Valkyrie
(#20037763)
Level 6 Pearlcatcher
Familiar
Ember Mouse
Click or tap to view this dragon in Predict Morphology.
Energy: 0/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Plague.
Female Pearlcatcher
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
6.76 m
Wingspan
4.01 m
Weight
382.5 kg
Genetics
Obsidian
Speckle
Speckle
White
Freckle
Freckle
Blood
Gembond
Gembond
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 6 Pearlcatcher
EXP: 178 / 8380
STR
6
AGI
6
DEF
6
QCK
7
INT
7
VIT
6
MND
7
Biography
Art made by macaroni!Apparel was recommended and sold by user Silverphoenixx.
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Valkyrie
Warrior 
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 B I O G R A P H Y
“Of course, they look just like you,” Siro murmured in her ear. She laughingly nipped his neck. “Hush. Let’s consider them…an artistic collaboration.” Her mate was handsome, but secretly she was glad the girls shared her patterning. Freckle had grown so rare recently. How lovely they looked with those textured markings on their wings… She laughed quietly and nibbled him again. He swatted her affectionately with his tail. The cave in the hill was warm and dry, a bit musty, with tamped-down hay forming the floor. A lantern hung above them, providing just enough light to see Siro’s face—and the look in his eyes when he realized something was wrong. With a little frown, he knelt down to the hatchling and puffed warm air over her. Sometimes it took a bit of parental attention to make the hatchlings clean the shell off of themselves after hatching. But this tiny girl—her perfectly-formed freckled wings were still. Her eyes were glossy and unmoving. Valkyrie became very still as well. Until the next instant, when everything snapped back and time ran at a rapid pace. She lunged forward and snatched the hatchling into her arms, cradling her, burying her against her own chest. A low, animal keening came from her—a primal cry she’d never heard before. When Alme didn’t move, Valkyrie dropped the babe in the dust and fell forward, sobbing blindly, lashing out at Siro’s attempt at an embrace. II. We still have one. Why does that matter? What good was one when Valkyrie had carved space in her warrior’s heart for two? Absa couldn’t fill that gap, half of which was empty and cold now. She was aggressive with this second quiet, withdrawn babe. The only time Absa made noise was when Valkyrie scrubbed her scales too hard. Even then, it was a pathetic squeak. Siro sat in a corner, lashing his tail. He wasn’t allowed near the hatchling. Sometimes he glanced at the small stone marker by the mouth of the cave. “I’m going to go find a healer.” “Fine.” She scowled down at the hatchling. “And a priest.” Siro frowned. For you, he thought but didn’t add. “Go.” He left her with this too-quiet hatchling, who gazed up at her. Valkyrie shivered. There was love in the hatchling’s eyes. Love, and forgiveness, and regret. By the time Siro returned, there were two markers by the cave and Valkyrie was gone. 
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B I O G R A P H Y
Her thoughts were one continuous plea—but an angry one. How can all those soft dragons have children and keep them? Shouldn’t my warrior body have been strong enough? She dove into the wild hills and heather. There was always a war going on between dragon and Beastclan, scores of monsters to vent anger on. The hills soon rang with the sounds of her bloody vengeance. She hunted and sprang from beast to beast. Gore lavished the ground in wild patterns. And always that primal, keening sound escaped her throat—a wail she couldn’t contain. She wasn’t aware that stories were being told about her. The rustic dragon clans that haunted the bramble around here spoke of her as a great, blood-soaked demon. Sometimes the stories called her shadow-bound. But there was one tale with a grain of truth to it: driven mad by the deaths of her children, her avenging spirit now thirsted for blood. She lived only on the wild meat she caught, slaking her thirst from ice-choked puddles. Any cold she felt was burned away by the livid heat blooming within her. She didn’t realize that she quaked from fever and dehydration. When she fell to her side to sleep at night, visions of Alme and Absa flickered and danced before her. Sometimes they grew older before her eyes. Sometimes they laughed and told her they loved her. Other times they were pale, gray shades who glared at her accusingly, and Valkyrie writhed and kicked against the ground in agony. And always that primal, keening sound escaped her throat—a wail she couldn’t contain. IV. She awoke one pale dawn with two other Pearlcatchers bent over her. She was stuck to the ground by frost, her jaw and wings gummed by dried blood. The land here was wild. The first true frost of winter—the pale purple flowers glistened, captured in cold, bent by heavy ice. “She lives,” Lilac said solemnly, and brushed her claws against Valkyrie’s forehead. Wren fluttered stiff wings. “It isn’t right for a dragon to go feral…but we do have a great need of a guard for our clan. A warrior like yourself.” All at once, the cry flooded Valkyrie, but she could keep it back. She tried to respond, how could you want me after all that I’ve done? She couldn’t. Lilac stroked her jaw with gentle talons. “It’s time for you to come home with us.” “Yes,” Wren agreed. He smiled. “It’s time.” V. Since she’s joined their clan, grief has not come easily. There are times she craves to return to her lonely, one-sided war against the Beastclans. But talking to Lilac—the closest thing she has to a confidant—reminds her that the Beastclans did not kill her daughters. Fate did. And no dragon could fight that. She does find some comfort in protecting these dragons, though a knife cuts through her chest whenever she sees a happy hatchling. Out of respect, the clan keeps the young Pearlcatcher girls from her sight. Bio byCaelyn
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Bio template by @Mibella, find it here.
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