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Description

B - An Accident
Depict your Dinosaur getting into trouble! This could be a 'curiosity-killed-the-cat' situation, a silly or childish mistake, or simply just not knowing the rules of the herd/pack. Perhaps your dinosaur has decided to stalk or hunt prey that is too large or dangerous? Or perhaps they've been too rough with play fighting? This quest must include a parental figure!
There are many lessons that life will teach you; and for a creature like Persia 1172 , these lessons began immediately. Hatch day was tenuous; breaking their bonds and clawing their way through the soft muddy protective mounds that their mothers had dug for them. All stories involving Suchomimus began here, Persia and a few unnamed others had been among the first of her mound.
Persia was so quiet, unlike her other two nestmates, but her mind bubbled with adventure, and possibility. Her first hours weren’t restricted to the security of her nest. Instead, she disappeared into the dense foliage; And soon, she came upon another mighty mound which chirped from within. She was too young and too dumb to realize this nest was not her own, and so when she saw a bit of the mound’s surface rising and falling periodically, she would approach the would-be sentient soil and dig. It was only a few clawfuls later that something gave, and the muddy head of another suchomimus popped out. Persia’s turquoise eyes set upon this young hatchling’s bright green; her scales a soft, almost luminous, sandy tan. But she was too young yet, to understand that she differed at all from the darker ashy tones of her own personal nestmates. She would later come to know this hatchling as Sparta 1171 .
They were immediate friends.
And so, when Sparta had fully emerged and found the strength to stand, she didn’t hesitate to follow after Persia, when she decided she had seen all that there was to see of this burrow. Together, they pressed onward, until they came to a small clearing. Suddenly, Sparta blew past Persia with a mighty shove to give chase to the fluttering, colorful creature she’d found; a Butterfly. A sense of excitement swelled within Persia and she too gave chase to the insect, which drew them further and further away.. Sparta chirped with angry protest, so ignorant to the dangers that her vocalization would bring.
THUMP THUMP THUMP -- the ground shook and the plants trembled -- THUMP, THUMP… And suddenly something dark, and huge blocked their path. Upward both of their tiny eyes scaled, until only the silhouette of something monstrous baring its ugly, angry eyes down at them with many ferocious teeth, growling. Fear took hold of their hearts, and instinct had them reacting and moving before they could even think. Together, they fled back the way they’d come, to at least one of the nests, the ‘monster’ giving chase the entire time. But with their respective size differences, it took this creature little in the way of real pursuit to follow. For they were not his target… Not immediately, anyhow. Experience had taught this rivaling suchomimus (a male who’d only just left the protection of his guardian) that these hatchlings would lead him to a bigger, more sustainable prize: Their nest, and the combination of many hatched and unhatched babes within.
Just as anticipated, they’d lead him back to at least one of their nest’s -- Sparta’s, specifically -- and he wasted no time in using his claws to dig and pillage, while his teeth gnashed and lashed with disastrous results to the inhabitants within. Sparta and Persia didn’t even blink, they didn’t even stop; instead, Persia took lead, fleeing until soft muddy earth gave way into a splash and into the murk she disappeared. Sparta doesn’t hesitate, she follows.
They swam for what felt like ages, until finally, their arms and legs felt like they might give. Fortunately for them, they found what they thought was a place they might rest their tired limbs: A log. Persia pulled herself above, only to be shoved (once again) aside by Sparta, who also climbed to her safety atop this log. They were too young and shocked to think about the fact that the footing of this ‘log’ felt not at all like the treeline they’d scurried from.
Ketla 975 felt something rough scurry up his cheek with fervor, until finally the respective weight and warmth settled atop his cranium. This had been no new sensation to him; swamps were unforgiving and filled with creatures trying to eat each other -- sometimes even the plants were included in this equation. He was fortunate that he was too big to be a real target any longer. Bubbles roiled from around his mighty jaws in an effort to send his inhabitants scurrying; but they only huddled close atop his cranium. He tilts his long angular snout upwards and a mist shot from his nostrils as he took a breath. In this way, he could smell them, for they were positioned in a way that he couldn’t see them from the corners of his eyes.
Hatchlings. They smelled fresh, for the scent of an egg’s innards were undeniable; sweet and tangy. With the rise of his head, he could see the distant form of another suchomimus raiding a nest -- probably the one in which his hitch-hikers had come. He might have frowned if his anatomy would have allowed it. However, he understood. So he didn’t give chase to this hungry youngling. Instead, with the flick of his tail, he propelled himself through the murky waters, taking the young Sparta and Persia away; far away.

Eventually, he would bring the pair to his own personal den for the evening, where he would tilt his head, encouraging them to slide from atop his cranium. He found himself at a loss of what to do with these hatchlings; but he figured they must be hungry, right? So, his first task was to head into the treeline. It took him little effort to find a target: a great toad, which hopped to flee, but it was a heartbeat too slow, and he was four times his size and strength. With the snap of mighty jaws, it was caught and squirmed only for a moment in his grasp. He turned, and would then drop it for his new wards; they did not hesitate. Quickly, they latched on and began to rip, tear until their hunger no longer felt painful.

Ketla would observe them, thinking back to his younger days and the lessons they had taught him. He also found himself wondering if he'd ever been quite so small, and how; for he was nothing short of a giant anymore. A moment later, he dismissed the thoughts from his mind, only to lay down upon the sand; evening coming and the swamp would soon grow cold. Dangerously cold for these babies. Normally, he would lurk in the depths of the dark water and sleep, periodically letting his snout drift to the top for a gulp of air, before returning to a more content, relaxed position. But these hatchlings were small, meek, even. He doubted the waters would insulate them quite as well. He billowed a beckoning rumble, and quickly, the pair would coil up against his chest. They were cold, at first.. but then warmth began to radiate from them as they huddled. He could feel the tiny flutters of their heartbeats, and the soft whistles of their breath.

As he looked out among the swamp, he found himself wondering how long he could keep them alive, and what they might be like should they defy the odds stacked against them. Lowering his head, he laid it against the mucky sand of the riverbank, and remained a motionless, quiet, watchful protector. He knew that chances were they would both die; but if he could manage it, he would delay this fate -- life wasn't always so cruel... And they seemed resilient enough; resourceful enough, at least, to make use of the water to escape their assailant.

Soon enough, night crept in. The swamp became dark, and ominous. However, it was also the most beautiful time of the day; silver moon light glimmered down in patches through the dense canopy, dappling his darker scales and made the water look as though it housed hundreds of diamonds. Lightning bugs began to emerge, creating speckles of softly freckled yellow lights all around. They were like the night sky themselves, creating a soft nebula of floating stars at the earth's level. Crickets sang and frogs croaked, creating a beautiful orchestra all around. Yes, the swamp had been a dangerous place, but, there were also few wonders in existence better than this.

Morning came, and eventually, Ketla's skin began to feel dry. A little TOO dry. So he would stand, stretching and flexing -- his bulk, while protective and impressive, would ache with protest when he laid in one spot for too long. His motion woke the slumbering Persia and Sparta and their noisy chirps began to join the sound of croaking frogs and the chirping birds. They would stand, and, returning to their kill discovered ants had overtaken it; they didn't think twice, as they would feast once again. Such did not matter to them, and they would consume whatever morsels of ant they could take hold of, too.

Ketla doesn't wait for them. At least, not far. Instead, he makes way for the water, which helps to carry his weight in a more comfortable manner, while he lazily continued to relax. Soon, the entire mass of his impressive body disappeared until only his bright blue eyes poked above the surface. A low bubbled rumble would alert the young Sparta and Persia that he still lurked, and in fact, was intended to beckon. Which, upon finish with their morning meal, would heed his call. The murky water was chilly at first, but would soon feel quite warm. And much as they had, when they first found him, they came right up to him, climbing atop his head. Unlike the day previous, they were much more relaxed, not at all filled with panic and fear.

Satisfied, Ketla would then begin to flick his tail, propelling them in a slow, lazy pace across the glassy, murky surface. He knew that their mothers would have more than likely discovered their pillaged nests and would be seeking vengeance upon any and everything within a certain radius of their mounds. Although he had brought young Sparta and Persia to a safe space, it was still rather close, and he had no intentions of trying to explain to an angry mother that he had not been the rogue that destroyed and ate their months of labor; that he had saved what young he could, and had intended them to return to her protection. For she wouldn't listen -- what mother would? Instead, he went deeper into the hazy morning, putting the disastrous location behind himself. And later, perhaps, he would explain the misfortune of the situation to the unlikely pair of suchomimus that had seemingly become his responsibility.

Finally, Ketla had brought them miles away from where the three of them had discovered each other, and when he felt more comfortable, so too did Sparta and Persia. Well -- maybe... Sparta seemed comfortable no matter where she went. Persia had proven to be more difficult to put a claw on. She was not so vocal, nor as active. If anything, she already seemed to act as an adult might. On more than one occasion, he had observed Sparta blow a prospective 'hunt' on a dragonfly or moth, only for Persia to wait, observe, and strike when the time was right.

Soon, the trio found themselves to be rather harmonious; their days ran on like this. He would hunt for them, and himself, and he would provide them the protection that they so desperately needed. It was a frustrating venture, and, rather curiously, Ketla would find himself more and more pleased with their company; the life of a suchomimus had often been lonely and harsh. And with their company, he found his mind periodically chuckling in between the moments of frustration (and on occasion) panic; Persia and Sparta had proven to be curious, which gave way to mischief and trouble. Such, however, was simply the way of life for a youngling, and he couldn't be so frustrated with them for that.
Primeval-Age characters featured
Sparta 1171
Persia 1172
Ketla 975

Description

B - An Accident
Depict your Dinosaur getting into trouble! This could be a 'curiosity-killed-the-cat' situation, a silly or childish mistake, or simply just not knowing the rules of the herd/pack. Perhaps your dinosaur has decided to stalk or hunt prey that is too large or dangerous? Or perhaps they've been too rough with play fighting? This quest must include a parental figure!
There are many lessons that life will teach you; and for a creature like Persia 1172 , these lessons began immediately. Hatch day was tenuous; breaking their bonds and clawing their way through the soft muddy protective mounds that their mothers had dug for them. All stories involving Suchomimus began here, Persia and a few unnamed others had been among the first of her mound.
Persia was so quiet, unlike her other two nestmates, but her mind bubbled with adventure, and possibility. Her first hours weren’t restricted to the security of her nest. Instead, she disappeared into the dense foliage; And soon, she came upon another mighty mound which chirped from within. She was too young and too dumb to realize this nest was not her own, and so when she saw a bit of the mound’s surface rising and falling periodically, she would approach the would-be sentient soil and dig. It was only a few clawfuls later that something gave, and the muddy head of another suchomimus popped out. Persia’s turquoise eyes set upon this young hatchling’s bright green; her scales a soft, almost luminous, sandy tan. But she was too young yet, to understand that she differed at all from the darker ashy tones of her own personal nestmates. She would later come to know this hatchling as Sparta 1171 .
They were immediate friends.
And so, when Sparta had fully emerged and found the strength to stand, she didn’t hesitate to follow after Persia, when she decided she had seen all that there was to see of this burrow. Together, they pressed onward, until they came to a small clearing. Suddenly, Sparta blew past Persia with a mighty shove to give chase to the fluttering, colorful creature she’d found; a Butterfly. A sense of excitement swelled within Persia and she too gave chase to the insect, which drew them further and further away.. Sparta chirped with angry protest, so ignorant to the dangers that her vocalization would bring.
THUMP THUMP THUMP -- the ground shook and the plants trembled -- THUMP, THUMP… And suddenly something dark, and huge blocked their path. Upward both of their tiny eyes scaled, until only the silhouette of something monstrous baring its ugly, angry eyes down at them with many ferocious teeth, growling. Fear took hold of their hearts, and instinct had them reacting and moving before they could even think. Together, they fled back the way they’d come, to at least one of the nests, the ‘monster’ giving chase the entire time. But with their respective size differences, it took this creature little in the way of real pursuit to follow. For they were not his target… Not immediately, anyhow. Experience had taught this rivaling suchomimus (a male who’d only just left the protection of his guardian) that these hatchlings would lead him to a bigger, more sustainable prize: Their nest, and the combination of many hatched and unhatched babes within.
Just as anticipated, they’d lead him back to at least one of their nest’s -- Sparta’s, specifically -- and he wasted no time in using his claws to dig and pillage, while his teeth gnashed and lashed with disastrous results to the inhabitants within. Sparta and Persia didn’t even blink, they didn’t even stop; instead, Persia took lead, fleeing until soft muddy earth gave way into a splash and into the murk she disappeared. Sparta doesn’t hesitate, she follows.
They swam for what felt like ages, until finally, their arms and legs felt like they might give. Fortunately for them, they found what they thought was a place they might rest their tired limbs: A log. Persia pulled herself above, only to be shoved (once again) aside by Sparta, who also climbed to her safety atop this log. They were too young and shocked to think about the fact that the footing of this ‘log’ felt not at all like the treeline they’d scurried from.
Ketla 975 felt something rough scurry up his cheek with fervor, until finally the respective weight and warmth settled atop his cranium. This had been no new sensation to him; swamps were unforgiving and filled with creatures trying to eat each other -- sometimes even the plants were included in this equation. He was fortunate that he was too big to be a real target any longer. Bubbles roiled from around his mighty jaws in an effort to send his inhabitants scurrying; but they only huddled close atop his cranium. He tilts his long angular snout upwards and a mist shot from his nostrils as he took a breath. In this way, he could smell them, for they were positioned in a way that he couldn’t see them from the corners of his eyes.
Hatchlings. They smelled fresh, for the scent of an egg’s innards were undeniable; sweet and tangy. With the rise of his head, he could see the distant form of another suchomimus raiding a nest -- probably the one in which his hitch-hikers had come. He might have frowned if his anatomy would have allowed it. However, he understood. So he didn’t give chase to this hungry youngling. Instead, with the flick of his tail, he propelled himself through the murky waters, taking the young Sparta and Persia away; far away.

Eventually, he would bring the pair to his own personal den for the evening, where he would tilt his head, encouraging them to slide from atop his cranium. He found himself at a loss of what to do with these hatchlings; but he figured they must be hungry, right? So, his first task was to head into the treeline. It took him little effort to find a target: a great toad, which hopped to flee, but it was a heartbeat too slow, and he was four times his size and strength. With the snap of mighty jaws, it was caught and squirmed only for a moment in his grasp. He turned, and would then drop it for his new wards; they did not hesitate. Quickly, they latched on and began to rip, tear until their hunger no longer felt painful.

Ketla would observe them, thinking back to his younger days and the lessons they had taught him. He also found himself wondering if he'd ever been quite so small, and how; for he was nothing short of a giant anymore. A moment later, he dismissed the thoughts from his mind, only to lay down upon the sand; evening coming and the swamp would soon grow cold. Dangerously cold for these babies. Normally, he would lurk in the depths of the dark water and sleep, periodically letting his snout drift to the top for a gulp of air, before returning to a more content, relaxed position. But these hatchlings were small, meek, even. He doubted the waters would insulate them quite as well. He billowed a beckoning rumble, and quickly, the pair would coil up against his chest. They were cold, at first.. but then warmth began to radiate from them as they huddled. He could feel the tiny flutters of their heartbeats, and the soft whistles of their breath.

As he looked out among the swamp, he found himself wondering how long he could keep them alive, and what they might be like should they defy the odds stacked against them. Lowering his head, he laid it against the mucky sand of the riverbank, and remained a motionless, quiet, watchful protector. He knew that chances were they would both die; but if he could manage it, he would delay this fate -- life wasn't always so cruel... And they seemed resilient enough; resourceful enough, at least, to make use of the water to escape their assailant.

Soon enough, night crept in. The swamp became dark, and ominous. However, it was also the most beautiful time of the day; silver moon light glimmered down in patches through the dense canopy, dappling his darker scales and made the water look as though it housed hundreds of diamonds. Lightning bugs began to emerge, creating speckles of softly freckled yellow lights all around. They were like the night sky themselves, creating a soft nebula of floating stars at the earth's level. Crickets sang and frogs croaked, creating a beautiful orchestra all around. Yes, the swamp had been a dangerous place, but, there were also few wonders in existence better than this.

Morning came, and eventually, Ketla's skin began to feel dry. A little TOO dry. So he would stand, stretching and flexing -- his bulk, while protective and impressive, would ache with protest when he laid in one spot for too long. His motion woke the slumbering Persia and Sparta and their noisy chirps began to join the sound of croaking frogs and the chirping birds. They would stand, and, returning to their kill discovered ants had overtaken it; they didn't think twice, as they would feast once again. Such did not matter to them, and they would consume whatever morsels of ant they could take hold of, too.

Ketla doesn't wait for them. At least, not far. Instead, he makes way for the water, which helps to carry his weight in a more comfortable manner, while he lazily continued to relax. Soon, the entire mass of his impressive body disappeared until only his bright blue eyes poked above the surface. A low bubbled rumble would alert the young Sparta and Persia that he still lurked, and in fact, was intended to beckon. Which, upon finish with their morning meal, would heed his call. The murky water was chilly at first, but would soon feel quite warm. And much as they had, when they first found him, they came right up to him, climbing atop his head. Unlike the day previous, they were much more relaxed, not at all filled with panic and fear.

Satisfied, Ketla would then begin to flick his tail, propelling them in a slow, lazy pace across the glassy, murky surface. He knew that their mothers would have more than likely discovered their pillaged nests and would be seeking vengeance upon any and everything within a certain radius of their mounds. Although he had brought young Sparta and Persia to a safe space, it was still rather close, and he had no intentions of trying to explain to an angry mother that he had not been the rogue that destroyed and ate their months of labor; that he had saved what young he could, and had intended them to return to her protection. For she wouldn't listen -- what mother would? Instead, he went deeper into the hazy morning, putting the disastrous location behind himself. And later, perhaps, he would explain the misfortune of the situation to the unlikely pair of suchomimus that had seemingly become his responsibility.

Finally, Ketla had brought them miles away from where the three of them had discovered each other, and when he felt more comfortable, so too did Sparta and Persia. Well -- maybe... Sparta seemed comfortable no matter where she went. Persia had proven to be more difficult to put a claw on. She was not so vocal, nor as active. If anything, she already seemed to act as an adult might. On more than one occasion, he had observed Sparta blow a prospective 'hunt' on a dragonfly or moth, only for Persia to wait, observe, and strike when the time was right.

Soon, the trio found themselves to be rather harmonious; their days ran on like this. He would hunt for them, and himself, and he would provide them the protection that they so desperately needed. It was a frustrating venture, and, rather curiously, Ketla would find himself more and more pleased with their company; the life of a suchomimus had often been lonely and harsh. And with their company, he found his mind periodically chuckling in between the moments of frustration (and on occasion) panic; Persia and Sparta had proven to be curious, which gave way to mischief and trouble. Such, however, was simply the way of life for a youngling, and he couldn't be so frustrated with them for that.
Primeval-Age characters featured
Sparta 1171
Persia 1172
Ketla 975