Horatia
(#40626218)
acts as Lumen's eyes
Click or tap to view this dragon in Predict Morphology.
Energy: 50
out of
50
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Personal Style
Ancient dragons cannot wear apparel.
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
0.99 m
Wingspan
0.75 m
Weight
0.86 kg
Genetics
Coal
Sphinxmoth (Veilspun)
Sphinxmoth (Veilspun)
Grey
Hawkmoth (Veilspun)
Hawkmoth (Veilspun)
Oilslick
Trickmurk (Veilspun)
Trickmurk (Veilspun)
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 1 Veilspun
EXP: 0 / 245
STR
5
AGI
9
DEF
5
QCK
8
INT
6
VIT
6
MND
6
Lineage
Parents
Offspring
- Flutterwing
- Salt
- Falcondance
- Muddy
- Alastar
- Leonora
- Scatter
- Ash
- Crystalspirit
- Rey
- Snowflake
- Candy
- Heart
- Umber
- Dusty
- Dusky
- Scaly
- Umber
- Flame
- Spotty
- Dotty
- Mittens
- Silverleaf
- Specklescales
- Salmon
- Mushroom
- Harp
- Snowyowl
- Cheerful
- Koggas
- Fulmi
- Volnu
- Keqhin
- Duskfall
- Calderaro
- Mithril
- Natalya
- Snowsmile
- Mongoose
- Agena
- Slaun
- Trystan
- Plum
- Honeycutt
- Craig
- Awena
- Schedar
- Frost
- Evarado
- Ironmaw
- Kira
- Dreena
- Eluned
- Fork
- Fork
- Saphira
- Isra
- Malicifent
- Moyashi
- Hotoke
- Seamus
- Namasur
- Yachad
- Alere
- Unnamed
- Unnamed
- Victorian
- Zwartkop
- Tessera
- Azami
- Clover
- Blackstar
- Dusty
- Dusty
- Shtromph
- Alliance
- Unnamed
- Ornan
- Excidium
- Rasheeka
- Raindrop
- Smokewreath
- Llewellyn
- Darkdream
- Flint
- Cicada
- Unnamed
- Elturgard
- Kokone
- Farquar
- Trine
- Fair
- Dusky
- Gloomy
- Pavlina
- Sorry
- Sorry
- Sorry
- Sorry
- Oakbranch
- Joiya
- Treven
- Cutter
- Haimona
- Nakia
- Seprina
- Rofel
- Sousaphone
- Unnamed
- Osiris
- Orebiter
- Brygid
- Serene
- Selene
- Sverre
- Glisten
- Silk
- Noctiluca
- Peter
- Spellwind
- Shiryou
- Daan
- Dart
- Wispy
- Alkener
- Cosmos
- Hypermancer
- Skyrunner
- Arpine
- Goldfeather
- Yvon
- Muratia
- Augury
Biography
{Quote is a w.i.p.}
~
Horatia, Part 1, Volume III
???
~
Continued from Redtide Part 2
~
Horatia, Part 1, Volume III
???
~
Continued from Redtide Part 2
Somewhere in Cinderslag...
She still saw their faces, frozen with fear and utter despair as they stared back...they begged her to go, to hide, to get help...her heart breaking as she fled into the trees—
She woke with a start, her little heart thundering in panic and confusion as she looked around, not knowing where she was now. The air was hot and thick, threatening to choke her, and the lighting was dim. As her eyes quickly adjusted, she took in her surroundings.
She was still trapped inside a large glass jar place high on a shelf in a dark room, and the lid that sealed her prison tight had four small holes. Trying to stand, she reached for the lid to see if she could somehow twist it off, until she lost her balance and tipped the jar over, and it clattered on the shelf, but it didn't even crack.
And a blood-curdling scream startled her.
“WHERE AM I NOW? WHAT WAS THAT?!”
She whipped her head around to see who else was with her. In the centre of the room sat a feathered Wildclaw, and he was strapped to a chair, his limbs and wings tied. Some of his feathers were bent and dirty, and a bandage covered most of his head, and it was bloodied where his eyes would be.
“Who's th-there?” he asked, trembling in fear and teeth clacking. “A-Aster, if that's y-you...”
Aster...the dragon that had been keeping her trapped...
“I'm not Aster,” she told him softly, but just loud enough to be heard. “My name is Horatia.”
Hearing her voice, the Wildclaw's shaking started to cease, though he still stuttered with fear when he answered. “Oh no...he got you, too? H-he's not here right now is h-he? We're in danger—”
“Is he with Thimbleweed?” she suddenly demanded.
The feathered dragon tilted his head slightly, just as confused as she. “Th- Thimbleweed? No. I think A-Aster works alone...he took my eyes trying to find my soul,” he explained, trembling again, his crest standing straight up in alarm.
Aster too wants souls...just like—
Before Horatia could finish her thought, the room suddenly lurched, frightening them both. Her jar nearly rolled off of the high shelf, but she managed to stop its motion, holding out both arms to the sides.
An explosive whistle blew.
“What was that?!” the Wildclaw hissed. “Where are we?”
“I don't know,” Horatia replied, thinking hard. Rolling her jar slightly closer to the edge, she peered down. If she rolled off, it could shatter and she'd be free. But the broken glass could also injure her.
The room lurched again, and this time she allowed herself to be rolled off the shelf to the wooden floor below. Her glass prison was smashed to pieces, and she struggled to stand after the hard fall. She cut one paw on a jagged shard of glass, wincing in pain.
“What happened?” the other dragon asked with concern. “Are you okay?”
“I'll be fine,” Horatia hissed softly. Another whistle blew, and her stomach dropped. They needed to hurry. Concentrating, she shut her eyes, and a thick black ooze began covering her bleeding paw. In seconds, the cut was healed, leaving no scar, and the goop was gone.
Wasting no more time, she rushed to untie the feathered drake, who introduced himself as Lumen, and he stood, stretching his shaking wings. When Horatia untied the last rope the bound him, Lumen leapt from the chair and stumbled, crying out in agony before immediately shutting his maw. His left leg felt like it was broken, and his heart beat wildly in panic.
Horatia hesitated before speaking again. “We have to leave.” She examined Lumen's leg, and the Wildclaw winced. Trying to heal an injury like his would take much longer than her cut paw, and they didn't have time. Looking around the room, she spied a gnarled wooden pole leaning against a wall, and darted to grab it for Lumen. It was bigger than she, but she managed to bring it to the feathered dragon, who accepted it with worry and uncertainty.
Once the feathered dragon adjusted to how to use it for balance and support, Horatia grew more determined.
“We're getting out of here,” she promised him.
She still saw their faces, frozen with fear and utter despair as they stared back...they begged her to go, to hide, to get help...her heart breaking as she fled into the trees—
She woke with a start, her little heart thundering in panic and confusion as she looked around, not knowing where she was now. The air was hot and thick, threatening to choke her, and the lighting was dim. As her eyes quickly adjusted, she took in her surroundings.
She was still trapped inside a large glass jar place high on a shelf in a dark room, and the lid that sealed her prison tight had four small holes. Trying to stand, she reached for the lid to see if she could somehow twist it off, until she lost her balance and tipped the jar over, and it clattered on the shelf, but it didn't even crack.
And a blood-curdling scream startled her.
“WHERE AM I NOW? WHAT WAS THAT?!”
She whipped her head around to see who else was with her. In the centre of the room sat a feathered Wildclaw, and he was strapped to a chair, his limbs and wings tied. Some of his feathers were bent and dirty, and a bandage covered most of his head, and it was bloodied where his eyes would be.
injured Lumen
“Who's th-there?” he asked, trembling in fear and teeth clacking. “A-Aster, if that's y-you...”
Aster...the dragon that had been keeping her trapped...
“I'm not Aster,” she told him softly, but just loud enough to be heard. “My name is Horatia.”
Hearing her voice, the Wildclaw's shaking started to cease, though he still stuttered with fear when he answered. “Oh no...he got you, too? H-he's not here right now is h-he? We're in danger—”
“Is he with Thimbleweed?” she suddenly demanded.
The feathered dragon tilted his head slightly, just as confused as she. “Th- Thimbleweed? No. I think A-Aster works alone...he took my eyes trying to find my soul,” he explained, trembling again, his crest standing straight up in alarm.
Aster too wants souls...just like—
Before Horatia could finish her thought, the room suddenly lurched, frightening them both. Her jar nearly rolled off of the high shelf, but she managed to stop its motion, holding out both arms to the sides.
An explosive whistle blew.
“What was that?!” the Wildclaw hissed. “Where are we?”
“I don't know,” Horatia replied, thinking hard. Rolling her jar slightly closer to the edge, she peered down. If she rolled off, it could shatter and she'd be free. But the broken glass could also injure her.
The room lurched again, and this time she allowed herself to be rolled off the shelf to the wooden floor below. Her glass prison was smashed to pieces, and she struggled to stand after the hard fall. She cut one paw on a jagged shard of glass, wincing in pain.
“What happened?” the other dragon asked with concern. “Are you okay?”
“I'll be fine,” Horatia hissed softly. Another whistle blew, and her stomach dropped. They needed to hurry. Concentrating, she shut her eyes, and a thick black ooze began covering her bleeding paw. In seconds, the cut was healed, leaving no scar, and the goop was gone.
Wasting no more time, she rushed to untie the feathered drake, who introduced himself as Lumen, and he stood, stretching his shaking wings. When Horatia untied the last rope the bound him, Lumen leapt from the chair and stumbled, crying out in agony before immediately shutting his maw. His left leg felt like it was broken, and his heart beat wildly in panic.
Horatia hesitated before speaking again. “We have to leave.” She examined Lumen's leg, and the Wildclaw winced. Trying to heal an injury like his would take much longer than her cut paw, and they didn't have time. Looking around the room, she spied a gnarled wooden pole leaning against a wall, and darted to grab it for Lumen. It was bigger than she, but she managed to bring it to the feathered dragon, who accepted it with worry and uncertainty.
Once the feathered dragon adjusted to how to use it for balance and support, Horatia grew more determined.
“We're getting out of here,” she promised him.
Continued in the Celosia Part 1
art by orest
art by orest
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Exalting Horatia to the service of the Tidelord will remove them from your lair forever. They will leave behind a small sum of riches that they have accumulated. This action is irreversible.
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