Umbrella
(#55964505)
Level 1 Skydancer
Click or tap to view this dragon in Predict Morphology.
Energy: 50/50
Expand the dragon details section.
Collapse the dragon details section.
Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
5.23 m
Wingspan
5.64 m
Weight
475.01 kg
Genetics
Sky
Iridescent
Iridescent
Brown
Seraph
Seraph
Moss
Basic
Basic
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 1 Skydancer
EXP: 0 / 245
STR
4
AGI
5
DEF
4
QCK
9
INT
9
VIT
4
MND
9
Biography
Umbrella
Umbrella Maker/Seller
Umbrella Maker/Seller
The Umbrella
In the umbrella-seller’s head, memories and dreams were tangled together like a great big ball of yarn. One thread did stand out, however, and it led him back to a childhood memory: of a dew-covered rainforest, and looking up at the sky.
“Worried about rain?” asked the old Spiral. As the hatchling watched, he held up what seemed to be a shabby staff. It rustled...and then there was a click and it opened....
The hatchling stared in awe. The staff had expanded into a circle of brightly colored fabric, and as the sun struck it, waves of rainbow light washed across the surface. An umbrella.
“Pretty, ain’t it? Here, why don’t you hold this for me...Whoops!” The Spiral laughed as a strong gust of wind blew, and the hatchling, clutching the umbrella, was briefly dragged along.
“Careful, you don’t wanna get sucked into a storm! Especially since you haven’t got wings....Well, maybe this here umbrella’ll be your wings, eh?”
The hatchling barely heard him. He was too busy strutting around with the umbrella now, waving it at imaginary enemies. But in the way of things, these words threaded their way into his mind. Perhaps in time—
“Maybe this here umbrella’ll be your wings, eh?”
~ ~ ~
The Skydancer might have had another name once, but his obsession grew as the years passed, and eventually that became his name: Umbrella.
Umbrella was odd in many respects. He had hatched without wings, for a start, and the clan’s physicians, after examining him, concluded that he’d never grow them. On the other hand, he had extraordinary eyes: They were just flowers, tiny green-and-white blossoms pulsing with their own soft light.
To the Nature dragons, these eyes were signs of the Gladekeeper’s favor, and the hatchling was initially treated with great respect. From his elders, he learned many useful skills, such as how to detect when rain was approaching. The turning point, however, was when he learned how to bind spells to objects. Suddenly he knew what he wanted to do.
The clan looked on curiously as he cut down saplings and fitted together small brass screws and hinges. “He’s building a machine. Something to help him fly!” they whispered excitedly. They’d seen travelers with mechanical prostheses and machines that crossed the skies....
Umbrella picked up a brush. Inspired by the vibrant landscape of the Labyrinth, he began painting flowers and water and brightly colored creatures—it seemed only right that the things to adorn his first umbrellas were the treasures of the rainforest.
The clan humored him at first. Umbrella’s creations were beautiful, and they would fetch high prices if marketed right. Perhaps if he funneled his painting talents towards something different...
“But how else will I make my umbrellas?” the Skydancer replied. He was already at that troublesome age: young enough, in his elders’ opinion, to still have silly dreams; and old enough to begin acting on them. Their encouragement of him faded, but Umbrella kept laboring on his own.
“Here,” he would venture, “how about you try this umbrella? I made it from bamboo flown from the Windswept Plateau.”
“Wouldn’t you like this for your mate? It’ll keep the sun off his face....”
“Try this one! I’ve bound a spell of phosphorescence to it. See how it glows in the dark?”
But his clanmates turned their backs on him till there was no one to cheer on his dreams.
Still, Umbrella wouldn’t give up. He was possessed of a strangely powerful conviction, and seeing his clanmates’ rejection of him, he decided to simply move on. He packed up his supplies and left to pursue his eccentric dreams elsewhere.
~ ~ ~
An umbrella is a practical tool. It’s not too heavy and is easy to open and shut, and it keeps the elements off one’s head. It comes in a wide variety of sizes and styles to suit various dragon breeds. And with Umbrella’s enchantments working on them, they became even more useful. They could shoot fireballs! They could draw lines of light! They could radiate heat or cool breezes, or even rain on the inside if one were so inclined.
On the surface, Umbrella’s business plan seemed fine: Make magical umbrellas, sell magical umbrellas. They were useful and fashionable tools. What could go wrong?
What could and did go wrong, in fact, had everything to do with this question: Why would dragons buy magical umbrellas when they could do magic themselves?
“Strong and sturdy?” And the Guardian laughed. He was so huge and his laughter so hearty that it sent Umbrella tumbling backwards. As the Skydancer sat there, massaging his rump, the Guardian boasted, “Why, I barely notice the weather! Deluges are but a gentle shower to me. Take your wares elsewhere, trader. Perhaps someone smaller will need them.”
And so he journeyed to the Starfall Isles...
“Oh, I don’t need a parasol. When it rains, I just dive into a tree.” And the little Fae jetted backwards into a hollow bole. Umbrella peered into it at him. “But wouldn’t you like to use these umbrellas for something else? A nice fashion statement, maybe, or some sort of magic wand?”
The Fae’s eyes blinked in the darkness. “I don’t need your umbrella magic. I’ve got my own magic.”
And so it went, as he traveled around Sornieth. Dragons laughed at his umbrellas, scoffed at him, or were downright nasty to him. Some people were sympathetic, but they were few and far between.
Umbrella recalled one dreary day when, while trudging along a Dragonhome road, he sensed the approach of rain. There was no shelter available, and he couldn’t use the umbrellas he was selling—customers didn’t want used goods. He did have his own umbrella for occasions like these, but after many days on the go, it had grown battered and torn. He held it up over himself, trying not to shiver as ice-cold rain trickled through the holes and soaked into his clothes.
So thunderous was the rain that he didn’t notice the light step of an approaching dragon. “‘Scuse me,” the Mirror muttered. She blinked through her goggles as she settled down by him. “You really gonna sit out here, kid?”
“I’m just waiting for the rain to stop. Hey, you want to buy an umbrella?”
She laughed, showing vicious teeth. “Naw, kid, I got this. See—” And she muttered a spell. Red light pulsed around her, and then it expanded to encase both her and Umbrella in a bubble. It shielded them from the rain, and Umbrella, despondent, lowered his umbrella at last.
“Thank you,” he said. The Mirror grinned back. “Think nothin’ of it. Always glad to help out a traveler.” And then she cocked her eyes at his wares. “You might wanna invest in some actual spells instead, kid. Lugging those around can’t be good for your back.”
“But I like umbrellas,” Umbrella stubbornly replied. He wasn’t usually so blunt, but he was tired, and the constant ridicule was beginning to get to him. At least this Mirror was warmer than most, and so when she inquired, “How so?” he found his thoughts pouring out in a great flood: how he’d been raised to be a mighty mage, but his clan had scorned him when he’d tried using his magic differently; how no one would give his umbrellas a chance; how he was mocked or ignored by the dragons he tried to sell his wares to. He only wanted to help, he exhorted, and the Mirror listened patiently as the rain came down.
Finally, Umbrella fell silent. He was exhausted—but also strangely satisfied. It had felt so good to talk like that without being interrupted or ignored.
The Mirror, too, was quiet for a moment. Then she carefully said, “They’re useful things, umbrellas...and the spells you’ve placed on them, these’re functions people actually want?”
“Yes.” And Umbrella’s narrow shoulders slumped. “Well, I’ve based it on things I’ve noticed people need or want. Oh, you’re right, I should do a survey! I should ask—”
The Mirror shook her head, clucking gently. “It seems to me, kid, that you need to think about what you want. Because after listening to ya, I’m pretty sure you’re not selling for money or fame.”
By then, the rain had slowed considerably. It would stop soon. The Mirror stood up and pulled off her goggles. Now Umbrella saw her four eyes clearly—or what was left of them. Her two right eyes were gone, replaced by mechanical lenses.
“Since what you think the customers want is not in fact what they want, why don’t ya look to yourself instead?” She patted his pitiful umbrella and winked, the mechanical lenses clicking. “Think about the spell you want, kid.”
With a final grin, she turned away. Umbrella watched as she spread her wings and glided down the road.
~ ~ ~
And so Umbrella thought about it. He thought so deeply that he dove back in time, and the dreary landscape around him briefly shimmered in flowers and dew. Ever so faintly, he felt the wind tug at wings that weren’t there.
He decided to return to his clan. They were a little bit snide about it, and Umbrella wasn’t really surprised. They’d been snide to him even before he’d left, after all.
“Ready to return to your studies?” they asked him. “Maybe you’ll actually do something useful this time.”
Umbrella wheeled to face them. Beneath the flowers of his eyes, green light briefly flared. “Yeah, maybe I’ll do that,” he said, in a grudging way that told them he would do no such thing. “But first,” he promised stoutly, “I intend to fly.”
“You?” they asked, staring at him. Wingless Umbrella, whom the physicians said would never grow wings. Would he build a flying machine this time?
They watched in dismay as Umbrella put together another shaft and framework. A larger umbrella than usual, yes—but still, it was only an umbrella. “He’s going to fly with an umbrella!” they realized, and they groaned in horror or laughed.
Umbrella barely heard them. He was engrossed in his work now. He whispered to the pieces of wood as he joined them together, to the canvas as he drew his brush over it. This time he painted not rivers and trees, but clouds and stars in the sky. A final enchantment, and the canvas came to life, cycling through night and day as a watercolor moon and sun danced across the fabric.
It was perhaps his most glorious creation...but his clan didn’t see it that way. “That’s time you could have spent on your studies! You can’t fly with an umbrella—no one’s ever done it before!”
“Then maybe I’ll be the first,” Umbrella decided.
He looked past them, to the edge of the clan’s territory. There reared a high cliff, thickly covered in lianas. They formed a stairway of sorts, and one hazy afternoon, when the air was humid and the dragons found it too hot to move, Umbrella climbed the cliff.
Until then, he’d spent most of his time in his hut, fixated on his project, and so the dragons didn’t realize he was missing until they heard him shout. They rushed out of their dens and saw him poised on the edge of the cliff.
For a dragon, that cliff was a convenient launchpad. But Umbrella had no wings...
Recognizing the gravity of the situation, the dragons fell silent. For once, there were no admonishments or jeers. Umbrella looked down at the sea of upturned faces. Any minute now they’d snap out of it, send the guards up to restrain him, and then it would all be over.
Still, he couldn’t help putting the moment off a little longer—to pour his heart out now that everyone was listening.
“I’m sorry, everyone,” he apologized, without really knowing why (and then he realized it was himself he was sorry for). “For too long I’ve stayed on the ground. I want to soar high and touch the heavens, just as you all do.”
They were about to protest; he could see it now. He rushed on: “Yes, I know you’ve all suggested prostheses and flying machines and such. But that’s not how I want to do it. Just this once, I want to choose my own way.”
His skin prickled as lightning glittered on the horizon. A storm was drawing near.
He opened his umbrella at last—and a great wind blew.
It caught him and his umbrella and flung them skyward, into the gathering storm. Umbrella was tossed every which way and that, and he clung to his umbrella for dear life. “I’ve made a mistake,” he thought in sick horror as the forest below him grew smaller and smaller. He shut his eyes. “I’ve cast the spell wrong and it’s not working...”
And then the roar of the wind stopped and there was blissful, blessed silence. It seemed to be tinged in gold. Umbrella exhaled slowly, and then he forced his eyes to open.
He opened them to a world of wonder: He was above the clouds. No longer tossed about by the wind, but drifting as gently as a dandelion seed. Above him, the canvas of his umbrella blazed with celestial light.
A wild, triumphant whoop burst from his throat, echoing off the snow-white clouds. Suddenly Umbrella felt like a king, with all the world at his feet. He clutched his magical umbrella like a scepter and smiled, free of the earth’s grasp at last.
~ ~ ~
He wasn’t sure how long he drifted; it might have been hours, but it seemed only like minutes. He remembered watching the coast of the Viridian Labyrinth recede and the glittering ocean scrolling below him. When he turned to look ahead, a dark forest beckoned. It was normally a foreboding place, but with his newfound powers of flight, Umbrella didn’t really fear it. He drifted in among the trees and gently touched down.
There was a female Mirror nearby, and for a wild moment, Umbrella thought she was the one who’d counseled him so long ago, in Dragonhome. Her markings were different, however, and she had all four eyes.
“Well, you’re a new face,” she remarked. Abashed, Umbrella ducked his head. “Um...I just dropped in. I’m awfully sorry, ma’am, I didn’t know I was trespassing—”
She frowned critically but waved his apology aside. “Never mind. I can see you’re not a threat. Got caught in that rainstorm, did you?”
Umbrella nodded. She shrugged and said, “Lair’s not too far away. You might as well come inside and dry off, boy. That’s a fine enchanted artifact you’ve got there, by the way.”
“Thank you, ma’am. I made it myself.”
“Just ‘Viktoria’ will do. Made it yourself, you say?” A spark of interest shone in her fierce eyes. “Have you got any more?”
“I could make some more,” Umbrella replied, smiling shyly. He shut the umbrella, throwing water droplets everywhere, as above him, the sun broke through the clouds at last.
~ written by Disillusionist (254672)
all edits by other users
Bio template by @Mibella, find it here.
[url= ]? //'s Theme[/url]
well to do sable ovalcrown
green renaissance shirt
dark red neck bow
blue breeches
black spats
well to do spats
butterfly's wing fans
Click or tap a food type to individually feed this dragon only. The other dragons in your lair will not have their energy replenished.
Feed this dragon Insects.
This dragon doesn't eat Meat.
This dragon doesn't eat Seafood.
Feed this dragon Plants.
Exalting Umbrella to the service of the Shadowbinder will remove them from your lair forever. They will leave behind a small sum of riches that they have accumulated. This action is irreversible.
Do you wish to continue?
- Names must be longer than 2 characters.
- Names must be no longer than 16 characters.
- Names can only contain letters.
- Names must be no longer than 16 characters.
- Names can only contain letters.