RoxySantana » Hibernal Den » Realia

Realia

(#2117440)

Level 1 Mirror

Familiar

Maned Rasa

Energy: 50/50

Personal Style

Apparel

Skin

Scene

Physical Attributes

Battle Stats

Measurements

Length

7.42 m

Wingspan

5.09 m

Weight

552.23 kg

Genetics

White
Bar

Rose
Eye Spots

Violet
Underbelly

Hatchday

Jan 26, 2014
(10 years)

Breed

Adult
Mirror

Eye Type

Fire
Common

Level 1 Mirror

EXP: 0 / 245

STR

AGI

DEF

QCK

INT

VIT

MND

Lineage

Parents

Saphir
Wanda

Offspring

Biography

R E A L I A
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Being born a Mirror, Realia was already different from her family. Her mother, a Tundra, her siblings also tundras, and her father a Fae, there was some speculation that her mother had been less than loyal. Saphir however laughed at the accusations against his mate. His grandfather had been a mirror, his mother a guardian. Sometimes these things happened, only the gods knew why. Wanda, Realia's mother, saw her daughter as the reason behind the scandal. She had been known in the clan as a fair weather lover before and this only served to strengthen the rumors against her. She grew to have feelings of loathing for her child and decided to ask the clan leader for help in getting rid of her. The clan leader, a Mirror named Bone, was more than happy to oblige.

So it was that young Realia was chosen to be traded to another clan as a gesture of friendship. The news shook the young hatchling. She did not understand why this was happening. She thought she had done something wrong and was being exiled from the clan. Her father soothed her, the gentle Fae telling her she would be fine. He had once been chosen like her to be sent to this clan as a sign of friendship. It was a normal practice, a way to bring new blood into a clan. He assured her the clan would be kind to her, that they would love her as he did. Before she left, he held her close and told her never to lose hope and that a smile would get her through any trial. So with a smile on her face and tears in her eyes, she met the representative of her new clan that had come to take her.

Time passed and Realia found herself at home in the Nature clan she had been sent to. Everything was green and fertile. Living within the Viridian Labyrinth was a life of peace. The young Mirror grew into an adult, and took a mate of her own. A red-eyed Fae named Elatha who had come from the Scarred Wasteland. Despite his origin, the small dragon was a devote follower of the Lightweaver. He told his mate tales about how he had run away from his clan and the corruption of the Scarred Wasteland. He had been on his way to the Sunbeam Ruins when a storm had pushed him north into the Labyrinth. He had planned on moving on when he had regained his strength but the orange eyes of a beautiful Mirror had stopped him. The two had found bliss in each other's company and had many hatchlings together. Not all was as blissful as it seemed however.

One night as the clans of the Labyrinth slept, intruders crept beneath the trees. Realia could hear voices whispering, causing her to wake from her sleep. A strange dragon stood beside her mate. At first, she thought he was a friend from one of the neighboring clans. Then red eyes met hers. The rest of the night was a blur, chains tied around her wings, flashes of light from behind a blindfold. She was flying, but not by her own wings. Fear raced through her as the hours ticked by and the smell of death and rot clogged her nose. Then, finally, she was thrown to the ground and the blindfold pulled off.

Orange light filled a lair made from the dried bones of countless creatures. Dragons sat perched high on dead trees and tendrils of rot that had burst from the ground. Around her were other dragons from the Labyrinth that had been taken. All of them just as frightened as she was. Before them was a throne, made of the what Realia soon realized was the re-articulated skeleton of an Emperor. A white Imperial lounged across the throne, his eyes the color of ice. Below him, perched on one of the skeleton's claws, was Elatha. The diminutive fae practically invisible among the bones. The Mirror's eyes widened. He had been a part of this! Elatha had betrayed the Labyrinth and taken her and the others from their homes!

The white Imperial spoke, he was called Witherfang. He told the frightened dragons that this would be their new home. All would pull their weight or they would be exalted to Plaguebringer. Any who tried to escape would be caught and thrown into the Wyrmwound. The lives they once lived were over, and a life in the Wasteland was all they had now. When he was finished speaking, dragons descended from the perches. They guided Realia and the other captives away. They would be separated, evaluated, and given assignments within the clan.

It would be a whole day before Elatha came to visit his mate. Realia had yet to be evaluated, and sat in a holding cell until her turn came. An iron collar now circled her neck, a mark of her station. When she saw Elatha, anger took over her. She charged the bars of her cell, orange eyes flashing. She hissed and switched her tail like an angry cat. Elatha only watched. He wore a crown of bones now, corrupted, just like everything in this place.

The Fae admitted that he had indeed lied to her; he told her it was necessary. Most of his clan were infertile, having nests of eggs that never hatched. Witherfang had believed this was due to exposure to the the toxins of the Wasteland. New blood had to be brought into the clan to ensure its survival. His parents were taken from other clans, he and his siblings had become the future of the clan. The existence of their children served proof that he could produce offspring in this clan. He went on to explain that even Witherfang had come from an ice clan. She would understand one day.

Elatha's words only served to enrage the mirror. Everything they had done in their time together came into question. Had it all been a lie? His devotion to Lightweaver? Had he only mated with her to see if he was fertile? Had he planning to bring her here from the start? This was not her mate, this was not the dragon whom she had tended nests with, who had raised hatchlings with her. Her rage overflowed as she slammed her body against the doors. Her instinct took over as the bars, made of old bones and rotting leather snapped under her weight. She knocked her former mate to the ground.

"May Lightweaver take you!"

Those were the last words she would ever say to Elatha before he was sent off to serve the Gods. Realia's only wish was that he did end up in Lightweaver's service and would be forced to confront that lie until the end of time itself.

Try as she might, Realia could never escape Witherfang. The incident with Elatha had intrigued the Imperial. He tested the Mirror's strengths and sought to find a place for her in his clan. At first he had intended to take as his mate, but when Realia violently disagreed, he gave up that pursuit. Instead, he placed her in charge of the hatchlings. Very few hatchlings were actually born to the clan as most had been taken from elsewhere. Some were stolen in raids, others found abandoned, even a few had been bought from other clans with too many mouths to feed. No matter where they had come from, they all ended up in Realia's care. Despite her own misery, she saw to it that every hatchling brought to her had love, acceptance, and above all, hope. She became known as the Mother of the clan and all the orphaned hatchlings her children. To her disdain, Witherfang claimed the title of Father, every hatchling brought into the clan became his son or daughter. Something he would taunt Realia with when he felt displeased with her. He had her iron collar removed as she now lead the clan by his side. Routine was what helped the Mirror pass the time. It was the care of the hatchlings that made the clan livable. Eventually, she settled into her place as a member of the clan and a kind of normality set in.

Then one day, one of her many children came to see her. He was a Wildclaw she had named Fidget that had been taken from a Wind Clan when he was barely out of the egg. A dark hatchling that seemed to be mostly wings wiggled in the Wildclaw's arms. A loud screeching sound came from the hatchling that from the irritated look on Fidget's face had been going on for a while. Realia moved to greet her son, no longer surprised when a new charge was brought to her. As she approached the hatchling, an Imperial began to thrash and bite at Fidget's arms. Expertly, Realia took the hatchling from him and put him on the ground. With a few soft words and nuzzles, the Imperial quieted.

Fidget explained that the hatchling had come from the lair of an allied clan. He had gone hunting and had seen signs of a battle near the border of the clan's territory. When he investigated, he found the clan dead and rotting into the landscape with the only life coming from the screaming hatchling. He theorized that the Beast Clan had moved against the dragons and decimated the clan. Witherfang had sent the warriors out to look for any survivors and hunt down the beasts. He had been instructed to give the hatchling to her before heading out to monitor the warriors' supply lines. Before he left, he told his mother that the hatchling had been named Onyx.

Realia watched Onyx grow into a young dragon. He had been a sweet hatchling, but fearless. Only days old, he would wander off to explore the lair. Usually it would be Witherfang who brought him back. The Mirror could see that little Onyx was quickly becoming the clan leader's favorite son. She knew he would be trained to fight as a warrior, and eventually, groomed to lead the clan. She tried to instill love and compassion in Onyx, an investment that would mean that one day, the clan would change. His father however pushed him in his training and taught him that there was no room for weakness. Realia watched helplessly as her sweet fearless son was twisted into a ruthless warrior. It was not the first time she had seen Witherfang corrupt young dragons. After all, Witherfang's way was the best to survive in the Plaguebringer's domain.

Onyx's last training fight had shaken Realia. He had fought a Guardian who had grown up with him. The Guardian had been named Valence, who like Onyx, had been an innocent hatchling once. Onyx had broken his brother's wing in combat, an injury that resulted in the young dragon being exalted. Onyx had shown no remorse for his actions. Witherfang had trained him well.

The morning after the incident dawned with a red hue over the wasteland. Realia climbed above the lair and perched high on a tendril of rot. She stretched her muscles and looked out toward the horizon. These were the peaceful moments in her day, the ones before Witherfang was awake. As she gazed across the wasteland, a shadow passed over her.

The Mirror turned her gaze upward and growled at the sight of a Harpy high above the lair. As she watched, more Harpies became visible as they circled and seemed to move into formations. Something was not right! Realia leapt down from her perch practically landing on Fidget. The Wildclaw shreaked in surprise. She ordered him to wake the clan, informing him about the Harpies.

The next few minutes were a blur as she ran back to the hatchlings. She counted them quickly as she roused them with gentle nudges. Distracting them with food, she herded them into a structure made of a massive rib cage of some long dead creature. No sooner had she gotten the last one in that Witherfang landed by the entrance clad in armor. She turned to face the Imperial surprised to see worry on his face.

He told her the clan was under attack by the Beast Clan. The beasts had numbers on their side, and the outcome did not look good. He ordered Realia to take the hatchlings and run. He and the warriors would buy them time. Fidget would sneak them out with the other scouts. In the first show of actual affection she had seen from the Imperial, he leaned in and embraced her. Witherfang whispered a thank you before he turned and charged off.

Fidget arrived seconds later with the clan's scouts and hunters. Luck was on their side as they used the carcasses of the Wasteland to hide from the Harpies' view. Together they reached the edge of the Scarred Wasteland, the sounds of the battle fading out behind them. They waited for hours for a messenger from Witherfang, a sign that the battle had been won.

As night fell, Realia realized no one was coming. She informed the scouts they were leaving the Wasteland. Many of them argued and in the end, left to return to the lair. A few, Fidget among them, agreed with their mother and turned their back on the Scared Wasteland. They knew the clan was lost.

The small group made their way across many lands and into the lairs of many clans. As time passed, the hatchlings were left in the care of different clans as the clans had more capability to care for them. Even Fidget found a place in a water clan, and later chose to serve Tidelord. Soon Realia found herself nearly alone. She traveled with the last of her hatchlings, a Skydancer that had grown into a dragon in the time since the clan had fallen.

Llewelyn had been taken from a fire clan only days before the attack and had little memory of his original clan or Witherfang's. He knew only of Realia and his siblings that had left them behind. He had learned to read and write and found a joy for it. He entertained his mother by reading poems he had written. He vowed to never leave his mother alone. So as Realia traveled seeking her place, so did he.

As they were traveling, Realia stopped in the Tangled Wood to rest. The constant traveling and lack of a lair was beginning to wear on her. She laid down for a quick nap as her son kept watch. She knew Llewelyn was getting to the age where he would want a mate, and hoped that he would not slip off and find one as she slept.

Thankfully for her, that was not the case. She awoke to the high pitched chimes of a Skydancer's screech, and the furious flapping of wings. As she rushed to her feet, her son moved in front of her protectively. A large pack of black wolves were advancing on them. Llewelyn rose to his hind legs flaring his wings threateningly in an attempt to scare them off. He let out another screech as he moved forward, a bluff that he would attack. The wolves did not seem to be bothered by him as the alpha took a step toward the Skydancer.

Tension built as seconds passed in the stand off. Then as if from the heavens itself, a large dragon dropped in between them. It was a dark Imperial cloaked in a wolf skin and ebony armor. The Imperial roared and the wolves scattered yelping. Two more dragons, a Pearlcatcher and a Nocturne, burst from the trees beside Realia.

The Imperial turned and nodded to them before walking toward Realia. She could see his red glowing eyes under the face of the wolf skin and her breath caught in her throat. He leaned toward her with a shocked smile on his face.

"Hello Mother."

It was Onyx! She could not believe her eyes. Onyx was alive and in front of her. She reached up and tore the wolf skin back away from her son's face. His crystalline skin glimmered in the glow of the Tangled Wood. The hardness that was once in his eyes had dulled since she had last seen him. He had grown into a mature dragon, not just Witherfang's warrior. The two embraced and Onyx led his mother and younger brother to his clan.

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Click or tap a food type to individually feed this dragon only. The other dragons in your lair will not have their energy replenished.

Exalting Realia to the service of the Shadowbinder 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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