Omoikane
(#57822784)
Level 1 Gaoler
Spirit
Agol
Click or tap to view this dragon in Predict Morphology.
Energy: 50/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Arcane.
Female Gaoler
This dragon is an ancient breed.
This dragon is hibernating.
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Personal Style
Ancient dragons cannot wear apparel.
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
13.16 m
Wingspan
5.42 m
Weight
12647.59 kg
Genetics
Eldritch
Mosaic (Gaoler)
Mosaic (Gaoler)
Eldritch
Breakup (Gaoler)
Breakup (Gaoler)
Cyan
Underbelly (Gaoler)
Underbelly (Gaoler)
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 1 Gaoler
EXP: 0 / 245
STR
7
AGI
5
DEF
7
QCK
5
INT
5
VIT
9
MND
7
Biography
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OMOIKANE
{ o-mo-ee-kah-nay } pronouns: they/them • storyteller 
╭━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━╮ THE LEGEND OF THE POLARIAN CURSE (written by Miasmas) ♫ silver mount zion - 13 angels standing guard 'round the side of your bed ♫ ╰━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━╯ |
Omoikane was the last dragon to join the Polarians before the group retreated into the Beacon. They spend most of their time in the dark, dusty basement of the ancient tower, where the only light that ever shines is the bioluminescent glow of the fungi that grows on their body. Out of all the dragons hiding in the Beacon of Polaris, Omoikane is the only one who ever leaves, and can be seen wandering around Antares during cold winter nights, offering the telling of an ancient legend and a warm cup of tea to anyone who wanders by.
If you sat down and talked to them, you might learn that they love fireflies, and they know how to make the very best feverfew soup in all of Sornieth. You will also learn that they have been keeping records on the history of Antares since the clan's beginning, even before Celeborn and her friends staked their claim on the land. They've got plenty of stories they're happy to tell - from the origin of the sages, to the yearly festival that was once held by Antarean citizens before the Polarians disappeared - however, there is one that they won't so easily divulge.
If you visit Omoikane a few times, drinking their tea and offering to proofread their manuscripts, they might just tell you the story of the Polarian Curse - a blight so evil that it managed to irrevocably tear the Polarians apart, and the reason why the glowing fungi on Omoikane's body continues to fester after thousands of years.
You take a long sip of Omoikane's prickly pear tea, gazing at the shelves full of scrolls, books, and quills that line the walls of the Beacon's dusty basement. They look at you expectantly, waiting for some kind of reaction. They were trying out a new recipe, using cacti you'd gathered for them native to the Sunbeam Ruins, and were relying on you to know if it was good or not.
You set your teacup down gently, closing your eyes and letting the flavor sit in your mouth. After a while, you look up at the massive gaoler sat across from you.
"Omo, I think this is the best tea you've ever made! The cactus tastes so fresh, you can really tell that it's local."
The gaoler sighs in relief. "I'm really glad you think so," they tell you with a bright smile. The comforting heat of the tea combined with their smooth, low-pitched voice lulls you into relaxation as you continue to sip on your drink. The teacup is a bit large for you, having been made with gaoler paws in mind, but you're not complaining.
Omoikane picks up their own teacup, which looks like a piece from a dollhouse in their grasp. As they take a sip, they make a low humming sound in their throat, standing up to wander to the other side of the room where they pluck a scroll off one of the shelves. They hand it to you, along with a quill and an inkwell.
"How about you proofread this until you finish your tea, and then I'll get you some more and tell you a story, hm?"
You nod, unfurling the scroll and beginning to skim over its contents. You always found proofreading for Omoikane relaxing, even though their scratchy handwriting was hard to decipher. Just sitting in the gaoler's presence made you feel warm and safe, even if there was no conversation.
Your eyes scan the scroll, periodically scribbling on it with red ink. As graceful as Omoikane was, they were a hasty writer, and without the help of other dragons to edit and re-edit, their legends would likely be unreadable by future generations.
Taking your last sip of tea, you fix a spelling mistake and roll up the scroll, passing it to Omoikane across the table. "Done already?" they ask with a smile. "You really are my fastest editor. I don't know what I would do without you, [name.]"
They replace the scroll on the shelf and retrieve the teapot from where it's been sitting on the stove, kept warm by some of the gaoler's magic. Before filling their own cup, they pour out a full one for you, and you watch as small sparks of magic flow into your teacup, probably a flavor-enhancing charm casted on the teapot.
Omoikane groans as they sit down across from you once again, rubbing at a sore spot on their neck where new spores have begun to sprout.
"Well, I suppose it's time for a story now, isn't it?" they ask, a small smile pulled across their features.
You smile as the gaoler ponders what story to tell you, seemingly finally settling on one as they center their gaze on you.
"I'm sure you've probably wondered about why I have mushrooms growing all over me."
You nod cautiously.
"This isn't a story I tell everyone, you know. You must keep this between you and I, and I hope through me telling you this that you will come to know why. Alright?"
Hearing your 'yes,' Omoikane takes one of your hands in theirs, closing their eyes and muttering an incantation under their breath.
"What I just did was cast a charm on you, so that if you were ever to mention this to anyone other than me, you would never speak again. I hope you understand."
You nod, feeling a slight burn in your throat as they let go of your hand.
"Well, then. Allow me to tell you the story of the Polarian Curse."
"Long ago, before this tower was even built, the Icewarden found a coatl hatchling without parents or siblings wasting away deep inside the Fortress of Ends. It had seemingly appeared from nowhere, and was on the verge of death. Confused, the Icewarden picked up the coatl, wrapping it in a rabbithide to keep it warm. He took it back to his lair, where he taught it how to hunt for food and speak the language of the dragons.
"Many years later, he agreed to let the coatl leave the Southern Icefield and venture out into the rest of Sornieth on a ship. The coatl made trades with other clans and brought several resources back to the Ice territory, introducing it to dragons she met on her journeys and turning the Icewarden's domain from a barren wasteland into a hub for trading and travel.
"The Icewarden, having raised the coatl by himself, came as close to loving it as a deity with a spirit of hardened ice could get. That's why, when the coatl set off for the Viridian Labyrinth and never returned, he was devastated.
"That coatl is Celeborn, the founder of the Polarians. Her and her friends were on their way back from a trip to the Labyrinth and decided to stop off the coast of the Radiant Sea to rest. They were so enchanted by this land that they decided to stay, leaving everything they knew back in the Southern Icefield behind. They built a tower, and a little town square, and they called themselves the Polarians, after the northern star that guided them to the land.
"When I first met Celeborn she was lively, outgoing and passionate about turning this rural part of the Sunbeam Ruins into her home. She could make friends with just about anyone, including me - quite a feat, since I've always been quite reserved. There was Pitch, that absolute sweetheart of a snapper that spent her days carrying and carving stones to build the tower - even though she was clearly exhausted from all of the hard work, I never heard her complain. Sybil was an energetic pearlcatcher that was always up and about, despite being severely disabled from an accident that happened to her as a hatchling.
"Then there was Tonic, who I was particularly close with. She was an expert at creating illusions, and would cast spells in the shapes of rabbits and deer to entertain the hatchlings during the festivals we used to have - so good with children, she was, and I never saw her without a smile.
"Miriam was a fae who was so good at reading auras and energies it was like she was reading your thoughts as if they were words on a page. She always knew when someone needed help and never let a dragon who was struggling go without it.
"I miss them, you know. They're still alive, and probably will be for a long, long time - but I miss who they used to be. The curse changed everything.
"We first noticed that something was wrong when Pitch started to get... colder. She'd always wear this thick cloak, even in the dead of summer, and was constantly shivering. We tried everything, but she never seemed to get better.
"Then, Sybil got worse. When she was a hatchling, a piece of the Pillar fell on her, causing her to become imbued with its power. When I first met her, the only thing it seemed to affect was her horn - she couldn't use it anymore. Devastating, of course, but it only got worse from there. Soon, liquid magic started leaking out of her. Her wings became so brittle that even touching them would cause them to crack.
"Tonic tried to perform a complicated summoning spell and it backfired, causing the spirit she was trying to invoke to posess her. She started having nightmares, and then hallucinations, and then she started mumbling incomprehensily to herself.
"Inexplicably, Miriam began to lose control of her energy-reading skills. She wasn't able to go near other dragons without hearing their energy screaming out at her. She went deaf, and lost all sense of self. She became violent, lashing out at anyone who walked past her.
"And then... there was me. I used to be very good at hunting and foraging - I would always be the one to feed our group. I would know instantly if a plant was poisonous or not, what parts would taste good, and what to use it in by just smelling it. However, over time, I lost that ability. I don't know why, but I did. And then, I was bringing home poisonous plants and animals with parasites and infections back for everyone to eat. Luckily, my friends knew that something was wrong with what I was bringing them and didn't eat. But I did, and one day, in a hungry stupor, ate a whole colony of poisonous mushrooms.
"It should have killed me. But instead, the spores spread inside of my body until they eventually managed to grow on my skin and horns. This had never happened before, at least to my knowledge, and that's when I started to suspect that something odd was happening.
"I went down my mental checklist. Pitch should have frozen to death within a few years. Sybil should have been killed instantly when the piece of the Pillar fell on her. Tonic, with the mental state she was in, should have, well, you know what I mean. Same with Miriam. And yet, it had been hundreds of years since everyone started getting sick, and none of them had died.
"Celeborn was the only one who never got sick. In fact, she had already far outlived the average life expectancy of a coatl, and didn't seem any worse for wear. Somehow, she seemed even healthier than when she first arrived on Antares.
"At first, she saw what was happening and panicked trying to fix everyone. She seemed to genuinely want to help - the reason we all moved into the Beacon was because she wanted to keep a closer eye on us. I like to think that she earnestly believed she could save us.
"However, as the years passed, she grew bitter. She realized she couldn't save us, and then she gave up. When Pitch was still mobile, she moved her to the top level of the tower and put all her effort into trying to cure her. I can understand why - the two had been best friends for ages. But that doesn't change the fact that she forgot about the rest of us.
"And now, Pitch hasn't moved in almost 500 years. The ice has crystallized inside of her and her heart only beats once a day. Sybil is so stiff that she can't move either, and instead uses the sliver of control she has over the Pillar's magic to manipulate the ichor that flows through her, using it to communicate. Tonic wanders the tower at night, howling and banging her head against the walls in agony. Miriam sits in her room, never moving, not even blinking. We can't walk past her door without sending her into a frenzy. Banging, screaming, sounds of furniture falling to the floor. It takes her months to stop freaking out. I don't think she's slept in almost a millenium.
"And, well, you know my story. I think I might be the only one still hanging on to my old personality.
"I couldn't think of a reasonable explanation as to why Celeborn never got sick, until I remembered the stories she had told me of the Icewarden. How he raised her, taught her, cared for her - of course he would be upset that she left and never came back. He missed her, and so he kept her alive in the hopes that she would come back, while in turn cursing all of her friends to slow and horrible deaths, as a way of punishing her for leaving her home behind. However, Celeborn was so caught up in her selfish desire to save us that she never realized that all of this would go away if she just went home.
"The last conversation I had with Celeborn was an argument. I told her about my theory, about the curse - I told her to just go home and all of this would be fixed. She yelled at me, told me that she wasn't going anywhere until we were cured - then slammed the door in my face and never spoke to me again. It's been 300 years since then. I kept trying to reason with her, talking to her through her door - but she never answered me. She's given up on us, and so I gave up on her.
"The pain gets worse every day. I know the others are suffering, too. I don't remember what it feels like to move, talk, and breathe without hurting. I knew, I know - in my heart of hearts that all of this could be fixed so easily. And to know that the one dragon who held the keys to our recovery didn't want to hand them over filled me with anger.
"I'm not angry anymore. I've accepted the fact that Celeborn isn't going to budge. Now, I'm just waiting for the Icewarden to give up on her like she gave up on us. Her death is our only hope of being freed."
Hawktalon wrote on 2021-07-12 22:10:39:
Ooooh I've never seen this skin with bright colors like Eldritch Breakup but it really adds to the bioluminescent theme!
template by Disillusionist (254672)
Awakened
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