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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
27.93 m
Wingspan
17.54 m
Weight
6383.08 kg
Genetics
Steel
Metallic
Metallic
Moon
Bee
Bee
Flint
Filigree
Filigree
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 1 Imperial
EXP: 0 / 245
STR
6
AGI
6
DEF
6
QCK
5
INT
8
VIT
8
MND
6
Biography
S I D E R E A L
THE STAR SCRYER
AUSRA G2
THE STAR SCRYER
AUSRA G2
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The kingdom of Moondore had sprung from neither aristocracy nor glory. It was located in the Cloudscape Crags, and in those long-ago times, few clans had dared to settle upon those peaks. Those who had had been quickly punished for trying. For the Cloudscape Crags were also home to fearsome monsters. Initially, many dragons did not even know that they existed, for during the warmer months, when the daylight hours were long, the creatures slept in icy crevasses. But in winter, when darkness shrouded the land, they crept out in search of food. And they found it. It was nearly impossible for most clans to flee. The dark months were dangerous even without the threat of monsters; and for many settlers, hunkering down in the lair, waiting for an attack that probably wouldn’t come, was safer than braving the landscape. But over time, the losses worsened, sometimes with entire clans being destroyed. Those few survivors who remained soon realized that something would have to be done. It was from these survivors that the kingdom of Moondore sprang. Some of them were warriors. Some were merchants. Others were farmers and laborers. Not all of them could wield weapons. Some had barely any magic in them. But they all wanted to live in the Cloudscape Crags, and they were not about to surrender without a fight. The survivors raised a fortress upon the slope of the highest peak. The building was hewn directly into the living rock, made as strong as the mountain itself, so as to withstand the onslaughts of winter and of monsters. As more and more settlers sought refuge in and around the fortress, the city of Moondore was formed. Like many clans at the time, its rulers were monarchs, though these were not descended from aristocracy. Instead, the rulers of Moondore were its greatest defenders: those cunning enough to deceive the monsters, brave enough to confront them, and powerful enough to defeat them. The city of Moondore remained small, but it remained nonetheless: a beacon of hope for those who dared to brave the darkness of the Icefield. “A beacon of hope...” Stories of Moondore spread far beyond the Icefield over the years. So far beyond that even an elf, Amanar, had heard of the kingdom. For the most part, he’d regarded these tales as quaint entertainment. “But we could certainly use a beacon of hope now,” he thought as he looked back at the straggling column. With his elvish sight, he could pierce even the illusions his fellows had cast to camouflage themselves. Seeing them should have brought him reassurance, and on one level, it did. But on the other hand, it also brought him fear. Because if he could perceive his fellow elves, then so could the mountain beasts. He spied a lithe form hurrying towards him: Helca, his second-in-command. His heart sank when he saw the grim look on her face. “Nothing,” she whispered. “I found neither hide nor hair of them. They are lost—” “Let’s hope their sense of direction leads them to us later,” Amanar said lightly. He raised his voice a bit for the benefit of the others. Let them think their two fellows had merely gotten lost. Even though he knew full well what Helca meant— “The beasts of the mountains found them. They have been devoured.” Amanar now addressed the entire group: “We must pick up the pace. The weather is worsening, and we want to find shelter—someplace solid this time—before full dark.” One of the other elves, Aigos, blinked blearily at him. “‘Someplace solid’? Like a cave?” “Ideally, yes.” “You know where to find one, then?” “Upon these mountain slopes, we should be able to find shelter for the night.” Aigos’ face hardened. “‘Should’, you said. You really don’t know? We should’ve sought shelter among the Dripcave Dregs! At least then—” “Then we would have had to endure an even more perilous journey through Reclaimer’s Glacier,” Amanar rumbled. He leaned closer, his eyes suddenly fierce. “Would you prefer that we risk attack and calamity there?” The other elves lowered their gazes. Amanar was about to reassure them—but at that moment, a warning chill raced up his spine. His comrades felt it, too; their eyes suddenly darted about, searching for threats. “Let’s hurry before we—” They felt it again—more clearly this time. A vibration through the soles of their feet. It was beneath them. The ground burst apart, chunks of snow and ice flying into the air. All around Amanar, everything was white: the sky, the ground, the forest... Through the blizzard that’d suddenly engulfed his party, he glimpsed something huge surging towards them. The others were yelling in fear, shouting war cries...He managed to find his own voice. “Cut through this blizzard, and the trees if you must! We need to get away from here!” “It’s...some sort of spirit...!” Amanar barely heard. He was already breathing out a spell, one that changed the blizzard into a thin sheet of ice. As the magic worked, he thought, “Most creatures will give up once prey is beyond their reach. We need only to get clear—” And then the ice blasted apart, pulverized by the creature. In that gap of clarity, Amanar finally saw it. It wasn’t behind them—it was around them. Pale, shimmering coils, looping around the elves, herding them into a slowly-tightening band. Amanar immediately looked up, and a groan of dismay escaped him: already the coils above them were drawing shut, forming a dome of magic around the hapless travelers. “Hack through the coils!” “Already tried that. This thing’s as tough as diamonds!” “Try burrowing beneath, then!” But even as Amanar started drawing on more magic, the forest was rocked by a tremendous explosion. The coils blazed with brilliant light, and now they twisted away, writhing violently as the beast contorted in pain. The elves only narrowly managed to avoid getting crushed; they ducked behind the trees as their rescuers entered the fray. They were dragons, about a score of them, all garbed in the furs of Icefield-dwelling folk and bristling with weapons. A pair of gray Imperials led the charge, alternately striking with magic and claws. The phantom wyrm let out a long, high hiss that shook the snow from the trees. But its new opponents clearly knew how to deal with it, and it soon decided to abandon the fight. With a tearing noise, long flanges suddenly unfurled from its body. “Wings,” Amanar realized. And then it launched itself upwards. Soon it was lost amidst the roiling clouds, and the dragons cheered in victory. Thanks to the strangers’ intervention, all the elves had been saved. But Amanar remained wary. His kind had not always gotten along well with dragons, and one good deed didn’t necessarily mean that a person was worth trusting. As the two groups gathered across from each other, he stepped forward and bowed. “We thank you, strangers. We would have been lost if not for your aid. We are deeply grateful.” He noticed how the dragons’ gazes shifted subtly to the white-garbed Imperial. She wore a diadem and was clearly their leader, perhaps nobility of some sort. She nodded to Amanar, saying, “We’re happy to help. You’re not the first travelers we’ve had to aid; these mountains are dangerous for strangers and locals alike.” “Not that many people come out here to begin with,” said the Imperial next to her. She lifted her helmet to reveal a cheery smile. “What were you doing out here, friend?” “Our business is our own,” said Amanar, as politely and inoffensively as he could. “We do not wish to trouble you further. We shall soon be on our way.” “Kind of seems like a bad idea, but we won’t stop you. Aren’t you going to pick up your two pals first, though?” “Our...eh?” Amanar’s brow furrowed in confusion. And then the crowned Imperial said, “My scouts came across two of your comrades some hours ago. Elves, they claim to be, separated from your group in a snowstorm.” “You found...I had thought...” “We thought them lost,” Aigos murmured quietly. His look of relief matched Amanar’s. “How are...?” “They are well. In fact, it was they who told us you might still be lost in the woods, in need of assistance. You would do well to thank them,” said the crowned Imperial, smiling, “once you are reunited in Moondore.” The crowned Imperial was named Kuura, and her dark-clothed sister was Kiuru. They had been born in the Southern Icefield, and like many dwellers of Moondore, they had survived more than their fair share of monster attacks. The years of hardship had made them strong—strong enough so that, when the time came to choose a new ruler of Moondore, the dwellers had immediately looked to the Imperial sisters. Playful, carefree Kiuru was only too glad to see the crown go to her elder sister. Under Kuura’s leadership, the city continued to prosper—and to protect its inhabitants from the beasts of the mountains. Kuura was used to being thanked by the travelers they rescued, but Amanar was especially profuse in his praise. As she talked further with the elves, she found out why. The elves were a dwindling race. There had never been many of them to begin with, but the advent of dragonkind, and the magic the Eleven had wrought, had greatly impacted them. Once, they had lived in great cities; those had been reduced to small enclaves sparsely scattered over the continent. Most of these enclaves were composed of relatives and close friends. No wonder Amanar had been so effusive with his thanks—the elves they’d rescued had been his family. “And we will not trouble you much longer, Lady Kuura. As soon as Helca is well enough to travel, we’ll continue our journey.” “Of course, Amanar. I wish you luck on your business, whatever it may be.” The elf was startled—he’d been half-expecting Kuura to ask him more about this. She smiled wryly at his surprise, however, and added, “You’re not the first person I’ve met with plenty of secrets to keep. Nearly everyone in Moondore has, if you dig deep enough.” He had heard something of the sort: that Moondore’s inhabitants were largely runaways and castoffs. He hadn’t thought of it carefully, but now, he had to admit that it did make sense. After all, who else would be mad—or desperate enough—to make this icy hell their home? “You are welcome to stay or travel through the kingdom again. But a word of warning, from one survivor to another...” Kuura’s face was grave. “Plan your trips more carefully. There might not be someone looking out for you next time.” “Too true. If your warriors had not been on patrol to begin with...” Amanar trailed off into a sigh. At last, he admitted, “We came to these mountains to worship our ancestors. To draw on the elemental magic that gives us life and strength. We follow the stars and leylines, tracking these places of power. For us, the Ice Elves, these places are normally in Reclaimer’s Glacier or the Snowsquall Tundra. But this year...” Kuura’s eyes narrowed. “So you decided to risk it even though the terrain was unfamiliar.” “It seems foolish, I’m aware. But we must do what we can to survive,” Amanar said, lifting his chin, “while we still can.” “You’ll be returning in the future, then? Moondore will of course gladly welcome you. But you’d still have to cross several miles of dangerous terrain...” “There are spells we can cast to make the going easier. We shall take your advice to heart, and be better prepared next time.” As the months passed, Amanar and his fellow elves traveled through the Southern Icefield. They were more cautious, but the Cloudscape Crags remained as perilous as ever. Many times, the dragons of Moondore had to come to their aid, just as they’d done before. They saved many travelers, but some were still taken by the monsters and magic of the Icefield. The elves were not the only ones who grieved: The dragons of Moondore had their own tales of hardship. Each group listened to the other’s stories of loved ones lost, and they sympathized. And many of them wondered: What if there were a way for these imperiled travelers to quickly get to Moondore? Or rather, what if there was a way for Moondore to quickly get to them? “A device that can not only shield the city, but instantly transport it away from danger...Is such a thing possible?” asked Isolde. Like the twins, she was an Imperial, albeit one of snowy white. She had assisted them for many years, and given that her purviews were housekeeping and accounting, it was easy for them to guess the reason for her asking. “It won’t be cheap, that’s for sure!” Kiuru chortled. “Amanar’s rattled off a list of materials to start with, and some of them will blow your mind.” “Oh dear.” Isolde’s voice was suddenly very faint. Kuura draped a wing around the gentle Imperial. “Nothing that’s worthwhile is ever cheap. If this star scryer can protect our home and people, then it’ll definitely be worth it.” Under Amanar’s guidance, the star scryer was built in Kuura’s throne room. It was a natural choice, for this was Kuura’s own place of power, and they had decided early on that she would be entrusted with the scryer’s activation. But there was another reason Amanar had chosen it: The throne room did not have a ceiling. Instead, a transparent shield of magic protected it from the elements. Whenever the night sky was clear, the dragons could see auroras dancing across the heavens, among the brilliant stars. “Starlight is difficult to harness, but well worth the effort,” Amanar said, indicating the walls of the throne room. Previously, they had been of ordinary gray brick, but the elves had begun replacing them with great sheets of stone. These were polished to mirror smoothness, and the dragons’ reflections showed up clearly upon their deep black surfaces. “When starlight is reflected, its magic is magnified. The scryer will be able to help you anticipate danger, the better to act on it...” “Sounds useful,” Kiuru said, with cheeky understatement. “Is it necessary to make the place so fancy, though?” “Kiuru!” Kuura gasped. Amanar smiled, though, looking wistfully up at the sky. “The elven race was already but a shadow of itself when I was born,” he mused. “I had nothing but stories about the wonders my people had created. Just pictures in my head...and no way to turn them into reality. “But now...” He looked around the room again, this time with obvious pride. “It may not be absolutely necessary to make the place fancy, as you put it, Lady Kiuru. But I will admit that it is deeply satisfying to see such visions come to life.” Kiuru broke into her usual smile. “Now I’m really looking forward to seeing how this thing turns out!” After years of patient work, the scryer was completed. It was a gigantic, orrery-like device, larger even than a full-grown Imperial; wrought of silver, night-black stone, and magic-infused glass. It spun slowly in its cradle. It seemed to reflect barely any light—yet upon the walls, revolving at the same stately pace, were pinpoints of brilliance. Kiuru recognized constellations, a distant planet or two...and were those meteors darting across the heavens? “Amanar was right. It is beautiful,” Kiuru breathed. As always, she sat beside her sister. The two of them were looking down upon Amanar, who was addressing the gathering of dragons and elves. They had all come to bear witness to the star scryer’s initial activation. The key to that nestled on a velvet cushion, and as Amanar finished his speech, he turned and proffered it to Kuura. A scepter, studded with gemstones, each one pulsing with celestial light. It seemed to Kuura as small as a toothpick—but when she lifted it, it grew and expanded till it was an actual scepter, of the right proportions to fit her grasp. The Moon Scepter. “Take this key with our thanks, Lady Kuura. This star scryer is yours. May it strengthen Moondore and continue to protect both our peoples in the years to come. Together, we will prosper.” “The people of Moondore thank you and yours, Lord Amanar. The Ice Elves will always have a refuge within these walls.” Kuura inclined her head to him. “Together, we will prevail.” She descended from her throne, the scepter held high. It glowed with soft silvery light as she approached the scrying orb. Soon the radiance enclosed her, until she could barely see her reflection upon the scryer’s smooth surface... Only...was it her reflection? The scryer burst into brilliant light as it activated, and the crowd began to cheer. But Kuura barely saw or heard them. She was instead surrounded by that silvery effulgence. And she thought she could see an even more brilliant form taking shape amidst the light. It leaned towards her, appearing to smile. She felt its claws gently patting her own... She gasped, coming fully awake again, as Kiuru grasped her shoulder. “That was splendidly done, sister!” “Thank...you.” Kuura was still trying to make sense of what she’d seen. Some mirage, perhaps, a trick of the dazzling light? Kiuru was already peering above the crowd, which was now streaming towards the banquet hall. “Time for the feast. Come on, we’d better get going before Morseth eats everything again.” Kuura nodded absently, lagging behind as she followed everyone to the banquet hall. It was only when she saw Isolde frowning after her that she picked up the pace. But she still kept one ear tipped towards the throne room. Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw the orb, still sparkling with starry silver light. And, just on the edge of hearing, a promise— “Together, we will protect.” ~ written by Disillusionist (254672) all edits by other users |
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