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(DF) Take Shelter

 
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1/14/2012 14:03:21   
Ligerbird
Member

I've never, ever written a fanfic about DF before. I've always kept and coveted them in my brain, but they're pretty tacky. I'd still love you forever and forever if you'd read it.
Here's the discussion thread.

~

I'm not sure what this story is, exactly. It's kind of amorphous and jelly-like, and I bet you could poke it with a spoon it will warp in unintended ways as I write it out. Currently, the basic idea is about the origin of the Dragon Boxes (White and Black), the two dragon eggs, and a city underground, invaded by odd monsters that have never before seen the light. This is a story taking place awhile ago, when people once inhabited that city before everything about it was lost forever.../cue dramatic music
(Just as a warning, on DF, I'm sort of new, so I'm not too far into the plot. Some details might get screwed up.)

~

Prologue
The two eyes blinked into existence approximately a half-mile away from the main hall, suffused in a malevolent red light. They appeared at approximately afternoon, if time could be discerned in this stark, colorless world. The sun's rays seeped in through whatever crevices they could find. Otherwise, apart from the man-made lights that dotted the desolate streets, the city was submerged in darkness.
Once upon a time, a long time ago, people spoke of dragons.
But people also spoke of a world, up above them, on top of their great earthen ceilings, and something called sky. Some still remembered it before they had moved underground. Most didn't. But this city had originated, some said, up there, underneath that vast blue thing called the Sky. The people had started out walking on earth, walled in wind and trees - not tree roots, but real, tall, lovely trees. But then the Accident had occurred. No one looked back. They moved, and rumor had it that the skeleton of their abandoned city still stood, underneath the Sky, walled in wind and trees. The husk of it, blowing with ashes. No one spoke of the Accident, and when they did, it was usually bitter, or in remembrance of the heroes that had led them away from it. In fact, the leaders of this underground world tried their very hardest to keep the Accident concealed from its citizens. So gradually, over time, generation after generation, less and less people knew exactly what the Accident was.

The red eyes shifted, darted, and then winked out.

No one saw them, but they were there.
And they were important.

The truth about the Accident had faded.
So when Sierra Smokes was born, in her underground house in the underground city, she knew nothing about it. Growing up in the underground academies, she learned about it, but only enough to know that it existed.

And the night she turned fifteen, the red eyes reappeared.
And a glittering mouth of fangs flashed, a lethal, shining smile.
And softly, on the ground, little feet pattered, and pattered.
And more red eyes emerged.

All through the night, the guardians of the city saw only red lights, flashing fangs, and that soft pattering of thousands of little feet against the ground.


< Message edited by Ligerbird -- 3/17/2012 8:27:58 >
DF AQW  Post #: 1
3/17/2012 8:44:46   
Ligerbird
Member

Chapter One

Sierra had never had a home outside of Postopolis. The towering, densely packed underground city had been home for her for too long to be able to imagine an outside world. The narrow streets were lit primarily by witchlight, flaming glow-runes, and crudely shaped torches and lanterns. There were people everywhere, although overpopulation had never quite occurred to her as a problem. There were no factories, and no pollution. Apart from the dark and the damp, the city was relatively clean and wholly vibrant.

Walking in the streets in the semidarkness, Sierra was passed by a horse-drawn carriage rattled by over the cobbles, sporting a young man in an expensive black suit and a rather matronly woman with a plumed hat. The lady acknowledged her with a friendly, gloved wave and then the horses were tumbling onwards.

In the city limits, they were safe.
So they thought, at least...but they did not know.

Sierra was one of a population oblivious to the fact that they had fled from one tragic demise into the other. But never mind that for now, because it mattered little then. Postopolis seems now like an underground Pompeii. Doomed from the beginning. But inhabitants idly watched the warning signs.

Sierra was one of the first to die.

Death took her gladly - they were close enough to his domain and were easy pickings for a scythe-wielding force of nature. It took them all gladly...but never mind that.

As the story goes, Sierra was just an average fifteen-year-old, stretching her legs in the confines of Postopolis. She knew nothing of the Accident or the heroes and enemies involved. All she knew was that her fifteenth birthday had come to pass and the heady scents of moisture from nearing springtime were biting through the rocky ceiling. Roots were twining their way through the rich soil, and erosions were frequent disasters at this time of year.
For Sierra, there was nothing more to life than purchasing sweets at the corner store for two gold each, riding horses, and being graced with good company.

Sierra's role was so much larger.
She did not know it yet.

But enough.
Sierra was just a girl that day, strolling through the streets - to the academy, where she learned, or for the most part pretended to learn. Nothing in her world had gone wrong. She walked briskly, watching as the (in)famous school building loomed in its seclusion in the distance.

This is her story.
DF AQW  Post #: 2
4/13/2012 22:12:47   
Ligerbird
Member

Chapter Two

"Now, class," the professor went on in a long drawl, "we all know of the tragic events that led up to our migration to this town, don't we?"
In reality, everything about their migration was falsified and overblown, and somewhere in there, the truth had been dusted over and obscured in lies. But the students did not know, and to them this was not history but just a typical lecture delivered by a typical teacher and know cared much more than the fact that they had heard it countless times. The chorus of agreement that rippled through the assembled students was more mechanical than anything else.

"Albert," the professor continued cheerily, "why don't you explain?"

Albert, a student who, unfortunately, was half asleep, scarcely registered the question. "Oh, um..." He slurred, sleepily aggravating the saliva bubbling in the corner of his mouth. "Uh. Well...there was this big, um, big scary bad guy and he..."

"Albert," the professor said reprovingly, "we can do better than this. How about you, Sierra?"

Sierra, unfortunately, wasn't asleep, which was probably for the worse. The professor was notorious for his abrupt sneak attacks on his students and his most targeted victims usually were the ones who hardly paid attention.

Her mouth went dry.
"Um," she said, and her voice was devastatingly loud in spite of the fact that it rang like a whisper in her ears, "um...there was...a villain."

The professor paused, eyeing her with the cold edge of a half-formed smile. "Yes?"

"The villain," she continued, "wanted all of the upper world to herself. So she summoned an army of demonic creatures and plagued the above-world region. She planned to wipe out every other life form..."

"And did NOT succeed, mind," the professor said smugly. "We were the only group of people who reformed and rebelled. Our heroic driving efforts were divine and above theirs and we beat them back; by then, the upper world was so devastated by war that we no longer wanted it and then decided to move below grounds. And isn't it so much greater down here?"

The students nodded absently.
They didn't think. Or most of them didn't.

But Sierra did.
DF AQW  Post #: 3
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