Solomon
(#94181129)
Level 1 Imperial
Familiar
Giggling Planesrunner
Click or tap to view this dragon in Predict Morphology.
Energy: 49/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Light.
Male Imperial
This dragon cannot breed until Jun 17, 2024 (26 days).
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
21.77 m
Wingspan
21.67 m
Weight
7250.55 kg
Genetics
Orca
Cherub
Cherub
Black
Constellation
Constellation
Cottoncandy
Capsule
Capsule
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
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 S O L O M O N 
BARGHEST LORE AND LINEAGE PROJECT
GENERATION III HERALD’S LINE 
"Wisdom is scarce in quantity. I wish to give this to others, before they regret their lack thereof."
Many believe immortality comes in a multitude of forms. Some may achieve the original idea of it, simply ceasing to age until time itself comes to an end. Most find themselves immortalized by stories of their lives, some without ever knowing they'd live on in the minds of others for generations to come. Some meet even worse fates than that. One wise creature, a chalice of knowledge, is said to wander the land, bestowing wisdom to those who need it whether they want it or not. This is the tale of the Barghest, Solomon. |
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Ancient claws dance across old tomes, memories flickering before the eyes of the drake said claws belong to. He was in a wistful mood this day, while so many others raced about outside. Some rare phenomena only came about once or twice in a lifetime, after all, and so many others were eager to either see it themselves or profit off the entire thing. Sure, it would only last a few minutes, but what did that matter to them? Even the various packs of the Garden were scrambling to prepare, houndlike creatures and those who would turn under the full moon doing their best to figure out whether this brief period of time would have any odd effects on them. He knew very well two of the bound beasts were watching over their nests with keen eyes, eager to see if pups hatched under the shadow of the moon would change them in any way. He'd already set aside their books, ready to cross-reference the new pups whenever he found their new tomes in his collection. The elderly drake paused when he heard the gasps outside. The light was dimming, the sun slowly losing it's fight with the twin moons of Sornieth. Workers at one of the renovation sites squabbled over the best viewing point on the old bell tower, swaying to and fro on the scaffolding holding them all aloft. Shopkeepers hopped over their makeshift stalls, craning their necks to try and catch a glimpse of the fading sun above them. Visitors to the site itself scrambled for walls and treetops, eager to see what'll happen when the light fades from the world around them. He couldn't help but chuckle to himself as the lights in his old library finally flickered to life, as they would when the sun set. Night, in the middle of the day. It never ceased to impress the old lorekeeper, these little things so far beyond their control. That was when he stopped entirely, his eyes falling onto something new. A book, unfamiliar even to him, rested on a stack nearby. He knew it hadn't been there before. He'd just placed the deep blue tale of the mothlike beast on that stack just moments ago, eager to see what little Lappet would do with her new partners and the lives they could now lead. He was sure he'd remember the black and white book there now, with a silver chalice embossed on the front and pale rose-gold lettering on the spine. He wandered over to the pile, squinting at the name engraved into the side. "Tales of Wisdom Granted by Wise Beast Solomon... I don't believe any of the others named their new ones that." As the sun began to return, the old drake settled into a padded seat, adjusted his spectacles, and began to read. A quiet fae leaves the desert, disappointed in his findings. A vault never found, a city never seen, and an expedition seemingly wasted. All he'd found were old scraps of cloth, stone shards, and enough sand to soothe the stomach of multiple emperors. He'd settled in the wreckage of an old caravan, likely lost in a sandstorm some time ago. Most of it seemed to be picked over, leaving him to use his own supplies to set up a tent for the night. Sure, he found it annoying at best, but it was better than freezing overnight. He didn't like it, this life of his. Scouring the abandoned corners of the world, finding things from ages past just to survive. He'd always imagined he'd be out on expeditions, picking up old carvings and ancient imprints in what had once been mud by a riverbed, bringing to light new discoveries about the history of this world he lived in. Old rites of passage, symbols of opulence fallen to the wayside, festivals only remembered in the murals etched on the walls of old palaces and pavilions... Having to hand these treasures over for a few trifle gems never truly felt right, in the end, but one had to do what they had to if they wanted to survive. His thoughts were cut short when he let his head fall against the raggedy excuse of a pillow he'd brought with him, expecting some padding from the shifting sands beneath his sleeping bag. Instead, a clang rang in his ears, matching the pain that now emanated from his head. He pushed the cloth aside, muttering to himself over what he could possibly have laid down on. Perhaps an old cooking pot? He'd done that before, and it hadn't even been worth a single gem. He froze when he saw a silver goblet half-buried in the sand, with odd orange stones embedded along the rim. If he were to guess, this chalice was worth more than the entirety of his savings! The stones were immaculate, and the goblet itself wasn't even scratched. And yet... "Perhaps I can learn more of where you came from. Never felt right either way, but knowing helps your home live on in other ways. Even if I can't send you off to someplace you really belong." He didn't seem to notice that, as he made the return journey to the Colonnades of Antiquity, a pair of pensive golden eyes watched him, peering through the infused crystals of the chalice in his satchels. A pale pearlcatcher crouches beneath the boughs of a large tree, talons tapping lightly on the pearl tucked into her satchel. She'd heard the rumors all the way in Lanternlea, the Fae who had built his own fortune in Dragonhome by saving old relics from smugglers and thieves. He had an entire building displaying ancient vases, murals, and more, and seemed more than willing to take in anything new for a fair price. Of course there were theories on how he'd done it. Some said he was already wealthy before, and had just found the perfect outlet for his passion project to shine through. Others said he'd simply been lucky, sold the right thing, and used his funds to start this little trove all on his own. Some even said it was a very generous donation, either from his family or a friend, that had put him where he was now. That was what the public had heard, at least. Those like herself, who knew what it was like to sneak past watchful eyes into old ruins and abandoned crypts, searching for anything worth more than a few pieces of treasure, had other rumors. Some said he'd found one of the lost cities of the Second Age, hidden somewhere deep within Greatwyrm's Breach. Others claimed he'd stumbled across a smuggler's trove, turning it in for enough gems to give even his great grandchildren a life of luxury. The most popular one, however, was what had drawn her in. Every clan had stories of magical artifacts. Some were simple things, like bracers that hardened the scales of the wearer or candles that never died out. Others were oddly specific, like a lantern that lit itself whenever someone was reading nearby, or a pendant that encouraged the weather around the wearer to be perfect. Some were great feats of magic, like keeping an entire town healthy for years on end. Others were so simple, it would take a master of magic to even tell something had changed at all. None of the others could agree on which one the fae had found. Some thought he could turn anything to gold, giving him an infinite source of treasure. Others thought it was a talisman of luck, allowing him to find whatever he needed most. Many hoped for those two to be true, but the pearlcatcher knew better. Those stories always ended in tragedy, wanting for too much. No, she hoped for a very specific artifact, one more common than most would think. The lights flickered out. It was time to make her move. She snuck to the tree, sticking to the shadows to avoid a stray moonbeam bouncing off her pearl. She knew exactly what she was looking for, in the end, passing over expensive looking pendants and ancient tomes. So many amateurs would snap up the books, the runework glowing faintly as though binding some powerful enchantment. Others would probably settle for the jewelry; the larger the gemstones, the more gems they'd bring in. She wasn't an amateur, though. She smiled when she spotted the silver goblet, set beside his hammock as if holding a late-night drink. Some would write it off as gaudy, with clearly worthless stones and probably only silver plating. It looked more like something one would find in their grandmother's old glassware, some family heirloom someone claims belonged to a king when it was really bought off a swindler while vacationing in the Magmablood Rebuke. She wasn't most dragons. The pearlcatcher was swift, uncaring of the faint pink liquid that spilled over as she absconded with her newest prize. So few dragons considered there might be some ancient soul tied to the artifact, one that clearly helped others find greatness solely for possessing the very item hosting them. Wishes were silly things, really. She knew better than to think this was something like that. However, a spirit is a spirit, and she wasn't about to let this one languish in the talons of a hobbyist. She didn't notice the golden eyes boring into her as she raced out the window with the goblet, staring right through her as she made off with her plundered treasure... Not even when her pearl slowly began to fracture, the same rose gold liquid dripping from it like uncured resin. A shaggy golden dog with brilliant yellow eyes freezes on her walk, eyeing the gap in the wall of the garden. She knew hew territory by heart, both because she lived there and because it was a part of her. Part of being a sage, according to those around her. Well, an ophanim if going off of Hochmael's sect here in the garden. She knew the land, knew it's weaknesses... and knew this broken wall was possibly dangerous. It led to the Scarred Waste, after all, and any disease that came from the place would necessitate a call to the local Necromancers. That wasn't what stopped her today, however. She'd seen sickness come and go, after all, and she knew very well that there were worse things out there than a common cold. Some diseases just couldn't be cured, anchored in magic and curses. The last of those was what had drawn her out today, watching for new barghests that could pose a threat to those in her home. She knew the signs to look out for. Strange happenings, rumors, and vaguely hound-like shapes appearing during the night were the most common signs of a new beast. If the Necromancers spoke of strange draining dreams, or odd encounters like burns with no explanation, she knew she'd missed one on her rounds. Sometimes someone would reach out with some odd trinket or bauble with strange magical properties. She'd heard of the latter the other day, coming in from the Scarred Waste. No stray dreams, no unknown dogs, nothing but a silver chalice from the Parched Canyonwalks that supposedly had magical properties. It wasn't much to go on, save the fact the one who stole the chalice had been seen screaming about a strange grey wolf with rose gold spittle and piercing golden eyes. No one saw the wolf themselves, mostly thinking the pearlcatcher had lost her mind, but one individual had reached out to Orli with flecks of rose gold drops in a pouch. She'd walked by the gap a few days now, watching for signs of a victim of the dream eaters. Sure others were worried about her being one, in a sense, but she was confident that helped her find the newcomers before they started causing any trouble. There had been nothing save the occasional escapee seeking aid from the Necromancers. That was until today. She could only stare as a figure staggered about the Wandering Contagion, voice raw from screeching the night before. She'd heard the screeches about the "ragged beast" before, but seeing the face tied to the voice made it abundantly clear. This was the victim of a barghest, and an angry one at that. She was worse for wear, of course, appearing sleep-deprived and underfed, but what stood out the most to the hound was the pearlcatcher's pearl. She'd seen broken pearls before. Cracks filled with metal or off-sheen from ichor seeping into the gaps of previous memories, or odd lumps where pieces were reattached wrong. She had even seen one made not from the eggshell of a hatchling, but some trinket our bauble picked up when a pearlcatcher made a fresh start of their lives, or as a symbolic union between a pearlcatcher and another drake. What she hadn't seen before was one that looked on the verge of falling apart, a shimmering pink liquid seeping from it like it was the source of some fabled fountain. The hound wanted to help, but she didn't get the time to do more than open her mouth before the drake fell to the ground, her pearl shattering. Orli waited a beat, then another, watching the puddle of gold spread from the pearl. Not a sound came from the pearlcatcher, just a faint ringing from her satchel, talons still clutching a silver goblet. She approached the figure, eyeing her with many wary eyes. She was still alive, by the look of it, but the hound doubted seeing the golden beast would do her much good. Besides that, a pearl turned to nothing but shards was almost impossible to recover from. And yet... She carefully picked up the goblet, using her claws to keep the rose gold liquid from touching her. She stared at the odd gemstones, waiting for something. Finally, after a faint flicker of light, she couldn't help but smile. "Say, I know you're mad at this one, but would you care to listen to an alternative? Beast to beast?" She couldn't see the large wolf that followed her back through the gap, watching the smaller golden dog as she told some of the others about the pearlcatcher just outside the wall. To prepare someplace to sleep, if not let a pearl-less pearlcatcher grieve then to simply recover from her somewhat traumatic ordeal outside. And, of course, to keep their eyes on their valuables. The only thing that told her the new face was following her were the golden eyes that stared from each stone in the goblet, golden and patient. She could only hope this would work. A soft sigh escapes the elder as he closes the new book, moving to set it back atop the pile where he'd found it. He paused when he saw a thin layer of dust where it had been, bringing him back to the present. Like a statue reanimating itself, he stood, rivers of dust falling from him like waterfalls off a cliff. He swore he could hear his joints creak as he checked his surroundings. The sun was setting outside, and the first moon of Sornieth was just peeking over the horizon. Or at least it was supposed to. The new moon rising in the sky finally brought forward a quiet chuckle from the old drake, his head shaking as he finally brushed off the dust from the book pile, returning the tome to it's rightful spot in his library. He vaguely remembered the most recent words in the book, about some other drakes traveling with the barghest Orli as they were drawn in by the allure of the goblet and, of course, a possible new barghest to the garden. "Well old boy, best not keep them waiting for long. I'd like to see just what this Solomon is like. Who knows, maybe that young dog can teach an old drake new tricks!" And with that, he made his way out to the square of New Arcadia to whispers of a Goblet of Wisdom and a silver guardian of the knowledge it contained. Some said the guardian provided the wisdom it contained, while others believed it was simply bound to the chalice itself. Whatever it was, something was alive in those infused crystals, staring back at all who dared draw close to the goblet itself. Kaurik could only laugh when he finally took a sip himself, spotting the beast as it studied him. "Solomon, right? Definitely a new face, and new features to match. How about we swap stories, yours for mine?" The hound sat there, listening quietly as the older drake spoke. He expected annoyance, perhaps, or maybe some mild interest in an imperial openly exposing himself to a known barghest. He was pleasantly surprised by the soft smile of the beast as it finally showed it's gargoyle-like face, pale gold eyes locked with faint ice blue eyes. It was a knowing smile, that, with the same wisdom the beast bestowed on those who sought it fairly. He was even more surprised by the gentle laughter that came from the wolf, an amalgamation of feathers and bone that stood in stark contrast to the warm voice of the hound himself. "A storyteller to rival the Dusthides, and accurate too! Alright, Kaurik, I'll share my wisdom with you." And so Solomon settled into New Arcadia, watched over by Kaurik the Elder as the Arcadian pack embraced him with open paws. New chapters continue to write themselves in his book, watched over by Kaurik as the drake vets all who seek the wisdom of the chalice itself. He seems fond of Horcrux's churchyard, settling in the back while her bound partner gives the occasional sermon on the Eleven and the Speaker, as well as other tales from the ancients themselves. His journey may have ended here, but his story continues with each soul that seeks his advice. Each soul that steals from him disappears, another set of eyes peering from the stones of his goblet advising those who dare try to rob him from his home to reconsider. Those who seek him out willingly, and of course were cleared by Kaurik, often leave with whispers of advice settled in their minds. Whether they heed it or not matters little to the barghest. All that matters is that they find him without ill intent and listen. What they do with his wisdom is entirely up to them.
Layout and artwork by awaicu
Banners by PoisonedPaper
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Formerly Cherub/Constellation/Firebreather Imperial with Common Eyes
Capsule and Pastel on 04/24/2024
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