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Personal Style
Ancient dragons cannot wear apparel.
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
12.09 m
Wingspan
4.72 m
Weight
8231.48 kg
Genetics
Platinum
Giraffe (Gaoler)
Giraffe (Gaoler)
Ice
Daub (Gaoler)
Daub (Gaoler)
Blood
Pinions (Gaoler)
Pinions (Gaoler)
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 1 Gaoler
EXP: 0 / 245
STR
7
AGI
5
DEF
7
QCK
5
INT
5
VIT
9
MND
7
Biography
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.──────────────────────────────────────── Lake - second caretaker of the oryx behemoth. "The longest-living Cirrox known, one that survived into the early age of dragonkind, was over 10,000 years old." Representative of Saint's Harbor. Behemoth-linked and bonded. Companion: Coen. / Former mentor: Rhaenys. / Familiar: unknown. / .──────────────────────────────────────── |
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Saint's Harbor.
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..........Along the midpoint of the behemoth’s wide-stretching spine, at the juncture of all four cardinal directions, there is a wide, viridian lake. And in the center of the lake there is a palace, glittering and marvelous and all-together impossible in its regal existence – and yet, there, it rises from the water to shoulder the dawn. ..........Half-submerged and tranquil, the palace’s foundations lie not on an island, or a reef, but on the very lakebed beneath. It stands regally, as if it were built to do so, defying logic and reason all in one breath. When a dragon flies above it, the palace seems little more than a mirage on the surface of the water; far too small (and yet, simultaneously, far too large) to be the great structure it is. Standing on the lake’s shores, leagues away, one thinks it almost delusory. You cannot help but stare, captivated in its pale beauty, but still it seems so unrealistically ethereal. Like something out of a dream. Only when one gets close to the palace, and enters it, that it does become real. ..........Pale, notched, winding spirals reach up to strain towards the sky, topped with tiny, delicate sculptures of runes and whorls. Once colored a pale white, time has faded the stone of the palace’s archways and form into alabaster and cream. Cracks mar the delicate designs on its pillars and opulent murals. But it is still beautiful, and largely unspoiled. The edifice itself is an architectural marvel, created over a century by undeniable (and unknown) genius – seeming to be made of straight lines when looked upon from a distance, always ascending and cutting against the horizon behind. Yet its grand halls rebel, striving underneath that facade to curve and loop together to create an unending maze of courtyards, alcoves, aquatic gardens and chambers. ..........To enter the palace, a dragon must fly – which is strictly forbidden, except in times of war – or sail through a gateway of lofty white and gold pillars into one of its august atriums; open to the lake and sky, lined with looming columns, and shot through with currents. Almost half of the palace proper is underwater, home only to kelp grasses and small, lively fish, though seemingly untouched by the water and creatures that drift lazily through it. The other half is preserved and abandoned, dry and aged, full to the brim with riches both physical and intellectual. ..........The upper part of the palace keeps secrets older than, perhaps, the lake itself. Multiple large libraries, filled to the brim with as many books and scrolls as the wall-to-wall bookshelves can hold, watch the world take its strides before its skylights. A massive ballroom awaits music and laughter, boasting a half-open ceiling of glass and color. A small floating garden is said to be hidden somewhere in the maze of courtyards. Even a gazing tower stands tall, stately, and archaic. And yet, despite that wealth, it has all been empty and still for centuries. ..........Halofell is new construction, and before the city’s birth, the dragons and clans living on the behemoth never dared to venture into the palace – except in times of great, great need. (Perhaps this was due to superstition, or knowledge that has been lost; no one knows.) Now, however, Halofell encourages scholars, mages, and other dragons of such exceptional standing to take up residence in the palace. The city’s only condition is that those dragons must be ready and willing to offer aid to the citizens of Halofell, in event of injury, sickness, or tragedy. So there live beings in the palace’s near-ruins, that of stature and intelligence, sworn to uphold its memory and ethos. Few, admittedly, but a growing number. Whether they are drawn to Halofell or the palace is dependent on the dragon; of course, all know the fable of the Saint. ..........Little is known of the behemoth’s first inhabitants; at least of fact, for legends run rampant. But there is one such legend, an auld tale of the palace (one of angels, it is said), that most consider to be true. Long ago, a dragon fell to the behemoth, onto the very spot the palace now claims. Beautiful, she was, said to shine with the very essence of light and hope – absolutely, indescribably beautiful – and dead. Soulless before she reached the soil. An ivory, silvery dragon who came not from the sky, or a neighboring land, or even another behemoth, but the very stars themselves. Her body lay on the behemoth and it was foreign, unnatural, and yet – holy. ..........The rest of that legend, the aftermath and the true story, has since been lost to time. All that is known is that the early people of the behemoth built the palace based on her memory, as a haven of safety and sunlight. And so it was called Saint’s Harbor. |
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no artwork listed here is mine.
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