DesertRose

Desert #243426

0 Firestarter Organics These baubles spontaneously produce embers. Great for starting a campfire, great for burning your den down. 21 Bottled Embers Trinkets What is captured must be quickly released or smoke will be all that remains. 25 0 "I am born of fire; the lava runs through my veins. I may have settled down in your garden, but dare not think those flames will ever be tame."

0 From an egg that flowed out from the Great Furnace, this Guardian hatched in a pool of lava in the Molten Scar. The hatchling barely took notice of the boiling substance, rising from the broken pieces of shell and flinging globs of the bright orange liquid as it shook its wings. She rose to her feet, lava rippling around her small body, and looked around before taking her first step onto solid land; and from there she did not stop. Already she could feel something within compelling her to move swiftly, ever forward, like the lava she had been born into. Something out there was calling her, something she had to find. From the rivulets of the Molten Scar, she passed into the Emberglow Hearth where nests of families gathered to raise their young. She watched with interest but detachment and took no time to stop even as elder dragons offered her sanctum within their nests. 'Family' and 'home' were foreign concepts to a dragon born alone among the rivers of lava. At the edge of the Emberglow Hearth, the young dragon wade into the shallow pools of the Tsunami Flats. Water sizzled and evaporated where she stepped, the cold liquid a unique contrast to the heat underneath her scales, but not a wholly unwelcome sensation. The physical traits of her body appeared well equipped to deal with water, able to swim with ease and breathe without impeding difficulty. She became distracted, swimming circles in the lake. On a whim, she dove beneath. The cold, dark, heavy depths quickly overwhelmed her, and she thrashed blindly for freedom. By chance the Guardian stumbled into a cave with a pocket of air and flopped gracelessly onto the damp rock, gasping. She was well received by the dragons living in this place of glittering gemstone walls, but this was not where she was supposed to be. Something still called to her and she would not find it in these waters. After some time to recuperate and prepare to face the depths again, the guardian set out on her search once more. Leaving the Tidelord's domain behind, the guardian crossed over the Tangled Wood, careful to avoid the Foxfire Bramble, and gazed down at the Forum of the Obscured Crescent. She did not stop. She didn't know where she was going, but she knew she'd know when she got there. Beyond the glowing fungi of the Wispwillow Grove, she entered Dragonhome. 0

This place is aptly named, she can feel a sense of belonging even this far from her molten roots. The air hums with a rightness against her scales. But not quite right enough as she still feels the call.

The fox finds her while she wanders the Shattered Plain. "Still on The Search?" it calls jovially, voice tilting and breezy as it sprawls across a sun baked rock.

"Yes."

The fox rolls over and stares at her with deep green eyes. "I'm looking to start a garden. Would you like to help?" "Here?" She looks across the barren rock. "Here. There." The fox waves a paw. This creature is odd, or maybe all foxes are odd. This is the first she's spoken with. Curious, she follows the fox into the craggy hills where moss grows on the rocks and grass pokes through the cracks. At the edge of Dragonhome, on the border of the Viridian Labyrinth, a waterfall flows into a sequestered pond. The land around is already green and fertile, looking untouched by dragon and beastclan alike. The waterfall stirs as they approach, the very spirit of the fall itself taking shape to greet them with a smile.

She feels it then, beneath her scales, in her bone, in the magma that flows through her veins. This fertile land, the garden it will become, this is her charge.

A thin smile curves on the fox's face as if it already knows. "So what's your name?"

"My name?" the Guardian parrots. She had never considered it before. It hadn't felt important compared. to the all consuming need to find. For how could she know herself if she did not know her purpose?

"Well that won't do. Every flower needs a name." The fox ponders as it looks at a vibrant red flower already blooming at the water's edge. "Desert Rose! I think that fits, don't you?"

The Guardian looks from the petals to the same color mirrored on her wings. It fits perfectly.

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