scaled dragonet before me.
"Yes elder." He says gazing up at me without a trace of fear.
I dip my head and nudge the youngster close, and he settles between my forelegs and against my chest.
"Then let me tell you of my youth, in an age when we were being pushed to the brink by humanity taking our lands and dragon battled dragon for the scraps they left." I resettle myself into a more comfortable position, dulled scarlet wings unfurling to absorb every bit of the warmth of the fire my youngest daughter lit for me. My own fire has dwindled, and I now struggle to produce more than a single short burst too cool to start a hearth fire. The dragonet nestles closer to my my breast, an action that in my day would have been unthinkable. No queen of my generation would have tolerated another's young in her den, and yet here I am watching over my daughter's offspring.
My earliest memory starts with warmth and quiet. I drowse, unaware of the passing of time, until for the first time I feel hunger. I try to shift position as I had done before, but cannot move. My hind paws brush something hard and I kick out. Something gives, and I kick again. There is a crack, more heard than felt, and my hind paws break through. I ram my head against the hardness repeatedly until it too breaks, and squirm until it shatters completely. I tumble out and immediately shiver as the chill hits me. Something touches my belly, and I blink open my eyes for the first time. It is bright, almost painfully so and I shut my eyes against it. When I open them again there is a large shape looming over me, and it drops something with a quiet splat. It smells wonderful, and I stagger over to it on unsteady paws. I try to lower my head slightly, and instead whimper as my head slams into something hard inside it. I lift my head slightly and shake it before trying again. This time I succeed and the instant I open my mouth instinct takes over and I take a massive bite, barely chewing in my desperation to fill my belly. Behind me I can hear cracking sounds and soon I can feel other bodies against mine, pushing and shoving to get their share. Far too soon it's all gone, and nothing but the hard stuff in the middle is left. The large shape comes back and starts licking us, cleaning the remnants of our first meal off our scales. Exhausted, we flop into a heap of bodies and fall asleep.
"So you have come to listen to an old queen ramble hatchling?" I ask, turning my head to look at the amber-scaled dragonet before me.
"Yes elder." He says gazing up at me without a trace of fear.
I dip my head and nudge the youngster close, and he settles between my forelegs and against my chest.
"Then let me tell you of my youth, in an age when we were being pushed to the brink by humanity taking our lands and dragon battled dragon for the scraps they left." I resettle myself into a more comfortable position, dulled scarlet wings unfurling to absorb every bit of the warmth of the fire my youngest daughter lit for me. My own fire has dwindled, and I now struggle to produce more than a single short burst too cool to start a hearth fire. The dragonet nestles closer to my my breast, an action that in my day would have been unthinkable. No queen of my generation would have tolerated another's young in her den, and yet here I am watching over my daughter's offspring.
My earliest memory starts with warmth and quiet. I drowse, unaware of the passing of time, until for the first time I feel hunger. I try to shift position as I had done before, but cannot move. My hind paws brush something hard and I kick out. Something gives, and I kick again. There is a crack, more heard than felt, and my hind paws break through. I ram my head against the hardness repeatedly until it too breaks, and squirm until it shatters completely. I tumble out and immediately shiver as the chill hits me. Something touches my belly, and I blink open my eyes for the first time. It is bright, almost painfully so and I shut my eyes against it. When I open them again there is a large shape looming over me, and it drops something with a quiet splat. It smells wonderful, and I stagger over to it on unsteady paws. I try to lower my head slightly, and instead whimper as my head slams into something hard inside it. I lift my head slightly and shake it before trying again. This time I succeed and the instant I open my mouth instinct takes over and I take a massive bite, barely chewing in my desperation to fill my belly. Behind me I can hear cracking sounds and soon I can feel other bodies against mine, pushing and shoving to get their share. Far too soon it's all gone, and nothing but the hard stuff in the middle is left. The large shape comes back and starts licking us, cleaning the remnants of our first meal off our scales. Exhausted, we flop into a heap of bodies and fall asleep.
Shattered Divinity Snippet
New
BastOfTheXV
Ave Imperator! Remember Prospero!
- Joined
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- Likes received
- 1,206
Lu-cia! Lu-cia! Lu-cia!
The crowd cheers as I step onto the sands of the arena, spear in one hand and a shield strapped to my arm. I feel my muzzle open in a grin, baring the elongated upper fangs that mark me as a descendant of one of the Huntress' favoured. Here in the arena I am merely Lucia, a skilled gladiator, and not Lucia Regula Umbra of the Imperial Pride.
My opponent today is a half-mad prisoner, captured in a failed uprising out in a border holding. She carries a blade and shield, and unlike most of her ilk, she seems to have some idea of how to use them. Her ears are pinned flat against her skull and her tail lashes behind her. She charges, a crazed glint in her bloodshot eyes. I stand fast to meet her, spear held ready and shield raised to block her blows.
She strikes, overcommitting to a sloppy swing of her gladius. I sidestep, following the movement with a lightning thrust that forces her to raise her own shield. This dance repeats itself a dozen times, each failed attack sapping her endurance further. The thirteenth time she attacks is fuelled by desperation, and this time I retaliate. The point of my spear rests on her throat, her blade deflected by my shield.
It is up to the crowd now, whether this rebel dies by my spear or lives to fight again. I hear the calls for blood, and the calls for mercy. Eventually the former win out, and with a smooth thrust my spear pierces the rebel's throat. I pull it free and give it a gentle flick, droplets of scarlet blood scattering like tiny rubies onto the sand and my own ink-dark pelt. Absently, I note the crowd chanting my name as I stride out of the arena to shed my arms and armor and don the regalia of an Imperial Princess.
Shattered Divinity is a sword-and-sorcery type fantasy setting a few Discord buddies and I have been working on. This specific snippet features one of the setting's few named characters, a princess of the Ashali Empire (think genderflipped Rome with lion-people as the dominant race and some minor Ancient Egyptian influences).
The crowd cheers as I step onto the sands of the arena, spear in one hand and a shield strapped to my arm. I feel my muzzle open in a grin, baring the elongated upper fangs that mark me as a descendant of one of the Huntress' favoured. Here in the arena I am merely Lucia, a skilled gladiator, and not Lucia Regula Umbra of the Imperial Pride.
My opponent today is a half-mad prisoner, captured in a failed uprising out in a border holding. She carries a blade and shield, and unlike most of her ilk, she seems to have some idea of how to use them. Her ears are pinned flat against her skull and her tail lashes behind her. She charges, a crazed glint in her bloodshot eyes. I stand fast to meet her, spear held ready and shield raised to block her blows.
She strikes, overcommitting to a sloppy swing of her gladius. I sidestep, following the movement with a lightning thrust that forces her to raise her own shield. This dance repeats itself a dozen times, each failed attack sapping her endurance further. The thirteenth time she attacks is fuelled by desperation, and this time I retaliate. The point of my spear rests on her throat, her blade deflected by my shield.
It is up to the crowd now, whether this rebel dies by my spear or lives to fight again. I hear the calls for blood, and the calls for mercy. Eventually the former win out, and with a smooth thrust my spear pierces the rebel's throat. I pull it free and give it a gentle flick, droplets of scarlet blood scattering like tiny rubies onto the sand and my own ink-dark pelt. Absently, I note the crowd chanting my name as I stride out of the arena to shed my arms and armor and don the regalia of an Imperial Princess.
Shattered Divinity is a sword-and-sorcery type fantasy setting a few Discord buddies and I have been working on. This specific snippet features one of the setting's few named characters, a princess of the Ashali Empire (think genderflipped Rome with lion-people as the dominant race and some minor Ancient Egyptian influences).