The Radiant Bard
Name: Juri
Flight Alliance: Light
Native Flight: Arcane
Role: Champion
Mate: N/A

Is that...a song? Emerald-green light is blown aloft by the gentle breeze, kissing the sun-dappled columns of Mirrorlight Promenade. From within the foyer, a lone, lavender Gaoler is perched atop a nest of well-worn quilts and sleep-beaten cushions. It is a song of pride and hope, the melody of her baritone voice carrying over the din of her clanmates' general chatter. As soon as the day begins, Juri rises to teach the clan's young the art of battle while humming a righteous clarion call to herald the Lightweaver’s cause. “It’s the least I can do,” She muses, dodging a claw here and there, “they need something to carry them into the fight for Her Radiance. Even if they lose, they will have my song to guide them beneath her wing.” Even though she never planned to send young dragons into battle, it was her role to do as she was instructed as long as she lived on this golden earth. Night and day she toiled and sang, lifting the spirits of the scholars and soldiers born, bred, and raised beneath the warm radiance of the Lightweaver’s grace. Juri sometimes lamented wistfully, especially when no dragons were to be trained or exercises to be done, that she wasn't a great skald or bard, but the feelings were fleeting. She had traveled here, away from her home, to sate her hunger for knowledge outside of the Arcanist’s domain. Although she could rationally research and learn here without letting it consume her...there were days when those innate longings scratched the inside of her skull with an urgency she had learned to tame. Hubris had always been something she was afraid of...and yet...perhaps...had she forgotten that? The red that stained her claws and fangs, the young blood she’d willingly shed in the name of allegiance...she...was no different, was she?