Tillandsia
(#18181084)
Priestess of the Old Ways
Bayou
Infestation Hound
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Energy: 0/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Nature.
Female Imperial
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
29.91 m
Wingspan
18.02 m
Weight
7595.45 kg
Genetics
Soil
Bar
Bar
Swamp
Current
Current
White
Underbelly
Underbelly
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 1 Imperial
EXP: 0 / 245
STR
6
AGI
6
DEF
6
QCK
5
INT
8
VIT
8
MND
6
Biography
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"So you have travelled from Fairweather, have you?"
Looking at the dragon before you feels unspeakably wrong. It is like looking at the night sky, massive in its beauty, larger in its desolate terror. The air feels empty. It brings about the same sensation as it does to gaze at a great, famous piece of art as a child; the understanding that you are looking upon something magnificent with insufficient comprehension. She continues, not unaware of your dissonance but simply unperturbed by it. Unbothered. Expectant. Her voice drips. "That sweet little hamlet. All those smiling faces, with their little lives and smaller troubles." You think of the food in your belly, the chocolate and sweets ribbon-wrapped in wax paper at the bottom of your pack. You were shown a warm welcome, met jovial and generous folk. They were kind to you, in Fairweather. Something passes across your face, and up your spine. Unconsciously you straighten your stance. A tree falls before you, a rotten cliff-face crumbling. You startle - Tillandsia has twisted like a vine, contorted and lowered to gaze at you. Encrusted plants flutter free like burnt paper, dry and crawling. The dusty moss of her mane trails through the muck. She gazes at your, eyes rotted black pits from within the skull of a deer. "I am not being unkind, child. These are the ways of things." Down her back life blossoms; peach-flowers, nesting birds, frogs and toads nestling into the damp of cracked, treebark scales. The air does not feel empty, you realise. It feels dead. "Creations are shortlived. Settlements, religions, lives - they will pass. Yet the old ways will still be here. They wait for you, quite regardless of whether you practice them or not." |
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Tillandsia
Priestess of the Old Ways
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Tale To the west of the Shire - past the town of Fairweather, beyond the edges of its rolling fields of barley and wheat, through orchards to rich fertile peat to where the water off the distant hills makes the underfoot boggy and soupy, collects water so still and dark it turns black. This bayou is ancient, its mud and swamp so slow moving it is like the continents drifting, like the growth of the old forests themselves. This is where Tillandsia makes her home. She was here before the fields, the crops and houses and Thanes and artisans, the busybodies at the marketplace and the cheer and merriment that defines this corner of Sorneith. And she will be here long after, she teaches, for she is one of rare few here to understand how things ends. She will tell it to you, if you are to listen. If you are willing. She will curl up and preach of it; the way that greenery ends blackened, that cycle through which Nature gives way to her sister Plague, through which Plague brings forth new life, new green, clumped algae and lichen and moss to tree once more. She will speak of it - and she will offer you ways to navigate it, too, for a price. The dragons who live nearby give her as wide a berth as possible, usually. They are content with their practices, their festivals and their traditions. It is the way things were done by ones parents, and ones parent's parents. But that is not all that long ago. Not really. Fear her, if you do. Avoid her, if you must. But do not mistake in forgetting that the ways through which we live - the pomp and traditions of Fairweather's life, and yours - and very young, and that death is very, very old. Traits Tillandsia is immense; the largest dragon in the Shire, by some margin. She moves and it is as if the forest itself is moving, the trees creaking and bowing and the branches of some great weeping willow tilting, listing and trailing its fronds through the mud-swirled water. Her history, residence and preoccupation keep her largely separated from the dragons of Fairweather. They are kind to her but in reverence, that sort of polite suspicion that keeps people to themselves. Oddly enough, it is only Lantern with whom she shares any sort of rapport. He calls her 'Tilly', which she absolutely detests. |
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Exalting Tillandsia to the service of the Gladekeeper 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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