Loa

Scout

Born and raised to the age of one week in her birth clan, this young Skydancer was designated for the rank of scout like many of her kin. Upon growing into a full-sized dragoness, she was trained for the brief span of two days, the first of which was day-scouting, the second of which was night-scouting - then disaster struck.

Scouts must always have their senses alert. That is their purpose - to go ahead, unseen and unnoticed, to gather information, then to return just as stealthily. Therefore, the night ot the attack, all anyone could see of said scout were two wing-tips, curving up from where she had been taught to build a lofty nest. The fuchsia hues of the wings blended in well with the sunset.

But as has once been said: “The red sun rises… blood has been spilled this night.”

That fateful night, the sun sank blazing beneath the horizon, leaving the sky awash in red. Rose. Candy. Crimson. Apple. Scarlet. Many more streaked across the heavens, stretching across the skies.

The clan settled in to sleep, pair after pair of eyelids fluttering closed, breathing easing into the steady rhythm of sleep. Yet above their heads, a pair of eyes blatantly refused to shut. Repeatedly, they scanned sky, land, and sea. The nose twitched at every new scent, and the ears did too with every new sound.

But they came too quickly.

They pelted across the plain, streaking over the ground. The scout's eyes widened when she realized where they were headed.

"Mirror pack!" She screeched down through the opening into the lair.

Too late.

Piercing pain stabbed through the Skydancer's tail, and she looked downwards to see a Mirror dragon falling back onto the ground, razor-sharp claws fully extended.

Blood trickled onto the stone, the topmost layer of skin neatly sliced open.

Below, more dragons growled up at her, precariously lodged high up. From within the lair, there was a cry, abruptly cut off. Then a furious scream, and the sound of claw on claw.

The gemstone in her head tingled just as a bolt of pink magic shot out of the lair. Several Mirrors shrieked, but even more snarled and leaped into the lair.

Even a miracle wouldn't save her now.

She chanced looking back down. The Mirror pack retreated from the lair, and she saw with horror that their claws were coated in blood. One's black hide was matted with scarlet. It glanced up at her.

Then her brother swooped down from the clouds, and she leaped up into his waiting claws the way they'd done a lifetime ago, it seemed, when he'd taught her how to claw moss from trees.

Practice makes perfect.

A new clan, and a new life.

One no less bloody than the last.

Healer

Healing is Loa's way of avenging her birth clan. To see a dragon's scar heal over is akin to the one less gash in the scarring of her heart.

Botanist/ Herbalist

Loa now owns a garden of sorts on a rock plateau above her clan.

She loves nature itself. Green soothes her eyes, calms her when she’s not. It brings her joy to see her rooftop garden flourishing, to see saplings tentatively peeking out of brown soil, small buds sprout from light green stems, vivaciously vibrant flowers blossom from pale buds. Nothing pleases her more than to look at each plot of land and think that she'll have more herbs to treat her Clanmates with. But the plants have grown so much that strong young vines twine down the walls and are constantly tripping up unwary dragons. Naturally, most laugh. But Loa keeps her plants in check - never outside the camp, because really - no one knows what's out there.

Meditator

To be a meditator is to be well-versed in the area of speech. Although it can be learned, it is much more often a natural-born gift.