#bast;

Two crews cross paths in an attempt to hunt the INTERLOPER's fall.

GOT A COMMISSION BACK AND I'M NORMAL ABOUT IT! The fantastic Razrroth (who did the couple piece of my dragon starling and Sweeetcotton's Moth a while back) was open for work and of course I had to ask for my beloved boy Bast.

After I got done staring with love and awe in my eyes at him for approximately 10 minutes I came over here to back up the images. and I do mean images.

so on-site I had to interpret it with "One, singular, cool jacket."

Share a dragon who would have/currently has credit card debt

Bast, no question. This poor fucker is in so much debt because of a handful of deeply, deeply bad investments made in his name after his identity was stolen. The problem is that the place that pays his wages is a shadowy, evil organization, and he still hasn't tracked down the douchebag who took so many loans out at Mother's Embrace that Rafflesia keeps sending Snappers to break his kneecap. Now he hunts members of The Host (and those afflicted much like he is with Analog Syndrome) to contain or eliminate them in order to reset the time locks and finally stop living in the same random ass tuesday H.A.E. is trapped in. He hopes that afterward he'll be able to convince Avis to let him borrow the T.I.M.E. device to go back in time and punch a hole in the head of the dragon who was SO bad at Poker he had to take this job in the first place.

Share two dragons who are smart on their own, but become stupid together

Harlequinn and her twin brother Roulette run the fairway games in the Vaudemire Sideshow, and are incredibly knowledgeable on gambling, chance, mechanics, and anything one might need to know to maintain the booths that make up their line of work in the carnival- and are opportunistic to their core, willing to make a wager or run a hustle separately on anyone unfortunate enough to look like an easy mark.

And while it's kinda bold calling Harlie smart, as she's got three plastic dice and a rubber chicken clanking around in her skull, Roulette is incredibly intelligent and capable- but his sister saps his brain cells like a fucking sponge. Never has Roulette ever gotten into a situation without his sister's involvement, and never have either of them gotten out of it without Pig's intervention, as before his children were born, Harlequinn and Roulette were largely regarded as his adopted children- if anything because he was the only one brave enough to crack a skull if a customer decided to try and strangle the little bastards to death for a botched pick-pocketing job.

Anybody else spend far too long designing multiple outfits for their dragons since they're characters you're playing dolls with or am I insane.

You're completely correct in your assumption that Pete is not a... normal dragon. If we're being wholly accurate, Pete's not been a living thing for quite some time.

And his fellows in the Ever Constantine Mall are not friends, so much as... his most notable cast of victims.

TW: Horror themes, dragon death, 'zombies'/living doll themes.

I Got No Strings...

"...Frontman of metal band 'Half Dagger' found dead in the Ever Constantine Mall mere weeks before its planned grand opening- Ice Flight's authorities are working alongside Lightning's developmental crews to determine if this event is foul play...."

Hungry, resurrected- A new comment, I'm speaking tongues and infected, Atomic. My throat corroded, dissected, I've cut it. Petyr Shacklefrost "Pete" [He/It] [Pre-Reanimation]

Petyr Shacklefrost Better known by simply "Pete" was at one point a promising musician, the lead vocalist of the band Half Dagger and a well known punk in Plague's music scene, Pete spent much of his early life clawing his way from niche obscurity in Plague's music circles to something resembling mainstream success. and at one point, he simply... gave up.

With a loss of will but lingering, cutthroat ambition, he turned to rumor and ghost stories- an interest in the occult had been commonplace within his crew, after all, and among the stories shared over cold, cheap brews in taverns after shows- the tale of a Plague local from some time ago made something of a Goddess- a battle poet, a bard- a Mirror with her bones twisted and reshaped for an escape that still proved entirely futile- who in death offered her blessings to musicians she deemed worthy. But laziness and ambition in tandem do not a smart man make- and a plea to the wrong goddess would seal his fate.

Pete would be given what he sought- his trade made in blood on the grounds between Shadow and Plague where thick purple earth gave way to crawling sinew, he would be given a pendant- and a set of rules by the voice of what he surely thought was the lady of music- a string was a string, after all, Right?

It is unclear what rule Pete broke, or if he simply grew to bore the mistress he accidentally swore himself to- Sixteen cycles after he found the fame he so desperately clamored for- he would be found broken and lifeless in the construction zone of the Ever Constantine Mall.

His death would not be the respite he sought.

WE ARE VOLT-SPIRE ! ! !

Is this what you wanted? A clearer state of mind? Better bite the bullet~! Press down on bruises like wine heals better with time! From Left to Right: Heartb-b-beat (She/Her), RebelRebel [He/they], Ripley [They/She], Arcade [He/Him])

Time moves forward, and despite its rocky start, the Ever Constantine Mall quickly recovers from the troubling events of its grand opening- capitalism keeps Lightning flight at the forefront of invention and innovation, after all! Neon-soaked and a popular hangout with young locals, It's no surprise that it would draw in young creatives, over time- and our plucky young heroes for this story are the teenaged members of 'VOLT-SPIRE!' a pop punk outfit made up of drummer Ripley, lead guitar and backing vocalist Arcade, bassist and lead vocalist HeartBeat, and 'generally here because he's the only one who knows how to do sound tech and how to play the keys' RebelRebel, VOLT-SPIRE! is a project of plucky hope and lofty ambition, naivety turned into wild upward momentum, this little group of friends are the eponymous mall rats- though these days, its unclear if they still go because they like being at the Ever Constantine, or if they're simply guilty about the fate of their former rhythm guitarist, and co-founder of the band, Ducky.

The VOLT-SPIRE! kids are little more than a group of kids trying to enjoy the fleeting remainder of their childhood before they're expected to spread their wings and find a place of their own- friendships strained by strange happenings at their favorite hangout in the twilight hours of their time together, they cling to the good memories desperately.

Unbeknownst to the four of them, though, the Ever Constantine now exists contained in a time-loop, cycling back on itself to allow for the pursuit and containment of INTRUDER- a member of The Host who was created in the initial cataclysm- but the mangled reflection that caused the disappearance of their friend Ducky is not the only thing that lurks among the neon lit halls.

Now: Survive.

Aren't you lucky you're a bleeder?- Do what you need to stay alive. Bast Whipwire [He/Him], Pete [Post reanimation]

A deal made to the Puppeteer is one that the living never hope to escape- Pete had hoped death might be the freedom he sought, cut free of her strings, no longer bound to the will of something he never hoped to understand- no longer a puppet tied to her twisted rules- a new one each day to keep his newfound fame- her mocking laughter each time he nearly broke one.

He is now little more than an echo of what once was. The shambling, wire-bound remains of a once wild-eyed, passionate performer, the "Pete" of today is little more than a hollow doll guided by hunger. it crawls within him, leaves him desperate and moving surprisingly quickly through darkened hallways cast only in pale neons with jerky, unearthly movements as if guided by marionette strings affixed to each point of his body. He does not speak, the once-confident and capable way he carried conversation swallowed up with wild, hyena-like laughter and spilling, streaking puddles of black gore from his maw and injuries in his battle jacket clad pelt, hot like a flame and evaporating as they drip- smoky hands forming to pull invisible strings around his body.

And in the pursuit of the INTRUDER- Agent Bast finds himself the caregiver of the teens now trapped after hours in their practice space, the very music store where Shacklefrost made his final gamble- and lost. Pete is not a symptom of what Bast seeks, nor is it an entity he can cure, but he is a stopping block, and the more prevalent danger to the innocents within the cycle.

And thus, the INTRUDER will have to wait.

You must understand that 90% of my dragons are some white/black/brown tone primary with a bright secondary/tert so this was an experiment in "This is X enough"

Bast arrives, overworked and underpaid, accompanied by Contagion, and thus already having a bad time.

then the bar wench thing happens and he's staring loyal boyfriend-ly into the equidistance while Contagion flirts and he realizes in exactly that moment Hell is not a place it's other people.