Leo
(#36602697)
he/him
Familiar
Rat King
Click or tap to view this dragon in Predict Morphology.
Energy: 50
out of
50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Light.
Male Skydancer
This dragon is hibernating.
Expand the dragon details section.
Collapse the dragon details section.
Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Effect
Scene
Measurements
Length
4.42 m
Wingspan
6.95 m
Weight
379.41 kg
Genetics
Metals
Ripple
Ripple
Tarnish
Eye Spots
Eye Spots
Blood
Thylacine
Thylacine
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 10 Skydancer
EXP: 1140 / 27676
STR
7
AGI
8
DEF
6
QCK
8
INT
5
VIT
6
MND
5
Lineage
Biography
─────────────────────-
i.
To enter Leo's den is to walk into the mind of a visionary gone mad. Cloying bittersweet smoke forms a choking haze, at times thick enough to pool in eddies that scurry away from your feet across the floor, which is covered in musty, ornate rugs. It is surprisingly dark for a light dragon's lair, the only illumination coming from a porthole-sized window crowded with sun catchers, and a small army of guttering candles and incense that crowd around the edges of the room. Their gloomy flicker is both amplified and distorted by a large, dark scrying pool in the center of the room, elevated into the single shaft of light like a shrine, yet still mirroring inky black. In a dim corner, the den occupant's desk spills over with parchments, tapestries, and scrawled notes.
The bony, scarred pile of feathers and rags hunched over the scrying pool greets you in a low, hoarse purr, his sharp golden eyes shining. He is Leo, the self-proclaimed heir of the Darkened Sun. You aren't alone if the name is unfamiliar, as the Sun was a secretive organization to begin with, even before they vanished centuries ago. Leo is the sole surviving heir to their high cult, a role which he fills with a feverish passion. Most of the Darkened Sun's surviving records litter his desk, detailing encrypted instructions for rituals and rites that were once common practice in the Hewn City.
From what Leo can piece together, they were a group of occultists who believed they could eradicate The Shade's presence in Sorineth once and for all. Their doctrine believed that their planet had once been bathed in the light of two suns, one of which was cursed to sicken, and eventually burn out. This supernova is what created The Shade, and by the healing and return of the second sun, Sorineth will be free of its shadow and bathed in blessed light once more. Whatever happened to them, be it extinction or exile, the Darkened Sun left their temples barren, and the sky above unchanged.
Leo was born in the Hewn City, and his first memories are of a nest built in the chalice of a stone altar, surrounded by faded murals of the Darkened Sun's deeds. In the nest beside him was the empty shell of another egg, but his parents, and his unknown sibling, were nowhere in sight. Perhaps as he had been late to hatch, his parents had assumed his egg was infertile and abandoned it, but Leo was unfazed by the identity of his biological heritage. He quickly adopted the Sun's elders as his family, and assumed from the location of his hatching that somehow, through generations, he had been miraculously conceived of their lineage. Had they succeeded in restoring the second sun some time in the distant future, and placed him in his own time to continue their works and lay the foundation of their return? This was easier for the skydancer to accept than the notion that he had been orphaned. Leo is a charismatic being who thrives in company, and he refused to give himself over to such isolating thoughts.
It didn't take Leo long to discover that he was not like most light dragons. He didn't crave the touch of sunlight on his feathers, in fact the brightness of day hurt his skin and dazzled his sensitive eyes. He made his early life in the Hewn City's many catacombs and sewers, lurking through the heat of day and venturing out at dusk to preach his family's teachings. He is an eloquent dragon who understands how to get what he wants from others, and it didn't take him long to gather a decent following- and more attention than he was prepared to receive.
Little did Leo know, he was not the first to stumble upon the Darkened Sun's lost temple. Others had been there before, stripped its contents, and taken up the organization's name for their own. This underground revival believe much the same premise as the original Sun, though they have grown far more militarized and less scrupulous over generations than their forebears. They are bent upon restoring the second sun, and willing to attempt to do so by any means, even if it calls for the sacrifice of much of Sorineth's current life. They fight the Shade with weapons and tactics scavenged from the civilization whose meddling with the elements ended the Second Age. Their twisted machinations would make them a target if exposed, and they didn't much like the reputation Leo was giving their shadowy organization, flouncing about the city calling for public rituals and sermons to rekindle that which the Second Sun needed to remain secret.
When he became too much of a nuisance to keep quiet by other means, an attempt was made on Leo's life- poison slipped into his goblet at a Darkened Sun rally by a hooded acolyte. He survived, barely, but the poison left him deeply rattled and paranoid, with a pair of paralyzed wings incapable of flight. With his whole life pulled from underneath him in an instant, Leo fled the Hewn City, finding sanctuary with the Galehart clan.
ii.
Thus far in life, Leo had found it very easy to acquire what he needed to continue his work unearthing the temple's secrets, and had ample support from his acolytes to help provide for his basic needs. Without a cult of curious admirers, Leo was lost. He realized quickly that theological notions he'd held as irrefutable truth were in fact supported by the barest shreds of textual evidence, echoed and amplified by his followers. At the end of the day, Leo knew as much about where he came from as any other abandoned hatchling in Sorineth.
Lost, and desperate for meaning to give weight to his recently jeopardized life, Leo sank himself obsessively into his study of the Darkened Sun. Careful research turned to frantic speculation, meditative prayer to desperate daydreaming. Leo was convinced his ancestors were trying to speak with him, reaching through time and space to murmur holy truths in his subconscious. He began researching entheogens which granted clairvoyance, herbs that when properly dried and burned would induce shamanic states. The only nearby source of these herbs was a reclusive witch named Angrboda.
Leo's new clanmates tried to warn him away from the wily bogsneak, but he was stubborn, and she was more than willing to supply him with the hallucinogens he thought he needed to unearth the truth. Leo's first experience with Angrboda's herbs was life-changing. He witnessed what was perhaps the last ritual to take place in the Sun's temple, could hear his forebears addressing him as clearly as if they stood beside him in waking life. He needed more. And more, and more.
What Angrboda had failed to mention before introducing him to the drug was that it was incredibly potent, and for those like Leo with poor impulse control and an active imagination, also incredibly addicting.
The next stretch of time -was it months? years?- passed in a haze of sour-sweet smoke. Angrboda sent her little errand boy deeper and deeper down the rabbit hole, using him to pull information from his scrying pool that she dared not seek herself. But the madness of a pawn mattered not to her machinations, she would simply find another zealot when this one was ruined. As the herbs choked Leo's mind down to a dim, guttering flame, he remembered less and less of his original goal. All that mattered was the constant hunger gnawing at his heart, the yearning in his lungs for knowledge. He would witness the death of the whole cosmos if he had to, if only it would help him understand how to defeat the shadow that was growing over his own life. Angrboda began teaching Leo the secrets of blood rituals and live sacrifice: the drawing upon of the innate magic of one's own raw flesh to strengthen their visions. Leo had latent tendencies towards self-destruction to begin with, but he was all too eager to burn himself out in the pursuit of truth. Before long, his body was covered in stripes of fresh scars, emaciated limbs draped in stained bandages, hastily applied between visions to staunch the flow of blood.
One morning, stuck in a dazed fugue after a particularly rough trip, Leo experienced a new vision. Recently, his ventures into the scrying pool had grown dim and twisted, echoes of snide laughter and grasping, rending claws blurring his sight. But here, clear as the dawn, appeared before him another young skydancer: pale and gaunt with glassy plague-red eyes, but wreathed in muted golden light and solid enough to cast a shadow. Above his beautiful head, a soft, beating flame shone. In one claw, he bore a blank parchment scroll, in the other, a ball of scarlet twine. O fallen king, bearer of the bright mark! the skydancer greeted Leo. Where has your light gone? I see you have lost it within yourself. You seek the heart of the maze of eons, and I am to guide you. The handsome, luminous dragon began wrapping the twine around his throat, fashioning a crude noose and tightening it with each pass. Leo wanted to cry out, to stop him so he could explain further, but the skydancer just smiled sadly. Are you walking with your own feet, my love, or the puppet-master's? he rasped with his last breath, and with a choked scream, vanished.
iii.
When Ancel arrived at clan Galehart, Leo recognized him immediately as the skydancer from his vision. Though he was battered and road-worn, Leo sensed his presence as the same clear, white fire that had appeared to him before. How long had it been? Angrboda had grown worse, no longer manipulating from the shadows, but outright forcing him to submit to her will. Leo was losing the strength to resist her, forgetting where he had come from.
But Ancel's arrival was the final push he needed to realize what a mess his life had become. He could not free himself from Angrboda's control alone, but with the help of another- one as clear-headed and patient as Ancel, it seemed possible. The earliest days of their relationship were a haze of pain as Leo suffered withdrawals from the witch's drugs while Ancel fought her on his behalf, drowning her conniving hiss with his steady, sweet voice. Leo remembers only being very ill, and nonetheless trying very hard to impress and woo Ancel, who he knew from first sight was his fated mate.
Little by little, Leo's self-inflicted wounds began to heal, and his cravings for the entheogens abated some. From time to time, Angrboda still attempts to catch him alone and ensnare him once more, but Leo is learning to say no to her influence. Ancel is a prophet, and as he shared his visions with Leo, it rekindled the convictions he'd been born with. Across continents, with no prior knowledge of each other, their dream states coincided a number of times, revealing new facets of the scattered images and voices they heard. Didn't it mean something, the fact that they were sensing the same echoes of history countless miles apart? Misguided though he had been, had Leo tapped into something deeper after all? With renewed vigor, Leo began once more to seek the Darkened Sun, searching ever for an end to the Shade's twisting, creeping corruption. But Leo is wiser this time, and knows he does not have to endure the murky path of his destiny alone.
__________________________________________________________________
_..
To enter Leo's den is to walk into the mind of a visionary gone mad. Cloying bittersweet smoke forms a choking haze, at times thick enough to pool in eddies that scurry away from your feet across the floor, which is covered in musty, ornate rugs. It is surprisingly dark for a light dragon's lair, the only illumination coming from a porthole-sized window crowded with sun catchers, and a small army of guttering candles and incense that crowd around the edges of the room. Their gloomy flicker is both amplified and distorted by a large, dark scrying pool in the center of the room, elevated into the single shaft of light like a shrine, yet still mirroring inky black. In a dim corner, the den occupant's desk spills over with parchments, tapestries, and scrawled notes.
The bony, scarred pile of feathers and rags hunched over the scrying pool greets you in a low, hoarse purr, his sharp golden eyes shining. He is Leo, the self-proclaimed heir of the Darkened Sun. You aren't alone if the name is unfamiliar, as the Sun was a secretive organization to begin with, even before they vanished centuries ago. Leo is the sole surviving heir to their high cult, a role which he fills with a feverish passion. Most of the Darkened Sun's surviving records litter his desk, detailing encrypted instructions for rituals and rites that were once common practice in the Hewn City.
From what Leo can piece together, they were a group of occultists who believed they could eradicate The Shade's presence in Sorineth once and for all. Their doctrine believed that their planet had once been bathed in the light of two suns, one of which was cursed to sicken, and eventually burn out. This supernova is what created The Shade, and by the healing and return of the second sun, Sorineth will be free of its shadow and bathed in blessed light once more. Whatever happened to them, be it extinction or exile, the Darkened Sun left their temples barren, and the sky above unchanged.
Leo was born in the Hewn City, and his first memories are of a nest built in the chalice of a stone altar, surrounded by faded murals of the Darkened Sun's deeds. In the nest beside him was the empty shell of another egg, but his parents, and his unknown sibling, were nowhere in sight. Perhaps as he had been late to hatch, his parents had assumed his egg was infertile and abandoned it, but Leo was unfazed by the identity of his biological heritage. He quickly adopted the Sun's elders as his family, and assumed from the location of his hatching that somehow, through generations, he had been miraculously conceived of their lineage. Had they succeeded in restoring the second sun some time in the distant future, and placed him in his own time to continue their works and lay the foundation of their return? This was easier for the skydancer to accept than the notion that he had been orphaned. Leo is a charismatic being who thrives in company, and he refused to give himself over to such isolating thoughts.
It didn't take Leo long to discover that he was not like most light dragons. He didn't crave the touch of sunlight on his feathers, in fact the brightness of day hurt his skin and dazzled his sensitive eyes. He made his early life in the Hewn City's many catacombs and sewers, lurking through the heat of day and venturing out at dusk to preach his family's teachings. He is an eloquent dragon who understands how to get what he wants from others, and it didn't take him long to gather a decent following- and more attention than he was prepared to receive.
Little did Leo know, he was not the first to stumble upon the Darkened Sun's lost temple. Others had been there before, stripped its contents, and taken up the organization's name for their own. This underground revival believe much the same premise as the original Sun, though they have grown far more militarized and less scrupulous over generations than their forebears. They are bent upon restoring the second sun, and willing to attempt to do so by any means, even if it calls for the sacrifice of much of Sorineth's current life. They fight the Shade with weapons and tactics scavenged from the civilization whose meddling with the elements ended the Second Age. Their twisted machinations would make them a target if exposed, and they didn't much like the reputation Leo was giving their shadowy organization, flouncing about the city calling for public rituals and sermons to rekindle that which the Second Sun needed to remain secret.
When he became too much of a nuisance to keep quiet by other means, an attempt was made on Leo's life- poison slipped into his goblet at a Darkened Sun rally by a hooded acolyte. He survived, barely, but the poison left him deeply rattled and paranoid, with a pair of paralyzed wings incapable of flight. With his whole life pulled from underneath him in an instant, Leo fled the Hewn City, finding sanctuary with the Galehart clan.
« to live is to burn, to burn is to be exalted... »
ii.
Thus far in life, Leo had found it very easy to acquire what he needed to continue his work unearthing the temple's secrets, and had ample support from his acolytes to help provide for his basic needs. Without a cult of curious admirers, Leo was lost. He realized quickly that theological notions he'd held as irrefutable truth were in fact supported by the barest shreds of textual evidence, echoed and amplified by his followers. At the end of the day, Leo knew as much about where he came from as any other abandoned hatchling in Sorineth.
Lost, and desperate for meaning to give weight to his recently jeopardized life, Leo sank himself obsessively into his study of the Darkened Sun. Careful research turned to frantic speculation, meditative prayer to desperate daydreaming. Leo was convinced his ancestors were trying to speak with him, reaching through time and space to murmur holy truths in his subconscious. He began researching entheogens which granted clairvoyance, herbs that when properly dried and burned would induce shamanic states. The only nearby source of these herbs was a reclusive witch named Angrboda.
Leo's new clanmates tried to warn him away from the wily bogsneak, but he was stubborn, and she was more than willing to supply him with the hallucinogens he thought he needed to unearth the truth. Leo's first experience with Angrboda's herbs was life-changing. He witnessed what was perhaps the last ritual to take place in the Sun's temple, could hear his forebears addressing him as clearly as if they stood beside him in waking life. He needed more. And more, and more.
What Angrboda had failed to mention before introducing him to the drug was that it was incredibly potent, and for those like Leo with poor impulse control and an active imagination, also incredibly addicting.
The next stretch of time -was it months? years?- passed in a haze of sour-sweet smoke. Angrboda sent her little errand boy deeper and deeper down the rabbit hole, using him to pull information from his scrying pool that she dared not seek herself. But the madness of a pawn mattered not to her machinations, she would simply find another zealot when this one was ruined. As the herbs choked Leo's mind down to a dim, guttering flame, he remembered less and less of his original goal. All that mattered was the constant hunger gnawing at his heart, the yearning in his lungs for knowledge. He would witness the death of the whole cosmos if he had to, if only it would help him understand how to defeat the shadow that was growing over his own life. Angrboda began teaching Leo the secrets of blood rituals and live sacrifice: the drawing upon of the innate magic of one's own raw flesh to strengthen their visions. Leo had latent tendencies towards self-destruction to begin with, but he was all too eager to burn himself out in the pursuit of truth. Before long, his body was covered in stripes of fresh scars, emaciated limbs draped in stained bandages, hastily applied between visions to staunch the flow of blood.
One morning, stuck in a dazed fugue after a particularly rough trip, Leo experienced a new vision. Recently, his ventures into the scrying pool had grown dim and twisted, echoes of snide laughter and grasping, rending claws blurring his sight. But here, clear as the dawn, appeared before him another young skydancer: pale and gaunt with glassy plague-red eyes, but wreathed in muted golden light and solid enough to cast a shadow. Above his beautiful head, a soft, beating flame shone. In one claw, he bore a blank parchment scroll, in the other, a ball of scarlet twine. O fallen king, bearer of the bright mark! the skydancer greeted Leo. Where has your light gone? I see you have lost it within yourself. You seek the heart of the maze of eons, and I am to guide you. The handsome, luminous dragon began wrapping the twine around his throat, fashioning a crude noose and tightening it with each pass. Leo wanted to cry out, to stop him so he could explain further, but the skydancer just smiled sadly. Are you walking with your own feet, my love, or the puppet-master's? he rasped with his last breath, and with a choked scream, vanished.
« night does not vanish when the sun rises, for somewhere else it sets. »
iii.
When Ancel arrived at clan Galehart, Leo recognized him immediately as the skydancer from his vision. Though he was battered and road-worn, Leo sensed his presence as the same clear, white fire that had appeared to him before. How long had it been? Angrboda had grown worse, no longer manipulating from the shadows, but outright forcing him to submit to her will. Leo was losing the strength to resist her, forgetting where he had come from.
But Ancel's arrival was the final push he needed to realize what a mess his life had become. He could not free himself from Angrboda's control alone, but with the help of another- one as clear-headed and patient as Ancel, it seemed possible. The earliest days of their relationship were a haze of pain as Leo suffered withdrawals from the witch's drugs while Ancel fought her on his behalf, drowning her conniving hiss with his steady, sweet voice. Leo remembers only being very ill, and nonetheless trying very hard to impress and woo Ancel, who he knew from first sight was his fated mate.
Little by little, Leo's self-inflicted wounds began to heal, and his cravings for the entheogens abated some. From time to time, Angrboda still attempts to catch him alone and ensnare him once more, but Leo is learning to say no to her influence. Ancel is a prophet, and as he shared his visions with Leo, it rekindled the convictions he'd been born with. Across continents, with no prior knowledge of each other, their dream states coincided a number of times, revealing new facets of the scattered images and voices they heard. Didn't it mean something, the fact that they were sensing the same echoes of history countless miles apart? Misguided though he had been, had Leo tapped into something deeper after all? With renewed vigor, Leo began once more to seek the Darkened Sun, searching ever for an end to the Shade's twisting, creeping corruption. But Leo is wiser this time, and knows he does not have to endure the murky path of his destiny alone.
__________________________________________________________________
_..
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