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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
2.87 m
Wingspan
2.97 m
Weight
62.48 kg
Genetics
Peridot
Boulder
Boulder
Cream
Shimmer
Shimmer
Seafoam
Stained
Stained
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 1 Spiral
EXP: 0 / 245
STR
7
AGI
6
DEF
7
QCK
6
INT
6
VIT
6
MND
7
Lineage
Parents
- none
Offspring
- none
Biography
Dancing Windsinger priest
Gale knew his purpose from the day he was born. His father was an envoy of the Windsinger; his mother knew every hymn and song to the deity. He learned them as she sang each one to him and his siblings as lullabies, and hummed them over breakfast. His grandfather’s name was ‘Windsong’, a fitting title for what Gale and his family were; imitations of the Windsinger himself. Their scales and spines reflected those of the images portrayed in the temple; the same long, snake-like body and grinning mouth they had all inherited.
Unlike his siblings, Gale loved it. He loved the art in the temple; the beautiful mosaics made of crushed glass, the pottery, the elegant paintings in swirls of pigment, refreshed every Jamboree to perfect brightness. The temple was a dome-shaped building, set at a slant with wide windows carved at the front and back, so that wind came rushing through. It blew at the carved reed-chimes on stakes before the front doors, marking it as a holy shrine. Gale, young as he was, did not meet many of the priests, and those he did meet held themselves aloof. The spiral was told that this was in imitation of the Windsinger’s mischievous nature; they did not form close ties to any one dragon, nor did they keep many possessions of their own.
Gale was training to become a dancer for the temple’s ceremonies when plague struck the province.
All of his siblings were sacrificed by the priests of the temple in pleas to the Windsinger to return to Sornieth and save them; each offering Gale watched twisted his muscles in knots. He had been spared only because of his devotion to the Windsinger; it was well known how often he prayed, how his small tenor voice echoed with the choirs every morning and night. His mother insisted that her son was as dedicated to the deity as she was--he would grow up to devote his life to this very temple, she said. It would have been true, if Gale had not camouflaged himself in the bamboo to watch his siblings go to the deity. At first, he was excited; what greater honor could there be? But as the spirals struggled and cried out, as the air was drawn from his siblings’ mouths by magic and they were carried up, up the spiral staircase to the inner sanctum in which he had never been permitted, dread pooled in his stomach.
The next day, Gale fled the clan. He never knew what became of his parents or the temple he had once loved. He hid himself in the deepest part of a bamboo jungle, nearby a pool, and stayed there for some time. The plague hit him within a day, and he stayed by the water’s side, swallowing what he could and bathing his wings and legs to stave off the heat of the fever. Nevertheless, his vision began to swim with hallucinations; the bamboo around him jittered, and sometimes he found himself unable to move as the ground crawled up and swallowed him whole. After two days, he thought that he would pass on, perhaps to see his siblings. But he didn’t.
In the height of his fever, he opened his eyes over the pool to see in his reflection the face of the Windsinger, looking back at him with a twinkle in his eye. He shook his head so that his spines swayed, and opened his jaws. For a moment Gale thought that he was looking into the maw of death, but from the mouth issued a gust of air, and the spiral felt water bubble up from the pond onto his face. He sputtered as the stuff dripped into his nostrils and mouth, and when he looked again it was only at his own reflection.
That afternoon his face seemed to burn like he had been scorched, and he found himself scratching at his scales to make the pain go away, but when dusk arrived the burning subsided and his fever broke. Shakily he got to his feet and managed to dig around the roots of the bamboo to find food. The next day, he caught a slow old hare. By that night he felt well enough to move again.
The bamboo, days earlier feeling like the infinite teeth of some great green mouth that might swallow him at any moment, began again to feel like soothing friends. Gale made his way through the forest until, at last, he found its edge. Beyond were dragons of breeds he had never even seen before, confined as he had been to the spirals and skydancers of the strict Windsinger temple. A vast marketplace spilled all the way up to the carefully tended stalks of bamboo, and when a small, dirty, starved-looking Gale came wandering out, he was immediately rushed to a healer.
Gale was welcomed in to the clan of the healer--whose name he learned to be Ezishti, a Windsinger priest. Gale's wariness at this soon dissipated when Ezishti invited him to the Wind temple which serviced the Fletching Clan.
This temple was nothing like the one Gale knew. As he approached, a skydancer welcomed him with a cheery voice and bells that sang at her ankles as she walked. She led him up the steps of the temple’s entrance. This one was much larger than what Gale was accustomed to, but equally as beautiful. Harps enchanted to play bird-like music accompanied live flutists in the airy halls, and each pillar had been carefully carved with the image of the Windsinger. Feathers crystallized in fae amber made shining mobiles hung before stained glass windows depicting the continent of Sornieth. There was no inner sanctum; only a quiet room with several statues of the Windsinger brought by nearby clans, where devotees could pray and contemplate in peace.
Relieved, Gale uncoiled himself in this room before an altar marked with the Fletching Clan’s sigil, and hesitantly thanked the deity for saving him from the plague that had taken so many members of his family. He asked for guidance to be given to the leaders of his new clan, and health for his hatchlings and mate, and then sang one of his mother’s warbling ditties before exiting. As he made his way out, the skydancer asked where he had learned the song--she couldn’t help but hear--and when he explained, her eyes lit up and she said that the temple was in need of dancers and wouldn’t he join them? Reassured little by little, Gale promised that he would return when he could.
Lore by Fletcher
Gale knew his purpose from the day he was born. His father was an envoy of the Windsinger; his mother knew every hymn and song to the deity. He learned them as she sang each one to him and his siblings as lullabies, and hummed them over breakfast. His grandfather’s name was ‘Windsong’, a fitting title for what Gale and his family were; imitations of the Windsinger himself. Their scales and spines reflected those of the images portrayed in the temple; the same long, snake-like body and grinning mouth they had all inherited.
Unlike his siblings, Gale loved it. He loved the art in the temple; the beautiful mosaics made of crushed glass, the pottery, the elegant paintings in swirls of pigment, refreshed every Jamboree to perfect brightness. The temple was a dome-shaped building, set at a slant with wide windows carved at the front and back, so that wind came rushing through. It blew at the carved reed-chimes on stakes before the front doors, marking it as a holy shrine. Gale, young as he was, did not meet many of the priests, and those he did meet held themselves aloof. The spiral was told that this was in imitation of the Windsinger’s mischievous nature; they did not form close ties to any one dragon, nor did they keep many possessions of their own.
Gale was training to become a dancer for the temple’s ceremonies when plague struck the province.
All of his siblings were sacrificed by the priests of the temple in pleas to the Windsinger to return to Sornieth and save them; each offering Gale watched twisted his muscles in knots. He had been spared only because of his devotion to the Windsinger; it was well known how often he prayed, how his small tenor voice echoed with the choirs every morning and night. His mother insisted that her son was as dedicated to the deity as she was--he would grow up to devote his life to this very temple, she said. It would have been true, if Gale had not camouflaged himself in the bamboo to watch his siblings go to the deity. At first, he was excited; what greater honor could there be? But as the spirals struggled and cried out, as the air was drawn from his siblings’ mouths by magic and they were carried up, up the spiral staircase to the inner sanctum in which he had never been permitted, dread pooled in his stomach.
The next day, Gale fled the clan. He never knew what became of his parents or the temple he had once loved. He hid himself in the deepest part of a bamboo jungle, nearby a pool, and stayed there for some time. The plague hit him within a day, and he stayed by the water’s side, swallowing what he could and bathing his wings and legs to stave off the heat of the fever. Nevertheless, his vision began to swim with hallucinations; the bamboo around him jittered, and sometimes he found himself unable to move as the ground crawled up and swallowed him whole. After two days, he thought that he would pass on, perhaps to see his siblings. But he didn’t.
In the height of his fever, he opened his eyes over the pool to see in his reflection the face of the Windsinger, looking back at him with a twinkle in his eye. He shook his head so that his spines swayed, and opened his jaws. For a moment Gale thought that he was looking into the maw of death, but from the mouth issued a gust of air, and the spiral felt water bubble up from the pond onto his face. He sputtered as the stuff dripped into his nostrils and mouth, and when he looked again it was only at his own reflection.
That afternoon his face seemed to burn like he had been scorched, and he found himself scratching at his scales to make the pain go away, but when dusk arrived the burning subsided and his fever broke. Shakily he got to his feet and managed to dig around the roots of the bamboo to find food. The next day, he caught a slow old hare. By that night he felt well enough to move again.
The bamboo, days earlier feeling like the infinite teeth of some great green mouth that might swallow him at any moment, began again to feel like soothing friends. Gale made his way through the forest until, at last, he found its edge. Beyond were dragons of breeds he had never even seen before, confined as he had been to the spirals and skydancers of the strict Windsinger temple. A vast marketplace spilled all the way up to the carefully tended stalks of bamboo, and when a small, dirty, starved-looking Gale came wandering out, he was immediately rushed to a healer.
Gale was welcomed in to the clan of the healer--whose name he learned to be Ezishti, a Windsinger priest. Gale's wariness at this soon dissipated when Ezishti invited him to the Wind temple which serviced the Fletching Clan.
This temple was nothing like the one Gale knew. As he approached, a skydancer welcomed him with a cheery voice and bells that sang at her ankles as she walked. She led him up the steps of the temple’s entrance. This one was much larger than what Gale was accustomed to, but equally as beautiful. Harps enchanted to play bird-like music accompanied live flutists in the airy halls, and each pillar had been carefully carved with the image of the Windsinger. Feathers crystallized in fae amber made shining mobiles hung before stained glass windows depicting the continent of Sornieth. There was no inner sanctum; only a quiet room with several statues of the Windsinger brought by nearby clans, where devotees could pray and contemplate in peace.
Relieved, Gale uncoiled himself in this room before an altar marked with the Fletching Clan’s sigil, and hesitantly thanked the deity for saving him from the plague that had taken so many members of his family. He asked for guidance to be given to the leaders of his new clan, and health for his hatchlings and mate, and then sang one of his mother’s warbling ditties before exiting. As he made his way out, the skydancer asked where he had learned the song--she couldn’t help but hear--and when he explained, her eyes lit up and she said that the temple was in need of dancers and wouldn’t he join them? Reassured little by little, Gale promised that he would return when he could.
Lore by Fletcher
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Exalting Gale to the service of the Windsinger will remove them from your lair forever. They will leave behind a small sum of riches that they have accumulated. This action is irreversible.
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