FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

A noise drifts into your mind while you sleep, not enough to rouse you from your slumber but enough to taint your dreams. The sound continues, soft, undisturbing but there, tickling your senses and weaving its way through your mind like an insect buzzing too close to ones ear. Eventually the noise becomes too great for your unconscious mind to ignore and, as your senses expand, the acute sound you couldn't quite place in your murky state expands into a cosmic blur of possibilities.

Your eyes slip open, instantly alert to the disturbance though its source remains a mystery. Your mind has already begun the all-too slow process of waking, allocating its resources like flicking on light switches one by one. It's still mercifully dark allowing you to tune your senses in the order most pertinent to your current situation. Your body remains motionless, just in case.

** (#1) [Vote ends: No specified end time] You are a feral male...**

... dragon of great power.

... gryphon of majestic splendor.

... demon of ancient old.

... naga, king once but no more.

... aquatic beast on dry land.

... phoenix, just reborn.

(#2) [Vote ends: No specified end time] You were born into...

... a land of time once past. (Fantasy Setting)

... a place not different from any other. (Modern Setting)

... a time not too far in the future. (Post-Modern Setting)

... a time far to the future. (Sci-Fi Setting)

---

The smell of salt has become so common place over the many weeks at sea that it hardly registers with your senses any longer. The rocking of the ship never seems to dull however. In fact, the motion seems more aggressive than usual.

Your large, angular head lifts from the silks of your nest, the two candles that flank your black hide bursting to life at your call, bathing the enclosed deck in a wash of amber light. The instant spread of their glow causes the wide pupils of your red, vertically slitted eye to pinch down to little more than a sliver in reaction. The opalescent gem that dangles between your sweeping horns glitters brilliantly in the flickering flamelight, the thin zirconium chain that supports it seemingly too small to withstand the rigors of adorning a dragon of your size. It has never failed in all the centuries since the braces were fused to your turquoise horns however.

The cusp of your angular ears shift to better capture the sounds around you. Even muffled as it is by the sea swell and creak of old wood, you can still pick up the sounds of the crew: conversations you can't make out, orders being barked, cargo shuffled about. Nothing seems particularly out of the ordinary. You sense no strife or significant tension amongst the crew.

But there is something. If not for that... _something_you might well have simply returned to your meditation and let the crew carry on with their task. Perhaps it is nothing but it would take more effort to ignore than to investigate. At least it would appease the nagging pixie buzzing at the back of your mind.

Your great frame lifts from the deck and, as graceful as a breeze, step forward toward the hatch. It took squeezing those massive red wings close to your flanks to fit up through the entrance but such was the sacrifice a skyking made to travel upon the sea. The reinforced angled ladder bore your weight with only a mild creak of protest. A swish of your "devil's" spaded tail tip quashed the flames long before the heat could melt more than a divot upon their waxy bodies.

A rush of sea air burdens your lungs as the twin portcullis to your den diverge abroad to admit your great bulk onto the main deck. Immediately you notice it is darker than you would have expected given the expected time of day.

"Betri'vera!" Comes a cry from the quarter deck behind you. It is the kobold's word for your kind. The little two-legged beings that run the ship are all of your cabal, kobolds collected over many generations; males and females, young and old, born and won.

In an instant the entire crew is at attention, only those currently tending the most critical tasks not kneeling as your sharp draconic eyes survey the ship. The minni'sjalfur have not seen you above deck for 9 days so it's little wonder your sudden appearance causes a stir. Your head swings slowly from one side to the other, drawing it all in while the wind ruffles your crimson mane.

"Zula." Your thick draconic words cut across the wind as you cast the name over your back to your navigator. The baby blue kobold behind the wheel has not knelt, the vibrant color of her hide fading into the black 'booties' of her hands and feet that rest upon wheel and ground respectively. Her marvelous rich purple eyes and crest of similarly colored feathers perk at the call of her name.

"Yes sir?" Her voice is small compared to your own but carries upon the sea with a richness you have always appreciated.

"You have my blessing." The words spoken are so simple but the relief that washes over the crew is almost euphoric. Even Zula, with her careful mask of restraint, can't help but grin a little behind the cusp of her onyx-tipped muzzle. "What is our status?" You call sharply to reinforce that the nature of your appearance is not a pleasure call.

The crew are up upon their little legs once more, the ship buzzing with renewed energy as your frame circles eloquently around to ascend the deck, perusing a spot to sit flanking behind the much smaller female.

"Our course remains steady betri'vera." She speaks while tying the wheel to the bridge, freeing the kobold to retrieve the navigational charts. "Our progress has not been entirely ideal with intermittent winds. I had intended to provide you with an update on the 'morrow. But now is good too." She added with a coy smirk.

Her lithe form, like most of the crew, donned only a belted cloth that covered her front so, when the scant female leaned over with her tools to calculate their current progress, the view of her backside was not unpleasant. Kobolds had more uses than simply managing a ship... but now was not the time to become distracted.

"We may well reach our destination in two, possibly three weeks." The azure navigator spoke definitively as she stepped aside, letting you peer over the chart to your heart's content. "It will mostly depend on how the storm treats us." Your ears perk.

"Storm?" That must have been the darkness you noticed earlier. Her unconcerned nod does little to reassure you. Her form moves across the deck with a sailor's confidence, clinging to a rope as she slings herself half off the side of the deck, stretching out to point off the port side. "It came upon us pretty sudden. Even Ramah didn't notice until the sunlight started to fade." Zula waited, pointing out at the ominous clouds gathering on the horizon while looking upward, watching your bronze colored chest plates slide into view as you take in the news.

Your brow furrows a little. The last storm had been... unpleasant to say the least and you are not looking forward to another one. You could order Zula to avoid the storm all together. However, the voyage is already taking longer than planned. Going all the way around would stretch your resources dangerously thin and, while you could sustain yourself on mana for the rest of the voyage if necessary, you don't fancy the rest of your cabal starving to death on the open ocean.

The small reptilian beneath you can tell you are deep in thought but doesn't dare interrupt. Instead, she simply clings to the rope, awaiting your command with unyielding patience.

(#3) [Vote ends: 2/22 @ 8pm PT or 75% votecount] You decide that...

... the storm represents too great a threat. Steer the ship around it.

... you trust Zula's confidence. If she thinks the storm can be weathered, through it we go.

---

Those rich purple eyes convey a level of unwavering confidence that is hard to ignore. You sent the crew of this ship out to sea for 8 years prior to this voyage to learn to how to be sailors and they returned to you as creatures more comfortable on the open ocean then on dry land. Zula had been perfectly content to brave the storm without hesitation, not even feeling it necessary to trouble you with the decision. If you had not graced the ship when you had, she would have simply continued on their heading and likely only included it as a footnote in her report the day following.

It would be a lie to say her confidence didn't irk you somewhat; you are used to the minni'sjalfur looking to your guidance on matters of importance. But that was a dilemma for another time. Zula was attempting to fulfill your wishes to the best of her understanding and the role she had been forced into demanded a level self-confidence that seldom blossomed in her kin.

"Keep our bearing Zula but skirt the eye. I do not wish to pass the core as we did last time." Your head tilts, a glassy red eye starring her down to impart the weight of your orders. Her crest shrinks and ears flatten slightly; message received. "You will provide a full report tomorrow after the storm has passed." Your turquoise teeth convey a strict message and she nods immediately in acknowledgment.

"Yes sir." You will have words with her tomorrow. But, for now, preparations should be made for the impending storm and you need her to focus on keeping the ship and crew in order.

"You are dismissed." Her release is given with a gentler tone, conveying gravity but with a lack of anger. Her little paws tuck together at her midriff as she bobs her body in asservation and quickly skirts around you down to the main deck to conveying your orders.

Your feral hind shifts into a sit, long thick tail curling around your haunch as you observe the growing storm. It will be upon you within an hour, you can already feel the change in the air. Fleeting flashes of light pulse within the clouds as your eyes watch with intrigue; the power of nature. Marvelous, violent, raw power destroying anything it touches... So extraordinary no creature has managed to tame it and those that have attempted such an incredible feat die trying.

A glint catches your eye.

Actually, you might not have even given it thought if not for the tone... You've heard that sound before, a whisper in a dream. Your senses focus, searching, straining, maddeningly trying to divine the source.

Nothing.

The taste of frustration is like your own blood on your tongue. There is a tension in your body you can't explain and the sensation is infuriating. There is no clear danger, and yet you can't shake the uneasy feeling that makes even your aquamarine talons flex in agitation. Lifting from the spot, your dark-scaled frame crosses the deck effortlessly.

Logically you know the a few meter's stretch won't change your vantage but you could get nothing better from the navigator's station. With your focus so dedicated, the kobold's saving grace is their alertness to your presence and aptitude at dipping out of the way of a moving dragon. You wouldn't have stepped on them of course... probably.

"Zula." You call, catching the black-footed kobold's attention. "Return to the helm." The words come without taking your attention off the storm. Your slitted eyes have not blinked for almost a full minute, darting about in their sockets.

"Sir...?"

" Now." You bark. You haven't the attention to waste on being agitated. Thankfully the urgency of your command is not lost on the little female, her light form bounding across the deck and up the stairs post-haste.

The worst part of it is the noise; a tantalizing frequency just outside the range of your hearing. It tingles your spine, taunting you. If you could just understand what it was you would know what tortures your mind so.

A shunt of fragmented reality cracks before your eyes like a pane of shattered glass. It lasts only a fraction of a second but it is enough to drive a dagger of ice into your heart. Your body is in motion before you even realize you are moving.

"HARD TO STARBORD!" You roar, your massive bulk barreling toward the bow and throwing yourself off the edge.

Zula would have to watch several tonnes of dragon trample across ship's deck and fling itself overboard, all while hauling the rudder against the grain of the current. Your actions are not suicidal however; quite the contrary. With your claws gouging the deck when you flip around, your hindpaws slam against the outer hull with a frightening thud. The massive kite of wings open abroad to catch as much wind as possible, tearing the ship off course.

You can hear the screeches of alarm from your cabal even over the wash-out of sea spray across your body as the ship scrapes across what appears to be a wall of rainbowy prisms. The now-visible surface crackles with ire, your physical intrusion into the mystical space causing a volatile reaction that sears the side of the ship and anything that touches it. The high pitched squeal of blistering magewood shrieks in protest like the screams of a tortured chick until, at last, the ship skirts the peril leaving only thin ashen wisps teeming from the burnt planks.

Climbing back onto the ship in your soggy state is much more difficult than flinging yourself off of it but, in the heightened, adrenaline laced moment, the strength to climb back on board is not difficult to find. Even if the effort leaves a fresh gouge of claw marks upon its flank.

"Athsar?" Your attention is drawn from observing the shattered surface returning to its glassy smooth illusion back to your navigator. It is rare to be hear your name spoken from the mouth of a minni'sjalfur but it is not forbidden, and understandable given the circumstances of their current distress. You ignore her questioning plea, turning instead to the golden scaled kobold knelt clinging to the rail guards.

"Ramah. Below deck. Secure the arc cannons and seal their ports. Use tallow or pig fat and ensure there are no gaps. Have the families search the hull and plug any hole they find with tar. If it is not below the water it must be sealed. Go!" The plated kobold nodded, ignoring his armaments and rushed to the lower deck.

"Zula!" Your voice carries much louder as you call across the ship. "Steer the ship away from the storm for as long as you can. When you can buy no more time, drop the sails and batten down the hatches." Her nod was not encouraging. Your vessel was nearly completely against the gale now from that little maneuver. There was only a matter of time now before it would be swept into the furystorm.

The ethereal illusion has cost you precious time; had you been able to identify it sooner, better preparation could have been taken to make weathering the storm a manageable feat. As it is, an all-or-nothing action will have to be taken in order to increase your odds of survival from none to... well... something at least greater than zero you suppose.

One could perceive a furystorm like a hurricane but with streams of highly volatile and immensely destructive manashards instead of rain. Their energies created refractive surfaces like a mirage that hid the true location of the storm and they were rare enough that sailors could live their entire lives without ever encountering a single one. You would not be so lucky it seemed.

As it were, you could think of three options to prevent the gruesome demise of your expedition; bind to the ship and use your focus to repel the onslaught of the furystorm as you pass through it, seal the ship and force it below the surface to pass below the chaotic carnage or infuse the ship's magewood with the boundless energies threatening to swallow you in an attempt to lift the ship clear above the storm.

None of your choices grant an avenue of simplicity with the very real threat of failure. You could, of course, always look at it from the other end of the spectrum: would it be better to be shredded and consumed by the energies you have always sought to master, crushed and drowned by the sea you so foolishly tried to tame or be hypoxiated and fall to your death by flying too close to the stars like you were always warned against?

(#4) [Vote ends: 2/23 @ 4pm PT or 75% votecount] No. Your story does not end here.

You are stronger than the storm, you will prove it by going through it!

The sea has not always been your ally but it will provide you sanctuary in your time of need.

You are a skyking! You conquered that domain long ago and it is where you belong.

---

The ship is a flurry of activity; orders thrown, ropes tightened, nerves fraying. You haven't time to waste though.

The ship is made of magewood. An elemental infusion could give it buoyancy enough to rise above the storm and evade the problems brewing on the surface. Going through the storm with a single port open could light the entire innards of the ship on fire and going beneath the waves would require constantly feeding mana to the spell to keep it from collapsing like the pressure bubble it would be. Better to set the ship to the sky where you would be free to deal with the inevitable problems that will arise from forcing the vessel upon a course it loathes.

Even distracted as they are, the little kobolds remove themselves from your path as if it were instinct to do so. The fore of the ship contains the dragondeck, the large area sturdy enough to bear the brunt of a takeoff or landing- though neither will be its purpose today. Your red eyes examine the area with deep resonance, calculating what you need to do. The moment you are certain of your path, you execute on it, your blood red eyes washing over with a milky, opalescent film.

Your body moves with the grace and agility unbefitting a creature of your size. One could describe your ritual as a dance of sorts; if one could call the whip and slash of talons and spines as such. Those great wings spreading out in half crests, carving thin gashes of shimmering pale green light into the deck. Your four limbs follow suit as you swing around, completing the main ring at least a dragonlength in diameter. Within it, complex, unwieldy runes are scrawled with a penmanship that would make the most dedicated scribe jealous.

Just the act of making a rune circle has mesmerized your cabal before but they haven't the time to do more than glance in awe this time. The time you've spent meditating will come in handy for this spell, lifting an entire ship into the air will be no trivial task. Just the energy spent to scrawl the runes, to connect the layers of magewood and balance its influence so the mast isn't ripped from the hull the moment it is activated leaves you feeling sapped.

The lines are so complex and intricately intertwined that you nearly complete the spell on accident. Only an internal cry of alarm yanks you out of the trance quick enough to stop short of crossing the last line with the very first as your eyes jar back to their natural crimson color. For a brief moment after, the world falls to the left, forcing you to stand still on your limbs, slowly retracting your wings as the dizziness passes.

Your head is still tilted slightly from the light throb of discomfort as the golden scaled kobold returns to give his report.

"Yes?" You growl. The price of power was the cost of power. Watching him kneel before you agitates you at the moment. Logically you know that's what he should do but, at this very moment, you wish he'd just get on with it.

"The deck is sealed and cannons secured sir." At least some of your good graces return before you need to respond. A huff of hot air exhales your nostrils.

"Good. Coordinate with Zula for anything else that needs to be dealt with. Warn the crew we will be taking off." You words are stern but not harsh, Ramah's smaller physique lifting to his feet. You can see his eyes shift upward even as he responds.

"Taking off... sir?"

"I cannot risk the ship if anyone falls overboard. The spell must be balanced." The answer given is unsatisfactory to answer the question as your great bulk steps away and turns about. "If they have not wings, they should be secured to the ship or risk learning what it is like to fall to the ocean from the height of the clouds."

There would be no further explanation with gem above your forehead growing in an opalescent radiance that threatened to blind anyone who looked upon it. Despite its charged state, it emitted no light making the object a dangerous curiosity. The milky white coating returns to your eyes as you brace yourself.

"I must concentrate. Go." Your words seem heavier but, before the small two-legged male can nod with a retreat, you complete the rune with a cross of your claw.

An explosive pulse of energy bursts from the ring's center expanding rapidly. The flash of spell power nearly reaches the circumference before you catch it, slowing, halting and finally collapsing the expansion back in toward the center. The startled kobold skitters back a few, arm raised to protect his eyes from the light burst. He checks the rock-still dragon, only that red mane and wing membranes shifting in the arcane breeze. A second pulse begins a moment later, this one large enough to chase the little minni'sjalfur off to find his counterpart.

Eventually the mana spheres would be too large to escape, each one growing until it was wide enough to encompass the entire ship. With each outward pulse, the orb would gather small amounts of the chaotic energy around before being brought back in, slathering the manawood with the correct type and amount of enchantment. The process was slower than you would have preferred, especially once you hear the crew dropping the mainsails.

A minute passes with no change. Then a second. Part of you begins to doubt; perhaps the spell was wrong? Perhaps there was not enough mana this far away from the storm's core? It is too late to change your course now. You increase the speed of the pulses. Not ideal but the circumstance is already far from as it is. It's a full five minutes before you feel something.

"Siiiir?" Your ear catches the crewman's worry, though the question not directed at you; the kobold kin watching the water level recede from the side of the ship.

It's not enough.

At your current rate you'll not make height enough to clear the area of influence from the furystorm. If you can't make birth now, the ship will be dragged in and ripped apart. And you know how to solve this problem. You need another soul to help you stabilize the spell. However, none of your cabal can balance dragonmagic, they're essence will be little more than a vessel you can use to channel your own core through.

The effort of sustaining the full raw will of a dragon will likely kill whoever you take and you can neither afford the loss of concentration or risk of delay by asking for a volunteer. The closest kobold you can reach will have to suffice. You know nearly any one of them would sacrifice their life to save yours but you cannot know for sure if that would be the case for this one. It shouldn't matter of course, by rights they ARE your property and yours to do with as you please.

Another pulse of energy, another miniscule fragment of progress...

(#5) [Vote ends: 2/25 @ 8pm PT or 75% votecount] Sacrifice one life to save the many?

Choose the path of certainty and find a soul to help you save the rest.

Stay the course and hope your luck hasn't run out yet.

---