Florence
(#15139208)
The Lightning Priestess
Familiar
Larkspur of Thundercrack
Click or tap to view this dragon in Predict Morphology.
Energy: 41/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Ice.
Female Coatl
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
7.82 m
Wingspan
8.8 m
Weight
1039.89 kg
Genetics
Black
Basic
Basic
Obsidian
Daub
Daub
Aqua
Underbelly
Underbelly
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 4 Coatl
EXP: 1209 / 4027
STR
6
AGI
7
DEF
6
QCK
7
INT
7
VIT
5
MND
6
Biography
Florence
The Lightning Priestess
Leader of the Council | Lightning Priestess | Healer
Loyalty: Theia
"Faith can be the medic's staff or the reaper's scythe. I tend to lean towards the latter."
The Lightning Priestess
Leader of the Council | Lightning Priestess | Healer
Loyalty: Theia
"Faith can be the medic's staff or the reaper's scythe. I tend to lean towards the latter."
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Florence has served as a priestess for little over a century, choosing to dedicate her duties to the Stormcatcher and, as a result, being banished by her conservative family. She has been hardened by age and experience, the idealistic values of her youth lost amidst the scars on her back and in her mind. A stern dragon with a penchant for rationality, Florence is extremely controlled, though that makes her neither calm nor patient. Her religious role is more a title than anything else, her connection to the Deities lost due to forgotten faith, fueled by the hatred of seeing a world she believes the Eleven has abandoned. Instead, she relies on the methodology of old medical journals and ideas born from the thoughts of a new generation of philosophers. She is unwavering, however, still believing that tradition can be rescued, a defence mechanism kindled by the corner of her mind that still believes she can one day be the dragon her younger self wished she'd be.
She has settled aptly into her current life, a well-deserved rest after years taking responsibility for problems she had no influence in causing. Her duty of guiding Theia takes priority over anything else, their bond strengthened by time, mutual respect and an immeasurable amount of unconditional love. It came as no surprise when she was the first to be appointed to Theia's Council of Five, as its leader. She further acts as Kodiak's confidante and as Kremlin's adoptive mother.    
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History
The first time she was caught, she was twelve. She had found one of her grandfather's old books, its musty pages filled with writings of the Stormcatcher and of the purest concoction of religion and science, a tome with enough ramblings to make her mind wander and her heart lust to discover the secrets the tale explored. At that age, she wasn't sure what was she was doing that was so bad to warrant the scars that ached for months on her back, to warrant the profanities shouted by her mother when she saw her in a corner, cuddling her newfound bible. It took her way too long to understand.
In a time where there was strong dissent between the different nations, Florence was born into a conservative family, one said to have descended from the great Icewarden himself. She cared way too little about the importance of a name and a lineage, wanting instead to recapture the values her grandfather grew up with, the values he rescinded when he married into the family, the values he never spoke of, his electric blue eyes always hidden by a ghostly cloak. She was young and foolish and desperately curious, so she did not heed her mother's threats or warnings and continued to study them in secret, in the most uninhabited spaces of her lair in the darkest hours of each and every night. Her imagination ran free, picturing the lighting strikes and the new discoveries. And the magic. And the faith. Most of all, the faith. Because if she let that faith go, she'd have nothing.
When it finally happened, it was both a curse and a blessing. Labelled as a disappointment after a long, drawn-out screaming match between her and her parents, she was shunned and thrown out into the snow. For the first time, Florence was alone. That curious, happy-go-lucky child was quickly replaced by a sordid dragon that had to learn how to fend for herself in the harsh environment of the Icefields. Her faith, however, continued unwavering. And with every night she spent in the cold and with every meal she did not have it grew stronger. It carried her through unwanted encounters with the wrong sort of dragons, through the breakdowns where she considered heading back and begging for forgiveness, until it finally carried her through land and sea and she found herself beaten and alone, but where she had always dreamed she'd be. Little did she know her despair had only just begun.
Finding a temple was not hard. The tall metal structures with spiral metal towers and clanging metal bells that made the most beautiful of sounds showed themselves by standing magnificently, reaching higher than any other building in the city. Getting them to accept a young, inexperienced and untrained dragon was a whole other situation. Especially when such a dragon hailed from the Icefields. Her glistening white eyes gave her away in a sea of blue. Her colouring allowed her to blend in, but one lingering stare was enough to give away anything she tried to hide. And so she begged, like she had promised she would never do. The first six times the head priestess had laughed at her and sent her on her way.
She found herself stumbling farther and farther away from the city each time, her limits being tested with every step she took. Her efforts seemed to be rewarded when she found it. A tiny little chapel perched on the edge of the Carrion Canyon. It was not awe-inspiring like the magnificent churches of the city, nor did it have a bell with a soothing melody, but it had a warm bed and a kind priestess with emeralds in her eyes that was more than willing to take in Florence and teach her all she wanted to know. For once, her struggles seemed to have ended.
Under the wing of the kind priestess she learned how to bend the forces of the storms to her will, whether it be to heal or to hurt. She learned the old languages of the Stormborne, and the blessings and curses she would spend numerous nights awake to memorise, using the candlelight to read until she could pronounce them backwards. The church did not have many visitors and most that did come did not bear the electric blue eyes of the region's natives. Until one day, they did.
A large Skydancer with sparks dancing in her plumage appeared during a bright Tuesday afternoon, a wicked grin on her lips and a piece of parchment grasped between her claws. Florence tried to plead with the two Ridgebacks that entered behind the Skydancer and held her mentor, under the guise of blasphemy and heresy. Apparently, there was a right way to follow the Stormcatcher, and the first requirement were the electric blue eyes Florence grew to be jealous of. That was the last she saw of the kind dragon with the emerald eyes.
They tried to take her down too. Numerous times they tested her faith and her prowess, but she passed each of their trials with flying colours. She was the perfect lighting priestess, chosen by drive and willpower rather than blood. One of the more well-regarded temples in the city was forced by decree of the Religious Council to take her in. But the trials continued. Florence was shunned by the other initiates, despised by the elders and detested by the churchgoers. So she closed herself off, finding solace in the traditions of the Stormcatcher and not in much else. If they wanted her to be the past, there was no use convincing them that the future held the answers. So she became strict and spiteful, with a tongue so snide it cut through any dragon that tried to make her feel less worthy.
Her training ended later than it should have. She had been held back thrice by the higher powers, by nothing more than bureaucracy. Her skills were flawless, refined, but she was "simply unready to perform", they had said. But she waited. She did not give up, standing unwavering against all the prejudice thrown against her. She was not the foolish young dragoness she had once been, she'd matured more than she'd ever imagined would be possible, hardened by the realities she faced.
When she was finally appointed a Priestess of the Stormcatcher, her first instinct was to run. She knew that they would not stop until they managed to charge her in the same way they charged her mentor. So she went back home, if there was anywhere she could call the word. She refused to go back to her mother, to the parents that had disowned her. Instead, she joined a new lair as the apprentice of a much older priestess, who soon passed away, handing the duties over to her.
She was in charge of tutoring the royal family's new hatchling, a young Guardian named Theia, a princess bathed in gold that was way too smart for her own good. Florence was strict and demanding, but she couldn't help but love the young hatchling. When the republican revolution that ravaged the lair reached the crown princess, Florence knew what she had to do, so she took Theia and ran far, far away to Verglas Shores, an old and somewhat forgotten holding of the former monarchy.
Florence went back to the Shifting Expanse only once. She had a purpose that was bigger than all the reasons she had for never returning. She went there, proud as ever with her glistening eyes, to obtain the lightning insignia only bestowed upon those who had practiced the faith for over a century. She didn't believe in the Stormcatcher anymore. Nor did she believe in any stupid deity. If they really existed, they would have at some point intervened in favour of those that needed them. She believed instead in herself and received the Sign only as a thorn in the side of those that had doubted her. She returned with more than just a crest, however. Though she was never a mother by nature, Florence couldn't help but adopt a young Imperial by the name of Kremlin after finding him abandoned in the Shifting Expanse - his pristine white fur was not well-looked upon. Though not necessarily nurturing, she tried her best to raise a decent and hardworking son and whilst there can be no denying that Kremlin is indeed a hard worker, Florence blames herself fully for his personality, disappointed at her own lack of abilities in motherhood, but never at the adopted hatchling she loves as if he was her own.
The first time she was caught, she was twelve. She had found one of her grandfather's old books, its musty pages filled with writings of the Stormcatcher and of the purest concoction of religion and science, a tome with enough ramblings to make her mind wander and her heart lust to discover the secrets the tale explored. At that age, she wasn't sure what was she was doing that was so bad to warrant the scars that ached for months on her back, to warrant the profanities shouted by her mother when she saw her in a corner, cuddling her newfound bible. It took her way too long to understand.
In a time where there was strong dissent between the different nations, Florence was born into a conservative family, one said to have descended from the great Icewarden himself. She cared way too little about the importance of a name and a lineage, wanting instead to recapture the values her grandfather grew up with, the values he rescinded when he married into the family, the values he never spoke of, his electric blue eyes always hidden by a ghostly cloak. She was young and foolish and desperately curious, so she did not heed her mother's threats or warnings and continued to study them in secret, in the most uninhabited spaces of her lair in the darkest hours of each and every night. Her imagination ran free, picturing the lighting strikes and the new discoveries. And the magic. And the faith. Most of all, the faith. Because if she let that faith go, she'd have nothing.
When it finally happened, it was both a curse and a blessing. Labelled as a disappointment after a long, drawn-out screaming match between her and her parents, she was shunned and thrown out into the snow. For the first time, Florence was alone. That curious, happy-go-lucky child was quickly replaced by a sordid dragon that had to learn how to fend for herself in the harsh environment of the Icefields. Her faith, however, continued unwavering. And with every night she spent in the cold and with every meal she did not have it grew stronger. It carried her through unwanted encounters with the wrong sort of dragons, through the breakdowns where she considered heading back and begging for forgiveness, until it finally carried her through land and sea and she found herself beaten and alone, but where she had always dreamed she'd be. Little did she know her despair had only just begun.
Finding a temple was not hard. The tall metal structures with spiral metal towers and clanging metal bells that made the most beautiful of sounds showed themselves by standing magnificently, reaching higher than any other building in the city. Getting them to accept a young, inexperienced and untrained dragon was a whole other situation. Especially when such a dragon hailed from the Icefields. Her glistening white eyes gave her away in a sea of blue. Her colouring allowed her to blend in, but one lingering stare was enough to give away anything she tried to hide. And so she begged, like she had promised she would never do. The first six times the head priestess had laughed at her and sent her on her way.
She found herself stumbling farther and farther away from the city each time, her limits being tested with every step she took. Her efforts seemed to be rewarded when she found it. A tiny little chapel perched on the edge of the Carrion Canyon. It was not awe-inspiring like the magnificent churches of the city, nor did it have a bell with a soothing melody, but it had a warm bed and a kind priestess with emeralds in her eyes that was more than willing to take in Florence and teach her all she wanted to know. For once, her struggles seemed to have ended.
Under the wing of the kind priestess she learned how to bend the forces of the storms to her will, whether it be to heal or to hurt. She learned the old languages of the Stormborne, and the blessings and curses she would spend numerous nights awake to memorise, using the candlelight to read until she could pronounce them backwards. The church did not have many visitors and most that did come did not bear the electric blue eyes of the region's natives. Until one day, they did.
A large Skydancer with sparks dancing in her plumage appeared during a bright Tuesday afternoon, a wicked grin on her lips and a piece of parchment grasped between her claws. Florence tried to plead with the two Ridgebacks that entered behind the Skydancer and held her mentor, under the guise of blasphemy and heresy. Apparently, there was a right way to follow the Stormcatcher, and the first requirement were the electric blue eyes Florence grew to be jealous of. That was the last she saw of the kind dragon with the emerald eyes.
They tried to take her down too. Numerous times they tested her faith and her prowess, but she passed each of their trials with flying colours. She was the perfect lighting priestess, chosen by drive and willpower rather than blood. One of the more well-regarded temples in the city was forced by decree of the Religious Council to take her in. But the trials continued. Florence was shunned by the other initiates, despised by the elders and detested by the churchgoers. So she closed herself off, finding solace in the traditions of the Stormcatcher and not in much else. If they wanted her to be the past, there was no use convincing them that the future held the answers. So she became strict and spiteful, with a tongue so snide it cut through any dragon that tried to make her feel less worthy.
Her training ended later than it should have. She had been held back thrice by the higher powers, by nothing more than bureaucracy. Her skills were flawless, refined, but she was "simply unready to perform", they had said. But she waited. She did not give up, standing unwavering against all the prejudice thrown against her. She was not the foolish young dragoness she had once been, she'd matured more than she'd ever imagined would be possible, hardened by the realities she faced.
When she was finally appointed a Priestess of the Stormcatcher, her first instinct was to run. She knew that they would not stop until they managed to charge her in the same way they charged her mentor. So she went back home, if there was anywhere she could call the word. She refused to go back to her mother, to the parents that had disowned her. Instead, she joined a new lair as the apprentice of a much older priestess, who soon passed away, handing the duties over to her.
She was in charge of tutoring the royal family's new hatchling, a young Guardian named Theia, a princess bathed in gold that was way too smart for her own good. Florence was strict and demanding, but she couldn't help but love the young hatchling. When the republican revolution that ravaged the lair reached the crown princess, Florence knew what she had to do, so she took Theia and ran far, far away to Verglas Shores, an old and somewhat forgotten holding of the former monarchy.
Florence went back to the Shifting Expanse only once. She had a purpose that was bigger than all the reasons she had for never returning. She went there, proud as ever with her glistening eyes, to obtain the lightning insignia only bestowed upon those who had practiced the faith for over a century. She didn't believe in the Stormcatcher anymore. Nor did she believe in any stupid deity. If they really existed, they would have at some point intervened in favour of those that needed them. She believed instead in herself and received the Sign only as a thorn in the side of those that had doubted her. She returned with more than just a crest, however. Though she was never a mother by nature, Florence couldn't help but adopt a young Imperial by the name of Kremlin after finding him abandoned in the Shifting Expanse - his pristine white fur was not well-looked upon. Though not necessarily nurturing, she tried her best to raise a decent and hardworking son and whilst there can be no denying that Kremlin is indeed a hard worker, Florence blames herself fully for his personality, disappointed at her own lack of abilities in motherhood, but never at the adopted hatchling she loves as if he was her own.
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This dragon doesn't eat Plants.
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Exalting Florence to the service of the Icewarden will remove them from your lair forever. They will leave behind a small sum of riches that they have accumulated. This action is irreversible.
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