Lazarus

Born to the Windswept Plateau, the strong-willed Pearlcatcher was brought up to appreciate the winds and conquer the skies. As a G1, Lazarus made his own way as one of the many dragon orphans of Sornieth. In particular, Lazarus had always possessed a knack for understanding the intricacies of battle. Even as a hatchling, Lazarus conjured up small magical spells from his inner combat prowess to win clan challenges and beat his clanmates in swordplay and fights. And when he was old enough to train in the coliseum, his tactics continued there, his mana growing stronger and his precision becoming more and more accurate with practice. Before long, Lazarus was the most consulted dragon of the Twisting Crescendo, for even the fiercest warriors and the proudest knights sought the Pearlcatcher’s mysterious arcane foresight.

The days bled into one another for Lazarus, however. Many noticed his dark and brooding attitude as the years went on, but none ever assumed anything out of the ordinary, for the melancholy Pearlcatcher had always been that way. Outside the realm of combat, there was not much Lazarus felt that he offered to his clan. Although his scars and innumerable bloody bandages gave the impression that he was a force to be reckoned with, he could easily be found resting in the peaceful meadows of the Zephyr Steppes or curling around enormous clouds. Even more frequently, he could be found merely protecting his pearl, cleaning it and finding new secret hiding places for it throughout the Wind Realm. Lazarus’ protective and strategic personality has not only saved his clan from numerous raids, but has also made him one of the most caring and considerate dragons in his clan.

And then tragedy struck.

As the years wore on, Lazarus began to feel that perhaps he was spending them in vain, wasting too much time coaching others on fighting when he could fight for his clan, side-by-side his fearsome clanmates instead of on the sidelines half the time. As a battle cleric, his specialties lay within the spiritual rather than the physical, but Lazarus had seen enough blood and healed enough broken bones to at least assist in raiding and pillaging neighboring Realms. For a time, Lazarus’ swift and painless killings were known throughout the Realm, striking fear into the hearts of enemies but earning respect among his clan community. Lazarus, though an expert on violence, was never a violent dragon himself, and it showed in the way he fought and the rewards he reaped. He only ever took with him the familiars he captured, taming the softer creatures into manageable friends for hatchlings and keeping the wilder ones for his own company. This characteristic—as admirable as it may be—would be the exact thing that got the Pearlcatcher killed.

It happened suddenly, unexpectedly. One moment Lazarus had been rummaging through the ruins of the Southern Icefield mountains, and the next there was a spear sticking through the front of his Magician’s Cloak, running redder and redder by the second. His fellow combatants took out Lazarus’ assailant, tearing his throat clean out, but the Pearlcatcher fell to the icy ground, dead within moments. For a few seconds, everything was silent. The Windswept Plateau’s most valuable battle cleric lay cold and still, blood seeping into the snow in ghastly hues of crimson and ebony. His clanmates gathered around the fallen dragon, intending to bury him the following morning in the Zephyr Steppes in his favorite grassy meadow. They had even summoned an Arcane dragon of the Starfall Isles to infuse the terrain with stardust in honor of the Pearlcatcher’s unparalleled otherworldly senses.

But their raid continued long into the night, and when midnight approached, the earth shook, cracking the ice spires open like eggs and startling nearly every Wind dragon within the vicinity. At the edge of the Ice Realm, the Wind clan gathered, watching as a dark figure emerged from the sea…

Lhotse, they would soon learn her name to be, was a wild and overly-excitable Spiral of the Earth Realm who had been on a trip across the Fortress of Ends. Her generally enthusiastic and optimistic outlook didn’t translate well for the mourning raiders, and, clouded by anger, they advanced, prepared to attack. Lhotse, realizing that the situation had suddenly turned critical, backed away, tripping over Lazarus’ body. The action only angered the Wind dragons more, but Lhotse gazed upon the Pearlcatcher’s face—his closed eyes and bloody wounds—and knew she could save him.

The Spiral literally tied herself and Lazarus into a knot together, and took to the skies before the Wind dragons could attack. She only flew for a few hours, the Pearlcatcher’s body weighing her down, before she settled on the edge of the Tangled Wood, one Realm over from her home in the Cairnstone Rest. The Spiral nudged Lazarus a few times (perhaps regretting bringing a body back with her) before he woke up, gurgling blood and choking on his own saliva.

Lazarus, dazed, struggled to his feet, shaking his body wearily and scratching at his now-healed wound. Lhotse sat impatiently, shifting and twisting in anticipation. The Pearlcatcher finally looked up, locking eyes with the curious Spiral, and, well, the rest was history.

Lazarus from that day onwards resided in the Earth Realm, in a clan situated in the standing stones of the Cairstone Rest with Lhotse. There were moments in which he thought about his birth clan in the Windswept Plateau and if they were concerned for him. Lazarus would look at his pearl and remember the times he’d spent with his Wind warriors, longing to go back. But then he would spend a day soaring through the skies or exploring the Earth Realm with the dragon who miraculously brought him back from death, and he would feel at home again. The dragons of Earth were kind and welcoming, knowledgeable and protective. Between digging for gems with Gaea or watching over the hatchlings with Altair or finding smooth rocks for Rua, Lazarus discovered a purpose greater than battle strategies. He wished for nothing but the best for his clanmates, doing everything he could to protect them, but none held his attention more fiercely than that of his partner and savior, Lhotse.

written by LostGirl