Ariantha

Name comes from Greek origin and means "silver flower."

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Lore Notes

• When arrived at the Viridian Labyrinth took time to enjoy her craft and heritage and created the birdskull necklace from found materials after thanking the creature that had naturally passed
• A little overwhelmed by the variety of bright flowers she asked Rilwyn, head gardener, any that were a little more dim, and he lead her to the silver and grey flowers and they made the pieces so she could decorate herself

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It all began with Father Herald and his eight missionaries. . . they had made a mistake. In their attempts to purge the lands of evil, they had taken part in a an egregious number of sins. They had killed, the blood of innocents on their hands. The blood of witches.

It was witch magic that wove the Barghest curse and it wrapped around the missionaries, stealing their minds and contorting their bodies into the very beasts they sought so desperately to destroy. Comprised of dogwood and smoke the curse waited, infectious upon the air. There would be no escape and at this thought, the witch called Godmother smiled.

It started with the eight. . . but now the curse begins to spread.

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Who is Ignis? Ignis is the dragon on site with ID#666. That's it. That's all. Demonic lore is common with this line, but for most of them, it's just goofy ghost stories they tell to scare hatchlings. There's no way that simply being the six hundred sixty-sixth dragon registered in Sornieth's great ledgers would confer demonic powers and energies onto a dragon and her descendants.

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In 2016 Flight Rising Courier dragons accidentally got assigned an ID so instead of showing up as "Flight Rising" sending you an expired Auction House message, it would say it was from Naomi. Naturally, many people were very confused and created a thread 'Who is Naomi' to try to figure out what was going on. Even stranger than that, once people found the Lair containing the mentioned Naomi from the messages, the account had thousands upon thousands of dragons. All of them were Exalted, which were showing up in the Lair because the mistake was causing the website to glitch out and store them in said Lair. It was quickly fixed and unfortunately the original account had to get wiped - thankfully the owner had not been active for years and it didn't seem to have much value.

This event created many theories about Naomi. The consensus was to officially name her 'Glitch Queen Naomi' or 'Gatekeeper Naomi', the latter with Naomi being the gatekeeper between life and death and therefore being the guardian and ruler of all Exalted dragons. The Shadow flight in particular is fond of Naomi and claims this lore as part of their domain. To fix the error Naomi was given her own account after the wipe to preserve lineage. The Witchborne | Origin - Summary The Witchborne are dragons who have survived the heavy brunt of Witch-Hunting and of the Trials by Flame, conditioned to live in harsher circumstances and trained to the most extent of their abilities. They hold neither a light or dark magic, but of a more ethereal and primordial case, Chaos Magick, which allows them to make use of any element within range of advantage. Despite other dragons' misunderstanding and often than not, false perception of what and who the Witchborne are, it is made clear that through their infamous prowess in battle and even more mystical and mysterious ways of eliminating the so called Child-Eaters (witches who have gone rogue and turned to using the flesh of younglings for blood and bone sacrifices), the Witchborne are a line of guardians and seekers, protectors of Witches, Wizards and of dragons alike, a force to be reckoned with in either a battle at night or day. Lore above written by LaSilva007 The Witchborne | Origin - Full It began when the children started disappearing. Of course the dragons blamed the weather, the war of the beastclans that have worn them down through the centuries. They blamed mishap, accidents happening at the wrong time. They even deigned to blame their neighbors, friends ... family, their mates for the loss of their children. One by one, starting from the quiet ones, slowly disappearing from their usual play grounds: upriver, beyond the waterfall, underneath the dark troughs of the forest they have been warned to stay away from. Such harmless little creatures, lost one day, never appearing after a week or two ... never in the same way. Mothers anguished, fathers began cursing. They tried to be more vigilant, never allowing the children out of their sight, being strict with who they were with, who their companions were, all from dawn til dusk. And yet another innocent soul was taken ... a memento left in her place, a feather from her wings. It wasn't so hard to get the rumors going. "It's the Cursed. The Marorek. The Virus. The Ghouls. The Runewalkers. The Alchemists, for they have turned to the blood and bone of children for their gold!" So many inquiries, so many wrong. How could those dragons even come so near to them? Only one possibility, one simple word had struck a deeper, darker fear into the dragons' hearts - something that caused them to doubt their own blood, the leaders and helpers of their clans, the ones who helped protect and care for them, who healed them in sickness, childbirth and passing, the ones they called friend. Family. "Witch." It was the fear that turned the pain into rage, into disgust. Where there had been a community of dragons who had been taught and believed that their magic was a blessing soon found themselves under false scrutiny, proud leaders brought down low, blamed for their mispronounced dark arts, their usual ways deemed evil, cast out of the very homes they used to share and cherish. One by one, the clans, the palaces, the courts and the villages - all have turned their witches out to the wild for sins they have been wrongly accused, to fend for themselves, bruised and bloodied with nothing but the clothes on their feathered backs and the memories they could even no longer see as their own - only counting that as being fortunate, as some were sentenced to a trial of fire, their ashes still suffocating the very numbered breaths of those who managed to escape the punishment of flame. It wasn't so long either for them to realize that they have been wrong the whole time. Bones and skulls of their beloved children began appearing as haphazardly as if the dark beasts lived underneath their floors, poisonous slobber and dark, hollow eyes tinting every hearths of each home. "Child-Eaters," they whispered in mute horror. Fear spread like the plague, foreboding and terror ran rampant through all. To whom would they turn to now? To whom would they pray to alleviate themselves of this savage blight that inflicted pain and sorrow in their continuing lives? They let the terror take over their lives, no one safe, never at night. And in the face of the dragons' nightmares, like the light of the moon which pierced through the dark clouds, were the ones who arrived as shadows. Quiet, shifting, dotted in the hues of the night sky, shining and tinted by the red of a bloodied dawn, the midnight hue of a diamond lifted to the light. Two dragons of those mystical descriptions, seen in between glances, across the whisper of tears hitting the surface of a clear pool, over the prayers of those fervent and feverish to see their children once more. "We are the grandchildren of the Witches you could not burn." "We are the Witchborne." One child by the other, they brought back, safe and sound, alive with the profound wonder in their wide eyes at the guardians clad in the shadows of a moonlit light gently herding them back home to the arms of their parents. It was hard for each side to grant forgiveness to one another, but with each child and trust returned, a pact was made, to uphold the peace between the Witchborne and the dragons, and a promise to aid each other against the child-eaters, the War of the Witches. We swear by peace and justice to stand, Blood to blood and hand to hand. That no evil shall befall our charge, on hill nor bank, In field or valley, on mountain or in glen. Neither above, nor below, neither in sea, Nor on shore, in skies above, Nor in the depths below The darkest of nights and the brightest of days Mark, O all deities, and hear us now, Confirming this our Sacred Vow For we, as the guardians of the light and the dark, Protect, save and deliver, until our dying day We are the blood of the Witches, Promising to live before our breath fades away. Lore above written by LaSilva007 Adopted from Disillusionist on January 19, 2024