The Blue Phoenix, Part Five

"And in the belly of this story
the rituals and the ceremony
are still growing." (1)

Exhaustion and lack of resolve prevented Maekrux from going hunting. Even after the small offering the hatchling had brought him, he had been unable to move far and what little dragon left in this dying wurm had remained where it was, slowly dying. He could not lift his head proudly anymore, if he felt he had any pride left. It rested against the thin paws of the wurm-kin, the muscles of the dragon cannibalized in his body’s last-ditch effort to save itself. It was close, his time was close, and Maekrux could feel it. He welcomed it. He could do no more, for his heart was broken.

The hatchling, Vhazshyn, came upon the stoically dying beast, jammed into the rocks. It hid most of his form, the frail head and flaps of scale hiding the emaciated paws beneath them. His face sagged somewhat, and he no longer looked like the Maekrux that Vhazshyn had come to know, when he had agreed to look over this hatchling as her a’mea slept. Vhazshyn stopped and looked up at the blue ensconced dragon nestled in the rocks, blinking. “Who are you?” He gave no reply at first, so she continued, “It's a funny place to rest...”

“Mm...” Maekrux said, coming to life, for the moment, “It is where I have chosen to rest.”

Vhazshyn grins. "Obviously." Maekrux coughed weakly, his head resting heavily on his paws, causing her grin to fade. She tilted her head, at the cough. “Are you alright?”

“Mm... I.. Ieo am fine…” Maekrux said.

Vhazshyn frowned a bit. “It seems to me that when it's said like that it's probably not true.”

Maekrux looked about himself with tired eyes, a small smirk teasing across his thin lips. “Mm. no, I look fine. Fine, like a fine thread, minute and slender.” Vhazshyn rumbled in agreement. “Why are you here, Vhazshyn?”

Vhazshyn raised an eyeridge. "You know me?"

“I considered you as a daughter, for my love for your mother. But those days are dying. Dying,” Maekrux moaned the last word.

Vhazshyn moved to get a closer look, peering up at the dragon. After a moment, her eyes widened. “Maekrux! I'm sorry, I didn't recognize you...you -are- so thin, and your colour is off...”

“I am just... Ulhar now, I think. It is fine.” Maekrux flickered his eyes, huffing tiredly. “It is how it must be.” Vhazshyn sighed ambiguously and stepped further across the boulder she perches on to look out toward Draak. Maekrux eyed her as she looked out over the dead land of Draak. "It is not much of a view, I know. My other lair had a better view."

“Auxixen?” Nidhogg shouted, breaking the solemn air. He and his daughter, Verdeia, came up to the two. He asked Vhazshyn, “Have you seen Ausixen?” Nidhogg was panting from the run up there, having to protect the very young emerald dragon with him, and Ausixen, who had gone missing on the way up.

Vhazshyn frowned. "I have not..."

“Keir a'meo!” Verdeia exclaimed.

Ausixen shouted back, “Ieo am Fine! Ieo will get up there eventually!” Vhazshyn looked relieved to hear Ausixen and sat, draped over the crest of a boulder.

Verdeia shouted, “Hurry, brother!”

Maekrux looked tiredly at his grandchild, then to Nidhogg. “Hello Verdeia... I thought you had faded...” This was the first he had seen Verdeia awake in months. This thought slipped from his head, though as he focused his weak eyes on Nidhogg. “What are you doing here?”

Ausixen rushed up the hill and joined by Verdeia's side. "Keir a'meo!" he exclaimed, but stopped when he saw how thin and weak Maekrux had become.

“They wanted to see you,” was all that Nidhogg had to say.

“You are aware that I did not tell Ausixen where to find me,” Maekrux said.

“He said he didn't know where to find you,” Nidhogg admitted.

Verdeia worked her way up higher than Vhazshyn had managed, causing Vhazshyn to smile. “Keir A'meo,” Verdeia said, “what happened to you...” Verdeia continued to approach Keir A'meo, but then stepped back, unsure.

“Mmm.. I was disbanded, little one. I have come here for my rest…” Maekrux said.

Ausixen shuddered at the sight of Maekrux, so weak and thin. “Ieo thought you were on vacation...” He took his place under Nidhogg's wing.

Maekrux’s eyes looked temporarily to the hatchling under his son-in-law’s wing, causing him to growl his irritation in protest. “I did not want my grandchildren to see me in this way, Nidhogg. Have you become nothing more than a tormentor now?”

Nidhogg was unphased; Maekrux was not certain if he was unaware of the immensity of his cruelty at that moment, or if he had somehow planned it as such. “Do they not deserve to hear the truth?” Nidhogg argued, “Verdeia awoke after so long and wanted to see her Keir A'meo. Should I deny her that?”

Verdeia nodded. “Iea wanted to see you, Keir A'meo!”

Maekrux grunted. “You would cloud their judgment. I would have been better as a memory to them.”

“You are not a memory,” Nidhogg said.

“Not yet,” Maekrux replied with a cough.

Verdeia climbed further up the rocks to her grandfather and nuzzled him gently. “You are no memory to me. Iea am happy to see you again. You can't fade! Iea need you.”

“They braved the dead lands to see you!” Nidhogg exclaimed.

Maekrux leaned weakly into the nuzzle of his granddaughter, his eyes dripping with tears, now certain that Nidhogg was completely clueless. "Is there no where on Istaria I can hide?"

“Why would you choose to hide?” Nidhogg asked. “If you rather we left…” He trailed off as if seized by another thought, “Ausixen thought you were going on a vacation.”

Verdeia asked, “Why you hide from me? Why you hide from your family?” So innocent, so ignorant of what Maekrux was trying to do. She did not deserve to see this.

Maekrux tried to stand up, shaking to his feet. "No dragon wants to be surrounded by others when-" He tried to walk out, but his body was too weak and he fell, sliding down the rocks and landing hard on his side. He lay there, silently for a time in a cloud of dust and lost hopes, his sunken sides rising and falling against the now visible structure of his ribs. He groaned. "There is nothing graceful as a wurm-death…"

“Keir A'meo!” Verdeia exclaimed, jumping off the rocks and joining Maekrux, nosing him in comfort. “Are you ok?”

“What is wrong?” Nidhogg asked, the extent of Maekrux condition finally dawning on him, “You... you are dying?”

Ausixen came up to Maekrux, rubbing his forepaws over Maekrux’s thin and malnourished form. "I-Ieo have been taking care of your lair. Ieo want you to come back to it..."

Maekrux wheezed slightly. "Perhaps when my vacation is over, I shall once more haunt my lair…" He grinned morbidly.

“We would all like you to return,” Nidhogg added.

Verdeia nodded. “Keir A'meo Maekrux... Please, you are missed... Please, come back with us.”

Vhazshyn descended the boulder, moving to Maekrux's other side.

Maekrux was most tempted. To see thigns go back to the way they were, was this all he could hope for? But the reality of the situation was great as his mind told him to stand and his body did not listen. “I... I am not even sure I can move from this spot, little one…”

“I can bring sheeps!” Vhazshyn exclaimed.

“We can help!” Verdeia tried.

Maekrux just lay there, breathing slowly, his ribs pressed against his skin with every rise and fall of his side. The dragons who had come to his deathbed began casting all manner of healing spell they knew on him, trying to somehow raise him from this wurm-death. The act caused Maekrux to laugh, bitterly. No healing spell in the world could make up for starvation – perhaps, as he was hoping, not even the Gift. He shook his head. "Even… healing spells, cannot nourish my soul..." He laughed and cried at the enormity of it all. "Such ignorance. I birth such ignorance into this world..."

“It is all the knowledge we have left... We need a teacher. We need you,” Nidhogg said.

It only made Maekrux lament more, for he would not break his oath. “I have sworn to die in this way... to take my knowledge with me... that teacher is already dead, the body has but to follow…”

“I will bring sheeps,” Vhazshyn said, repeating her previous suggestion, quieter, and this time as a statement. She then promptly recalled away to look for them.

Ausixen came around to Maekrux's snout, staring into his eyes. Then, without warning, he raked his claws across Maekrux's snout, causing him to whine more than roar in agony.

“What was that for... little Phoenix?” Maekrux asked.

“If you're going to die, you should at least feel it! You are no better than a nakadragon to die like this!” Ausixen exclaimed. Verdeia roared in agreement with Ausixen.

Maekrux closed his eyes as his snout bled. "I know. None of us are anymore."

“Don't say that...” Ausixen said. He rested his head on Maekrux's snout, closing his eyes as well.

The statement seemed to offend Nidhogg and Verdeia’s pride and they gave protest of its veracity. But Maekrux didn't hear them. He just breathed lightly. "Ausixen..." he groaned.

Ausixen mistook Maekrux's word as calling to him. "Yes Keir a'meo?"
Maekrux churred weakly. "Ausixen smells like me." It reminded him of his own father and how familiar that scent was. It was comforting. It was confusing. It made him want to live again. “I am... very hungry right now.”

“What food do you seek?” Nidhogg asked.

Maekrux pondered his weakness for a moment, then grinned. "Hope. Nothing less can sate me."

“How can we help? You already have it.” Nidhogg said.
“If I had hope, Nidhogg, I would not be dying a wurmdeath. But… for some time, at least... I will survive, for your sakes. Least until you two are grown,” Maekrux said. Verdeia sighed with relief and then nuzzled her grandfather happily, knowing that he was healing even if she doesn't know why.

“And I hope longer,” Nidhogg added. Verdeia nodded. Nidhogg smiled.

Ausixen sighed, resting against Maekrux's chin. "Ieo will keep your lair ready for your return."

Maekrux sighed. “I… will still be living here... the only difference is that I will not be dying for awhile...” He peered around. "I think the other little one ran off to find food. This is all very silly...” The absurdity of it all was so overwhelming. It would have been nicer to have passed with grace. Even then he thought he would have to find a more hidden place to dig his Death-Chamber.

Vhazshyn arrived, panting to catch her breath from the non-stop return journey. Verdeia greeted her, causing Vhazshyn to nuzzle her, and then she deposited between Maekrux's paws three sheep and a deer, the fuzz already scorched off the sheep.

Maekrux groaned and snuffed at Vhazshyn. "Thank you for prolonging my suffering, little one." Despite this, he weakly pushed Ausixen off his snout and began to eat. Vhazshyn blushed, uncertain, but hopeful. Maekrux groaned, trying to keep the offering down. "I… thank you for coming to see me, all. But you're really destroying this 'hermit' thing... I feel like Lantenal."

“Will you be okay? Do you need help reaching your resting place?” Nidhogg asked.

“I will get there in... due time... I do not need too much help,” Maekrux said, trying to retain some semblance of pride. Dismissing them all, they said their goodbyes and Maekrux devoured his meal, depressed, but still alive.






1 - Ceremony, by Silko.

*waits for more* :D

*nudges with her snout* You know... *smiles* I was going to be nice this time and wait till the end, but I'll just follow nonchalantly behind RuneDragoon ^_^

(( ::nuzzles:: ))

Erstwhile in the Rift, Resurgam was watching. He was pleased at this turn of events; it meant that there may yet be hope for this part of Maekrux and that he would not have to give up the Gift as he was prepared to do.

Yes, the oddity had become clearer the more Resurgam had scried and prepared. Maekrux had been torn apart by the forces of the runes acting upon his soul. The only significant difference between these two Maekruxes was that one was Gifted and the other was not, and Resurgam was not Gifted. The minor differences between them had been their focuses, their narrow wurm-like focuses, Resurgam on his race of kyn and their place in his life and future, Maekrux of Istaria on his family. How sad it was to Resurgam to see that some parts of his family had abandoned Maekrux! But it was a distant, sympathetic feeling, one that Resurgam could not empathically share, for he did not live it and that part rested on Istaria, longing to be reclaimed.

Despite these positive portends, Resurgam was still at a loss for what to do; he had simply been granted more time. Away from the pad which he used to scry, he tore at the dust furiously, writing theory after theory into existence in runic letters, most of them fizzling out and dying in the barren dirt of the Rift. The merging of souls was a complicated art, one that bored and most frequently fell into necromancy, a practice and understanding of which Maekrux only had knowledge enough to combat, not to perform without the specific guidance of a scroll such as those he had taken from Adryl long ago. Even if Resurgam would stoop so low, necromancy was out of the question; not even the Gifted Necromancer, Adyrl, was capable of such a high level of magic. Who then was left to turn to? Resurgam thought and thought, tapping his claws against his horns distractedly. “You’re on your own now, Maekrux,� he said. “You’re the expert, figure something out!�

No, he thought, chastising himself. Was that not what he had learned on Azeroth? A kyn is only truly alone when he turns his back on his people, when he attacks his kyn, when he turns his back on the values and traditions of what it means to be dragon, to the whole of the community or to whatever separate group that may be. Yes, he would need the help of many of his kyn if he was to get Maekrux of Istaria to recover from the fatal blow to his heart. He would need not only the willing and active participation of many of his kyn: he would practically need a miracle.

A miracle.

There was still one he could turn to, but Resurgam did not know if he would listen. Long ago, when Maekrux had passed through his realm before, he had insulted the being and at last understood the hidden past of the Dragon, the past that had been washed away with Jarl from the Imperial Record, the past that must not exist. That secret Maekrux had kept for many, many years, and might likely take to his grave, but it was the one that gave him such great pride in his race and his people. Still, to turn to him now after he had refused, 150 years into Maekrux’s original journey through the Stars, to even send him back to his natural home and condemning him to another hundred years of wandering – would such a fickle being listen to him?

He would need a mediator.

Stalking the now-familiar pathways, Resurgam slither-flew swiftly through the dusty, lifeless maze of rock and void. Up and up he climbed until at last he came to a great precipice. Below burned four torches blazing with blue light, holding back the hell of the Rift. There lay, like a mountain carved into a statue, The Sleeper, the second dragon. This indestructible paradox still remained, still waited, still slept. Ancient legends say that when The Sleeper lifts its head, Drulkar will return to Istaria and bring the cleansing flame of destruction and creation with him to burn away all non-dragon life. But The Sleeper has yet to lift its head and instead it waits patiently in the Rift for the one who might come seeking the blessing of Drulkar, a blessing only it can approve. “Why hath thou come to me, Ancient? Thou art Dragon and thou should be amongst thy people,� The Sleeper spoke.

“I am, at once, here and amongst my people. That is why I have come. I am Maekrux Vythulhar, son of Sire Vythulhar, whose name I will not speak for reverence to him and for I gave up my claim to my family name.�

“Thou remember the old ways of things. Thou of the Clan Maek, who hath knowledge of such things, whyfor hast thou come in search of thy god?� The Sleeper asked.

“I fear that I abandoned my god, and that he abandoned me in turn,� Maekrux admitted.

“Thou wear the form of an Ancient, and it is no forgery. It is not this one who grants thee thy ancienthood; this one suppliants in thy stead to Drulkar, but it is still up to Drulkar to decide. If He hath truly abandoned thee, then thou wouldst know it.�

Resurgam sighed in relief, bowing his head reverently. “I must beg a favor of Drulkar. He is the only one who can put me back together.�

“Thou art truly wise, for only Drulkar can put all dragons back together.� At the edge of the precipice, a burning circle opened before Maekrux. “Go now, and venture where thou hath once stepped before, Maekrux Vythulhar. Drulkar is waiting.� Resurgam steeled himself and leapt into the portal, disappearing for a second time into the Realm of Fire.

Who in Istaria is like a dragon? Who in Istaria can truly breathe fire? The strength of lungs, the resilience of their walls, the unconquerable will? Who in Istaria can truly breathe fire? These questions Maekrux wondered as he found himself floating in a sea of flames, breathing the fire into his body and fighting with the flames for the burning, life-giving oxygen, expelling black smoke which disappeared into the oppressive heat around him. His wings burned, his scales burned, his eyes burned; the blue of his scales took on a metallic sheen as all impurities on his body were consumed as fuel for the endless and eternal flame. And then a flame more intense than all the others reached down into the sea of flames and closed their mighty orange talons around him, lifting him up and causing even the flame–resistant body of the dragon to sear painfully. The flaming talons deposited Resurgam onto a small and desolate piece of rock, adrift in an ocean of lava that fell over a seemingly infinite precipice into the flames from which Resurgam had been pulled. The falling lava seemed to fuel the flames of the burning sea and the flames of the sea seemed to rise up as if wishing to devour the blue dragon again.

Maekrux’s rescuer was nowhere to be seen, but Maekrux knew he was close, in the same way a guilty hatchling knows when its mother has spotted it. The ocean of lava around him rose and fell, sometimes with bubbles of gas, sometimes something more, something bigger, cresting up like a solid obsidian subduction, shaking Maekrux to the core. And then, silence. All that broke it was a strange protrusion, black and red from the lava; a new rock? No; this protrusion had eyes, glowing like angry red suns. It disappeared once more beneath the slow moving flows of the magma ocean. And then behind Maekrux, he erupted into being, lifting up and shaking the whole of the Realm with his roar. Maekrux spun around, staring up at the massive dragon-god. His skin was like obsidian and was cracked with ever burning magma, pulsing and glowing brightly, igniting the air, a fiery mane traveling down the dragon-god’s back and cresting in fiery wings. He lifted one massive claw from the magma, the paws of jagged obsidian but the talons tempered by liquid flame. This claw began to glow a bright yellow-orange and into his hand rose gas and steam and magma and below him the ground hardened; the dragon god absorbed the very heat of the lava below him into himself, creating a platform and making the cracks between his obsidian form intensify in heat and color, his wings an even brighter blaze. Upon that platform, the dragon-god sat back upon his igneous haunches, his molten tail lashing like whips of flame as he grew comfortable with his creation, now prepared to scrutinize another. “Behold, Maekrux Vythulhar: I live.” Maekrux lowered his head reverently to the dragon-god, causing the being to churr its pleasure like the sound of the earth breaking under the stress of a magma sun. “You may speak. The honor is given.”

“Lord Drulkar, I have come to beg you a favor,” Maekrux began.

“You would dare ask me for a favor, wretch? You, who prefers history over theocracy? When last we met you denounced me with the fury of a molten core. You, who hold the secret of Jarl, the pride of my children in your withering claws, you dare ask me for anything?!” His words were like searing succors, blasting Maekrux with hate.

“Drulkar, I know that we have not seen eye to eye in the past and that in meeting you I came to many decisions about myself and my faith, but-”

“Silence! You are aware, by now, that you are no longer Gifted. I could not end you then, though I had considered breaking my own laws to do so, but now you have come before me, your undying half with one talon into the grave and your other capable of being cut from the body. I gifted you with the form of an Ancient and felt our dealings were forever done. And still you dare come before your god with this supplication?” Maekrux remained silent. The First Dragon’s tail whipped about in irritation. “If I should do anything for you, it would be to kill you and somehow recover the soul of the dead Phoenix upon Istaria. You are aware, yes? If you merge with the dead Phoenix, you will once more be irradiated by the Rift. That one loves his family. Perhaps in time his heart will recover and he will seek out a mate. At last, he would be able to have hatchlings of his own, able to spread his Clan Maek and his blood into Istaria. That was all you desired when you came through here, two hundred years ago. It was here that you learned the truth: your blood was never to spread throughout Istaria. You were never to have a family; your blood was to die with you! For this reason and others did you turn your back on me: not even I could find a way to break you from your sterility. Let your experiences die with you, submerge yourself into the lava until you reach the elemental core of this realm and be completely eradicated, and I will find a way to bring Maekrux to life once more.”

“If you could not save me from my sterility, how could you give me any hope at all?! Never in my life have I given up. It was here that I truly became a Phoenix, Drulkar, for despite the limitations of your being and my being, I swore that I would raise a family of my own! I took something from him, Drulkar, a part of Maekrux you could never hope to emulate. The unconquerable flame that you claim to have; that divine spark that all mortals share!” Maekrux shouted back.

“You dare speak such blasphemy to my face?!” The First Dragon roared, his tail slamming against the ground which he had created, shattering it and sending igneous rock flying in all directions, some pieces crashing into the rock on which Maekrux stood and crumbling it.

Taking into the air, Resurgam rose to face Drulkar in the eyes, flapping his wings powerfully, defiantly. “Yes. Kill me if you dare; even without the Gift, I shall rise again.”

Drulkar’s claws burned with intensity, the liquid flame solidifying into plasma. His eyes burned with pride and contempt for this creature before him and he lifted his claws. Behind Maekrux, in the distance, what seemed to be a ball of fire flew through the air, but no, up and down beat the wings of flame. The God of Flame saw the phoenix flying behind him and stayed his talons, grunting. “Land at my feet and we shall discuss what should be done, Blue Phoenix.” Drulkar was no fool. If he killed Resurgam in such a way, there was still a strong chance that the soul would not be destroyed but instead enter into the other upon Istaria, to give him all that Maekrux might desire – the ability to have a family of his own blood, recover his pride and will to live – and reason enough to spread the secret Drulkar so deeply feared.

Maekrux landed at the dragon-god’s feet. Drulkar knew that such an imprint might be left behind as did Maekrux, but Maekrux knew more of his situation; to be lost in such a way would lose him the knowledge of runic and of the terrible events he had discovered on Azeroth. He would not be able to help his kyn as a whole and he would become another insular creature and never fulfill his other burning dream: to build a world community of Istaria. To be reborn in such a way would not nullify his oath, either, and he would never teach or tell story again. “I believe that we can come to a mutual benefit, Lord Drulkar. Since you gave me my Ancient form, I began to regain my respect and faith in you, Lord. You must know this.”

“I know that you built a shrine to me within your lair and that you speak favorably of me to others. Still, you are no prophet and your worship is fickle at best,” Drulkar grunted.

“Is not the flame itself fickle?”

“Speak not to me of my own element. Get to the point.”

“I have the ability to create a pocket dimension. Normally, a pocket dimension only connects to one realm in a certain place, but I can connect the pocket to two realms, creating a kind of in-between space. It would be this I would enter into with my other half and-”

“I would be able to reach you with my molten power and fuse your souls back together,” Drulkar interrupted. The God of Flame’s tail twittered thoughtfully. “What is it you have to trade, then? I know well enough that you will not make this pocket dimension large enough for me to pass.”

“Before I left, I began work on a Community Rite, one that would help dragons to find their way in this world. It was not finalized before I left, because my faith had been shaken, but now my faith is strong and the project may soon begin again. I would send those who complete the Rite to the place of that pocket, and you may speak your blessing to them, and they might better know their god and his power. They, in turn, would have their faith inspired and, in this godless time, you would not have to rely on ancient trinkets to regain your foothold in our world.” Maekrux looked up at the dragon-god, hopeful.

The talons of the God of Flame dimmed back to their original liquid flame. “So be it,” Drulkar finally said. “You may begin immediately. Yet, I must ask: how will you get your other half into the portal? You are certainly aware that to merge at this moment would put your soul out of balance.”

“I have some idea of how I might put things into order, but I must admit, even I am not sure yet,” Maekrux said. His claws danced along the unstable ground, drawing runes into being that would poke into the very essence of realmspace, a thread by which he could connect the Realm of Fire to the pocket he would build upon Istaria.

“I would remind the historian that myth and history are intimately interconnected. Long ago, there were ceremonies of flame by which one might be healed. You remember the old ways, Maekrix-ux, Leader of Platinum Shine, even if some of the words have been lost to you: ierikc clax vur svent verthicha, shar earenk haurach,” Drulkar said.

“What do you mean?” Maekrux asked. He had taken the name Maekrux because he had believed the Elder Draconic word to mean ‘leader,’ but he had later learned that it was a mispronunciation of the word.

“It was not a mispronunciation,” Drulkar said, as if reading his thoughts, “it is a combination word like Ausixen or Vythulhar. It is a combination of both Platinum and Leader. Still, the days when those ideas in words were spoken have faded, and you are one of the few who still remembers. Has all the knowledge of those days faded from your mind? A poor historian you would make.” The First Dragon’s molten tail crashed once more against the rock upon which it rested, cracking it apart. On a small, defiant rock, sticking up from the rest, there was a medallion of obsidian with an Elder Draconic rune upon it, and a chain of platinum connected to the circular item.

“What is this?” Maekrux asked, flying over to it and taking it in his talons. He landed once more at Drulkar’s feet to look at it in more scrutiny, as the dragon-god’s molten tail fell gently into the lava, sinking below the slow moving waves of the magma ocean.

“It is the Dragon Heart medallion. Fill the rune with your blood and its power shall activate. Whoever then wears that magical chain shall speak to the very heart of the one whose blood flows through it. I warn you, it will affect both the dead Phoenix and you, Maekrux. But it will be needed for the ceremony and none of those medallions still remain upon Istaria.” Maekrux put the item into his scalepack as Drulkar lifted his talons over him. “Now go, Blue Phoenix. Make good on your oath, as I know you will.” The First Dragon surrounded Maekrux in a canister of lava and fired him from the Realm of Flame.

When Maekrux recovered his senses, he broke free of the now-hardened canister and found that he had been returned to the Sleeper. The ash quickly blew away into the hungry Rift, anxious to devour the bound energy of the flame which had expelled him. The Sleeper lifted his head. “Go, thou Blue Phoenix: Ossalur ekess earenk, ossalur okarthel,” the Sleeper said. Resurgam shivered in the cold of the Rift and returned to the pad to prepare the ceremony.

(*pulls on the Ancient's wing gently with her tiny talons in an "I'm here" motion and sits on her hidquarters with her mouth open*)

(::chuckles:: Sorry for such a delay.. I've been trying to set up the in-game finale of this on top of real life responsibilities and general malaise. As soon as I get some IC confirmation from all those in the ceremony, I can announce a time for it. I'm aiming for a Sunday when there is not a Gathering going on.)

(I am hoping I can finally get myself recomposed back in istaria to see this, since I will have no school after friday :D.)

(( Man, I love your stories so much :D I especially liked the description when Maekrux entered the Realm of Fire; it was very powerful ^w^ And Drulkar sounds scary >.> Is he really like that in the game or is it an interpretation? XD

Like I said before, can't wait until Resurgam Maekrux gets his large blue bottom back on Istaria! And I need to thank you too, because our last RP'ing session helped me get a bit further with Galde :3 Although it didn't help Maekrux... hmmm... *ponder ponder* ...I know, I'll make him COOKIES. And PIE. Who needs a super magical multidimensional Godly soul synthesising ceremony when you have cookies and pie? XD

Want moar. :D Feed me text!

~Galdethriel's player person, who is waiting for that damned maintenence to finish so she can fly. XD ))

((Heh, happy to help, Galdethriel.

As for Drulkar's description, he is not in the game and there is no lore that has ever described him, only that he is the God of Fire and the First Dragon; it is unclear whether or not Drulkar himself crafted a body from the Prime (which is somewhat likely and why his body is obsidian in my description, not only an igneous rock but also common to Char). I heard a dev long ago, I believe Bowman, say that some mages when casting Burning Hands are channeling the power of Drulkar (thus the realm of fire in general) and that is why they look like claws; this was the only potential description I could go on and that was mostly what I decided on and ran with my freedom, creating a god that is both made out of Prime materials, but also the soul of flame beneath that supposedly all dragons share from their Realm of Fire origins.

I'm glad you liked it, I had a good time making it come alive and interact with the lava environment.))

((he-he... riveting... I would like to see the resolution of this ^_^))

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Kaerisk

I'm glad you liked it, I had a good time making it come alive and interact with the lava environment.))

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((You did a fantastic job with the descriptions. And the entire story is fantastic, including the stuff from before.))