Limbo Walker

Mathcat

On the first version of the site, I ran into a very weird bug. If you went to the embed code page just as the site happened to log you out, then instead of codes for however many creatures you had, you would see codes for exactly one - a male dark wave runner. I pointed this out to the admin, who changed the dark wave runner's code to "Limbo" and gave him the name Limbo Walker. This is a heavily revised version of the story I wrote about Limbo Walker on the old site.

Limbo Walker

I don't know how much time you've spent staring into the Lost Fields. I don't mean looking for a specific egg; I mean just staring. It's not the healthiest thing to do, but safe enough as long as you're not tempted to stray past your side of the fence. If you have, you'll know it's hard not to see forms in the fog. It's human nature, really, just like finding shapes in clouds. We're wired to see faces in everything. Every so often, though, you might see a flash of something that you can't quite convince yourself is just a possession dragon on its ghastly rounds.

Now, I know you've heard all of the local ghost stories many times over. You've probably even invented a few of your own. I know I have. We're far from the only species with ghost stories, though. The dragons tend to keep theirs to themselves, but if you're lucky, you might catch an arcane dragon in a generous mood.

I heard this one from Charm. It sounds better when she tells it, but even though she's far more helpful and considerate than, say, the average Lorekeeper, arcane dragon telepathy is never going to be a comfortable experience for sighted beings. Is it true? Of course. For some definition of "true," that is.

Many, many years ago, before any human had even dreamed of building something like the castle, a flock of arcane dragons looked around at the spreading Edgelands and ever-shrinking stable lands and decided to pool their resources and pour their magic into the void. Now, to you or me, this might seem as productive as tossing pebbles into the ocean, but the idea isn't without merit. You can't fill the ocean, but you can, with a little architectural know-how, extend the boundaries of the land.

Now, the leader of the flock was charismatic, enough so that the flock contained far more than just arcane and arcanus dragons. They had dragons from every biome, including some you wouldn't expect. How she convinced a dark wave runner to join is a story in itself, but it's already getting late. Suffice it to say that arcane dragons don't swim as well as they fly, life debts are a powerful thing, and building a traveling enclosure for an air-breathing aquatic species isn't as difficult as you might think if your magic is powerful enough.

The first few small-scale experiments worked well enough, so after what she felt was enough preparation, the leader gathered all her flock - dark wave runner included - at the edge of what we now know as the Lost Fields. The arcane and arcanus dragons lined up, wingtip to wingtip, and began to cast their life magic spells at the fog. It retreated and they advanced, clearing land that hadn't seen what passes for sunlight in ages. The rest of the flock (the ones with no magical talent to speak of) screeched and bellowed in triumph as each fresh inch was revealed, so engrossed in what was happening in front of them that not one paid any mind to what was happening behind them. By the time the first sprite midge vanished with a distressed squeal, the fog behind the watchers had grown so thick as to be impenetrable. The first sprite midge was, alas, not the last to be taken.

The dark wave runner leapt from his enclosure, beating his wings in a vain attempt to stay airborne. He crashed to the ground and began crawling toward the panic-stricken arcane dragons, their forward progress halted as they tried in vain to escape. As he crawled, the screaming and screeching began to fade as the fog reclaimed every inch of its lost territory. He kept springing into the air, until at last he was borne aloft, though not by wind currents, but by the devouring fog.

That was the end of any efforts to reclaim our world through sheer magical power. Not one member of the flock escaped the fog, not even the dark wave runner. However, if you stare long enough and hard enough into the fog, you might see a flash of red or convince yourself you hear a wave runner's anguished keening.

Now, that's not quite the end of the story, of course. Most who lose their way in the Lost Fields never emerge. Some reappear, but greatly changed. A rare few wander out unscathed, claiming to have followed a ghostly red-winged form to safety.

And me? I followed a battered feather duster of an arcanus dragon out of the fog. He was, sadly, long gone by the time I was aware enough to look for him. Poor Wovaf. I still pick up every arcanus dragon egg I see in the Lost Fields, just in case. Before that, though? I called to Limbo Walker - that's the best approximation of what the arcane dragons call him - and I swear something answered my call not long before Wovaf blundered into me.

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