Hazel
(#24475619)
Level 8 Nocturne
Familiar
Painted Marionette
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Energy: 0/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Shadow.
Female Nocturne
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
5.8 m
Wingspan
7.67 m
Weight
370.91 kg
Genetics
Smoke
Poison
Poison
White
Toxin
Toxin
White
Underbelly
Underbelly
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 8 Nocturne
EXP: 315 / 16009
STR
7
AGI
6
DEF
7
QCK
6
INT
6
VIT
6
MND
7
Biography
Hazel
"You are so very pretty, my dear, so good and so mannerly,
that I cannot help giving you a gift."
"I will give you for a gift," continued the Fairy,
"that, at every word you speak, there shall come out of your
mouth either gold or a jewel."
"You are so very pretty, my dear, so good and so mannerly,
that I cannot help giving you a gift."
     |
Hazel was born with a blessing and a curse, a beautiful voice that made gold and gems fall from her mouth when she spoke. Something inherited from a long ago ancestor perhaps, no one could say. Instead of speaking her first word, she choked, and her terrified parents helped her to cough up a gold nugget the size of her eye. They thought that it had only been left in her way, popped into the mouth of a curious child, until it happened again. And again, until they ceased trying to coax her to talk, not understanding why but realizing that this was the cause. Hazel did not speak until she had grown out of a hatchling into a young adolescent. She learned to whisper and talk quietly, so that only showers of gold dust and quartz pebbles fell from her mouth. Although unused for so long, the entire clan agreed that her gentle voice was the most beautiful they had ever heard, and when she could be coaxed to sing, the entire lair fell utterly silent to listen to her quiet song. Although they tried to keep it quiet, whispers spread of her blessing, her curse, and fell into interested ears. When she wandered from home one day, gathering food for her clanmates, she was set upon by a shadowy group of dragons, the elite assassins and thieves of a faraway marsh's warlord, who had heard of her and sent them to steal her away. She was carried far from her home, and taken into captivity there, while her new owner determined the best way to make her produce riches for him. He quickly found that torture was useless, when her screams only produced cracked and crazed gem shards in a matrix of filthy rock, but that her songs produced the purest gold and the largest, finest gems. He placed her in a cage and forced her to sing until her throat bled from coughing up rough gold and sharp jewels, and and all that emerged was red gold and pigeons blood rubies. Nameless now, only mockingly called the warlord's songbird, she found herself losing the only thing left to her, her voice. The constant rough treatment damaged her throat, and her beautiful voice grew rougher and rougher over time, as she had to push harder and harder to produce anything resembling a melody. The warlord refused to let her rest, not caring about the quality of her voice as long as she continued to produce gems of the same quality. And then, the warlord made the mistake of inviting two ragged bards into his fortress. He had heard the pair of them, a duo of an imperial and a pearlcatcher, bragging that their songs could surpass the warlord's prized singer, and had them escorted in at spearpoint. He had never been able to resist showing off his wealth, or his power, and with a false smile he had told them that if they were so sure of their skills, they would agree to a contest. Her voice had long since been ruined, but emeralds and topaz still fell at her song, and the warlord scooped them up with a triumphant laugh. Could anything they sang rival such riches, he asked? The imperial laughed too, and Winddancer and Sunsinger raised their voices as one. She remembers little of their song, save for that it was a melody of such surpassing beauty, it filled the fortress with light and made the very air sing and the stones tremble. Locks sprang open, columns crumbled, walls shook, bars bent, and the warlord and his soldiers flung themselves to the ground, pressing their noses into the dirt and groveling in terror lest the song bring the fortress down around them. She only remembers that it was the song that opened her cage, gentle paws and gentle voices that helped her out, told her she was free and safe now, before she lost consciousness. When she awoke, she found herself carried on the imperial's broad back, Quince, he introduced himself as, while the pearlcatcher, Pear, walked alongside. She stumbled over her own introduction, unable to remember her name after so long treated as a nameless possession. When she offered to get down and walk, so that Quince wouldn't have to carry her any longer, he laughed and told her not to dream of it, she didn't weigh any more than a hazelnut. She liked the sound of it, something friendly and kind, the first such given to her in a long time, and asked them to call her Hazel. The two told her that music and magic combined was their specialty, that they had heard of her curse and hoped they could help. They offered to drop her off with a clan where they knew she would be happy, but Hazel only felt safe with the pair of them, and objected strenuously, and joined them in their travels instead. Although they haven't found a way to remove her curse, they've learned to manage it. Hazel speaks mostly in sign language, and always keeps paper and charcoal on hand to write with. They've found that her curse will not lay quiet, demanding to be used, and should she remain silent for too long she talks in her sleep, and wakes up cutting her tongue on sharp-edged onyx and nightmares. To make it easier, Pear and Quince taught her lullabies that would make smooth pearls and moonstone cabochons tumble gently from her mouth. The two bards were very firm that she owed them nothing, not a single quartz pebble, but she doesn't mind so much letting her words make their travels more comfortable, especially when the two are waiting with soothing tea and honey for her throat when she's done. Her throat is beginning to heal, now that she's not forced to tax it constantly, and tended to by a pair who know how to care for it. Her voice will never be the same as it once was, but she is determined not to let it be taken from her. Instead, she makes the best of her roughened voice, finding songs better suited for it and raising it in bloody battlesongs and ballads of vengeance, that make her spit sharp pointed diamonds and golden arrowheads. She has even exhibited a talent of her own for the same magic from music her travelling companions practice. Hazel's magic is more volatile, tied into the trauma she experienced and her own turbulent emotions. She sings metal to rust, particularly locks and cage bars, howls dirges that make even the most stonehearted fall down weeping, sings doom that makes the sky turn black and chills the blood. Black opals full of fire, baroque black pearls, and flawless crystals of smoky quartz fall from her mouth when she sings. Pear and Quince find her skills a little alarming, but they hope that they can add something more cheerful to her repertoire. Although they would never say so to her, Hazel stood, perhaps still stands, on the brink of inheriting a powerful and destructive magic, and they hope to help her avoid that fate. She's their favorite little hazelnut, after all. In the meantime, she has two cheerful traveling companions and a growing knowledge of sign language to lift her spirits. She is a strict vegetarian, unable to bear even the slightest taste of blood in her food, and Pear takes a great delight in locating new and exotic fruits for her to try. Hazel is eager to take in new sights and experiences, although sometimes they're too much for her. Places with too many warriors are especially overwhelming for her, and she often needs to find someplace quiet before she panics, with Quince curled protectively around her so that she knows no one can get to her unless they go through him. To make her feel less vulnerable, Pear commissioned her some razor clawed gauntlets, embellished with her own favorite amethysts, that she wears almost constantly. However, they try to avoid stressful situations, keeping to the open road, friendly clans, scholars' enclaves, and peaceful settlements. |
"I will give you for a gift," continued the Fairy,
"that, at every word you speak, there shall come out of your
mouth either gold or a jewel."
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Exalting Hazel 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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