Inyo (#33382998)
the hills are alive. this is a threat
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Sprouting Goblin
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Energy: 2/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Nature.
Male Skydancer
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Personal Style





5.04 m
3.46 m
496.8 kg


Primary Gene
Secondary Gene
Tertiary Gene


May 30, 2017
(3 years)



Eye Type

Eye Type
Level 1 Skydancer
EXP: 0 / 245


The Cultivator

After hundreds of years, Inyo doesn't feel like a name anymore.

They still know very little -- little about why they were created, about what breathed life into them deep in the jungles of the Shrieking Wilds. The Gladekeeper, perhaps. Or maybe something entirely different altogether. What they do remember is a word. Inyo. And a faint memory; that they were sculpted from soil and leaf, wind and clay, a being of pure nature as wild and primal as the forest itself.

And for a while, Inyo meant everything. It meant them. It meant they had a purpose, if someone cared enough to name the thing they had created.

For years, they lived all across the Viridian Labyrinth. With clans, on their own -- slowly learning, if not what they were, then what they could do. The way they left flowers and grass where the prints of their feet should be -- and, though it took longer -- could leave saplings, even coax trees to grow in soil that would take years to support them. And at first, it all took so much energy they could barely grow so much as a patch of flowers. But they had all the time in the world to practice; to call the attention of whatever had sculpted them. If they found their purpose, they found answers.

Gradually, the time they spent with the clans grew less and less. Gradually, they turned from another dragon into a legend, a whispered fable among hatchlings, those who remembered and then those who saw the briefest signs of them in the depths of the jungle. They stopped calling them Inyo. They stopped seeing them as a dragon. Instead they whispered about the Cultivator, who brought plants and animals and rich soil in their wake.

Gradually, as years passed and nobody spoke to them, as they grew no closer to why they'd been formed, Inyo stopped meaning anything. A name given to them by a ghost.

The Cultivator, they called them. And that was real.

Sierra Grove was little more than a sandy wasteland, when they found it. Canyons, cliffs, jagged mountains dotted with shaggy juniper and scrub. And slowly, steadily, it grew. The mountains and valleys bright with thick grass and aspen and pine, dragged into being under their feet and breath; mountain lakes and flowers and soil beneath the sand, prickly pear and stubby cacti, aloe and all the desert plants they could drag from their mind.

When the first dragons came, seeking shelter in the tiny world they had created, they stayed. And eventually, they began to whisper the same name.

Inyo is very much the product of their long, solitary years spent roaming the Viridian Labyrinth. They're a ghost -- taught themselves to be, anyways, nothing but a myth whispered in corners, these days celebrated in the spring, dragons climbing the mountains and studying the trees to search for them like they're anything but a failed thing not worth enough to their creator for a single word or barest acknowledgement.

Because, of course, when you spend long enough with nothing but the trees and the plants for company, it's hard to feel like an actual being. They still have the form of a dragon, yes -- but they're as distant and wild as the forest -- they are the forests, and those that reside on the island are not their kind.

Dismissive they might be, but the Grove is theirs, and so are its inhabitants, by proxy. They're hardly a god, but what they might be -- spirit, wraith, aspect of nature -- nature isn't malevolent. Nor is it benevolent. It simply is. But this nature has a force behind it, and its force is tooth and claw and all the wild beasts and plants of the wild.

They keep the soil richer than it should be, keeps the streams flowing, the trees and grass green and tall and watch dragons and beastclan wander through the world they created. They are not part of them, no matter the occasional, easily suppressed tug at the back of their mind that they might want to be. As long as the Grove is at peace, that is enough for them. But should anyone threaten it --

Life and death are connected. It's best you don't find out the exact particulars of how.



tumblr_inline_ojq6kqtzXZ1r2ao8y_540.png tumblr_inline_ojq6kwwlmN1r2ao8y_540.png

named for inyo national forest, which covers parts of the eastern sierra nevada in california and the white mountains of california and nevada
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