Wild magic, ancient and purposeless, have sung along the ley lines of the world, sparked into action by careless magi, disturbing portals they do not understand. This magic reaches realms impossible, and the light of these spells conspire with fates and gods to reforge the notions of this reality.
Souls of a far and familiar place were caught and lured into a world in need, landing in a place of misting shadows and ethereal light, long forgotten. Clutter and debris marked the ancient building’s age and lack of residents. Suddenly beings of transparent light fluttered into the building, like ghosts materializing in the physical world. These formless creatures were not simple things, nor was their arrival random. Within them were memories, personalities, and thoughts of a person; stolen from the grasp of a different physical plane, a realm of subtle Sight.
Here, in this obscure and hidden room, secrets of long past power waited. On towering racks made of obsidian pillars and black steel hooks, great skins of silver scales and sharp teeth hung suspended and on display. A moonlight glow glimmered from their undersides, a swirling magic that reached for the translucent travelers.
One of the conscious lights broke off from the group and reached out to touch the magic tendrils reaching from the scale-skin pelts. At once the two were joined, the pelt fell from the rack and latched around the being’s ghostly form. A bright glow marked their joining, and in their wake a pale silver scaled egg sat silently.
The building shuttered, magic breathing to life within it once more. The other beings of light were abruptly shoved by an invisible force, falling into reach of the scale pelts’ arms. Each were bound in the scales and molded together, and in their place a silver egg remained.
Note: First Post is posted here early, for others’ reference, because it might add a bit more clarification and I'm bad at explaining :).
Esra, The Dragon Forge
He didn't know how long exactly he'd been in the egg, but it'd been plenty of time to think up a new name for his dragon-self. Esralion. It had a nickname; Esra, and he loved nicknames. It was also just canon-sounding enough to fit in, or so he hoped. He hadn't memorized every name ever used in the whole of Warcraft.
The realization that he was in a fictional world had come and gone, as most things did in the egg. Very little actually mattered, and that was likely because he was a baby, or maybe the egg was magic, either way his emotional range wasn't extensive. If Esra had to sum up the whole experience, he would say it was simple and calm. His gradual understanding of what was happening to him had taken a while to sink in, mostly because his mind wandered in circles and didn't pay the information much mind.
But now it was different, his mind was sharpening, beginning to work like it used to. He could feel others, like him, just at the edge of his consciousness. They were close, but not close enough to reach, or maybe his mind just wasn't strong enough to do so yet.
In the end it didn't matter, the shell was growing weaker with every passing second, soon he would be free and he could see this world at last. The moment arrived without any physical indication, it was instinct that drove him to headbutt the shell. It split with a soft crack! It was the loudest sound he'd heard in a long time.
His first view of the room was faceplanting on dusty stone. It was smooth to the touch, and lit by a soft blue light. He looked up to see over a dozen eggs scattered around the room, and a few silver dragonscale coats still hung from obsidian racks along the walls.
He and the other eggs were on a central platform, below them was a luminous blue lake, reminiscent of the Night Elven moonwells. It's glow lit the lower half of the chamber, and above were reaching shadows and dark corners. Twin bridges of smooth dark stone reached out on one side, connecting the platform to what could best be described as a cave of eroded ruins. Not much was left of them, but it was easily identifiable as Titan-made for those that knew the look. Past the cave was what might have been a tunnel, but it curved out of sight and could have been a dead end for all he knew.
Esra pulled himself free of the rest of his egg and flapped his wings once, twice, and then he flapped more confidently and began to rise quickly. Flying seemed instinctive, which shouldn't have been surprising; he was a magical winged reptile, not a bird.
His mind felt more whole, and worry and excitement began to creep in. He was in Azeroth, which was brilliant, but how many times had this world been on the brink of annihilation? It was magical and exciting, but also dangerous and tragic. Corruption, undeath, torture, rape, murder… all these things occurred here regularly.
Or at least they would. He did not readily understand how, but he’d pulled on the ley lines a few times whilst in his egg. It was tricky, but the lines were like rivers, and if you looked carefully you might get a glimpse of what was happening upstream. One of these recent visions had revealed the date; 590 KC, a couple years before the arrival of the Orcs. If that was still accurate at least, who knows how long some of his naps within the egg had lasted, or if KC meant King’s Calendar as he thought it did.
His eyes caught movement among the eggs; one was shaking, and another!
Souls of a far and familiar place were caught and lured into a world in need, landing in a place of misting shadows and ethereal light, long forgotten. Clutter and debris marked the ancient building’s age and lack of residents. Suddenly beings of transparent light fluttered into the building, like ghosts materializing in the physical world. These formless creatures were not simple things, nor was their arrival random. Within them were memories, personalities, and thoughts of a person; stolen from the grasp of a different physical plane, a realm of subtle Sight.
Here, in this obscure and hidden room, secrets of long past power waited. On towering racks made of obsidian pillars and black steel hooks, great skins of silver scales and sharp teeth hung suspended and on display. A moonlight glow glimmered from their undersides, a swirling magic that reached for the translucent travelers.
One of the conscious lights broke off from the group and reached out to touch the magic tendrils reaching from the scale-skin pelts. At once the two were joined, the pelt fell from the rack and latched around the being’s ghostly form. A bright glow marked their joining, and in their wake a pale silver scaled egg sat silently.
The building shuttered, magic breathing to life within it once more. The other beings of light were abruptly shoved by an invisible force, falling into reach of the scale pelts’ arms. Each were bound in the scales and molded together, and in their place a silver egg remained.
The Dragon Forge
Note: First Post is posted here early, for others’ reference, because it might add a bit more clarification and I'm bad at explaining :).
Esra, The Dragon Forge
He didn't know how long exactly he'd been in the egg, but it'd been plenty of time to think up a new name for his dragon-self. Esralion. It had a nickname; Esra, and he loved nicknames. It was also just canon-sounding enough to fit in, or so he hoped. He hadn't memorized every name ever used in the whole of Warcraft.
The realization that he was in a fictional world had come and gone, as most things did in the egg. Very little actually mattered, and that was likely because he was a baby, or maybe the egg was magic, either way his emotional range wasn't extensive. If Esra had to sum up the whole experience, he would say it was simple and calm. His gradual understanding of what was happening to him had taken a while to sink in, mostly because his mind wandered in circles and didn't pay the information much mind.
But now it was different, his mind was sharpening, beginning to work like it used to. He could feel others, like him, just at the edge of his consciousness. They were close, but not close enough to reach, or maybe his mind just wasn't strong enough to do so yet.
In the end it didn't matter, the shell was growing weaker with every passing second, soon he would be free and he could see this world at last. The moment arrived without any physical indication, it was instinct that drove him to headbutt the shell. It split with a soft crack! It was the loudest sound he'd heard in a long time.
His first view of the room was faceplanting on dusty stone. It was smooth to the touch, and lit by a soft blue light. He looked up to see over a dozen eggs scattered around the room, and a few silver dragonscale coats still hung from obsidian racks along the walls.
He and the other eggs were on a central platform, below them was a luminous blue lake, reminiscent of the Night Elven moonwells. It's glow lit the lower half of the chamber, and above were reaching shadows and dark corners. Twin bridges of smooth dark stone reached out on one side, connecting the platform to what could best be described as a cave of eroded ruins. Not much was left of them, but it was easily identifiable as Titan-made for those that knew the look. Past the cave was what might have been a tunnel, but it curved out of sight and could have been a dead end for all he knew.
Esra pulled himself free of the rest of his egg and flapped his wings once, twice, and then he flapped more confidently and began to rise quickly. Flying seemed instinctive, which shouldn't have been surprising; he was a magical winged reptile, not a bird.
His mind felt more whole, and worry and excitement began to creep in. He was in Azeroth, which was brilliant, but how many times had this world been on the brink of annihilation? It was magical and exciting, but also dangerous and tragic. Corruption, undeath, torture, rape, murder… all these things occurred here regularly.
Or at least they would. He did not readily understand how, but he’d pulled on the ley lines a few times whilst in his egg. It was tricky, but the lines were like rivers, and if you looked carefully you might get a glimpse of what was happening upstream. One of these recent visions had revealed the date; 590 KC, a couple years before the arrival of the Orcs. If that was still accurate at least, who knows how long some of his naps within the egg had lasted, or if KC meant King’s Calendar as he thought it did.
His eyes caught movement among the eggs; one was shaking, and another!
