CAW! ...Oh, you're not a bird.
Click or tap to view this dragon in Scenic Mode, which will remove interface elements. For dragons with a Scene assigned, the background artwork will display at full opacity.


Tatterwing Carcass
Click or tap to share this dragon.
Click or tap to view this dragon in Predict Morphology.
Energy: 50/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Nature.
Male Nocturne
This dragon is hibernating.
Expand the dragon details section.
Collapse the dragon details section.

Personal Style


Riot Hazebeacon
Contestant's Skull
Conjurer's Staff
Helpful Healer's Reference
Sweet Towel


Skin: Tatterwing Carcass


Scene: Battlefield


3.59 m
7.08 m
702.56 kg


Primary Gene
Secondary Gene
Tertiary Gene


Sep 05, 2021
(2 years)



Eye Type

Eye Type
Level 1 Nocturne
EXP: 0 / 245




  • none


Carrion Companion

If you are bothered by animated gifs, please zoom in until the left edge of this paragraph is near the edge of the screen, or enable the text-only setting for this page. Otherwise, enjoy.

Druids. They were all druids, Nature magicians, worshippers of the Gladekeeper, whether they’d been hatched into the Flight or joined it themselves. It was all they knew. It was what they loved.

He loved the element, too, at first. He was awestruck by the determination of the young green leaves as they stretched and unfurled from cracks in rock. He adored the beds of flowers that turned what would otherwise be a boring landscape into a colorful masterpiece. He relished the hours he spent chasing his siblings up and down trees, weaving among the branches and fluttering down on strengthening wings.

The element just wasn’t his strong point.

It was subtle at first: his potted flowers never lasting long, despite his careful, deliberate watering; his nest in the branches of his family’s tree remaining barren, void of new leaves; any fruits he picked being overripe by the time his Imperial siblings tasted them. He got teased often, but he took it in stride and tried to see his mistakes as a lesson for improvement. No matter how much he tried to improve, though, things just got worse. Plants would shrivel in his grasp, and one night, the branch that he’d slept on crashed to the ground.

He was taking a walk in the woods when he noticed something strange. Every time he took a step, the grass seemed to lean away from his claws, as if it was afraid of him. Looking closer, he realized that it wasn’t leaning away; it was shriveling and dying. When he looked back, he was horrified to see brown, dead footprints stretching back as far as he could see. Heart pounding, he raced back home.

The tree had fallen. It lay unmoving, most of its leaves detached and brown. The roots, still full of dirt, now resembled a fan coral. Nests and personal items lay around what had once been his home. His family surrounded it, crying or shouting, comforting each other or accusing each other. Many turned when he arrived, seeing him and the brown footprints and putting two and two together. Murmurs rippled through the crowd, and several pairs of green eyes stared—no, glared—at him. They were mad.

He couldn’t stay here.

Careful to avoid brushing against any trees or bushes, he dashed through the Tangled Wood, hoping to get to the Southern Icefield. He was furious with himself for not taking flight lessons seriously. He was sorrowful because he’d killed so many plants on this journey. He was scared of whatever lay ahead. He was—


He stopped short when he heard that, but when he felt the warm squishiness of the ground beneath his right foreclaw, he knew where the sound had come from. A quick glance down revealed that he’d entered the Scarred Wasteland. The Tangled Wood was close enough that he could turn back, but he didn’t. He wanted to get to the Southern Icefield, where there were no plants, nothing he could kill.

There were several things that the hatchling didn’t know about the Scarred Wasteland. The first was that the Abiding Boneyard is just about impossible to navigate. He was lost there for two weeks, slowly growing accustomed to the stench and the slime and the rats and maggots that he had to eat. The prey here didn’t die in his claws like the prey he’d always caught, and he wondered if they were immune to his deadly touch. Of course, they were probably immune to and carrying a million diseases, but he didn’t have much choice. He did get awfully sick once, but after a few days of rest, the nausea had settled down from hurricane level to gentle waves level. He stayed in the shadows of bones or ledges or towering fungi to avoid the hungry packs of Mirrors that roamed this area, their heads sweeping from side to side in examination and tails lashing in anticipation. Their savage snarls at even their own Clans were a sign that they wouldn’t take kindly to strangers.

The second time he got sick was worse than the first. He thought he would die from the pain. When he saw the undead vultures circling above him, he was sure he was done for. When he closed his eyes, the fluttering of wings came closer, then stopped as the birds landed around him. They hissed at each other for a minute, but he forced his eyes to remain shut until something touched his beak. When his eyes shot open, he saw that the vultures had brought him a small tortoise shell filled with water. Though he didn’t know where the water was from or if it was safe to drink, he lapped it up, trying to quench his immense thirst. He wanted to thank the birds, but before he could figure out how, they were gone. Over the next few days, they brought him water and scraps of meat, and he always nuzzled them with his beak in gratitude before consuming the gift. They didn’t shrink away from his touch like the grass in his homeland, which he now saw as fragile. Instead, they returned the gestures, making soft grunting sounds, which he learned were sounds of love and comfort.

Yes, he learned a lot while he lived there, but one realization hit him suddenly, as he was resting beneath the ribcage of some huge beast or dragon. As his eyes swept across the barren landscape, he suddenly realized that he couldn’t see any plants. Of course, being a Nature dragon, he knew that Nature and Plague went together like oil and water—no, oil and fire—so it would make sense that there would be few plants. But he had expected to see cacti, shrubs, tumbleweeds. Something. But there was no green here but the occasional fungus and the roiling pits of liquid sickness; no life here but the creepy crawlies on the ground and the vultures that circled above him.

Suddenly, the whole place seemed brighter, as if he’d taken off a pair of sunglasses. He was interested in everything. He had so many questions behind his beak, but nobody to ask.

That changed when he met a traveling Skydancer whose caravan had gotten stuck in some goo. He’d been raised in a loving family, so he didn’t hesitate to help push the vehicle. Afterwards, they sat down, and he asked her some questions. She was happy to answer, telling him that plant-eaters usually imported plants from other regions or stuck to mushrooms, and that water was usually gathered with wide basins during rainfall or rerouted from the Windswept Plateau. She followed this up with a warning that some dragons liked to poison water sources, but it was rare because many Clans shared the water pipes.

After the conversation, the two parted ways on good terms, and he felt much better about being here. He could settle. He could start a new life, maybe join a Clan. He’d thought everyone here would be awful, but even though the Skydancer had warned him of malicious poisoning dragons, she’d also taken the time to warn him.

It was as he reflected on this act of kindness that he got attacked. Hungry Mirrors swarmed him—not to eat him, but to eliminate him, to remove one dragon from the meat consumption. Though he was small and agile, there were too many Mirrors to fight off, and he soon found himself pinned.

“Any last words?” the lead Mirror snarled in bloodthirsty glee. Her claws pressed into his throat so hard that the only sound he could make was a hissing wheeze.

Apparently, that his was the battle cry the birds had been waiting for. From seemingly nowhere, vultures and buzzards swooped at the Mirrors with outstretched talons. Condors hissed and crows cawed, some diving into the fray, others retreating and returning moments later with more. Ravens pecked at the eyes of the Mirrors, who were suddenly on the smaller team. As they swiped at the birds, the Nocturne dragged himself out of the fray and under a mammoth skull. Though he desperately wanted to help his feathered friends, he had no energy left. He fell asleep to the sounds of the battle raging just meters away from him.

The birds nursed him back to health again. Some of the flesh injuries never healed, leaving bones exposed to the air, but the birds brought him more scraps of meat and even feathers from their own wings and tail to patch up the injuries. Infection became a constant reminder of dragons’ cruelty, their selfishness, their greed. He never forgot that malicious grin that the Mirror had as she prepared to end him. He didn’t forget it after he regained the strength to fly. He didn’t forget it after he returned to the healthiest he could now be. He still hasn’t forgotten.

Lore/Layout by @Bibbit
From @Mirasol

Theme Week: Night of the Nocturne
"Condor has a sort of aura that wilts plant life around him, which led to him being cast out from his Nature clan. However, he found a home in the Scarred Wasteland, where he lives happily with a flock of undead carrion birds."

Thanks, MythDancer, for cropping Scene: Battlefield into some lovely banners!

Vial of Unusual Sight
If you feel that this content violates our Rules & Policies, or Terms of Use, you can send a report to our Flight Rising support team using this window.

Please keep in mind that for player privacy reasons, we will not personally respond to you for this report, but it will be sent to us for review.

Click or tap a food type to individually feed this dragon only. The other dragons in your lair will not have their energy replenished.

Feed this dragon Insects.
Feed this dragon Meat.
This dragon doesn't eat Seafood.
This dragon doesn't eat Plants.
You can share this dragon on the forums by either copying the browser URL manually, or using bbcode!
Copy this Widget to the clipboard.

Exalting Condor to the service of the Plaguebringer will remove them from your lair forever. They will leave behind a small sum of riches that they have accumulated. This action is irreversible.

Do you wish to continue?

  • Names must be longer than 2 characters.
  • Names must be no longer than 16 characters.
  • Names can only contain letters.
  • Names must be no longer than 16 characters.
  • Names can only contain letters.