Tourmaline

Free Dragon from the Traveler's Tree
message @silverwolv or click the banner above to inquire about the Travelers' Tree, a hatchery and fodder rescue that gives away all-free dragons!
it would be much appreciated if you bred this dragon at least once before exalting them, but i won't start a flame war or anything if you don't ^^

--- ID NUMBER ---
No special ID

--- COLOR RARITY ---
Blackberry/Tarnish/Cherry
All dragons with this combo that were ever on the site: 2
Dragons not exalted with this combo: 1
Last checked: 09:10 FR | 1/16/2019
I recommend that you recheck the color rarity using Dragon Search every month or so (and update the bio as necessary). People breed new dragons with formerly rare combos all the time!

--- OTHER NOTES ---
Has lore, paired with Pardina, reserved for ScreamingTermite

You may remove, edit, or replace this bio at any time, or leave it if you'd like ^^

Tourmaline growled, slashing his claws blindly as he fought the beasts. Blood splattered on his snout, but he continued to press forward, trying to push the Beastclans back. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Moarah, his mother. They fought alongside each other, matching each blow. The Beastclans howled in fury and pain. Teeth met scales and claws scraped fur. Bloody antlers and horns that had been ripped from heads were strewn across the hard once-violet rock of the Crystal Pools, which were now dyed red.

Tourmaline tried to ignore the countless dragon corpses that he fought on. Who’s still alive? he wondered. Anger surged up inside of him. How many dragons have been murdered in this foolish attempt to drive the Beastclans away? Just as he thought this, his mother fell beside him.

She had tripped on the mangled body of another dragon. Her scream was drowned out by the roaring din around them. But despite all of the noise, Tourmaline could hear nothing but the beating of his heart, hammering inside his chest. Mother. Her body slammed into a sharp crystal, impaling her.

No. No.

In a blind rage, Tourmaline tore through the mass of dragons and beasts. He didn’t know where he was running. He didn’t care. She was dead! Nothing mattered anymore. His anger bubbled and frothed, overflowing from the neat glass bottle of feelings that he used to keep locked inside. Anger at his clan, for charging so foolishly and impulsively into battle. Anger at the Beastclans. Anger at his father, for leaving as soon as Tourmaline was hatched, and now, leaving his mother to die. Dead. She was dead.

Finally becoming aware of his surroundings, Tourmaline stumbled into a narrow cave. Not knowing what else to do, he wandered on in the darkness. His brain, his heart, was numb. He should’ve asked her to stay home, or caught her when she fell, or- But it didn’t matter. She was really gone.

Tourmaline’s footsteps no longer echoed. He sensed that the cave was getting smaller and smaller. If he spread out his wings, he would be able to feel the sides of the rock walls. Soon he began to worry that he wouldn’t be able to turn around and go back. Why do I have to go back anyway? I have nothing left to live for. Somehow, this thought drove him on. He walked further into the cave. Then he began to run. And suddenly, he felt crystals scraping his sides. Before he could react, before he could stop moving, they tore into his flesh. Tourmaline roared with pain. His scales were the one part of him, apparently, that still weren’t numb.

It felt as if he were on fire. It felt like his scales were melting into burning flesh. It felt as if his blood were sizzling with heat. He was sure he would die, but he had no problems with it. After all, there was nothing, nobody, left to live for.
…
It was a month since his mother had died.
It was the most significant month of his life.

That night, unconscious in the cave, Tourmaline had a dream. A dragon had visited him. He was certain it was the Arcanist. He didn’t remember much of what the deity had said, but when he woke up, everything was clear to him. But before he decided on anything, he had to get out of the cave. He had to sort out his thoughts somewhere less cramped.

Once he was in the open air, Tourmaline made some choices. First- he wouldn’t go back to the Arcane clan. He couldn’t face them. He wouldn’t know what to say. There was no one left there, anyway. He would find somewhere else to go. Like maybe the Nature flight. Second, one thing he did remember- the Arcanist mentioned that he would die very, very soon. The crystals in the cave had magical qualities. Possibly, he had said, they were cursed a long time ago. The Lightweaver disagreed with him over this, and they fought regularly- but at any rate, Tourmaline’s blood would begin to crystallize inside of him. He would die painfully within a week- unless, three, he traveled back to the Crystal Pools every full moon at midnight when the crystals were fully charged. He would have to break off pieces and swallow them whole. The fact that the things that cursed him were at the same time the things that would heal him were ironic, but it was the only thing that would do the trick. Of course, there was a catch.

The crystals would be sharp. When he swallowed, they would scratch his throat raw. In his everyday life, his throat would be in constant pain, and he would cough up blood often. It was up to him if he thought it was worth it in order to live a little longer. The crystals wouldn’t stop his blood from hardening, but it would slow the process. He would still spend the rest of his life slowly dying. But then again, didn’t everyone?

Lastly, Tourmaline’s scratches would eventually heal, but he would have scars forever. Occasionally they would reopen, and he would lose large amounts of blood. The Arcanist had noted grimly that whatever clan he chose, he should choose one with a good healer. With all of this in mind, Tourmaline went off to look for a clan.

“You don’t always need a plan,” the Arcanist had said.
“Sometimes you just breathe, trust, let go, and see what happens.”
• ? . ° .• ? °:. *? . ?