by Morrigana Shalafae

Created on: October 24, 2008

~Birth of Dragons~

"Lord Travail, why did you summon me out here?" The voice belonged to a wiry youth, his long hair curling around his face, dressed in silk and velvet. He sniffed sharply, plucking at the folds of his tunic, and glanced around the landscape once more.
The sky above arched rich and purple above them, a yellow moon sailing slowly across it. There were no clouds, but the debris ring of the planet sparkled in reflected light from the red giant that was this system's sun. Stars were few and far between, but they blazed with blue fire against the violent backdrop.

The ground was a shattered expanse of rock, upthrusting at bizarre angles, sharp from the force of the sundering. Plants were scarce, mostly lichens and a few twisted trees. Crystals sparkled in thick veins across the faces of the land, nearly glowing under the moon.
To a mortal, this planet was desolate and harsh, unbearable in the fierceness of its conditions. To a Chaos lord, such as these two, it was beautiful and wild, and the perfect place for a pet project.
Travail, in his current form, towered over his guest, nearly nine feet tall. His shoulders were wide, his hips were narrow, his legs were long, his fingers supple. He walked with an eerie grace, his leather skirt moving as if it were alive, his chest covered in ritual scars and piercings, metal spikes glinting along his spine. Travail's hair was bound in bone and wire, swept back from his triangular face. "Acheron, you will witness my triumph," he whispered creakily, turning to face the youth.
Acheron suppressed a shudder, turning from the high ranked lord before he could see Travail's eyes. The youth was only considered a mid level Chaos lord, his powers not as strong as others. Yet he was a diplomat amongst his people, going between each of the powerful lords, especially those who could not stand to be in each other's company.
Travail was one of those lords, and Acheron was his favorite messenger. Acheron found himself drawn to the creative, beautiful aspect of Chaos, and was looked down on by some of the darker lords. Travail was a dark creator, experimenting with raw forces of Chaos and living things, seeking to make dangerous creatures and efficient soldiers. Acheron appreciated the depth of Travail's work, and could not find himself repulsed by the work, no matter how some of the other Chaos lords acted.
"What triumph do you speak of?" Acheron asked softly, yet his voice carried over the gusting wing. He allowed his hair to play

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