Marisolstice » Lair » Hecate

Hecate

(#28196011)

Level 1 Skydancer

Familiar

Ectoplasmime

Energy: 0/50

Personal Style

Apparel

Skin

Scene

Physical Attributes

Battle Stats

Measurements

Length

3.99 m

Wingspan

5.08 m

Weight

532.41 kg

Genetics

Shadow
Cherub

Blackberry
Butterfly

Shadow
Glimmer

Hatchday

Nov 01, 2016
(7 years)

Breed

Adult
Skydancer

Eye Type

Wind
Common

Level 1 Skydancer

EXP: 0 / 245

STR

AGI

DEF

QCK

INT

VIT

MND

Lineage

Parents

Offspring

none

Biography

___________________________Hecate____________________________

Head Witch

♛
"A witch ought never to be frightened in the darkest forest, because she should be sure in her soul that the most terrifying thing in the forest was her."
♛

_________________________

B I O G R A P H Y

Main Theme: Chase

______ I.

After living for so long in the Tangled Wood, not many things scared Azareth anymore.
But she did.
The hooded, cloaked woman had strolled up to Azareth during the morning patrol. There she stood, silent as stone.
The two gazed at one another beside the tree line until Azareth raised his blade. He was tired; it was dawn; he wasn’t in the mood for any Tangled trickery.
“Alright, beast. Let’s see you without that hood.”
The woman slowly raised it.
Azareth’s grip tensed — these shadow beasts were getting bolder by the day.
But when the hood was up, it revealed a slim, delicate, elegant face. A bit intimidating in colors, because she was colored dark as a beast.
Her light-green gaze lacked the glossy emptiness or vacuous rage of one of the monsters.
She smiled gently. “Is that how you always greet female travelers? ‘Beast?’ How very charming.”
Azareth swallowed hard. “No — no disrespect meant, lady, I —“
“No. I understand.” Her eyes grew distant. “Believe me, I do. How else would one react when I walked up to you? I always forget to introduce myself.”
Azareth waited. The woman said nothing. They stood there together in silence.
Birds twittered, and strange predators cried out.
At last, Azareth cleared his throat.
“Come with me, lady, and I’ll find you something to eat.

II.

Moreso than in other lands, the dragons who live in the Tangled Wood are superstitious.
Over spiced cakes, nutbread and cold ale in Azareth’s small tent, Hecate related her tale.
She had been born exceptionally dark in complexion, which alarmed her clan’s elders.
Her mother had perished in childbirth — another strike.
She spoke with winsome charm between large bites of food, her long eyelashes fluttering.
Azareth felt warmth kindling in his breast like a spring campfire. He tried to push it away.
“So imagine their surprise when I was a witch, hm?” Hecate laughed, but Azareth froze.
“Witch?”
“Oh, yes.” Hecate fixed him with her eerie light green eyes. “Communicating with the dead. Changing the weather. Not to say anything of my potions — being a witch probably helps substantially with that.”
“I see,” Azareth said faintly.
“And do you know what they did to me?” she asked. Her voice was light, but there was an undertone of seriousness.
Though he had drank at least half a pint of ale, Azareth’s mouth was dry. “No, lady. I’m afraid I don’t.”
With a little laugh, Hecate stood and let her cloak fall to the ground.
Her bare back was covered in thin, knotted scars.
She glanced over her shoulder. “They tried to beat the devil out of me.”

III.

“A lovely dark girl who crept out of the woods, surprised you, and claims to be a witch.” Axaris’ brows rose. Her voice was rich with sarcasm. “Sounds like a wonderful addition to Jaura.”
“It’s not like that.” Azareth’s paws clenched. He looked helplessly to Hecate, who was coiled and sleeping in the corner of Axaris’ tent.
“You’ve fallen in love with her, too?” Axaris chuckled. “I bet she works that charm on all men.”
Maybe, Azareth thought. “Look. Isn’t the goal of Jaura to give homeless dragons a fighting chance in the Tangled Wood? Didn’t you say that?”
“Not lying sorceresses,” Axaris hissed.
“None of what has been said is a lie,” Hecate said serenely, apparently not asleep at all. She rose to her feet and eyed the clan’s leaders. “What requires proof?”
Nothing, Azareth thought but couldn’t say.
“I don’t appreciate young women who say they’re sorceresses, but aren’t.” Axaris’ eyes narrowed. “It’s disrespectful to the occupation.”
Hecate said nothing for a long while. She gazed on Axaris, and her eyes seemed to penetrate every part of the large Guardian’s hide.
Azareth watched, fearful. What if he had brought in a spirit of death to harm them? What if Hecate was going to bewitch Axaris? What would he do without her?
Finally, when the silence grew too great, Hecate said softly, “You’ve got dead children.”
Axaris hissed again, her wings spread wide in attack.
Azareth flinched. “Hecate —“
“It was tragic,” the witch continued. “An accident. But also unavoidable. Part of your fate. All of their fate. I can see the threads twisted together…”
Axaris stepped back.
Hecate closed her eyes, swaying. “Their spirits don’t blame you. Not at all. They want you to live in peace. That’s all they’ve ever wanted for their mother. All they wanted. That was all…”
Another long silence.
Azareth cowered, expecting Axaris to strike the Skydancer — or worse.
But finally Axaris said, “Do whatever you want to her, Azareth. She can stay here, but she’s no business of mine.”
With that, the Guardian pushed past them both and stood outside.

IV.

Hecate remains in Jaura, usually tucked in Azareth’s tent.
The two pass chilly nights together, snuggled up nose to nose.
The earth around his tent flourishes with strange, exotic herbs.
For that’s how most dragons know Hecate — not through speaking to her, or understanding her origins. But her strange, bitter brews that nonetheless always heal what ails them.

Bio by Caelyn

Bio template by @Mibella, find it here.

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Exalting Hecate to the service of the Tidelord 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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