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 Post subject: Nostrum - A Pinkerlocke
Unread postPosted: Thu Jun 15, 2017 9:32 am 
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Nostrum

Will they find a cure?

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Rules:
Basic rules:

- A death in the coliseum means that dragon must be exalted. This is the most essential rule of a nuzlocke.
- All loot obtained in the coliseum is irrelevant, as is the loot obtained from gathering.
- There are no restrictions about applying apparel to your dragons. Do whatever makes sense to you. Same goes for familiars.
- All nuzlocke activity corresponds with the loot you obtain daily from Pinkerton's plundered pile!


Optional sentimental rule:
If a dragon reaches level 25 it "retires". It can join the ranks of your main lair.

Drops of Fate:

Food: Coliseum time!
Plants: 10-20 matches
Insects: 20-30 matches
Seafood: 30-40 matches
Meat: 40-50 matches

Hardmode: You must select coliseum challengers in your lair using a random number generator. Then, select the coliseum arena that corresponds to the highest level dragon of that group (For a 'medium' mode, select the venue that is one tier down from that of highest level dragon). If your dragons level up while in an area, you can still stay there for the whole day. You can quit your battle streak at any time to regen health, and flee from battles if it is appropriate. Don't try do 50 matches in a row unless you want a wiped-out dragon!

Materials: Do some writing for your nuzlocke. How does your new nuzlocke clan change and develop? What are your dragons like personality-wise? How do they get along? How do they die? Is there an antagonist in this nuzlocke, or are they merely struggling against the forces of nature? Write dragon bios! Make a blog, or a thread for your challenge in the creative forums! Write short stories or paragraphs, or add to one big one adventure!

Trinkets: Do some art for your nuzlocke! Digital or traditional, use whatever medium feels best for you. Draw deaths. Draw dragons. Draw humanized versions of your dragons (if that's your sort of thing). Draw familiars and dragons together. It doesn't have to be that good or elaborate. If you make a nuzlocke thread, post your art there.

Familiars: Buy the cheapest dragon in the auction house of a specific breed. Use a random number generator (between 1-14) to determine which breed you will get! (Optionally: attach the familiar to the new dragon.)

1. Fae
2. Guardian
3. Mirror
4. Pearlcatcher
5. Ridgeback
6. Tundra
7. Spiral
8. Imperial
9. Snapper
10. Wildclaw
11. Nocturne
12. Coatl
13. Skydancer
14. Bogsneak

Apparel: Breed two of your dragons. The dragons you pick are up to you. You can also change one of the genes on a dragon, or use a scatterscroll if you are rich and crazy.

Note: You must flip a coin for each hatchling once they hatch. If tails, the dragon is dead and you must exalt it. This is in keeping with the original Nuzlocke thread's rule.

Battle items:

Flip a coin.
Heads = DEATH STREAK
Tails = Nothing happens

DEATH STREAK rules: Randomly select three dragons using a random number generator. Fight in the coliseum using the "food" rules 10 rounds consecutively (ie. you cannot leave that arena), quitting midway if a dragon dies. If you are using the easymode rules, switch to the hardmode rules for battlestones.

Personal rules:
- For the Coliseum, I will add the levels of all randomly selected participants and count the average, using the venue appropriate to that level.
- If I find an egg during scavenging or in the Coliseum, I may add the dragon to the story, if I feel it works.
- If I pull a trinket, I cannot guarantee art. It may happen, or I might work on bio boxes, or write more, or whatever I'm in the mood for.


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Unread postPosted: Thu Jun 15, 2017 9:32 am 
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The Dragons

Circe:
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Deceased: Tornado, Manafall, Pioum.

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Last edited by Mozag on Fri Jun 16, 2017 5:36 am, edited 2 times in total.

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Unread postPosted: Thu Jun 15, 2017 9:32 am 
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Coliseum time!

I haven't pulled a material for three days, so can't start on the story quite yet. I took my adult trio for a 40 battle run in the Training fields, and twice Pioum was close to death (despite being level 4, while the other two were lower), but we managed to pull through.

As a side note: I was meaning to start this Pinkerlocke with three adults, but on the day I began, my first scavenging turn yielded an egg, and I took that as a sign I should include it in the story.

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Last edited by Mozag on Mon Jun 19, 2017 10:15 am, edited 3 times in total.

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Unread postPosted: Thu Jun 15, 2017 9:33 am 
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Art

The much dreaded trinket dropped and I convinced my ex to draw a quick picture of Tornado with Circe's egg.

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Attachments:
T and C.png [554.9 KiB]
Not downloaded yet

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Last edited by Mozag on Mon Jun 19, 2017 10:15 am, edited 4 times in total.
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Unread postPosted: Thu Jun 15, 2017 9:33 am 
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DEATH STREAK

Luckily I rolled tails, so the adults are safe for now.

I do hope some materials drop soon, so I can get down to starting the actual story. :lol:

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Last edited by Mozag on Mon Jun 19, 2017 10:15 am, edited 1 time in total.

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Unread postPosted: Fri Jun 16, 2017 5:31 am 
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Coliseum time!

Well, that was brief. All three adults died, despite my copious use of healing potions...I didn't even manage 7 battles. :?
So, Circe is left and I need to wait until she grows up to continue. If all dragons die, I will probably buy three more adults and continue the story somehow. But let's see what happens and whether I feel like it if they seriously all die within the first few days. Once I pull a material, I'll update the story so far.

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Last edited by Mozag on Mon Jun 19, 2017 10:15 am, edited 1 time in total.

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Unread postPosted: Fri Jun 16, 2017 6:31 am 
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Your ex is crazy talented...

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Unread postPosted: Sat Jun 17, 2017 2:03 pm 
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Writing!

Pale green eyes surveyed the scene with distaste. He had not know there could be a place like this. Tornado was a child of the playful breezes and gentle winds of his home, but here the fetid air clung limply to his glittering, pink scales. Of course he had heard tales of the Scarred Wasteland, but had only ever half believed, thinking that they were mainly meant to scare children into obedience.

This was worse than he could have imagined. Arid wasteland stretched as far as the eye could see, bones of unidentified creatures littered the ground, and here, on the very edge of the Windswept Plateau, filthy tendrils and membranes clung to dying bamboo and choked the grass. The Imperial found it hard to believe anyone could or would wish to live here.

Tornado was born with the restless winds in his soul, a gift from the gods, his mother maintained. While his somber father complained that his son needed to settle down and find a reliable trade, Tornado knew that he would never be able to do so without having seen the world first. He had bid his home and family goodbye and hurtled through the air like a hurricane, savouring his first taste of adventure and freedom.

He knew a moment of doubt now, however. He had allowed the whims of the breezes and tempests to decide his path, but regretted briefly leaving his compass at home. The great sea he had heard tell of must be in some other direction, a place of mystery and beauty, travelers had said. Tornado spread his great grey wings, ready to take flight and leave behind this place of horror, when something caught his eye in a pockmark further off.

Advancing cautiously over the dry, scarred ground, he was surprised to see a lone egg, a familiar fresh green in colour. A sharp memory of home almost brought tears to his eyes, but he shook them off, looking around and above him to establish whether there was a nest of some kind. Seeing nothing, he lowered his long neck to inspect the egg more closely, and was surprised to see a crack across its surface. Excitement coursed through him and he gingerly settled himself down around the egg, watching it with increasing anticipation, all death and decay around him forgotten in the presence of imminent life.

***

Dusk had long since fallen, but the Imperial kept up his unceasing vigil. Now and then the egg had moved feebly, only to fall still once again. The periods of activity were getting shorter and Tornado was growing increasingly worried. He didn't know much about the process of hatching, but surely there should be more progress than this? He knew he wasn't supposed to help, but didn't remember why. Then again, if he didn't do something, there would be no point in help soon enough.

Making up his mind, the Imperial carefully used his teeth to pry apart the edges of the shell, concerned about the lack of motion from within. After working at this for a while, he was rewarded with a wet creature flopping out in front of him, her bedraggled fur covered in membrane. Pity flooded Tornado's kind heart, as he watched her struggling. Eyes the same green as his looked up briefly into his face, before closing quickly. The little Tundra shivered and gagged, striving to make a sound, but there was only silence. Worried about her dull colour and obvious weakness, Tornado gathered her to his chest and whispered with his usual optimism, "Don't worry, we'll find help for you in the morning, Circe."

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Last edited by Mozag on Mon Jun 19, 2017 10:16 am, edited 1 time in total.

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Unread postPosted: Sat Jun 17, 2017 2:07 pm 
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Tarn - Yes, he really is and I live in eternal envy. He scribbled that drawing in about 10 minutes. :mrgreen: :mrgreen:

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Unread postPosted: Sun Jun 18, 2017 10:10 am 
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In the morning he awoke to a rumbling and blinked his bleary eyes against an unexpectedly bright light. It took him a while to realise that the source of the illumination was a shining, blue Guardian slowly walking past their hole, her bright body sparkling with pale runes that only seemed to glow more strongly in the still, lifeless air. So taken aback was Tornado by this apparition that for a moment he forgot his surroundings and it took him some time before he recovered enough to check on Circe. She was lying quietly with her eyes closed, her chest rising and falling gently. Picking her up with the utmost care, Tornado eased her onto his back, nestled against his wings, and followed the Guardian, who was moving forward at a slow, steady pace.

“Um, excuse me? Excuse me!” he called, bounding after her. As he neared her, he was struck by the heat emanating from her body. The golden eyes that met his were cold as ice, however, and he was briefly stunned into silence by the complete disinterest in her gaze. She turned her face away again and continued on. Recovering quickly, Tornado walked on next to her.

“Hi, I’m Tornado and the little one is Circe." he indicated the hatchling with his head but he needn't have bothered for the Guardian said nothing. Not letting this worry him, Tornado asked her, “What’s your name?”
She answered without looking at him, “That is none of your concern.”

“So what brings you to this place?” he eventually asked, just to fill the uncomfortable silence that had descended, not really expecting a response.
She walked on, but chose to answer, “I am fulfilling my Charge.”
Heartened by her reply, Tornado was enthusiastic, “Oh yes, I’ve heard about those. Very important to your kind, I believe! What is your Charge, if I may ask?” he wanted to keep the conversation going, and besides, he was actually interested.

“To cure these lands. I am a healer, and it is my Charge to purify the most foul and diseased places in Sornieth.” she uttered this without jest, without pride. Tornado looked away from her impassive face in embarrassment and confusion. Surely she realised how grandiose and pompous she sounded? Ridiculous though her statement was, the Imperial did not wish to offend her and, after all, who was he to judge? Maybe she was the most powerful healer in the world, and he had the luck to meet her!

When it became clear that the Guardian would say no more, and ask no questions, Tornado began to chatter away about his own adventures to fill the silence. He talked about his home and his parents, his childhood and friends, his trip so far and how he had found Circe.

The female had listened to all this without comment, but as he described Circe’s hatching, she turned her cold eyes on the Tundra, still reclining listlessly on Tornado’s back, “Pointless. You should have left her there.”

“Excuse me? She needed help!” Tornado responded with some indignation.

“She is already infected. Cannot you see how the plague courses in her? The sparse fur, the drab colours, the poison dancing within her.” She turned her face away again, “Keep her if you wish, it is no business of mine, but it is fruitless and will cause you only sorrow.”

“Well, why don’t you heal her?” Tornado asked the question he had been trying to politely come to the whole time.

“I told you, it is futile. I will not waste my skills or time on her.” the reply was cold.

“You know, where I come from, healers choose their trade because they want to help others.” he tried to keep his voice carefully neutral and devoid of accusation.

She stopped and turned her head to look at the Imperial by her side, “I did not choose to be a healer. I was simply born with the skill, so logically, that is the task I must perform, regardless of my personal desire.”

“In that case, doesn’t Circe here count as a ‘task’ you should perform?” he asked quickly.

The freezing golden eyes bored into his, but her voice did not change, “Very well. If it is your wish. It will not happen overnight, but perhaps I can give her some comfort.”

She brought her face close to the hatchling, who had once again started shivering and mouthing noiselessly. The warmth radiating from the Guardian’s blue hide increased to a burning, and she looked directly into the Tundra's eyes.

A moment later, she turned away and continued walking. Tornado glanced at the hatchling on his back and saw that she was asleep again, her fur tips glowing with a soft, golden light.

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Unread postPosted: Mon Jun 19, 2017 10:20 am 
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Gradually the trio came to know and accept each other. Initially the Guardian, who had finally allowed the others to call her Mana, had been reluctant to heal Circe and made it very clear that she considered it a waste of her skills. In time, however, she seemed to derive a pleasure and a pride from her work. Truth be told, she spent far more of her energies on the little Tundra's welfare than on the scarred wastelands outside their home cave. Her manner had not become any warmer, and her words were scarce, but to the mute hatchling this was a blessing. She did not need to deal with the exhausting communication that was the norm with Tornado. He was kind and funny, and was trying so hard to teach her the little he knew about the world around them, but Circe was always worn out after spending time with him. Words were complicated and odd, she kept forgetting the things he taught her and even if she had been able to speak, she didn't consider words adequate to describe emotions and thoughts.

Mana understood her better and never made any demands of her, neither in learning or other achievements. She used all her considerable skill to make Circe feel better, and though there were days when she felt the burn of the plague in her veins, usually she was well enough to follow the two adults on short foraging parties, to gather any edible plants nearby. They found to their surprise that despite her general weakness, Circe was able to ingest things that made the other two horribly sick. Mana said it was due to the disease within her, and that either it would eventually kill her or they would become one, feeding off each other like parasites.

It was on one of these foraging trips that Circe came to understand death. She had been feeling particularly strong that day, and was bouncing along at a safe distance behind the adults, wary of their giant paws and heavy tails. She was trying to catch a moth fluttering a little way ahead of her when she noticed Tornado raise his regal head, as if listening to something. Pricking up her own ears, she too heard sounds she couldn't identify: violent and loud, they made the fur at her neck prickle unpleasantly. Before she could catch the attention of her elders, however, they broke into a run, leaving her to follow them as best she could on her much shorter legs. Their urgency worried her and she began to feel a little frightened.

Circe caught up with them just in time to see a small pack of dragons, snarling and spitting at Mana and Tornado, backing off, their four, strange eyes gleaming an unpleasant red. Circe edged closer quietly to see what the shape on the ground between the two parties was, but Tornado noticed her and pushed her quickly behind himself with a force that would leave her sore for days. Finally the silent stalemate collapsed as the pack turned and fled, clearly deciding it would be unwise to engage the two much larger dragons.

Feeling safer now, Circe followed Tornado and Mana to the object on the ground. Coming closer, she stopped in her tracks, horrified and fascinated in equal measure by the sight in front of her. A strange dragon lay there, his green hide painted with odd pink stripes. He was moving feebly and, glancing up at Mana's face, Circe realised he was no longer worth trying to save. Blood pooled under his long, sinuous body and his innards were partly exposed and chewed - clearly the pack had already started their feast when their party had come across them. A warm, metallic smell reached the Tundra's nostrils and she gulped greedily at it, captivated by its newness. "My research..." the dragon whispered and grasped with failing strength at a book lying across his broken body.The turquoise eyes widened in agony and panic, his body convulsed violently and his mouth opened once or twice, silently, like Circe's own. Then it was over. The young dragon leaned to look into the wide open eyes, and was shocked to see nothing, their glassy surface showing neither warmth or animation. So this was the death that Mana so serenely said would likely be Circe's sooner rather than later. The thought was strangely comforting.

Tornado bent down to detach the book from the lifeless body, while Mana's calm voice stated, "There is no point burying him, they would only dig it back up again." There was no arguing her logic, so the three dragons turned from the corpse and walked away.


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I went ahead and removed the day count, because the story won't work if I'm counting exact days. And I removed the text centering, it was making the story format look really sloppy.

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Unread postPosted: Mon Jun 19, 2017 3:35 pm 
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I've been loving following this! The writing has been very exciting and I'm very, very eagerly following little Circe here.

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Unread postPosted: Tue Jun 20, 2017 1:41 am 
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Thank you so much Lupis! I am often riddled with doubt about my writing, because I'm surrounded here at Petopia by very talented individuals. But I figure as long as I get the point across, it's good enough. :lol:

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Unread postPosted: Tue Jun 20, 2017 6:34 am 
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Coliseum!

I get the feeling that Pinkerlocke has it in for my little Circe. He gave me meat today, but I managed to pull through 40 battles (the minimum for meat) with her alone. I think I went through 50 health potions and fled every battle that I knew I'd not be able to win, but she's alive and level 4 now. I also realised that both Manafall and Tornado (possibly Pioum too) died due to a stupid blunder of mine. It's been so long since I last leveled dragons that I forgot to give them stat points...which means that I took those two to the Woodland Path without any points assigned. I remember wondering why on earth they took so much damage and did so little, and when it was happening to Circe at level 3 today I suddenly remembered STATISTICS. :roll: Oh well, live and learn, I just hope I get a dragon buddy for her soon, because wow, is it uncomfortable battling with just one.

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Unread postPosted: Wed Jun 21, 2017 10:43 am 
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Some weeks after the encounter with the pack of dragons, a species called "Mirror" according to Tornado, Circe was lying in her corner of their cave, shivering and gagging, the disease burning in her veins again. She was used to being ill, but the pain never became easier to deal with. She could barely form a coherent thought, and only the incessant beat of "Mana, Mana, Mana" pounded through her aching head. She yearned for the gleaming Guardian to return home and soothe her with her golden glow, the warm release that helped her sleep and heal.

Green eyes wandered restlessly around the cave, trying to find something to focus on, but there were few articles to be seen. Eventually they came to rest on a silly kite Tornado was making to teach her about the Windswept Plateau, a place of laughter and song where they both, he insisted, came from. He had managed to scavenge only some drab cloth, but maintained that they would dye them in the bright colours of his home once he had collected enough. Circe might have mentioned that the limp, choking air was an unlikely medium for kite flying, but was glad she was unable to voice her opinions. Tornado did everything in life joyfully and enthusiastically, and it was often his positive attitude that got them all through the hard days.

Shifting positions laboriously, her paw brushed against something, and she glanced down wearily to see what it was. Nestled against her was the book of "research" they had taken from the dead dragon. Tornado had decided to teach her how to read, and she could not explain to him that it was futile. The words were unintelligible to her, sentences stringing together in an endless chain, their significance completely lost. Not that it mattered much, she smiled weakly, as the little he had read out loud to them was so complex and strange that she guessed Tornado didn't know what any of it meant either.

The pain seemed to lessen a little and the Tundra closed her eyes, falling into a restless slumber, cuddling the book closer to her.

***

It was late evening when she woke, she knew it from the smell of the air and the sounds outside: night-time creatures venturing forth into their dark kingdom. Panic filled Circe's chest when she realised that the adults were not back yet. No companionable chatter filled the cave, and the warmth emanating from Mana was also lacking. Circe wondered where they could be. Maybe they had come home, but stepped outside again? She looked around her, trying to stay calm, but saw no plants stacked in the neat piles that Mana always carefully made after a foraging trip. They had never left her alone this long before, what was going on?

Although she felt stronger, Circe was still unwell, and it took an effort to drag herself to the entrance, which was blocked by a large boulder. She would never be able to move it alone, but the adults always left her a small crack to crawl through, and she utilised this now, wriggling her body until she emerged outside.

She had never been out at night before, and the Tundra was surprised to realise how comforting it was. The way Tornado and Mana spoke of it, she had always thought the darkness to be something ominous and unpredictable, but she found herself able to smell more clearly. She could almost see with her nose, and for a moment she felt at peace, savouring the sensation of knowing with her olfactory sense what she could never be sure of with her eyes in the daylight. She closed them now to delight in all the different scents racing each other across her nostrils, but her pleasure was cut short when the unmisteakable odours of blood and offal reached her.

Uttering a silent gasp, forgetting her weakness, Circe galloped in the direction they were coming from. Somewhere inside she already knew what she would see, but she did not dare to follow the thought further. "Let them be alright, let them be alright." she found herself reciting in her head. Wishing doesn't make it so, however, and in a pockmark not far from home, she came upon her guardians. Their bodies were savaged almost beyond recognition, but Circe would have known their scent anywhere. She guessed that the Mirrors had come for their revenge in a larger group, and now cursed the good humoured naivete of Tornado, who had insisted they had nothing to worry about, that they had driven them off for good. Who would dare attack them?

Mana's silvery runes were dim underneath the blood and dirt and no golden glow surrounded her. Circe laid a paw on her hide, and felt only the chill of death. "Thank you." she mouthed at the Guardian who had saved her life. She tore her eyes away from the sight, and saw a glittering pink scale at her feet. She picked it up gingerly, but avoided looking at the dragon from which it had been ripped. Circe stared at the scale, dusty and dirty, willing it to grow and become again her only friend and protector, but her eyes were drawn against her will to Tornado's broken carcass. Circe hoped he had not suffered, but knew in her heart of hearts that the pack had not been kind.

She had not even known to fear such an event such as this. Her own death was always discussed by the adults, Mana calmly, Tornado in agitation and negation, and Circe had become used to the idea of it happening to her. Seeing the Spiral had brought peace, she had confronted death and knew its name, and the thought of going into the beyond, to be with the gods, as Tornado said, was not frightening. She had never imagined in her worst nightmares that they would die and she would live. She sat next to them, tears falling on their beloved bodies, the weight of her loneliness crushing her. For a long time the young dragon remained there, hoping the Mirrors would return and take her too, but no sound stirred the air, no movement marred her grief.

Eventually she rose to leave, the pink scale still clutched tightly in her paw. She realised then that her illness was the only reason she remained alive, and she cursed the plague, her companion and saviour.

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Unread postPosted: Tue Jul 04, 2017 5:57 am 
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Posts: 3528
Location: Finn in Croatia.
Realm: Several on EU.
Gender: Female.
I'm sorry for the long silence, and even sorrier to say that I'm finishing this Pinkerlocke. I ran out of inspiration after the last post, and was really bummed about my mistake with the three original dragons. Battling with one dragon was laborious and very expensive, since I went through a bunch of potions. I ended up doing another 20 battles eventually (I was still pulling Pinkerlocke stuff and writing down the stuff I needed to do, intending to catch up with it all once I got another dragon). I did eventually get a familiar, and bought the dragon that was to become Circe's friend, but unfortunately I had a previous battle streak to do. This morning I took her into the Coliseum, armed with potions, went through 30 of them in the first match, but there was no hope. So Circe is gone, and I have no desire to continue. Thank you to everyone who was with me for this short, failed attempt! :hug:

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Many thanks to Ashaine and Kurenio for the beautiful signature and avatar!



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