Toroto
(#62160702)
The Beastclan Representative
Familiar
Ruche Slug
Click or tap to view this dragon in Predict Morphology.
Energy: 49/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Earth.
Male Skydancer
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
5.31 m
Wingspan
4.17 m
Weight
944.57 kg
Genetics
Peacock
Starmap
Starmap
Jade
Bee
Bee
Watermelon
Stained
Stained
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 5 Skydancer
EXP: 3766 / 5545
STR
4
AGI
5
DEF
4
QCK
9
INT
9
VIT
4
MND
9
Biography
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♕ T O R O T O The Beastclan Representative ╰ ╭  ╰ ╭ 
EBONY
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KAVEH
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TOROTO
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Wistful | Quiet | Sad ╰ bio template by squidragon adapted by Katalist
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I was hatched on the June Solstice (June 20, 2020) (Summer Solstice in the Northern Hemisphere and Winter Solstice in the Southern Hemisphere.)
Mysterious boy who lived with centaurs bonded closely with a heard, and ran with them Was adopted into the clan when an injured centaur was discovered and nearly killed by his parents he stood up for the centaur and the parents banished him but the centaur took him in Grew up with them, but when his clan was attacked, he ran out to protect his family. They refused to fight him and with his family, drove the attackers off However he was injured, and the centaurs told him that he needed to find another clan that will accept him. He refused to leave and they forced him. They knocked him out and took him to Maple, a dragon from a neighbouring clan that healed other dragons and beastclans. While she was safe, the wildclaw leader hated beastclans , and the tribe was a hostile enemy. Maple took him in and he begged for the centaurs to stay. Modremoth couldn't see why not, as they had boundless plants and plains to share, and their work would sell well with the artisans, but Pyre wouldn't have a bar of it. Finally the centaurs traded with her. She taught them her sparring tricks and battle knowledge, and they taught her their skills. Now she trains not only her own warriors but the centaurs who want to learn how to fight. Toroto still lives with the centaurs, and helps them with their surroundings. He eats with them and fights with them, and often he and a chosen ambassador will talk at the meetings.
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1) Speaks with an odd little click. 2) Not a vegetarian…but doesn’t eat Centaur or horse.
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And so we are all connected in the great circle of life.
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A dragon who always listens eagerly to conversation, Toroto was, at first, believed to be mute. Scunner learned (quite by accident) that Toroto could speak. Scunner shouted “Get outta my way, wanker!” one clear morning, and Toroto politely responded with an ancient draconic curse. There’s talk of creating some sort of council of Beastclan Representatives, of having meetings and all that. But for now, Toroto is content to help the Centaur barter for food and goods. His loyalties are clear, though he does have a dragon-mate in Frisk. Their relationship helps allay the Tribe’s fears of a Centaur uprising, as Frisk is more than capable of stopping any nonsense like that.
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I. He still remembers the limping bush. He would later learn that the herd had done all they could for this one. Bay leaves were affixed to her thin limbs with sweet gum, to hide the filly in the forest. The coverage would have brought her a few precious days of life, the leaves and branches all placed with great reverence and many prayers. But once she heard the low-pitched rumble of the Pearlcatchers’ voices, instinct had become too loud to ignore. The bush moved forward with little jerking movements, and beneath the leaves came faint grunts of distress. Back then, the forest seemed so large and grand to him, the trunks of trees stretching up to infinity, the broad leaves forming a majestic golden canopy overhead. And no part of the forest seemed grander than his very own family. Eager to please his father and uncle, he gestured at the moving bush and squeaked. The Pearlcatchers paused. Now the low keening of the girl was more audible. His father brushed away leaves, and in that moment, Toroto’s heart was set. He remembers her perfect, pale oval of a face. But most of all, those glass green eyes flashing out at him. Even as a child he recognized something of himself in them. “Good eating.” His uncle clucked his tongue with a laugh. “Easy pickings.” His little heart sank in his breast. She was going to die, and it was his fault. His father chuckled and swung his tail. But he leapt before it. The strike knocked him senseless, to the dirt. Now he was on his feet, blocking the girl from their fangs and teeth. He tore a hole in his father’s tail and ripped off one of his uncle’s talons before his father snarled, “Enough. There’s no room for the kind where we’re going.” The mature Pearlcatchers sauntered off, leaving him panting by the filly’s side. After a few moments, she sank to her knees beside him, brushing him clean.
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II. Toroto. Click. That’s what they called him. She passed freely through the forest with a dragon by her side. Eventually, he and the girl shared a special healing pallet in the middle of a field, beneath a starry sky. Gazing at the stars filled him with a bleak ache and deep homesickness. Then the filly would tell the story again in her own tongue, waving her hands and swishing her tail. Her light green eyes sparkled as she gestured. Toro. Then Toroto. He lay among the long grass, listening. Finally, once, when she patted him for emphasis, he sat up and said, “To – ro – to.” The word was heavy — strange in the middle of his mouth. But the centaur girl’s eyes lit up at once. She pointed at him. “Toroto.” Then at herself. “Aimee-to.” “Aimee-to?” he repeated softly. And the herd, who had circled them silently, laughed and clapped their hands and stomped their hooves. Aimee gripped his paw — a talon of it — in her own small hand, then led him all over the herd. Naren-ma. Heylan-mo. Kiern-na. Aimee-to. The names rolled off her pointed tongue like songs, like beads of water. Eventually he realized that her name and his name shared something: to — toe — meant one was small, precious and valuable, someone to be cherished and protected.
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III. When he ran with them beneath the blazing sun, through the dried stalks of grass, he remembered the stories he’d heard. At times, beings were raised by species who weren’t their own. The dragons did it to beasts all the time — why not the other way around? He was a terrible shot with a bow, so terrible that Aimee-to couldn’t hide her laugh. But then, he was faster at pouncing on game. Together they had many nights of rejoicing, singing around wild fires, laughing. But something was missing.
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IV. The dragons watched them by cover of the tall grass cautiously, believing that the Centaur were too myopic to spot them. Aimee-to and Toroto watched them back, unseen. Aimee cocked her head. She was older now, but still had that youthful sparkle in her eyes. “Toroto,” she whispered, leaning close. “Toro.” Talk to the dragons, my little dragon. And why not? The Centaur didn’t want for much, but they were endlessly curious. And his presence only increased that curiosity. He felt a deep sadness in his heart. No matter who he was raised by, he couldn’t escape his heritage. Taking a deep breath, he broke cover and strode toward the Tribe’s patrol. Written by the amazing Caelyn
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ETYMOLOGY - Toroto: ""Where there are trees in water (MIsspelled Toronto)"" - Iroquois RELATIONS -
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Exalting Toroto to the service of the Gladekeeper 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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