darkSpyro

I've made these dragon generators, and I thought to myself... all these dragons need a world to occupy other than just 'Spyro's world'. They need a story. I thought they could be the new batch of dragon eggs after Spyro and Cynder re-started the world, but what if it wasn't as simple as that? I get the feeling that something happened in an era in-between...

. . .

I was born like everyone else on this dry continent which was profoundly abashed and forced to moderate itself away from its supposed former grandeur, leaving it as a gray-area homeland with just enough for those of us who inhabit it to get by. Both of my parents died of disease not too long ago, leaving me alone with my two brothers as my only remaining family. One of them is Scorch, with scaly skin yellow like a dull mown wheatfield, and a strong, supportive nature. The other is Scald, his leathery hide deep earth-red, and with a dark pointed face and a demeanor to match. As for myself, my name is Parch, and my own scales are a pallid, nondescript green, a sickly color which, if anything was ever deeply betrayed, so betrays my uncommon, unfortunate, and unwelcomed condition.

Time, as it is Chronicled, appears to flow by our calendars in long eras, each consisting of periods ranging from several hundred years to over a thousand. The current era, this time of magical lacking and the silent voices of gods, has only been going for a few hundred as of now, and evidently that was plenty time for it to prove itself an era not so prosperous. And the story of what happened still has holes, which can only be filled right now by dark speculation. But I will tell you what I know.

During the last era, and many eras before it, my kind had been blessed by four elemental gods, who reside under a fifth, most powerful god. At the time of an offspring's conception, one of the lesser gods would touch the seed of the child and so he or she would be born possessing that god's elemental inclination. And sometimes, even, the fifth god would touch a particular offspring, and that rare creature would carry all four of the powers. This child would not have an inclination, but equally balance all four elements of Fire, Earth, Ice(modified Water), and Lightning(modified Air). Some say that this one would be like a marker at the end of the old calendar, and when one appeared it was like an omen that a fresh era was about to begin. Among those of us in this comparatively inglorious era, this marker is known by several names. Sometimes he or she is called the Spirit Elemental. Sometimes, the Devil. Other times, the Accursed One. But me, I prefer a simpler, more straightforward name... I call him/her, quite plainly, the Purple One.

. . .

I'm going to leave it here for now. I'm not going to type myself out if no one wants to read, but if enough people are interested, I'll type the rest. (It gets really interesteeeeng...)

Grah... here, what if I put a picture...?

I like Parch! Carry on!

Thanks Spyrobaby! Both for the message itself and just for posting. I was going to wait for more people but I think this topic has bad karma or something. I'll post more of the prelude now and maybe more people will be interested (please?). Ahem...

. . .

The previous era ended when the last Purple One and his ashy-colored companion vanished... quite literally, vanished. Their deaths were not Chronicled, so they can't have died. But then, where did they go? Some speculate that they were taken alive into the realm of the gods itself, as a reward for sparing the planet from a terrible end and allowing the eras to continue on. Most, however, prefer not to speculate at all, for to almost everyone I know, the Purple One and his ashy-colored companion are unholy beings, trouble-bringers, and flawed characters. They say it's thanks to them that our world was almost destroyed in the first place... likely, more than once.

And it was not only them... it was the fault of all our kind to play around so recklessly with things as dangerous as the elements as if they were toys, and thereby allow our minds to elevate our truthfully humble beings almost to the level of the gods. That's what we began to think. Right after the previous era ended and this one began, eyes were opened and minds started to churn in a different direction. What was the good of using godly magic, even if it was bestowed willingly unto us? What construction ever came of it? We said that it was far too powerful to be weilded any longer by mortal creatures such as ourselves. And so, the Humility Movement began alongside this new era.

Those of my kind who had the first opened eyes began to spread their views to the rest, who still used magic and are called Elementals. The ones of the Humility Movement preached humbleness and moderation, and a wilder, more animal nature. They said that the mortal use of the gods' elements was dangerous and unholy. It had a recurring tendency to bring about near-apocalypse, and it was time we stopped making the same mistake... time that we learned. This first-small but ever-growing group became known as the Half-Wyverns, and eventually, all of my kind came to shun the use of the elements. Though the gods were still choosing eggs, and we were still being born as Elementals, we all suppressed the calling to display our powerful inclinations. Through the years the Half-Wyverns came to dominate our species, and that came with its own set of rules. Anyone caught using elemental magic, in any way or for any purpose, would be sentenced to death.

Eventually, the Half-Wyverns recieved from the gods what seemed to them like a blessing, though the gods were very irate with us all at the time. They said, 'so you do not wish to take the gifts we have blessed you with. Fine. If you are to be so ungrateful, we will grant you your wish... from now on, we withdraw our power from you.'

Ans so, my kind was entirely sapped of the gods' gift. Elementals were born no more. The bright magic of the gods faded from my kind until even our appearances were affected. No more radiant colors or markings adorned our hides. Our color range became confined to dull earthy tones, and even our decorative extremities evolved away, leaving us as plain, reptillian beasts whose most distinguishing trait is still simple spurts of flame from our guts. It seems, to me, that we have gone back to the way we must have been in the very beginning... before the start of Chronicled time. Strangely enough, even the rest of the world seems affected by the gods' absence. Things have dulled down around us like a gray veil... not barren, mind you, but not abundant either. And now, generations after the gods' withdrawal, we are still but tribal animals in this moderate slough of a world, and the gods and their elements alike have been all but forgotten.

. . .

There's a bit more to this prelude... anyone interested??

I likethis! Am I the only one posting?

Yup, you're still it thus far. But lots of thanks... you're somebody!

wow.... when is there more?

YUSS, another reader!! Blessings upon you! Okay. I'll put the last of the prologue. This is where it starts to get interesting...

. . .

But how, you say, if the Elements are forgotten, do I know so much about them? Well, that is part of my dark secret. My yellow brother Scorch is the only one I told out of pure trust. But though I tried to keep it from him, Scald seems to have also have found out somehow. Though I question my trust in my ruddy-pelted brother, he seems so far to have grudgingly kept my secret, for as far as I can tell I have not been marked for execution. I discovered with alarm my dangerous oddity at a rather young age, when my flame breath began to take on strange and powerful properties, and I could make even ordinary flames come alive with leaps and swirls. Even today my traitorous powers are still expanding, despite my desperate efforts to suppress them. And so I eventually had to conclude the impossible... despite all odds, and quite out of nowhere, I, Parch, had been given by one of the four gods an elemental inclination. I have been favored by the god of Fire.

I can only say that I have been blessed in but one way... that I look as plain and ordinary on the outside as any of my kind. But how long can I conceal this deadly secret beneath my pale green facade? How long before my repressed Fire explodes under pressure and bursts forth? Every day that goes by in quiet secrecy is just one more deep breath for me...but that is only preparation to hold it longer the next day. How much more can I take? Why me, I wonder? Why have I been cursed with this flamboyant affliction? Are there more like me who are being just as quiet? Are the gods making a slow comeback? Is this era ending? What of the last Purple One and his ash-colored companion?

So many questions, and they only lead to more questions. And look at me... I can only wonder, and wonder... and wonder some more.

. . .

That's the end of the prelude. I have quite an adventure and many revelations in store for Parch after this. Slowly his world will become more familiar to LoS players...

Another reader here

YES! Things are FINALLY starting to pick up around here!

Been gone a while... I considered letting this die but I can't take it much longer, so I'm going to put a little bit of the adventure-ish part now.

. . .

It is nearing sunset and I am stationed at a place I sit rather commonly. It is in front of a large pond, which in turn sits in front of a great ruin, which is concealed just as much by intended ignorance as by reeds, trees, vines, and the great corpses of giant mushrooms. As always my mind wanders partially to the mushrooms... when they were alive they must have been grand, wise, magical things, but now they are departed for the lack of the gods' presence. But mostly my mind goes to what I regularly isolate myself for, which is the necessary release of magic.

I don't know why I am drawn to this place for my ritual. They say this place is almost as forbidden as the elements themselves. I guess forbidden things, like misery, enjoy company. Perhaps the ancient skeleton of a temple in whose shadow I am sitting used to be some sort of elemental shrine and still has its vibes. Whatever the reason, I must come here on an almost daily basis to release my elemental magic in secret. I must do this regularly, just like sleeping, eating, or drinking. If I don't let my power express itself I fear I might explode.

I have lit little candles on either side of me, so that I may hear the voices of the flames. They whisper in their flickering, scratchy little voices to me in a way that no one else seems to hear. I feel my own Fire coursing through me as if pumped desperately by an inflamed heart. Here it comes...

With a small amount of release, a great condensed ball of pure combustion shoots forth from my gullet and out of my mouth with great speed and force. It flies into the center of the pond and upon contact with the surface, explodes into a fiery storm. That helps me, but there is still more. I get ready to release another exhilarating fire-bomb, for once the Fire gets going I find it is very hard to stop until it has released enough energy. But I swallow it and stiffen as I hear a sound from my surroundings.

I am afraid to turn and look, and despite the blazing Fire magic surging threateningly through me, I cannot move. My breaths come in shallow, nervous gasps. If I am discovered, I am doomed.

"Parch," says a familiar voice, and I jump and feel almost like an exploding fireball myself.

"Take it easy, it's us," says a second voice, again familiar.

I whip around and with grand relief I see my two brothers Scorch and Scald, the only two who know what I am. Though I am so relieved I cannot sigh... I still feel ready to burst with repressed Fire energy.

"You two scared me," I say. "I thought I'd been caught."

"Did we scare you that badly?" Scorch asks with concern, noticing that I am shaking head to tail.

"No," I inform him. "I still havent released enough energy."

"We need to go, Parch," says Scorch. "It's almost time for the ceremony."

I almost forgot... today is the day for the new tribe leader to be sworn in... a very prestigious event which every member of the tribe is required to attend. And it's to take place at sunset... only a short while from now.

"I..." I stammer, my power trying to rend me at the seams. "I haven't finished... if I try to stop the power flow now..."

"We can't wait, fool," Scald proclaims in his usual sullen tone. "We'll be late."

"You can hold it just for the ceremony, right Parch?" Scorch tries to be reassuring, but he doesn't understand.

The other two begin to walk away, trusting me to follow. I groan desperately and try to go after them, but before I do I must release some Fire. I cough up another fire bomb over the pond... a big one. Because of the water, as usual, nothing catches on fire. The condensed ball explodes ominously loudly, but disappears shortly thereafter. My shaking subsides for now, but I can still feel Fire magic building back up inside me. I curse quietly... it's still not enough. I only hope that I can outlast the ceremony.

. . .