Ora

I'VE BEEN ASKED IF I FEEL SAFE LIVING IN A DEN OF SUCH VILLAINS Microlore . Playful and bright, on first meeting, many do not suspect that she is a dentist. But her passion is keeping teeth and gums strong for dragons throughout their lives, and she works with those who are afraid of her tools of the trade in an effort to help them maintain their strong jaws and terrifying bites. She especially enjoys making prostheses for those who have lost their teeth in battle or due to age. Using techniques she learned growing up with her mother's glass workshop, she makes each piece from high-quality ceramic materials to ensure it will be able to withstand a dragon's daily use. She studied surgery under her father, and in extreme cases has been known to extract problem teeth. Beyond her passion for oral hygiene, she has a bit of a sweet tooth herself. Holiday cookies are her favorite, and though she is not involved enough in the hobby to make a business of it, she is known to pass out treat baskets to friends and family members around the holidays. My hatch-day lore! Above Microlore written by Ixris. OF COURSE, I ANSWER GOOD DENTISTS ARE IN SHORT SUPPLY history. Not every dragon joins clan Windfall by design: Ora is one such. Her ship wasmeant to carry her on an adventure to see the world, far from Dragomhome, and in a way she has to admit it did. Really, at least some of the fault lay with her for not questioning the cheapness of her fare, nor the rough countenances of her hosts. As the vessel travelled south, and south again, and south yet more, a heavy feeling grew in the stomach of the little dentist. As the wind grew cold, howling of an evening through the rigging, that heavy feeling settled into a cold lump of dread. What had she signed up for? What manner of dragons were these, that had taken her money and promised her adventure? What kind, exactly? But the further south they went, the more brazen her hosts were in their aspirations; bare steel gleamed like so many fangs at their hips, and she kept her mouth shut. She'd sighed as she unwrapped the last of her boiled sweets, forlornly dropping the wrapper into the sea. So despondent was she at her fate that she did not even feel a flicker of guilt as the white square of paper flew off into obscurity among the retreating waves. Her imagination was beginning to get the better of her; she could have sworn she'd overheard the captain speaking of finding a colony of pirates in the Southern Icefields. Her fears were realised not so many days later, the ship's crew of aspirant miscreants sailing up to dock at the base of a vast, imposing ice cliff, the only feature of which was a glowing, golden cave entrance. At least it looked warm; Ora felt she might freeze her whiskers off in this blasted Southern wind. The crew was brought before a council of captains, it seemed, and Ora loitered behind the lot of them, clutching the bag of her possessions in her talons, her pearl curled tightly in her tail. If the crew that had brought her here were supposed to be pirates, then these that greeted them now were surely nothing less than monsters. The blades that bristled from every hip and ankle were not bright and gaudy like the glittering filigree blades of her hosts. No, these shone with a dull malevolence; clean, but every part of the weapon built to fulfil their grim purpose. Clothing here was occasionally splendid, but never gaudy - Ora wonders if her crew had ever met an honest to goodness (or, perhaps, badness) pirate before today. She is not surprised when they are dismissed, a fierce wildclaw female snapping her great jaws in the face of the flustered would-be pirate captain before booming a laugh and sending him on his way. She is not surprised when not a-one of the crew that had carried her hence turns to motion her to come with them, not a whit. The brush of her tail flicks in irritation as she watches the fools leave, for she sees them now for what they are - a mob of gaudy peacocks with hardly a brain between the lot of them. Ora is pulled from her resentful reverie by the approach of footsteps and the intrusion of a long, fanged snout into her vision. Sober brown eyes look up to lock with burning green, and the little pearlcatcher licks her lips, pausing, unsure of what to say. Perhaps it is divine intervention that has the pirate leader curl her lips back in a snarl in that moment, exposing what Ora's keen eye immediately identifies as caries plaguing one of the formidable fangs thrust into her vision. "Ah." It must have been the lack of fear in her tone, for the fierce wildclaw pauses in her display, open puzzlement - and perhaps a hint of approval - transforming the sharp features of her face. Ora clings to the opportunity, clasping her bag between her talons in what she hopes is a businesslike manner. "I see you are in need of the services of a dentist."

Bloody Neck Bandage Apparel Strips of white material designed to be wrapped around the wearer's neck. These are stained due to dressing a terrible gash. 1250 DENTIST PROSTHETIST SURGEON Major Health Potion Battle Item A potion that heals your dragon for 500 health. 250 Required Level: 1 Cleansing Tonic Battle Item A cool, soothing tonic that removes one harmful status effect from a dragon. 50 Required Level: 1 TRAITS ♦ playful chipper inventive RELATIONSHIPS ♦ mate BATTLE ♦ Healer unstarted! ARTWORK ♦ none yet! ETYMOLOGY ♦ (1) plural of os, 'mouth.' (2) a unit of money among Anglo-Saxons CREDIT ♦ Flight Backgrounds

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Quiet and quick, Hester's father fondly refers to her as his little rabbit. No one else would think of her as anything so soft, though. Early in her youth, she was taken under the wing of Aleru, Clan Windfall's cutthroat head of operations. She had started out as a simple merchant, she advised, and worked her way to the top by being the most ruthless in her bargaining, the most willing to get her hands dirty when necessary. In truth she was quite fond of Hester, seeing much of herself in the young pearlcatcher. Hester, for her part, was a quick study and eager student- the other fledglings soon learned that they were unlikely to come out on top in a deal with Hest. Not that they minded - for all her guile, she is well liked and respected.

The firstborn son of the clan's dentist and head sculptor, Jethro was raised believing he could do whatever he set his mind to with hard work, perseverance, and creativity. Of course, growing up in Clan Windfall he was surrounded at all times by sailors and sea-folk, the young dragon marinated in maritime tales from almost the moment of his hatching.

Those stories, they have a way of calling to the soul that seeks adventure, and before long the young pearlcatcher had stowed away on one of the great ships. Of course, it didn't take long before the ship's quartermaster, Zymen, found him; though he was far smaller than the great imperials and guardians that crewed this particular ship, the lad had to surface to eat.

The little dragon was tenacious, though, and had his letters - so he was put to work surveying the skies and winds, that the crew might be prepared in the event of a squall or other inclement weather. Of an evening, Jethro retired to pluck at the strings of his lyre, singing the self same songs that had drawn him to the sea in the first place to any and all that would listen.