(MPC 86X/56B) What do Elder Dragons dream of?
Aug 18, 2021 6:42:39 GMT
Post by Kano & Wrylia on Aug 18, 2021 6:42:39 GMT
WC: 1347
This is the wildcard prompt for 56B, an experimental bit from the perspective of an ancient digimon in deep hibernation. I'd like bits for this, please!
Deep, deep, below the earth - surrounded by ruins forgotten by all but herself - slept a dragon. Perhaps in another time, further back than even the oldest digimon could remember, a time only remembered now by the gods, this dragon would have been known as Rathnaris.
Massive and beautiful was she, taking the form of an Examon with scales of silver and azure horns and armor - her beauty marred only by a deep and jagged black scar. This scar ran down from the dip of her throat, taking up most - if not all - of her upper and middle torso, before tapering off towards her pelvis. Though her other scars - in these many millennia - had long since healed and faded, this one remained - festering and tainted as it was. Almost unconsciously, she was curled around herself in her slumber, as though to protect this vulnerable part of her.
And as Rathnaris slumbered, she dreamed - the Stormbreaker Empress, in fact, dreamt many dreams.
First, she dreamt of a War. A war that had been sieged against her subjects - her children, as she called them - even while she had been awake, and it continued to rage for a while even as she slept. Yet, it was not a dream that gave her worry - her children were as strong and as proud as she, and they fought as valiantly as she once did. Their foes were scattered, consumed by confusion and chaos without their Lord to command them - the fools were picked off with ease by her children, and it was thus a pleasant dream for the Empress.
However, it was also one of the handful of clear dreams she had. As the war in her dreams came to an end, peace would come in its wake - a peace that her children thrived in, once they had finished picking up the pieces. Though the dream itself would blur together, Rathnaris knew that this peace would reign for a long time, her children praising her name for the years that would pass. But eventually, in a time that would've been a blink for her - yet seemingly eternity, for her children - they would begin to forget. For each generation that passed, her children spoke her name fewer and fewer times.
By the time that her name was only whispers upon the breaths of the oldest and most knowing though, strange creatures would come in Rathnaris' dreams. Creatures that the Empress knew naught - being of another world entirely - yet creatures with great power and potential nonetheless. These strange creatures formed bonds with other digimon, including her children - and through this bond, that power and potential were channeled, allowing them strength like none other. It was a dream that filled the Empress with pride, knowing that her children could share in the grandeur she once held.
Rathnaris dreamt of a republic - though she could almost even call it an empire - that rose, not far from her childrens' home. A civilization of noble and honorable digimon, who came together with respectable ideals in their hearts, and a desire to learn from the strange creatures that had come to their world by emulating them.
And yet, it would soon turn to a folly - eventually, the digimon who came together under the flag of those noble ideals would turn against one another in conflict, destroying everything that they built up. It was a dream that filled the Empress with a notion of exasperation and disappointment, but also amusement; a Digimon could be many things, but it was folly to try and force oneself to be what they weren't.
Rathnaris also dreamt of a city in the snow, whose origins even she could not discern - a haven for those who wished to escape the conflicts that consumed the world beyond. Inhabited by digimon and those strange creatures alike - the latter of whom were even one of its first - the city would be powered by their bonds and trust, and stood as a beautiful jewel.
And yet, it would fall as well; not from a threat from within, but from beyond, as darkness besieged its walls. The darkness infected the city's people with distrust and doubt, weakening their home, and causing it to ultimately crumble away. It was a dream that filled the Empress with an almost melancholy sadness - yet it was a fact of the world that nothing lasts forever, and she knew that someone would find beauty and wisdom even in the ruins left behind.
In Rathnaris' dreams, kingdoms rose and fell, heroes had songs sung of their tales and then forgotten - it was nothing that the dragon wasn't already familiar with, and it was nothing that the dragon hadn't experienced herself. Yet, her slumber continued undisturbed, as the years passed.
She dreamed of ebony towers that rose high above, stifling the potential and power of her children, and other such bonded digimon - leaving them weakened within the towers' shadows. These towers were protected by those under the thrall of equally-dark rings, and yet this did not deter the heroes of this time. They banded together, and they adapted - fighting valiantly to free their kin, and to bring down the towers that blighted the land. This was a dream that filled the Empress with pride once more - even now, even after so many years, her children were still strong and clever.
She dreamed of a scarlet infection upon the world, horrid and scarring and digging its roots deep - leaving anything it touched twisted, changed - held back only by the watchful eyes of the gods. For a moment, Rathnaris would nearly stir then, when that scarlet infection began to dig its roots too closely - yet a storm that surpassed even her own in power would rage above, smiting the land and rending it clean. This was a dream that almost turned into a nightmare - a dream that the Empress would shudder to remember, if it lingered in her mind whenever she awoke.
Then, she dreamed of old foes of the past - embodiments of sin, borne of the folly of those who thought they could impose their ideals upon the hearts of digimon. She dreamt of a Pride who reveled in combat in the islands above. She dreamt of a Gluttony who thrived in excess in the belly of a massive city. She dreamt of an Envy who claimed the oceans as her own. She dreamt of a Sloth who slumbered, deep within the mountains of the north. She dreamt of a Lust who mingled with those strange creatures with a sly smile. She dreamt of a Greed who schemed behind the backs of his kin.
And she even dreamt of one of her children forcing the Wrath who thought himself a king to his knees, even if for only a moment. This was a dream that filled Rathnaris with desire and longing - to fight against the past incarnations of them was something that had always excited her, and had been one of the many things that drove her to the heights she had since reached. Perhaps, one day, she would be able to fight them once again like she used to - and see for herself how she and they both have changed over their numerous incarnations.
But eventually, she would begin to dream of something else - another infection, and yet this one was different. Invisible, silent, a plague whose origins were foreign and unknown. Yet, it twisted those it touched horribly all of the same - making them into something else in the infection's desperate yet corrupted attempt to survive. A horrid thing, that spread from kin to kin without care for who it hurt in its bid to live on. She knew nothing of how this dream would end, however - not yet.
That was something that only time would tell. She dreamed heavily and deeply and oh-so-wisely; but she was not an oracle, nor a fortune teller. She simply dreamt as she pleased of the world above, of her children, and of their ordeals…
Ah, her children - so proud, so clever, so strong. Never was a dream with them dull...
This is the wildcard prompt for 56B, an experimental bit from the perspective of an ancient digimon in deep hibernation. I'd like bits for this, please!
Deep, deep, below the earth - surrounded by ruins forgotten by all but herself - slept a dragon. Perhaps in another time, further back than even the oldest digimon could remember, a time only remembered now by the gods, this dragon would have been known as Rathnaris.
Massive and beautiful was she, taking the form of an Examon with scales of silver and azure horns and armor - her beauty marred only by a deep and jagged black scar. This scar ran down from the dip of her throat, taking up most - if not all - of her upper and middle torso, before tapering off towards her pelvis. Though her other scars - in these many millennia - had long since healed and faded, this one remained - festering and tainted as it was. Almost unconsciously, she was curled around herself in her slumber, as though to protect this vulnerable part of her.
And as Rathnaris slumbered, she dreamed - the Stormbreaker Empress, in fact, dreamt many dreams.
First, she dreamt of a War. A war that had been sieged against her subjects - her children, as she called them - even while she had been awake, and it continued to rage for a while even as she slept. Yet, it was not a dream that gave her worry - her children were as strong and as proud as she, and they fought as valiantly as she once did. Their foes were scattered, consumed by confusion and chaos without their Lord to command them - the fools were picked off with ease by her children, and it was thus a pleasant dream for the Empress.
However, it was also one of the handful of clear dreams she had. As the war in her dreams came to an end, peace would come in its wake - a peace that her children thrived in, once they had finished picking up the pieces. Though the dream itself would blur together, Rathnaris knew that this peace would reign for a long time, her children praising her name for the years that would pass. But eventually, in a time that would've been a blink for her - yet seemingly eternity, for her children - they would begin to forget. For each generation that passed, her children spoke her name fewer and fewer times.
By the time that her name was only whispers upon the breaths of the oldest and most knowing though, strange creatures would come in Rathnaris' dreams. Creatures that the Empress knew naught - being of another world entirely - yet creatures with great power and potential nonetheless. These strange creatures formed bonds with other digimon, including her children - and through this bond, that power and potential were channeled, allowing them strength like none other. It was a dream that filled the Empress with pride, knowing that her children could share in the grandeur she once held.
Rathnaris dreamt of a republic - though she could almost even call it an empire - that rose, not far from her childrens' home. A civilization of noble and honorable digimon, who came together with respectable ideals in their hearts, and a desire to learn from the strange creatures that had come to their world by emulating them.
And yet, it would soon turn to a folly - eventually, the digimon who came together under the flag of those noble ideals would turn against one another in conflict, destroying everything that they built up. It was a dream that filled the Empress with a notion of exasperation and disappointment, but also amusement; a Digimon could be many things, but it was folly to try and force oneself to be what they weren't.
Rathnaris also dreamt of a city in the snow, whose origins even she could not discern - a haven for those who wished to escape the conflicts that consumed the world beyond. Inhabited by digimon and those strange creatures alike - the latter of whom were even one of its first - the city would be powered by their bonds and trust, and stood as a beautiful jewel.
And yet, it would fall as well; not from a threat from within, but from beyond, as darkness besieged its walls. The darkness infected the city's people with distrust and doubt, weakening their home, and causing it to ultimately crumble away. It was a dream that filled the Empress with an almost melancholy sadness - yet it was a fact of the world that nothing lasts forever, and she knew that someone would find beauty and wisdom even in the ruins left behind.
In Rathnaris' dreams, kingdoms rose and fell, heroes had songs sung of their tales and then forgotten - it was nothing that the dragon wasn't already familiar with, and it was nothing that the dragon hadn't experienced herself. Yet, her slumber continued undisturbed, as the years passed.
She dreamed of ebony towers that rose high above, stifling the potential and power of her children, and other such bonded digimon - leaving them weakened within the towers' shadows. These towers were protected by those under the thrall of equally-dark rings, and yet this did not deter the heroes of this time. They banded together, and they adapted - fighting valiantly to free their kin, and to bring down the towers that blighted the land. This was a dream that filled the Empress with pride once more - even now, even after so many years, her children were still strong and clever.
She dreamed of a scarlet infection upon the world, horrid and scarring and digging its roots deep - leaving anything it touched twisted, changed - held back only by the watchful eyes of the gods. For a moment, Rathnaris would nearly stir then, when that scarlet infection began to dig its roots too closely - yet a storm that surpassed even her own in power would rage above, smiting the land and rending it clean. This was a dream that almost turned into a nightmare - a dream that the Empress would shudder to remember, if it lingered in her mind whenever she awoke.
Then, she dreamed of old foes of the past - embodiments of sin, borne of the folly of those who thought they could impose their ideals upon the hearts of digimon. She dreamt of a Pride who reveled in combat in the islands above. She dreamt of a Gluttony who thrived in excess in the belly of a massive city. She dreamt of an Envy who claimed the oceans as her own. She dreamt of a Sloth who slumbered, deep within the mountains of the north. She dreamt of a Lust who mingled with those strange creatures with a sly smile. She dreamt of a Greed who schemed behind the backs of his kin.
And she even dreamt of one of her children forcing the Wrath who thought himself a king to his knees, even if for only a moment. This was a dream that filled Rathnaris with desire and longing - to fight against the past incarnations of them was something that had always excited her, and had been one of the many things that drove her to the heights she had since reached. Perhaps, one day, she would be able to fight them once again like she used to - and see for herself how she and they both have changed over their numerous incarnations.
But eventually, she would begin to dream of something else - another infection, and yet this one was different. Invisible, silent, a plague whose origins were foreign and unknown. Yet, it twisted those it touched horribly all of the same - making them into something else in the infection's desperate yet corrupted attempt to survive. A horrid thing, that spread from kin to kin without care for who it hurt in its bid to live on. She knew nothing of how this dream would end, however - not yet.
That was something that only time would tell. She dreamed heavily and deeply and oh-so-wisely; but she was not an oracle, nor a fortune teller. She simply dreamt as she pleased of the world above, of her children, and of their ordeals…
Ah, her children - so proud, so clever, so strong. Never was a dream with them dull...
