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woolly » Den » Grove
Level 1
Guardian Female
May 15, 2019 (10 months)
Stats Growth
PrimarySanguine Python
SecondaryOlive Morph
TertiaryMidnight Smirch
Eye TypeArcane Common
Energy: 50 / 50
Apparel & Skins

Grove never could stand the quiet. Her home clan was a cacophony of sound, whether from the idle chatter of dragons or the constant explosions that never ceased in any self-respecting arcane clan. But even arcane dragons must take breaks occasionally. As a hatchling, Grove would scream incessantly to fill the silence. Once she got a bit older, Grove moved on from annoying the entire clan at once to annoying them one at a time, picking an older dragon and following them around like a lost hainu. She would beg them to tell her stories, talk about themselves, or say anything thing at all, anything to keep the silence at bay.

And that’s why she feared the day of her Search.

To go on her Search would be to leave her clan, and worse – to be alone. Travelling Sornieth to find something worth protecting is the loneliest part of a guardian’s life, and Grove dreaded the thought of possibly spending years without company. Trying to defy fate, Grove vowed that she didn’t need a Charge, and that she would stay with her clan. Her clan warned her that ignoring the Search’s call would eat away at her from the inside, but Grove stayed resolute.

Grove tried to resist in away way she could. She distracted herself by trying to overhear every conversation her clanmates had, by volunteering for any experiment they wanted to attempt. She even covered herself in feathers and pretended to be a skydancer in the hope the Search would be confused and go somewhere else. But whenever there was silence the yearning to find her charge returned, an emptiness from within that hurt even more than the lack of sound from without.

Before long, she cracked.

In the middle of the night, Grove fled her clan. Her only focus was flying as quickly as possible; the faster she found her charge, the faster she would be able to turn around and return to the blessed company of her home clan. She flew until her wings burned, she was gasping for breath, and the only sound she could her was her own pounding heartbeat. The beating of her heart grew louder and louder, until it was so loud that Grove couldn’t hear anything anymore.

When Grove came to, she had no idea where she was. Well, she was at the end of a long skid trail she’d made when she crashed, but she no idea where that was in relation to her clan. Worse, there was no sign of a clan living nearby, or even of other dragons having stood there before. For the first time in her life, Grove was well and truly alone.

Grove told herself not to panic. All she had to do was keep moving forward. Once she found her Charge, she could work on finding her way home. What was important was that she had to press onwards.

Within an hour, the quiet was getting to her. Grove needed some way to fill the void. She began talking to herself, repeating the stories her clanmates had told her as a child, and reciting all the information they they’d told her about themselves. The days stretched to weeks and then to months, and Grove kept searching, feeling like she’d travelled the entire distance of Sornieth by then. Her stories had mixed together, forming new ones that no dragon had heard before, and she’d taken to creating new ones starring her old clanmates, guessing at what they might be doing while she was gone.

Eventually, finally, Grove felt that she was near. She had come to an idyllic place, full of flowers and blooming trees, but her only goal was to leave. If she flew, she might miss her Charge, so instead she marched, uncaringly leaving a path of trampled flowers behind her. With a wake of destruction behind her and reciting tales the whole way, Grove was the opposite of stealthy, but she didn’t care. Let whoever’s flowers these were come. Even angry beastclans were an answer to her loneliness.

At the bottom of a small glen, she found it. Grove felt her heart drop as her instincts told her this was a place worthy of her protection. A huge, flat shelf of rock sat half-submerged in the dirt, right at the centre of the small valley. It was a grand place, but Grove knew not even the most fantastical of stories could end with her digging the whole glen up and taking it home. Dejected, she curled up on the stone and told herself one of her favourite tales until sleep claimed her.

Grove awoke surrounded by others. Not dragons, but a number of much smaller creatures that Grove dimly recognized as fauns. Many of them held wooden flutes, but there were some drums and various other instruments to be seen as well. They were clearly musicians. Angry musicians. Furious musicians, even, who demanded to know who she was and what she was doing in their amphitheatre.

And so Grove told them a story.

[ndent]Somewhere in the Blooming Grove is a place that no dragon looking to hunt or gather loot will find. Those who make clear their friendly intentions and impress the grove’s denizens may find it, led to the glen by a song on the wind. There, they will find a natural amphitheatre of grass and stone, hidden away from the turmoil of the rest of Sornieth.

The guardian who lives there is a master storyteller, her tales brought to life by a combination of her own skill and background accompaniment by talent faun musicians. Those lucky enough to be invited there are encouraged to stay a while and listen to as many stories as they like, to let the guardian’s joy in filling the air with the sound of stories take them away from their troubles for a time.

And if they enjoy the stories, they’re encouraged to thank the storyteller by telling her a few tales of their own.

After all, Grove always did like listening to stories more than telling them herself.[/indent]

Lore by ZincAlloy
Banner/divider by Mellacherry


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