Willowspot125 » Lair » Watcher

Watcher

(#6669940)

Level 25 Wildclaw

Familiar

Strangler

Energy: 30/50

Personal Style

Apparel

Skin

Scene

Physical Attributes

Battle Stats

Measurements

Length

5.39 m

Wingspan

6.66 m

Weight

417.15 kg

Genetics

Splash
Pinstripe

Stonewash
Alloy

Midnight
Contour

Hatchday

Oct 01, 2014
(9 years)

Breed

Adult
Wildclaw

Eye Type

Nature
Dark Sclera

Level 25 Wildclaw

Max Level

STR

129

AGI

DEF

QCK

INT

VIT

MND

Lineage

Parents

none

Offspring

Biography

Paired with Nivaris

Art by @SugarWhale

The Coatl's Feathers
Once there was a clan where cooperation stood out among its members. The dragons there helped each other and worked hard to achieve their objectives. They had no ruling member, but instead followed a few rules, written on a board that hung from the main hall. "The ceiling is infinitely heavier when only one column must bear its weight", "Unity prevails when the bonds are strong", and "The mechanism will only work if every cog, wire and sprocket is fulfilling its task".
Those phrases were never taken lightly. Be it hunting, digging or scavenging, they all put theirs minds to their assigned task and did not stop until it was done.
It was an efficient way, but not, perhaps, a very healthy one.

One day, one of the Coatls said he was much too weak to complete his day's work. His plumage, normally a vibrant purple, were now only a faint lilac. The rest of the members understood the gravity of the situation and allowed the sickly dragon to rest.
But the next week the Coatl's feathers were as faint as before, maybe even more so. The clanmates, worried, insisted on having their friend skip the week's tasks once more. After all, they argued, this harvesting season was plentiful, and they had enough resources, if not claws to handle them, to endure the loss of his assistance.
But on one chilly autumn morning, as a spindly Spiral was preparing for her day's job just before dawn, her sharp eyes caught a thin, white trail on the sand. She followed, curious, and froze when she noticed the scene in front of her: Their sickly friend, whose faded plumage was worrying everyone, and doubling some members' work, was applying white paint on his bright feathers, leaving only a faint trace of their original coloration. Enough to fool his friends.

The Wandering Constellation
In the time before the creation of Bogsneaks, when dragons could not tattoo runic scripts onto their scales, or befriend the eyes of the deities, the Goblins, there lived a young Guardian. Her Search had begun only the night before, but she was already anxious to find a worthy Charge. She had sought it among her clanmates, on the rocks and below them, even among the blades of grass. However, no matter how long she took to examine every object, place and creature she found, nothing seemed important enough. Why would she protect a pine tree, if it would wither with time anyway? Was there a point in defending a glade, when a Plague army could march upon its soil and forever taint it?
She wouldn't choose a Charge for the simplicity of guarding it, but she didn't want all her effort to be for naught.
As she pondered this in the depth of midnight, the wind picked up, and the clouds, following its unspoken command, parted. And then it happened.
A silver radiance shot down from the black skies, showering the young dragon in pure light. The Moon. Such beauty, such peace. And such stability. The Moon was, had been, and would be cycling the heavens every night. Was that not worth protecting?
The Guardian stared at her new Charge for longer than she realized, not once blinking. It was too late when she noticed she was no longer looking eastward, but rather westward. She panicked. How was she supposed to defend something she lost sight of every dawn?
No. She was going to serve her Charge well. She would guard the Moon as it deserved, as a travelling companion, someone to banish loneliness and bring joy.
And thus she took off. Off to follow the Moon and hide from the Sun.
Her journey hasn't ended yet; as neither has the Moon's. Her wings will beat among the stars for as long as the silver light falls on the meadows, forests and streams.
It is said that, on the nights when the wind howls and the clouds stroll before inky blackness, a glimmering shape might be glimpsed in the starry gaps of sky, wings ever beating, heart never faltering.

Art by @FlamingShadow

Art by: OkanaWolf

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Exalting Watcher to the service of the Tidelord 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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