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Celestial Antelope
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Energy: 50/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Light.
Male Coatl
This dragon is hibernating.
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Personal Style


Red Rose Flowerfall
Sepia Rose Thorn Crown
Veteran's Eye Scar
Chancellor Collar
Simple Gold Bracelets
Chancellor Mitts
Scarlet Sylvan Wings
Chancellor Overcoat
Sepia Rose Thorn Wing Tangle
Chancellor Waist Wrap
Chancellor Footies
Scarlet Sylvan Twist


Accent: grace feather mred


Scene: Lightweaver's Domain


7.54 m
6.93 m
1027.69 kg


Primary Gene
Secondary Gene
Tertiary Gene


Nov 25, 2014
(9 years)



Eye Type

Eye Type
Level 2 Coatl
EXP: 288 / 641


{ vahr-THAN }
Grand Blade


In the full light of day it is made apparent
that the past we leave behind was meant to be.

╭━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ l o r e ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━╮
blankblank The desert was home to many souls, more than one might think when looking at the blank expanse of sand and grit. They were hidden in the pockets of shade scattered in the only safety they could find: in caves, between stone spires that pierced through the earth, in small cities and towns and caravans that grew wherever water could be found.

Vardan hailed from one such city, a place where the sun reflecting off the rounded rooves caused it to glow gold from a distance. When he had left it with his traveling companions and turned for a final glance, it was to see his city glimmering like a jewel behind him.

One of his companions, a coatl with iridescent feathers of blue and green and scales of burnished bronze, flicked him with her tail. “Come, Vardan.” Harrai’s voice was gentle, coaxing. “It will be here when we return.”

They moved with haste, eager to get to their destination and wanting to take advantage of the setting sun, the time between the heat of day and the surprising cold of night. The other member of their party, a cousin of Harrai’s in some way or other, was another coatl by the name of Mir. He shared Harrai’s colouring, except his wings were a shocking blue that lacked any of Harrai’s green.

It was just the three of them, the trio chosen from the Artifact Guild of their city. It was a group that sought to collect priceless relics made important by time and history, to preserve and (often, for funding was always needed) to sell.

The journey was tiring, the desert unkind to living things of flesh and water such as them, but when they saw the towers of the ruined temple jutting from the sand, it was all worth it. The Guild assumed it was a temple, for there was truly no real way to know. The building was beyond their lifetime, something that was likely considered historic before they were even born. The entire thing was utterly consumed by sand, and had been for years. It was why their Guild had only discovered it recently, when the sands had shifted enough for the spires to be visible.

The spires were how Vardan and his partners planned to enter the temple, for time and gravity had caused cracks to appear in the stonework. There was a hole just big enough for their breed size to fit through—another reason they were chosen, for there weren’t many smaller dragons available to be sent out other than them—but it was not big enough to fly through.

Vardan and Harrai would enter the temple, and Mir would lower them down with a rope. Vardan was pleased with this, for Harrai’s presence brought a warmth to his chest and he relished the opportunity to explore the historic grounds with her alone.

They were lowered with impressive ease, Mir not complaining once. Moonlight filtered through the hole in the ceiling, sand filtering down as the dragons were lowered. When Vardan’s feet touched the ground, it was to the soft grit of sand beneath the pads of his paws. There was a fine layer of it seemingly everywhere, and in the soft haze of moonlight Vardan could make out the wide expanse of the room they’d entered.

“It’s amazing,” Harrai breathed, landing next to him. Vardan could only nod in mute agreement, too awed to speak. As a historian, he was simply startled by how well preserved the interior of the temple was. Although now that he was within it, it felt less like a holy building and more…scholarly. There were shelves upon shelves of books, high enough that only creatures with flight could grab them. If they were as preserved as the architecture… Eleven, this would be an amazing academic find.

“Let’s spread out,” Vardan said, shaking himself from his stunned stupor. The Guild wanted reports of what they found for future excavations and, if possible, some relics to bring back as proof of the areas worth.

Harrai nodded in agreement, and added quietly, “Ideally before the building crumbles to dust over our heads.”

They split apart. Harrai vanished down a dark hallway, using her Light magic to conjure a glowing orb to guide her way. Vardan decided to browse the shelves, studying the spines with great interest. None of it was fiction, instead looking like books on science and history, herbology and lore. Vardan was sure even the most astute of readers could spend eons browsing the books and would always find something new to read.

It was hours later, only after he was covered in dust and had more than a few papercuts on the soft undersides of his paws, that he found something worth the Guild’s attention. “Harrai!” he called, letting his voice echo noisily through the room. There was the sound of shuffling and movement, and then Harrai drifted out of the gloom on her feathered wings, and alighted on the floor next to him.

“Look,” Vardan said, his voice barely above a whisper now, gesturing to the books stacked on the table before him. One was in his hands, opened partway through, and he’d barely taken his eyes off it to glance at Harrai before turning back. “These are books of magic. They talk of ways to wield it, powerful ways of turning elemental magic into something greater. These would be worth a lot of money in the right hands.”

Harrai leafed through one book, pale yellow eyes flicking over the pages and text. “It’s strange magic,” she murmured. “Practiced in ways we perhaps forgot over time. The Guild would love this.”

Vardan grinned from over his pages. “Think this is good enough for this trip?”

“It should,” she said, snapping her own book closed. “Let’s get these in my satchels, and then we’ll alert Mir. He’s probably sleeping.”

Vardan blinked up at the roof above, where the pocket of light still filtered through. The glow was becoming more blue, meaning dawn was close to breaking. They’d been out all night.

They worked quickly, Vardan helping Harrai ensure her traveling satchels were clasped properly around her waist and wings, so that no part jostled in flight. The books were four in number, but surprisingly light, and although they made for a snug fit in the leather bags at least Harrai had no difficulty maneuvering with them.

“I will go first with the bags,” Harrai said, “in case anything were to fall.” Vardan nodded knowingly. Being hauled through a hole in the ceiling with extra width in baggage was not going to be fun for either Harrai or Mir.

As the sun began to filter through the ceiling, Harrai called up to Mir to pull her up. The rope was tied carefully around her wings, while still being held closely in one nervous claw by Harrai. The other she pressed to one of the satchels, protective already.

It was with relief Vardan watched her disappear over the lip of the cracked ceiling. The rope fell back down for him, and he quickly tied himself to it and gave it a tug. “We’re good,” he called up, and then felt himself begin to ascend. He could see Mir working diligently through the ceiling, then disappearing as he pulled and pulled the rope.

Vardan was almost entirely up, only an armlength from the hole, when he came to a stop. Harrai appeared in the circular opening, a miserable look on her face.

“I’m sorry, Vardan,” she said, her voice low and sorrowful. “Truly, I am. But Mir and I can’t afford to split the money with you, and we can’t afford you racing back to the Guild to tell them what happened.”

Vardan blinked up at her. “Can’t afford-? What? Tell the Guild? What are you talking about?”

Harrai glanced over her shoulder, likely to Mir. She shifted uncomfortably, returning her gaze to him. “We’re going to sell these books to the group from Kanour.” Her voice was laced with guilt. “They’ve promised us a good portion of it, enough to last the year, and more if we keep working with them. But they don’t want too many new faces. It’s risky, you know?”

Risky. Kanour. “You’re… You’re betraying the Guild?” Vardan knew it was a dumb question, that it was obvious this was what they were doing. But somehow asking it out loud made it sound less impossible, because at the moment he was having a hard time wrapping his mind around it. His heart seized with sudden panic. “Harrai,” he said, unable to hide his sudden fear. “Harrai. Let me up.”

“I’m sorry, Vardan,” Harrai said again, “but I can’t do that.” Then she reached down and slashed at the rope, cutting through it with more ferocity than was perhaps needed—her claws struck clean through the fiber, slashing across Vardan’s face with it. There was a gasp of shock, either from her or him Vardan could no longer tell, and then he was falling


and his vision went black.
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ n o t e s ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
blankblank "The War" by SYML
— Mated to Avoria
— Despite his past, continues to display a great amount of trust in his fellow dragon
— Dedicates himself to the politics of his city
— Has a ravenous love of history and literature
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ s t o r i e s & a r t ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
blankblankbla Q27cD7J.png
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