Examples
Completed Art and Lore For Customers! Please don't steal, just have a look through the examples if you want to!
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Dustdevil is a bold, carefree and often irrational dragon. She is always seeking adventure, and has a lust for excitement. Storms in particular entrance her, and she often tells her clanmates that she can feel the pounding raindrops and howling wind throbbing deep in her bones. The swirling shape of a sandstorm is always guaranteed to catch her eye, as her dream and goal in life is to reach the eye of the raging mass of sand and discover the secrets lurking in its centre.
One fateful morning, the dragons of her clan gave warning of a massive storm approaching their lair, and ordered everyone to take cover. Dustdevil, however, was enthralled by the prospect of such an exciting storm heading her way, and when no one was looking, she slipped away from her anxious clanmates and began to fly towards the dark cloud of sand. As she got closer and closer, the harsh winds began to toss her around the darkened sky like a mere leaf, and she flailed, helpless, through the sand. Gritting her teeth with determination, Dustdevil continued to fly as shards of sand and grit stung her eyes and scales. At last, the seemingly impossible happened, and Dustdevil reached the eye. A wave of serenity hit her, and within the swirling mass of fury and rage, the eye felt like a calm, peaceful refuge. She hovered there for a moment, staring out at the seemingly faraway sand all around her, and something caught her eye. An hourglass, filled with pale tan sand that swirled within the glass like the sandstorm. It floated, eerily, beside Dustdevil, and she reached out towards it... And it came to her. As the hourglass touched her scales, Dustdevil felt as though the storm had been sucked inside her, as if it were part of her soul. A shiver rippled through her, and without thinking, as though she had been possessed by the strange object, she slipped a chain that was attached to the hourglass around her neck. As soon as it was over her head, the sand and wind from the storm faded away as if they had never been there. Dustdevil looked down at the hourglass in awe, and suddenly knew that whenever she took it off, the storm would be there, swirling around her little island of tranquility. And she knew in that moment that she had been given a power, the power to create the storm that she loved so much.
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Flos wasn't always what he is now. He wasnt always strict and hardened, shielding his heart and mind from the bombardment of judgement that is thrown at every dragon in the world. He was bright and inquisitive when he hatched, eyes shining bright green and gazing out at his domain. Flos was powerful, he was a commander of nature, a whisperer of the plants and animals that filled the softly rustling forest. He could hear them, hear them call him, and he would call back with a low 'coo'. But his Mother did not understand; could not understand. She watched him as he sung to the birds and thought to herself that her dear dragonet had gone mad. She took him away, away from the forest and plants and wild, into a barren landscape, and raised him in a dull clan. But Flos felt an ache, tugging at his soul and constantly pulsing at the back of his mind. He did not know what it was or why it was there. All he knew was that he missed something, and he missed it with every fibre in his body. And it tore him apart that the longing, the missing, would never leave, and he could never remember.
So he grew up without nature, without his element and his power. He grew up with an ache within him, that hollowed out a space that, over time, was filled with bitterness. The bitterness crept through him, slowly gathering a rage at the one thing just out of his reach. And one day it exploded.
The rage came from everywhere but nowhere, filling him and giving him strength. Flos left the clan with the rage still bubbling within, but as he flew it began to subside and he came to his senses. What was he doing? Where would he go? But the tug, the longing was back, stronger than ever, and it seemed to guide him towards the forest in which he had hatched. Back home.
He reached it, at last, after having been away for so long. Despite the memories of the place having almost completely left Flos's head, it all seemed so familiar. And Flos wandered through the trees, breathing in the fresh, leafy air and soaking up the sound of the creatures lurking in the bushes. He followed a path, not a visible one, but a path in his mind, and he came to a clearing, and a lair, and a clan. Flos knew as surely as he had known the forest was where he belonged. This was his clan. This was where he would be happy.
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Arthur was always the reckless one. Even before it happened. Even before his whole world changed. He was never rich, and never expected to be, so spent his days pick-pocketing and stealing, playing pranks in his spare time. His cocky, sarcastic personality didn't earn him many friends, and those who did choose to hang out with him were usually unstable or criminal. He lacked charm, and was far better at annoying others than making conversation with them. His tall, imposing stature would often scare any children that he met, and his overall noxious personality would repel anyone else. Arthur was, despite all of this, slightly handsome, and was devastated when the apocalypse hit. It didn't just change his appearance - it changed his life.
Arthur had only just been counting up the money from his latest robbery when it happened. It felt so quick it was hard to even believe it has happened. A warp in the universe, a blinding light that flashed on the horizon. And a blazing heat that swept across the land. Arthur felt his limbs shift, grow, mould into a new form. He let out a guttural cry which was heard by no one as the sky grew dark with clouds. The storm flashed by quickly and he looked down at a dark, oily puddle at his reflection. Not his reflection, not him... But it was. Most of his features had remained, but he had been altered. His clothes, his face, his skin, plastered onto a body that was not truly his own. A dragon's body he realised, and shock mingled with terror thudded painfully in his head. He looks up at the dark sky, and recoiled at the sight of a purple haze with cracked black clouds crouding it's wide expanse. A moan sounded from behind him and Arthur turned to see another dragon, staring at him blankly as though dreaming. Then there were more. Arthur backed away, a lump rising in his throat, threatening to choke him. They followed him, with their blank, cold faces watching his every move. And without even thinking, Arthur knew that they would never leave. They would follow him in this cursed dreamland for as long as he lived. And there was nothing he could do but wander across the empty lands.
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Adversary never really had a reputation for being still, or calm. She has always been described by others as fidgety, mischievous, or messy. Even more so now, in her state of eternal chaos. Not many dragons will ever bother to attempt to tell her what to do, or how to do it. She is deaf to orders and blind to other dragons' annoyance. Perhaps because she has realised that the only way to be free is to let go of everything you thought was real.
As a hatchling, the mirror was playful and funny. Adversary was surprisingly popular among the clan, despite her mischief and pranks. For a while, she was happy with her life. She knew her place in the clan. But soon she grew restless, and began to search for something more. The thing that had always bothered her was her appearance. Plain scales with no patterns, just colours. Why so basic, so monotone? Whenever she had grown sad about it, the other dragons had soothed her, and told her that it didn't matter. Suddenly, those words weren't enough though. When she was old enough, Adversary left the clan to find a legendary scatterscroll. The only thing that could change her scales, and make her fit in. Or, perhaps... Stand out. She made her way across the continent of Sornieth to the place she knew was full of magic. Maybe, just maybe, she could find a scatterscroll there. Adversary spent the night at a busy tavern at the edge of the arcane kingdom. Rain poured down outside and roaring crowds laughed and belched at a large table in the middle of the tavern. She huddled into a corner of the room, shivering and hoping desperately that she hadn't come all this way for nothing. Then, a black wildclaw slipped around the drunken dragons and made his way towards her, holding something carefully in his talons. He stood before her and told her to follow him. She refused. He must be mad, she thought, if he thought she would just follow a stranger in a tavern to some strange place in the middle of the night. He laughed, a little insanely, and slipped the object he was holding out of his cloak for just long enough for Adversary to see it. A scatterscroll. The young mirror didn't think twice about following the wildclaw around the back of the tavern. She didn't think twice when he told her the only price to pay for the scroll was her sanity. She didn't think twice as she was transformed by the scroll. She only thought twice as the mad sparkle in the wildclaw's eyes faded. But by then, it was too late. She only heard him murmur 'The curse is gone' before he disappeared into the night.
Adversary gazed down at her scales. No longer plain, but chaotic and patterned. There was apparel too, and her eyes glowed... And her spirit was wild. She burst back into the tavern and screeched in delight, dancing on tables and flinging pints of ale everywhere. An angry snapper flung her away with his strong tail and she crashed into the wall with a force that would have broken her spine... But she got back up and carried on dancing. Immortal.
The next morning she left, and returned to her clan. But they grew angry at the chaos she caused, and she left. Now, and wanders Sornieth, a minor deity of chaos. Unwanted, unloved. Everything she used to fear being. But now? She doesn't care. Chaos is her life.
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Hestia was a coliseum warrior. A fierce, strong dragoness who could battle her way past every beast that ever existed. Her clan was proud, and so was she. Hatchlings would gather round her on stormy nights to hear how brave Hestia had fought the chimera, the harpy, the podid, even Talona herself had taken flight in horror at the sight of Hestia (or at least, that is what she said). Every dragon who had ever wanted to be a warrior looked up to her. She left the clan as usual one morning, head raised as she made her way to the territories of the beastclans. Most other dragons, like the dragons that accompanied her on her journey, would have been terrified of the looming battle ahead. But Hestia was excited. Another day to prove her worth to the clan, to show her strength and he even more cherished than she had been when she first set off. It was normal to begin with. She fought off a few beasts, and earned some treasure. But a recklessness that she had not felt before was creeping into her mind. With the rest of the coliseum team trailing nervously behind her, Hestia ventured into the Kelp Beds. Despite her bragging and fame, Hestia had never been to the Kelp Beds, and the two other dragons with her knew that she wasn't quite the fighter she said she was. They had gone along with her tales before, hoping to earn glory themselves... But now she had gone too far. They told her that they must turn back, but Hestia strode on, and they could only follow as she marched up to one of the worst beasts of the Kelp Beds, the legendary Mantarune. As Hestia leaped towards it with her talons outstretched, it left out a deafening roar. The coliseum team, watching from behind a curtain of kelp, slammed their arms over their head, and the sound, albeit loud, was slightly muffled. Hestia writhed in the water. Her arms, too far stretched away from her head, had been to late to cover her now reddened ears. She swam away as fast as she could, and escaped quickly with the other two. It was only when she reached the clan that she realised what had happened. Hestia was deaf.
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Winterberry is a brave dragoness. Some say the bravest in Sornieth, although perhaps that is a slight exaggeration. She will fly in the fiercest snowstorm, skate on the thinnest ice, dive in the coldest ocean. They say nothing scares or frightens her. Hatchlings throughout the clan look up to her, hoping that if they go to her with every fear that slides through their young minds, she will take their terrors away and replace the fright with courage. Winterberry is, of course, modest on the outside, but every time a hatchling looks up at her with awe filled eyes, she is filled with pride at what she has achieved.
Pride because it takes a strong dragon to conquer fear.
Pride because that is exactly what she did.
Most hatchlings' dreams and goals in life are simple things. Raise a family, become a warrior, be an asset to their clan. Winterberry, however, had different plans. As the other hatchlings played, she would daydream of the adventures she would have when she grew up. She would explore, be the first dragon to see all of Sornieth, the first to visit every clan, the first... The first to see her deity and return to her clan.
Winterberry loved her clan dearly. But her biggest dream was just to glimpse the Icewarden. She knew that the only way to do that was exalt. She didn't want to leave her clan forever though. So she made a plan. To see her deity, and to return. It was risky. She could lose everything, even her life. But Winterberry believed it was worth it.
There was just one problem, other than the ominous risk.
She was afraid.
Afraid of the dark, of large spiders, of illness, of death. And so much more.
It took many long, long nights of silent contemplation for her to finally convince herself. It would all be worth it.
Maybe, just maybe... It would make her brave if she managed to make it through.
That was all she needed to convince her. Courage and a glimpse of her deity? It was impossible for her to resist the urge any longer.
Winterberry bade farewell to her clan, hoping against hopes that it wouldn't be the last time she saw them.
She made her way to the Southern Icefield, the place where she was hatched, and then to the lair of the Icewarden. The Fortress of Ends came into sight, and she began to run towards it. A tugging in her heart pulled her forward as she raced through the maze of crags and icicles. This was it. She was destined to complete this journey, too see the deity and leader of the Ice Flight.
It was only when she reached a dark, cold cave that she stopped. As she waited for her breath to return, she gazed around in wonder. The cave was huge, and as her eyes adjusted to the light, she saw that garlands of delicate snowflakes hung from the tall, domed ceiling. It was carved into the ice, with intricate swirls and elaborate loops spilling over the cool blue walls.
Her breath turned to clouds of mist before her, and a tiny blue sprite scampered across the floor.
"What have we here...?"
His voice was like the ice that surrounded them. Cold but magical, breathtaking but terrifying.
"I wish to see the Icewarden."
Winterberry turned to the voice. Was it really him? Was it possible?
"You would pay the price?"
She stopped. What price? What must she give to him?
"If I am able to, then I will."
She kept her voice steady though fear rushed through her pulsing veins, tingling from the blood rushing out of her rapidly beating heart.
"Your sight. Half of your sight will belong to me, and the ice and snow."
Her sight? That was it?
"Then yes. I will pay the price."
She could no longer hold back her excitement and anticipation, mingled with fear, and the word 'price' came out in a squeak.
Then, a flicker of movement was visible in the corner of her eye. The ice moved, and her deity rose from a shaded archway. He was breathtaking, everything Winterberry had ever imagined and more.
Light from outside danced across his glistening blue fur and his eyes glowed with frost.
And suddenly, a flurry of snowflakes began to pour from her eyes, quickly floating away or melting as they left her. Everything was half shrouded by the discs of frost, and Winterberry barely saw the Icewarden as he looked at her one last time, then disappeared through the archway.
It was all worth it though. Now she was brave. Now she had a tale to tell her clan mates. Now she had something to show them all, a mark left by the Icewarden himself.
So as she returned to her clan, she was filled with joy, hope, and courage.
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Signy is a stern but kind dragoness, and the head librarian of the library. She was abandoned by her parents and grew up as a student at the library, dedicating her life to finding her true purpose. However, she knew that before she could find her purpose, she must defeat the one thing that stood in her way...
Signy would wait with baited breath each night. As the other students slept peacefully, she would curl up tightly in her bed at the end of the dormitory, making herself as small as she could while she watched the corners of the room. Little Signy had been told tales of the shade for as long as she could remember. And for a young hatchling like her, that was frightening. It took every cell in her body not to bolt from the dormitory each night, and run to the library where she could lose herself in a book in a well lit corner. But she never did run away as the others slept, and soon her fear grew into a stern determination to defeat the beast that plagued her mind.
The other students would sometimes tease her. Why did she still believe the stories of the shade? They were just myths to scare hatchlings into behaving!
But Signy knew, knew in her heart, that they weren't.
After a long day of research on the shade, Signy still hadn't come any closer to finding out how to defeat it. She had been searching for months, yet still no answers.
A flutter of wings sounded next to her, and she turned her head to see Flower, the old head librarian, watching her with curious green eyes. The little fae smiled when Signy looked at her.
Flower was the founder of the library... And she had to know about the shade!
"I see you are interested in the shade?" Flower asked her kindly.
"Y-yes,"
"I am glad that the dragon has come at last." The fae breathed a sigh of relief, as though she had been holding it in for a long, long time.
" What do you mean? "
"I always knew a dragon would come to take my place. Bent on defeating the shade - for I am sure that is why you research - and protecting all of this." Flower waved a wing at the library, filled with sleepy students, most of which were just heading off to bed.
"Can you tell me how?" Signy asked excitedly, a spark igniting in her pale blue eyes.
"Alas, no. That is your destiny. But I can guide you."
"Then guide me." A wave of courage rushed through her, like a tsunami about to slam into the shore. " I will defeat it for you, and for everyone. "
Flower mentored Signy, showing her every book with every answer, all of which Signy used to piece together a plan.
Despite her intricate planning, when the time came, Signy's most dominant feeling was helplessness. It wouldn't work. But she had to try.
It raged through the library, throwing books across the room, and toppling huge oak shelves.
Not even Signy could remember everything that happened.
It attacked her, the spirits of soulless dragons lashing out at her with dark talons.
It cornered her, trapping her and forming a wall of darkness around her.
And it tried to kill her. But it failed.
It killed Flower instead.
The brave fae leaped at it, knowing what would happen, but also knowing that if she didn't, Signy could die.
After all her work at the library, Flower finally found her purpose.
It consumed her, ripping her soul away without a second thought.
But as she died, her kindness burned the shade.
Her spirit was a fire that would weaken the shade for years...
While Signy, shattered by Flower's death, but strong with an anger at the shade, prepared to fight again.
The next time, she would have her family beside her.
The next time, they would succeed.
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Stars flickered in the sky above as he walked. Stars, or fireflies? He could no longer tell.
They had been like this before, his tired mind remembered. The night of yesterday, and the night before that. How many nights ago was it that he had begun this endless treck? He did not know.
His scales were blank, like a canvas waiting to be painted. Plain white, wiped of colour and personality. Why? Now, that was just about the only thing he could remember.
He had been the one that had always been centre of attention. His clan had loved, cherished, looked up to him. He could remember the sparks in their bright turquoise eyes, like lightning spearing the earth and ripping apart the blue silk of the sky. They had lapped up his words hungrily, he the flame and they the moths, followers to the king. Except he was not the king.
A dragon who had long since been shut out of his memory - or perhaps not out, but in, locked away in the deepest corner of his mind so that he would never have to bear the pain of the thought of the dragon who cast him out.
The king was jealous. Of course he was. What king would not be jealous of a foolish, handsome young dragon taking the place of leader in the clan?
The relationship between the king and him had always been tedious, the silent truce so easy to shatter. And shatter it did, though the glass rained down mainly on the handsome young dragon who had earned his clan's love and approval.
He was stripped of his place in the clan, his name, his appearance, and when all of that was done, his clan turned their backs on him and he was stripped of his friends and family as well.
The now gleeful king watched with a smug satisfaction as he was driven from his clan, abandoned to a fate of searching for something even close to what he once had.
It was a long, long time before he found that.
On a crystal clear night, when the wind blew chilly and fast, he came to a magnificent city. A city of stars, of obsidian towers that reflected the specks of light like mirrors and beamed their glow across the world. It was here the fireflies crowded, emitting a soft shine that appeared dull in comparison to the shimmering sparks of the midnight city.
The only thing was... The city was in ruins.
The towers of obsidian still stood proud and strong, but the years had taken their toll on the once glorious place. So when he entered the seemingly empty city, he was astounded to see the most beautiful young wildclaw dragoness making her way delicately through the dusty ruins. He watched her, with fire opal melted over her iridescent ebony scales and silver freckles pricked like stars across her wings.
She was so beautiful, he thought to himself. And he found himself in love with her.
The fireflies came then, and transformed him, weaving their light over his empty scales to create a new skin, for the start of his new life. A shimmering emerald dashed with streams of gold rippled over him, adorned with the gentle glow of fireflies.
With his new appearance, and his sighting of this new, wonderful life, came a new name.
Star.
It entered his mind as he stepped towards the dragoness, who turned to him and smiled sadly.
"Welcome to the midnight. We have been waiting for you."
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Hania hurried across the rocky landscape of the light domain, the sharp sun stinging her eyes. How she longed for the dark light of the flames and the veil of the smoke that hung in the air of her home kingdom. But Flix had entrusted her with the egg, and she must keep moving.
It had been her own fault really. Motherly and protective, a fierce warrior who could fight off any enemies. The perfect dragon to carry an abandoned egg across the continent just to keep it safe from exalt.
And Verde had, of course, known that Hania would never be able to abandon the egg and the hatchling within to the harsh fate that the soldiers of the Flamecaller had planned. No doubt Flix's esteemed mate had been wrapped up in the whole process.
The egg rocked a little in the makeshift sling Hania had fashioned to carry it the long distance. A flicker of relief sparked in the dragoness' heart that the hatchling would be safe. If Hania hadn't carried it to the lair of [lair name, you decide], then it might already have been claimed by the exalt recruitment soldiers. An army of dragons loyal to the Flamecaller, who would steal orphaned eggs and hatchlings, train them, and send them to serve the deity of fire in eternal exalt.
Nobody in their clan could bear to let that happen, and so they had decided to leave the egg with one of their allied clans in the hewn city. If the rumours were true about the kind nature of the Lightweaver, the hatchling would be much safer there.
At last, Hania came within sight of a kindly looking gold laiden snapper with a wide smile across her glittering face.
"Ah, the little one has arrived." She said in a soft voice, and came towards Hania, stepping carefully over the stone ruins that littered the ground.
The skydancer untucked the egg from the sling with a little pang of reluctance. Would she ever see the hatchling? She hoped so.
"Flix has requested that you take her in, and make sure she is safe from exalt. The... The Flamecaller's soldiers would have come for her in our domain. They... Don't do that here?" Worry crept into her voice on the last sentence, as though she doubted the safety of the hatchling she had toiled so hard to protect.
" No, " the snapper chuckled, "The Lightweaver is, as they say, a kind deity. This little one will be safe here." The snapper reached out to carefully take the boulder like egg from Hania.
" Oh, of course! I almost forgot! " She stopped and looked up at the skydancer. "What do you think we should name her? You should at least have that privilege after such a long journey to deliver this bab' to us!"
Hania looked down at the egg. A tiny crack was beginning to slide down the side of it.
She thought back to her home, where they had found the egg, all alone beside the pools of lava. And the hatchlings home, the earth domain, a place where perhaps the dragon in the egg would never go.
"Molten."
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Stars flickered in the sky above as he walked. Stars, or fireflies? He could no longer tell. They had been like this before, his tired mind remembered. The night of yesterday, and the night before that. How many nights ago was it that he had begun this endless treck? He did not know. His scales were blank, like a canvas waiting to be painted. Plain white, wiped of colour and personality. Why? Now, that was just about the only thing he could remember.
He had been the one that had always been the center of attention. His clan had loved, cherished, looked up to him. He could remember the sparks in their bright turquoise eyes, like lightning spearing the earth and ripping apart the blue silk of the sky. They had lapped up his words hungrily, he the flame and they the moths, followers to the king. Except he was not the king.
A dragon who had long since been shut out of his memory - or perhaps not out, but in, locked away in the deepest corner of his mind so that he would never have to bear the pain of the thought of the dragon who cast him out. The king was jealous. Of course he was. What king would not be jealous of a foolish, handsome young dragon taking the place of leader in the clan? The relationship between the king and him had always been tedious, the silent truce so easy to shatter. And shatter it did, though the glass rained down mainly on the handsome young dragon who had earned his clan's love and approval.
He was stripped of his place in the clan, his name, his appearance, and when all of that was done, his clan turned their backs on him and he was stripped of his friends and family as well. The now gleeful king watched with a smug satisfaction as he was driven from his clan, abandoned to a fate of searching for something even close to what he once had. It was a long, long time before he found that.
On a crystal clear night, when the wind blew chilly and fast, he came to a magnificent city. A city of stars, of obsidian towers that reflected the specks of light like mirrors and beamed their glow across the world. It was here the fireflies crowded, emitting a soft shine that appeared dull in comparison to the shimmering sparks of the midnight city. The only thing was... The city was in ruins.
The towers of obsidian still stood proud and strong, but the years had taken their toll on the once glorious place. So when he entered the seemingly empty city, he was astounded to see the most beautiful young wildclaw dragoness making her way delicately through the dusty ruins. He watched her, with fire opal melted over her iridescent ebony scales and silver freckles pricked like stars across her wings.
She was so beautiful, he thought to himself. And he found himself in love with her.
The fireflies came then, and transformed him, weaving their light over his empty scales to create a new skin, for the start of his new life. A shimmering emerald dashed with streams of gold rippled over him, adorned with the gentle glow of fireflies.
With his new appearance, and his sighting of this new, wonderful life, came a new name.
Star. It entered his mind as he stepped towards the dragoness, who turned to him and smiled sadly. "Welcome to the midnight. We have been waiting for you."
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Iris had been a proud dragoness, once. A strong queen, the faithful ruler of the citadel of Midnight.
That was, until the shattering.
The beastclans came at the very time the city was named after; in the dark centre of the night. Battles had been fought between the dragons and beasts for as long as anyone could remember, and most likely longer. The territory had once belonged to the kitsunes, or was it the centaurs? Did it really matter any more? To Iris, it had just been yet another small inconvenience to the ruling of her precious kingdom.
That was, until the shattering.
The battle was just like any other in the rocky war that raged, mostly silently, between the clans. Iris was more than confident that her brave army of warriors would fight off the intruding armies before any real harm could be done. And in a way, she was right, as the coliseum fighters drove away the creatures of the beastclans in the end. Not before the city had been almost demolished, though.
The shattering didn't just shatter the glorious obsidian spires that pierced the clouds like smooth spears of shadow, cut from the night sky itself. It shattered Queen Iris' confidence too. She was broken, left wandering the halls of the broken palace and mourning the loss of her certainty and courage.
Lost in her grief at the destruction of the place she loved and had been entrusted to rule, Iris didn't notice the fear of her citizens. They were terrified, that the beastclans might return, that their queen would not recover, that they would be driven out of their homes. And if any of that were to happen, they would be helpless without the strong pillar of support that was a monarch.
At last, a trusted advisor told Iris of the plight of her people. The queen, though devastated that she had let them down like that, finally managed to summon the last scrap of determination and decided she would find an heir.
Iris knew a dragoness who would be the perfect queen. Strong, brave, young, loyal, honest and intelligent. The wildclaw was an orphan, raised by Iris and woven into society so that she was already a noble when Iris went to her to ask Starshine to become the queen, and her successor.
So Starshine became ruler of a broken city. And when Iris stepped down from her high position, she knew something no other dragon other than the new queen did. She knew, for certain once again, that Starshine would be a glorious ruler. For as she laid upon Starshine's head the heavy crown she had worn for so many years, with that sense of enlightenment came a power.
Foresight and prophecy, to advise the queen and use her knowledge of past, present and future to help rebuild her kingdom from a place behind the throne.
Iris was no longer queen, but had gained a different power and would be able to protect her dragons for years to come. And that, for her, was all she had ever really wanted.
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It's the little things that matter. Things like dappled sunlight on puddles, the birdsong in the morning, and of course, cookies. Banana was perhaps the one dragon in Sornieth who was and loved these little things with the delight and joy of a child at their birthday party.
As a dragon who had always been somewhat a background character to more important dragons, Banana had grown used to living among the lesser noticed features of the world. If anyone ever asked him, which they rarely did, he would say that he was at home among these forgotten landmarks because they reminded him of his own solitude. After so many years of watching the world go by mostly on his own, Banana didn't mind the silence of his life, and would have continued to remain positive and completely certain that his life style was perfect if Star hadn't come.
Star, the strange traveller cast out from his own clan, who became king of the ruined city of Midnight. Just like all of the other citizens, Banana had been wary of this strange dragon at first. After all, if he had been thrown out by the dragons who had known him as a hatchling, could they ever really trust him as their king? But their queen, new as well to the throne but favoured by her subjects far more than her new mate, persevered and soon they learned that the king was not a dragon to be afraid of, but a dragon to look up to.
Banana saw, after that, what no one else did. He looked closer and found that Star was lonely, and even though he was sure he had found a home, lost. So Banana, the lone dragon whom everyone else had always called a little strange, became a friend to the king. Time passed and the two became inseparable, until one day Star asked Banana to become his royal advisor. This would settle his position in the palace and earn him the admiration of the people, and Banana had already shown a great mind and eye for details that any other dragon would surely miss.
He accepted the offer and was given quarters in the palace and the ability to wander through the city wherever he should like to go. Life was pleasant, and as he was beginning to realise he had been wrong about being as happy as he could be before, he met Iris. A slightly aged (though not too old) mirror who had once been queen of Midnight. They became mates and raised a family, advising the royals together and relishing their place in the world.
One day, Star came to Banana in his quarters with a slight frown creasing his shimmering scales. Banana asked his king what was wrong, and Star replied that he wanted to know why the city had such a bleak name as Midnight.
Banana thought about it. The city had once been proud to call itself Midnight, boasting of the way the moon ricocheted off the eternally polished, spotless towers and left droplets of stardust across the city. The citadel, they had used to say, was almost a perfect reflection of the night sky, with its smooth black buildings speckled with silver stars. Midnight had seemed a beautiful name once, but after the obsidian towers fell, it seemed to mock the city it had once named with pride. The darkness, chills, fear, shadows, came at midnight. It had become a horror town.
When the monarchy had been strengthened by Star and Starshine, they had rebuilt the citadel with rich, elegant purple and gold spires, lavishly engraved with mother of pearl. The city shone in an even more pleasing way than it had before.
There had been gossip about the name of the citadel. Fights over it, even. It should be changed, it simply doesn't suite us any more! Had been one side of the argument. On the other; but we cannot simply change the name of a city!
So Banana thought his answer through carefully, and replied saying that it should be changed into something brighter, more fitting for their new lives and home.
And of course, Star asked again what the new city should be named.
Simple things entered Banana's mind and he stepped to the window, watching the birds sing with the dawn. A small dragonet sat on the grass beneath the sweetpuffs that hopped through the sunlit streets.
And he replied with "The Kingdom of Dragonsongbird."
Lanternlea Tales
