Morgana
(#50771662)
Whispering a haunting tune | she/her
Familiar
Storm Seeker
Click or tap to view this dragon in Predict Morphology.
Energy: 50
out of
50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Wind.
Female Imperial
This dragon is hibernating.
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
24.87 m
Wingspan
19.84 m
Weight
8932.74 kg
Genetics
Lead
Metallic
Metallic
Lead
Constellation
Constellation
Maize
Firefly
Firefly
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 2 Imperial
EXP: 481 / 641
STR
6
AGI
6
DEF
6
QCK
5
INT
8
VIT
8
MND
6
Biography
|
 MORGANA 
BARGHEST LORE AND LINEAGE PROJECT
GENERATION I FOUNDER 
"In the shadow of the moon
She danced in the starlight Whispering a haunting tune To the night. . ." T here are rumors of a beast that haunts the moors. . . something that lurks in the darkness and lures dreamers from their beds and out into the lands beyond their village. This is the tale of the Barghest, Morgana. |
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He tried to poison it, to will it away and suppress it, but the wolf-beast would always be a part of Ivan. It waited for him in dreams and he could feel it crawling beneath his skin - dark fur and ebony feathers ready to burst forth from between his midnight scales. It was a part of him, yet an entity all its own. It lurked in his shadow, watching as it waited for the days to pass and the slivered crescent of moon to widen overhead. It was on the nights when the full moon shone brightly, that it burst forth - consuming the drake it was tied to - a nightmare unleashed upon the world. Thick fog obscured the moors, the world dark beneath the faint flicker of moonlight cast through the swirling mists. It was here that the Witchborne called Ivan was summoned - called to the aid of a small village on the outskirts of the Windswept Plateau. The letter came on brittle parchment, dark ink backlit by candle light as Ivan unfurled the paper. It spoke darkly of a beast haunting the boggy moors beyond the Zephyr Steppes. "It has already taken many of us, luring sleeping drakes out beyond the boundaries of our clan. Indeed, we fear the worst for our kin for once the beast calls them, they are not to return. . ." In response to the villiage's plea, the Witchborne came. He arrived at the Windswept Plateau by way of a small boat, docking the vessel at the edge of a river before continuing his travels into the heart of the realm on foot. A steady breeze ruffled the Skydancer's feathers, beads of fog condensing into droplets upon his scales. The air of the steppes was thick with mist and the lush ground was wet and muddy underfoot. He continued until he came to the marshy lowlands that bordered the wind region, a perimeter of old bamboo totems marking the clan's territory. The village was gloomy and solemn, its residents struggling to persist. Indeed, sickness ran rampant amidst the villagers and few crops grew in the surrounding moors. Even the water, flooded off of nearby plague lands seemed laden with disease. Ivan was welcomed by the village and he set to work immediately as it seemed the clan's problems extended beyond the moor-beast who preyed upon them. Ivan sighed and unpacked his supplies - an array of unusual herbs and spices contained within a myriad of glass vials. Indeed, Ivan was a Witchborne blessed by the light of May's flower moon and his forte was in potion and elixer concoction that could cure disease and make crops grow in otherwise infertile soils. Several nights passed without incidence and the Skydancer worked relentlessly creating individualized medicines to cure villagers of their coughs and malaise. He worked alongside the farmers to treat their livestock and fertilize the soil with his magic such that crops could grow. Still, even after a week, the village's condition remained unchanged. Children were still bedridden with fever and the frail crops that sprouted from the ground were quick to wither and die. "This is no ordinary sickness" the Skydancer mused, his tone grave. "Your land is plagued by a curse". As if in response to the Witchborne's words, the howl of a beast echoed from somewhere beyond the clan's perimeter. "Lock your doors tightly!" the village elders warned, "for the beast is upon us and the night shall be long and dark". Ivan resolved to stand watch at the clan's perimeter where he spent the night looking out onto the moors. The moon overhead was bright, nearly full, and Ivan could feel his own powers surging with it. Despite his resolution, the Witchborne drake somehow found himself lulled into a dark dream - a sleeping child unlocking the door as she was beckoned out beyond the clan and onto the moors beyond. There was a pathway, old wooden boards creaking as the child's small feet carried her forward. At the path's end, reeds parted around a deep peat bog and it was here that the child stopped. Something swirled within the fog before her, its form dark and ghostly as it stood upon the marshen ground. The child looked up to the beast, extending a hand towards its form as the creature leaned down. Ivan was startled awake to the sound of villagers yelling, morning light now cast over the land. "Where is she? My daughter!" a mother cried in anguish, "my daughter is gone!". The villagers were on edge now, wary and quick to throw accusations at each other and the Witchborne they had welcomed into their clan. "Your potions have failed us and still a child goes missing in the night. . . perhaps you cannot help us after all". Indeed, Ivan felt his guilt rise at the villagers' words. "Give me one more night," he said, "for I have seen the beast in my dreams and I will either rid your clan of its presence or I shall die trying". The full moon bloomed overhead as Ivan passed the bamboo totems and wandered out onto the moors. As promised in his dreams, the remains of a decaying wooden pathway extended out onto over the dark bog, creaking as Ivan stepped upon it. He carried with him a bowl of smoking sage and the bells tied about his wrists chimed softly as he walked, whorls of smoke rising around his form. The pathway of wooden planks continued endlessly out over the marshen lands and Ivan eventually grew cold and weary of walking. The smoke drifting from his bundle of sage was petering out and he almost felt that he could hear something - a gentle voice singing a lullaby somewhere far away. Ivan was barely aware when he dropped the bowl he carried and fell unconscious upon the damp wooden slats that made up the pathway. The Skydancer knew he was dreaming when he arose, the end of the path finally in sight before him. Still, Ivan pulled himself to his feet and staggered towards it, his body feeling heavy and sluggish as if he were drugged. He stood upon the edge of the pier warily, waiting as he glanced at the fog with caution. "I am Ivan of the Witchborne," he called into the mists, voice echoing "I have come to rid this place of your curse, childeater!" It was then that something seemed to laugh, the sound resounding and echoing so loudly around the Skydancer that he couldn’t pinpoint its source. The Witchborne slumped and clutched his head as a high pitched ringing filled his ears and a voice spoke, deep and menacing, from inside the Witchborne’s mind. “Child of witches. I have long been curious of your kind. You accuse me of cursing this land and yet. . . was it not a witch who laid this curse upon me so long ago?” The voice paused for a moment, giving Ivan reprieve from its echo and the searing pain that radiated through him when it spoke. The Witchborne cried out when it returned, its tone vehement and cold. “You will die here, child of witches. It will be my pleasure to devour your last breath. . .” At that Ivan felt something hit him from behind, its force strong enough to knock the air from his lungs as his feet slid out from under him and he plummeted forward into the bog. The water was thick and almost calming as it wrapped around the Skydancer, the din of the full moon barely visible overhead as he was pulled down. His lungs burned, but Ivan refused to let the air escape them. “Do not resist” the beast whispered, her dark form wrapping around Ivan as they sunk. Perhaps Ivan was meant to perish in that bog, but the moonlight gave him just enough strength to resist the gentle lull of death. Indeed his mind and dreaming body were in two separate places, but he knew that both were dying - the beast slowly draining his life force as it waited for him to release his final breath. Astral projection and dream walking were not his forte, but Ivan waited until the beast came close enough to his own drowning form; he only needed a brief moment of contact. With a brush of their dark feathers together, Ivan pulled. He refused to let go even as the beast fought his grasp, the two of them grappling somewhere between dreams and the waking realm. Fueled by the moon’s light, Ivan allowed his powers to surge, pulling himself back from the dream-realm into his own body. . . and the beast with him. It was too late when Ivan realized his mistake. The Witchborne convulsed on the wooden pier as he regained consciousness to the feeling of something wracking his body from within - angry as it fought the cage that Ivan had constructed for it out of his own form. The Skydancer coughed as he used his faltering powers to suppress the monster inside of him, dark blood spilling from his mouth before he collapsed into unconsciousness once more. Ivan awoke feeling feverish and sickly. He opened his eyes slowly, noticing that he was inside of a small cabin, an elder healer sitting beside him as she adjusted the blankets that bundled his form. “You’ve saved us Witchborne”, she said as the Skydancer awoke “the fog has lifted and the sickness is gone from our kin”. Ivan attempted to speak, but a shiver wracked his body as if something crawled under his skin, his heart fluttering and squirming unpleasantly in his chest. The healer’s voice came again even as Ivan closed his eyes. “I fear, however, that it will be a burden upon you for the rest of your days.” Ivan bade the clan farewell and set off once more. He was weak now, the majority of his powers being channeled to keep the beast inside of him caged. Still, he offered help where he could - visiting the sick and concocting minor healing potions. Despite his work, however, the Skydancer himself remained sickly and miserable. He was plagued by horrible dreams where the beast would whisper into his mind and subject him to tortures of its pleasing while he slept. Ivan tried everything. He attempted to poison the beast inside of him and suppress its existence. He sought help from healers and other Witchborne alike who all shook their heads in dismay. “That creature is not just caged inside of you, it is entangled mind, body, and soul with your own. To separate the two would mean certain death, to you both”. Ivan nodded solemnly, resigned to his fate. All of them told the Skydancer that his time was limited as well. “Witchborne magic is fundamentally incompatible with that of the beast your harbor, Ivan. The full moon. . . will tear you apart”. Perhaps the beast had been listening too, for after hearing these words, it too fell silent. Nearly a month had passed since Ivan had rescued the village, and the promise of another full moon loomed overhead. Ivan’s own powers grew as the moon ripened, but he felt the creature inside of him become stronger as well. As their combined magic surged, Ivan’s physical body became weaker and as the night of the full moon dawned, the Witchborne isolated himself to a small beach where he could see the stars and listen to the ocean during his last hours. Ivan closed his eyes as the first beams of moonlight shown down upon his form. He felt himself slipping away and nearly allowed himself to fade into unconsciousness before something fluttered inside of him. In his weakened state, Ivan could no longer contain the beast and he felt it break out of the cage he’d held it in. He waited for its struggling to destroy what remained of his fragile body and it wasn’t long before Ivan was crying out from the pain that wracked his form. Yet, it didn’t feel as much like he dying as it did. . . changing. Indeed, in its struggle to be free, the beast’s own dark feathers and mane of black fur erupted through Ivan’s scales; his beak-like snout elongating into a muzzle as pointed teeth erupted from his mouth. Ivan then realized in horror that he only had partial control over their shared form and it was diminishing quickly. Indeed, the beast seemed to push Ivan out of his own mind until the Skydancer was only vaguely aware of his own actions. Despite its control, the beast did not mock Ivan. Instead, they stepped towards the water, walking onto the shimmering surface of the ocean as they scented the air. Then, they took off running and it was then that the Skydancer stopped fighting entirely. In this form, the two of them felt whole and he simply allowed himself to enjoy the exhilaration of running free upon the ocean’s surface beneath the moonlight, their powers combined in harmony. Ivan awoke with a start on the deck of a ship. He wasn’t sure how he’d gotten there at first, but his clothing was torn to shreds and blood stained some of his feathers and scales. Flickering memories from the night before flashed across his mind and Ivan sat up quickly, feeling panicked. “Ah, good, you’re awake! Thought we’d lost you for a moment there. Not everyday you pull a waterlogged Skydancer out of the open ocean! Ha!” “W-what?” Ivan glanced up to see an Imperial standing over him, a grin spread across his face. “Name’s Odin. Pulled you onto my ship this morning. Tell me, someone make you walk the plank?” “I er-no” Ivan began. “Must have a pretty good story how ya got out this far without a vessel then” the Captain said with a wink. “But yer welcome to stay. . . otherwise we’ll drop ya off next time we dock”. With that, the Captain was off, barking orders at his crew to prepare for voyage. Ivan sat in a confused daze, trying without success to remember what happened. “Whose blood is this?” He mused and heard the beast’s voice echo laughter inside his mind. "You enjoyed it too". Their transformation had entangled them even further and it was difficult for Ivan to tell where his own thoughts and urges ended and where the beast's began. He was afraid. A Witchborne and a childeater. . . it wasn’t right and it shouldn’t have been possible for the two of them to merge so coherently. “Monster," Ivan thought to himself and the beast’s voice resounded in his mind. “I have a name, you know”. “Is that so, childeater?” The beast huffed at that. “It’s Morgana. Call me. . . Morgana”.
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