Yemoja

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Greteel Mother Generation 0

Yemoja ♥ Generation 1

Unhatched Nature Egg Dragon Eggs A fertile, earthen pod that has attracted a healthy colony of fireflies. It is bursting with ripe, healthy green leaves and looks about ready to bloom. 0 Offspring 🐉 Generation 2

Named after Yemoja, the Yoruban goddess of the ocean and the mother of all living things. She is motherly and strongly protective, and cares deeply for all her children, comforting them and cleansing them of sorrow.

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Lore Notes

• Heard whispers of a name 'Jomo' from time-to-time growing up, curious and asked her mother about that name to only be shushed and the topic gently changed
• Loves to look for cowrie shells - has a collection that she's proud of and happy to share the story of how she found each one, the weather, what smells were in the air, etc.
• Has sporadic visions of the time she believes of her birth - there's a hazy face she does not recognize but seems familiar to her - wants to find out who this dragon is
• Nests hatch only on the full moon when the magic is rich and the air is bathed in energy

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February, the Moon of Ice
Witchborne born under the Moon of Ice often work closely with those of the Wolf Moon, and are no strangers when it comes to knowing when to run and when to attack. They often see the world as a harsh place, and sometimes may even be critical or jaded about other dragons and the world. One famous ability of theirs is to be able to ghost through, or become immaterial as smoke or mist for varying times, most often used in combat and escape. They are trained to be assassins and would often follow a vow of silence until they have found their charge, and would stay loyal to the very end to their only one.

Imber | Water Eyes
A favorable element for Witchbornes, as the element is integrated towards the mystical powers of the moon. Dragons born under this element are gifted in the following:

• Hydrokinesis - the psychic ability to manipulate or control water
• Hydromancy - a branch divination by water, that ranges from the reading of reflections in a shallow surface, in the manner of the crystal gazer, to construing the movements of floating objects, as in the reading of tea leaves
• Water Mimicry - the power to transform into or have a physical body made up of water
• Dehydration - the ability to remove water from objects and / or organisms
• Hydroportation - the ability to teleport via water and water sources
• Hydrokinetic Immunity - immune to all water, being completely invulnerable to direct and indirect effects such as force, pressure, moved by crashing waves, tsunamis, etc. User can sustain their grip where others would easily slide off.

This clutch is a special one, Greteel's clutchmate being a very important piece of her past.

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The clutch was not born of infidelity nor incest, Greteel regarding Jomo with quiet resignation as he plucked three feathers from her wings and drew breath into them, fireflies as red and bright as rubies fluttering amongst their midst. No, it was not a binding ritual but rather a cleansing one, Greteel almost stumbling to the ground in relief as the feathers drew clear from her wings, Hanzjel holding his lifemate carefully even if he watched Jomo perform the ritual with a quiet but alert gaze, his wings folded around Greteel protectively. The moon hung in the sky like a bright paper lantern, the dragons' breaths clouding in the cold air as Jomo whispered ancient incantations no other than Greteel's father had taught him, weaving the old magic into her feathers that he held aloft in front of the waves - before letting go.

The three drew high in the air, carried on by the breeze before delicately floating across each other on top of a cresting wave, dissolving and reshaping into small distinct bodies, their first gulps of air accompanied by soft mewling cries. She waded in by then, Greteel catching the hatchlings into her wings as the waves brought them forward, all of them immediately taking to her, looking up at her with gleaming blue eyes.

"I could not have fulfilled my promise to you before but here they are now..." Jomo told her, gazing lovingly at the children.

"Let the past be over, Jomo... Let us have the peace we had both promised ourselves, no matter how late..." Greteel answered him before taking the hatchlings back with her, her wings lighter without the burdens of her past, now turned into the miracles of her future.

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The Witchborne are dragons who have survived the heavy brunt of Witch-Hunting and of the Trials by Flame, conditioned to live in harsher circumstances and trained to the most extent of their abilities. They hold neither a light or dark magic, but of a more ethereal and primordial case, Chaos Magick, which allows them to make use of any element within range of advantage. Despite other dragons' misunderstanding and often than not, false perception of what and who the Witchborne are, it is made clear that through their infamous prowess in battle and even more mystical and mysterious ways of eliminating the so called Child-Eaters (witches who have gone rogue and turned to using the flesh of younglings for blood and bone sacrifices), the Witchborne are a line of guardians and seekers, protectors of Witches, Wizards and of dragons alike, a force to be reckoned with in either a battle at night or day.

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It began when the children started disappearing.

Of course the dragons blamed the weather, the war of the beastclans that have worn them down through the centuries. They blamed mishap, accidents happening at the wrong time. They even deigned to blame their neighbors, friends ... family, their mates for the loss of their children. One by one, starting from the quiet ones, slowly disappearing from their usual play grounds: upriver, beyond the waterfall, underneath the dark troughs of the forest they have been warned to stay away from. Such harmless little creatures, lost one day, never appearing after a week or two ... never in the same way. Mothers anguished, fathers began cursing. They tried to be more vigilant, never allowing the children out of their sight, being strict with who they were with, who their companions were, all from dawn til dusk. And yet another innocent soul was taken ... a memento left in her place, a feather from her wings. It wasn't so hard to get the rumors going.

"It's the Cursed. The Marorek. The Virus. The Ghouls. The Runewalkers. The Alchemists, for they have turned to the blood and bone of children for their gold!" So many inquiries, so many wrong. How could those dragons even come so near to them? Only one possibility, one simple word had struck a deeper, darker fear into the dragons' hearts - something that caused them to doubt their own blood, the leaders and helpers of their clans, the ones who helped protect and care for them, who healed them in sickness, childbirth and passing, the ones they called friend. Family.

It was the fear that turned the pain into rage, into disgust. Where there had been a community of dragons who had been taught and believed that their magic was a blessing soon found themselves under false scrutiny, proud leaders brought down low, blamed for their mispronounced dark arts, their usual ways deemed evil, cast out of the very homes they used to share and cherish. One by one, the clans, the palaces, the courts and the villages - all have turned their witches out to the wild for sins they have been wrongly accused, to fend for themselves, bruised and bloodied with nothing but the clothes on their feathered backs and the memories they could even no longer see as their own - only counting that as being fortunate, as some were sentenced to a trial of fire, their ashes still suffocating the very numbered breaths of those who managed to escape the punishment of flame.

It wasn't so long either for them to realize that they have been wrong the whole time. Bones and skulls of their beloved children began appearing as haphazardly as if the dark beasts lived underneath their floors, poisonous slobber and dark, hollow eyes tinting every hearths of each home. "Child-Eaters," they whispered in mute horror. Fear spread like the plague, foreboding and terror ran rampant through all. To whom would they turn to now? To whom would they pray to alleviate themselves of this savage blight that inflicted pain and sorrow in their continuing lives? They let the terror take over their lives, no one safe, never at night.

And in the face of the dragons' nightmares, like the light of the moon which pierced through the dark clouds, were the ones who arrived as shadows. Quiet, shifting, dotted in the hues of the night sky, shining and tinted by the red of a bloodied dawn, the midnight hue of a diamond lifted to the light. Two dragons of those mystical descriptions, seen in between glances, across the whisper of tears hitting the surface of a clear pool, over the prayers of those fervent and feverish to see their children once more.


One child by the other, they brought back, safe and sound, alive with the profound wonder in their wide eyes at the guardians clad in the shadows of a moonlit light gently herding them back home to the arms of their parents. It was hard for each side to grant forgiveness to one another, but with each child and trust returned, a pact was made, to uphold the peace between the Witchborne and the dragons, and a promise to aid each other against the child-eaters, the War of the Witches.

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