Tagora
(#22183738)
21 Mar 2016 | Level 1
Click or tap to view this dragon in Predict Morphology.
Energy: 50/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Light.
Female Guardian
This dragon is hibernating.
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
16.28 m
Wingspan
12.23 m
Weight
9284.97 kg
Genetics
Denim
Giraffe
Giraffe
Jungle
Peregrine
Peregrine
Lavender
Contour
Contour
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 1 Guardian
EXP: 0 / 245
STR
7
AGI
8
DEF
6
QCK
8
INT
5
VIT
6
MND
5
Lineage
Parents
- none
Offspring
- none
Biography
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T A G O R A
warrior   
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I.
“And so I present your Charge, Princess Lamille.” The old Guardian bowed his neck, but the wandering warrior had no eyes for him. The pure white Pearlcatcher was bedecked in lavender silk and costly silver, draped with violet petals. Her dark purple eyes lit up when she saw Tagora. She bounded down the raised dais, laughing, then poked Tagora in the chest. Tagora blushed warmly.
“You’re going to take care of me?”
“I’m going to try,” Tagora managed.
“Trying’s not good enough.”
“Then I will,” Tagora promised. She placed a paw gently on Lamille’s forehead, bowed to the rest of her clan.
But Lamille was already tugging on her paw. “Adventures don’t wait! Let’s go!”
II.
Nobody said having a Charge was easy. Especially not a Charge like Princess Lamille, who not only believed the entire world was friendly and beautiful—but also had wanderlust so strongly, it was like a disease.
Tagora jerked Lamille away from snapping Janustraps, fended off a pack of White Wolves, and slew a Wartoad with her own heavy paws. Through it all, Lamille laughed and pranced, balancing her precious alabaster pearl on her nose, or bowling it along with her tail.
“When are you going to let me fight, Tagora?”
“Probably never,” Tagora panted as they struggled through the Mire. “In fact, we’re probably going home.”
“Home?” Lamille’s face hardened. She trotted in front of Tagora, then lifted her chin defiantly. “Absolutely not.”
“Princess,” Tagora said patiently. “There’s only so long we can wander. Don’t you miss your bed?”
“Maybe.”
“Regular meals?”
As if on cue, Lamille’s stomach rumbled. Her white cheeks blushed red.
Tagora’s chest ached. She knew it was customary for Guardians to adore their Charge. And yet…
“Look out!” She knocked Lamille to the side, snarling, and set upon three Kamaitachi. Their sharp blades nicked her scales and drew blood.
When she was finished with them, she turned to Lamille, who was quaking.
“We need safety.” Tagora spat a thin rill of blood to the ground, more for dramatic effect than anything. Her body ached, but she'd do anything for Lamille.
“Yes. We’ll go to Light.”
III.
They met Clan Yulon’s traveling party on the border between Light and Shadow’s realms. Here, in this twilit space, everything grew especially well. The foliage was an exotic mix of lavender, indigo, and green, and pale purple blossoms bloomed underfoot. Tagora kept quiet, as most Guardians did while in company of their Charge. She was tired and sore, anyway. And Lamille wanted to do all of the talking.
Clan Yulon seemed impressed by the chirpy white Pearlcatcher—though some of the Guardians and Pearlcatchers present gave Tagora knowing looks. They made their way slowly through the valley.
She had settled down near Lamille for the night when a noise came from the treeline. She was instantly alert and on her feet.
“Stay down,” one of Clan Yulon’s members advised. “You’re injured.”
Yes. She was. She didn’t know how badly until the world see-sawed dizzily in front of her. With a contented sigh, she sank to the ground, trying to ignore the sounds of a small scuffle.
She only closed her eyes for a moment. But when she opened them, the pretty purple-green landscape was burning into patches of char and ash. Clan Yulon was fighting hard, but outnumbered. And there was a bright white spirit capering to and fro, slashing at the shadowy assailants with sharp-clawed paws, all the while clutching an icy white ball in one hind paw—
Tagora leapt up. The white specter was Lamille. And Lamille—not a warrior at all—didn’t see the war-painted Ridgebacks swooping in from the west.
“No!” Tagora roared, surging forward, tiredness gone.
But Lamille turned toward her. In that instant, she dropped her white pearl. It shattered against an ill-placed rock.
The shadows swarmed over her.
IV.
Clan Yulon sat in a half-circle around the fire. Tagora sat on the other side. The sky was strewn with stars, but the east burned with pearly fire as the sun rose. Lamille’s soft white body was cold gray ash, now. She couldn’t be buried, lest the attackers’ Shade-brushed teeth have infected her, and the corruption spread through the earth to the trees.
Finally, Maia stirred, her pink-purple eyes warm with sympathy. “What will you do now?”
For a long time, Tagora couldn’t answer. Hot tears rolled down her cheeks.
“She — wanted to go to Light.”
“We live near the Hewn City.” An inscrutable look crossed over Maia’s face as Luka gathered the Pearlcatcher’s ashes into a bell-shaped jar. The jar was pure glass, and fragments of Lamille’s pearl glistened within. “You can join us.”
“When I’m through.” Tagora abruptly got to her feet, though rising was like pushing against a thousand gallons of dark water.
“Yes,” Maia replied. “When you’re through.”
V.
No one is sure what happened next. Clan Yulon speaks, in hushed tones, of a great golden light that poured from the sky around noon—of a roar that flattened an entire forest—of something that shook the earth.
Then they speak of the Guardian who sat on her haunches beside a bell-shaped jar of ashes for so long that moss and golden flowers grew between her scales. Eventually, though, the quiet jokes of Luka and Subrine reminded her that the dead stay dead, and our duty is to the living.
In time, Tagora could even smile again—especially on her mate, Liora.
But finally, they speak of the spirit of a pure white Pearlcatcher, and when the wind blows right, you can hear her laugh.
Lines by sunflic Color by thehungryfox
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Exalting Tagora to the service of the Windsinger 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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