Baragwanathia
(#632725)
Level 4 Wildclaw
Duskfeather
Spellwrought Ambassador
Click or tap to view this dragon in Predict Morphology.
Energy: 0/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Wind.
Female Wildclaw
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
5.45 m
Wingspan
8.85 m
Weight
595.15 kg
Genetics
Obsidian
Python
Python
Midnight
Shimmer
Shimmer
Azure
Circuit
Circuit
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 4 Wildclaw
EXP: 19 / 4027
STR
18
AGI
9
DEF
8
QCK
10
INT
5
VIT
13
MND
8
Lineage
Parents
Offspring
- Titan
- Mimas
- Dismal
- Unnamed
- Tragedy
- Tragedy
- Tragedy
- Unnamed
- Birdbird
- Horiana
- Unnamed
- Lyla
- Nightshade
- Arisu
- Spackle
- Pitch
- Caeswyn
- Mair
- Beatrix
- Bluna
- Silvisia
- Ashera
- Lace
- Nebula
- Shadowtrace
- Sombra
- Crystaltrace
- Slatepaw
- DustRail
- Skaliel
- Enlaiu
- Dustyspark
- Blackvein
- Skybound
- Adventure
- Shadowclaw
- Enigma
- Lilac
- Warrior
- Etched
- Skycloak
- Kevin
- Clawtapper
- Candystripe
- Silentclaw
- Greystreak
- Inktrace
- LightTracer
- Plum
- Fernando
- Selene
- Unnamed
- Scootleboop
- Rogue
- Trace
- Shadow
- Rave
Biography
Clan Role:
Soldier of the Driftwood Dauntless and hunter during peacetime
Baragwanathia was not always peaceful towards even the friendliest Beastclans. They were a challenge to the reign and prosperity of dragon kind, a blight that would try and consume them whether by force or by displacement. As such, she strove to make it clear to any she encountered that the might of the dragon would crush their chances of flourishing.
For many long years, all was as it should be. She had a mate, she was one of the most successful hunters in the region, and no Beastclan threat ever came close to getting the edge on her. But as often happens in life, everything gradually began to change. For reasons she prefers to keep between herself and her friend Brackish, she and her mate split apart, and soon after she suffered her first hunting injury. For months, she was helpless, and had to watch as other dragons filled the role she once excelled in to supply for the needs of the clan.
While she made a full recovery, she still carried the shame that she let herself be weakened and therefore unable to support her clanmates. One day, confused and burdened with the pain of her failure, she left her clan behind.
She drifted from one clan to another, from one new mate to the other. But she never felt like she used to. Each new clan had its own established hunters, who already knew the hunting grounds so well, who didn't need her. She never noticed how quickly she learned the new grounds herself, only the fact that everything seemed to operate just fine without her there. Unable to get through to her, each new mate eventually drifted apart from her as well, and she would move on.
During one of her travels, she strayed into a harpy ambush. Her old instincts flared within her as she fought off the entire ambush alone, with tooth, claw, and gusts of wind magic rushing out of her talons. However, the overwhelming odds against her would not see a spotless victory. She fought until exhausted, unable to move from the pain of her wounds and the fatigue of endless fighting. The deep dark of unconsciousness enveloped her.
When she opened her eyes, for a moment, she thought she was still alone. Her fallen foes remained motionless. All, except for one. Several meters away, a tattered wing reached up towards the sky, then fell back down. Then the harpy heaved itself up upon shaking legs, dragging her tail, as she slowly made her way towards the fallen dragon. Her mask had been smashed in the battle, and lay draped in mangled pieces around her neck. Baragwanathia growled.
"I will finish you!" she snarled. "Do you hear me? Those will be the last steps you ever take!"
The harpy kept stumbling forward. She replied, "Finish me? You must not have been paying attention. You were not the one who started after me. I was a prisoner of these, my sisters. You have freed me."
"Freed you? That's preposterous! Why would a harpy capture a harpy? You're all working against us!" Baragwanathia hissed, cringing at the pain that pulsed every time she tried to move her head.
"Not... all of us. I know you won't believe me, but I'll be none the worse off for telling you at this point. There are some of us who prefer a cooperative life, who long to learn the arts and dance and craft again. We cannot do this as part of a harpy army. We live tucked away, enemy now of both dragon and Beastclan. I was on my way to deliver a message to an ally when I was overwhelmed and captured. Thanks to you, I can now finish my mission." And with that, the battered harpy took to the skies, teetering in the wind like an unbalanced kite.
Baragwanathia tried to stand and launch into the air after the harpy, but collapsed before she could get off the ground. She had lost her strength at last. She closed her eyes, and waited with resignation for whatever would become of her.
The following day, a group of dragons flew out to her, with bandages and a stretcher. She wasn't sure how far she trusted these dragons who mysteriously knew she was lying here in need of help, but she hadn't the strength to protest. She was flown to a Wind clan not too far from where she had fallen. There, they treated her wounds and welcomed her as one of their own. She had started to finally relax when one day, she saw the maskless harpy perched above one of the lairs. She lunged for her.
One of the resident dragons pinned her to the ground, trying their best not to aggravate her injuries. "I see you two know each other," she said. "But whatever grudge you may have, you'll have to put it aside here. She acts as a courier between us and an ally clan. We can't exactly have you harming her."
"But she's a harpy!" Baragwanathia growled.
"Yes, that appears to be the case. But she's on our side, don't you worry. Larimar - the head of our aforementioned allies - would never allow her to fly with important messages if he didn't trust her explicitly. Just stay here and play nice until you're all better, and then you can go off and fight the rest of the harpies to your heart's content."
Baragwanathia detested the thought of letting the little feather-duster go, but at the same time, she felt that she had to respect these dragons who so kindly treated her. She reluctantly decided to give up on vengeance during her stay.
That stay turned out to be much longer than planned. She was born in a Wind lair, and felt more at home than expected in this strange clan. There was even a handsome dragon who had his eye on her. For a while, everything started to feel just a little bit normal again. But the situation felt all too familiar. She had once again allowed herself to be wounded, and had had to be cared for while everyone else did the work. And then, to add to the familiarity, her newfound mate had decided to move on romantically speaking.
She felt grateful to the clan for having taken care of her, but she no longer felt like staying. She was making her final preparations to go and saying her good-byes when a familiar face fluttered up to her. It was that irritatingly protected harpy.
"You have some nerve to fly inches in front of my maw," she hissed at the beast. The harpy made a slightly distressed attempt to clear her throat.
"I, uh, have a message addressed to you, miss," the harpy said. Reluctantly, she held up a scroll clutched in the talons of her foot. Baragwanathia, keeping one eye fixed on the harpy, read the brief message:
Our allies tell me that another dragon roughly my age has taken up residence with them. This might sound sappy and sentimental, but I was wondering if perhaps you wouldn't mind coming to our clan for a visit? The company here is wonderful, but there just aren't any dragons here who are my age, you know? I hear you aren't one much for getting along with Beastclans, so that might be a bit of a problem... our clan is more Beastclan than dragon, funnily enough, but they're all allies of the dragons. If you like tea, we have an excellent tea master in our clan, and I'm sure everyone here would love to meet you. I understand if you want to decline - we're not your usual clan - but do give it a thought. I have a feeling that perhaps we might become friends.
Forever at your wing,
Brackish
"More Beastclan than dragon? What is this, a trap?" Baragwanathia replied, nearly spitting out the words. The harpy took a couple steps back, and took a deep breath.
"Look, Baragwanathia, was it? I understand your reservations. After all, things have been... heating up between Beastclans and dragons for years now. But I'm sure you're aware of how outliers work. Do you really think that every single Beastclan wants things to be this way? Do you think every single dragon does? I'm the one who told this clan that you were bleeding out alone out there, I hope you know. Obviously I'm much too small and was too beat-up to drag you to safety myself, even if you wouldn't have tried to kill me. But I watched you defeat an entire ambush unit by yourself, and while honestly quite terrifying, it was also very impressive. And you did free me, albeit unknowingly. I couldn't find it in myself to stay mute and let you die out there. Even though you killed my sisters. They may have beat me and caged me, but you can't help your heritage." The harpy turned around, and spread her wings to fly off, ending her sentence in an exasperated huff.
Baragwanathia blinked. She almost couldn't believe it, but for a moment, she felt more connected to this harpy than to any other dragon she had ever known.
"Er... whatever your name is... this Brackish, they're not a male are they?" Baragwanathia muttered.
"Oh, no, she's female. Plus she has a mate already. Also my name's Duskfeather," the harpy replied, turning back around.
"Well, in that case, er, Duskfeather, do you think you could take me back with you to your clan to see Brackish?"
Duskfeather smiled at her. "Most certainly I can."
Soldier of the Driftwood Dauntless and hunter during peacetime
Baragwanathia was not always peaceful towards even the friendliest Beastclans. They were a challenge to the reign and prosperity of dragon kind, a blight that would try and consume them whether by force or by displacement. As such, she strove to make it clear to any she encountered that the might of the dragon would crush their chances of flourishing.
For many long years, all was as it should be. She had a mate, she was one of the most successful hunters in the region, and no Beastclan threat ever came close to getting the edge on her. But as often happens in life, everything gradually began to change. For reasons she prefers to keep between herself and her friend Brackish, she and her mate split apart, and soon after she suffered her first hunting injury. For months, she was helpless, and had to watch as other dragons filled the role she once excelled in to supply for the needs of the clan.
While she made a full recovery, she still carried the shame that she let herself be weakened and therefore unable to support her clanmates. One day, confused and burdened with the pain of her failure, she left her clan behind.
She drifted from one clan to another, from one new mate to the other. But she never felt like she used to. Each new clan had its own established hunters, who already knew the hunting grounds so well, who didn't need her. She never noticed how quickly she learned the new grounds herself, only the fact that everything seemed to operate just fine without her there. Unable to get through to her, each new mate eventually drifted apart from her as well, and she would move on.
During one of her travels, she strayed into a harpy ambush. Her old instincts flared within her as she fought off the entire ambush alone, with tooth, claw, and gusts of wind magic rushing out of her talons. However, the overwhelming odds against her would not see a spotless victory. She fought until exhausted, unable to move from the pain of her wounds and the fatigue of endless fighting. The deep dark of unconsciousness enveloped her.
When she opened her eyes, for a moment, she thought she was still alone. Her fallen foes remained motionless. All, except for one. Several meters away, a tattered wing reached up towards the sky, then fell back down. Then the harpy heaved itself up upon shaking legs, dragging her tail, as she slowly made her way towards the fallen dragon. Her mask had been smashed in the battle, and lay draped in mangled pieces around her neck. Baragwanathia growled.
"I will finish you!" she snarled. "Do you hear me? Those will be the last steps you ever take!"
The harpy kept stumbling forward. She replied, "Finish me? You must not have been paying attention. You were not the one who started after me. I was a prisoner of these, my sisters. You have freed me."
"Freed you? That's preposterous! Why would a harpy capture a harpy? You're all working against us!" Baragwanathia hissed, cringing at the pain that pulsed every time she tried to move her head.
"Not... all of us. I know you won't believe me, but I'll be none the worse off for telling you at this point. There are some of us who prefer a cooperative life, who long to learn the arts and dance and craft again. We cannot do this as part of a harpy army. We live tucked away, enemy now of both dragon and Beastclan. I was on my way to deliver a message to an ally when I was overwhelmed and captured. Thanks to you, I can now finish my mission." And with that, the battered harpy took to the skies, teetering in the wind like an unbalanced kite.
Baragwanathia tried to stand and launch into the air after the harpy, but collapsed before she could get off the ground. She had lost her strength at last. She closed her eyes, and waited with resignation for whatever would become of her.
The following day, a group of dragons flew out to her, with bandages and a stretcher. She wasn't sure how far she trusted these dragons who mysteriously knew she was lying here in need of help, but she hadn't the strength to protest. She was flown to a Wind clan not too far from where she had fallen. There, they treated her wounds and welcomed her as one of their own. She had started to finally relax when one day, she saw the maskless harpy perched above one of the lairs. She lunged for her.
One of the resident dragons pinned her to the ground, trying their best not to aggravate her injuries. "I see you two know each other," she said. "But whatever grudge you may have, you'll have to put it aside here. She acts as a courier between us and an ally clan. We can't exactly have you harming her."
"But she's a harpy!" Baragwanathia growled.
"Yes, that appears to be the case. But she's on our side, don't you worry. Larimar - the head of our aforementioned allies - would never allow her to fly with important messages if he didn't trust her explicitly. Just stay here and play nice until you're all better, and then you can go off and fight the rest of the harpies to your heart's content."
Baragwanathia detested the thought of letting the little feather-duster go, but at the same time, she felt that she had to respect these dragons who so kindly treated her. She reluctantly decided to give up on vengeance during her stay.
That stay turned out to be much longer than planned. She was born in a Wind lair, and felt more at home than expected in this strange clan. There was even a handsome dragon who had his eye on her. For a while, everything started to feel just a little bit normal again. But the situation felt all too familiar. She had once again allowed herself to be wounded, and had had to be cared for while everyone else did the work. And then, to add to the familiarity, her newfound mate had decided to move on romantically speaking.
She felt grateful to the clan for having taken care of her, but she no longer felt like staying. She was making her final preparations to go and saying her good-byes when a familiar face fluttered up to her. It was that irritatingly protected harpy.
"You have some nerve to fly inches in front of my maw," she hissed at the beast. The harpy made a slightly distressed attempt to clear her throat.
"I, uh, have a message addressed to you, miss," the harpy said. Reluctantly, she held up a scroll clutched in the talons of her foot. Baragwanathia, keeping one eye fixed on the harpy, read the brief message:
Our allies tell me that another dragon roughly my age has taken up residence with them. This might sound sappy and sentimental, but I was wondering if perhaps you wouldn't mind coming to our clan for a visit? The company here is wonderful, but there just aren't any dragons here who are my age, you know? I hear you aren't one much for getting along with Beastclans, so that might be a bit of a problem... our clan is more Beastclan than dragon, funnily enough, but they're all allies of the dragons. If you like tea, we have an excellent tea master in our clan, and I'm sure everyone here would love to meet you. I understand if you want to decline - we're not your usual clan - but do give it a thought. I have a feeling that perhaps we might become friends.
Forever at your wing,
Brackish
"More Beastclan than dragon? What is this, a trap?" Baragwanathia replied, nearly spitting out the words. The harpy took a couple steps back, and took a deep breath.
"Look, Baragwanathia, was it? I understand your reservations. After all, things have been... heating up between Beastclans and dragons for years now. But I'm sure you're aware of how outliers work. Do you really think that every single Beastclan wants things to be this way? Do you think every single dragon does? I'm the one who told this clan that you were bleeding out alone out there, I hope you know. Obviously I'm much too small and was too beat-up to drag you to safety myself, even if you wouldn't have tried to kill me. But I watched you defeat an entire ambush unit by yourself, and while honestly quite terrifying, it was also very impressive. And you did free me, albeit unknowingly. I couldn't find it in myself to stay mute and let you die out there. Even though you killed my sisters. They may have beat me and caged me, but you can't help your heritage." The harpy turned around, and spread her wings to fly off, ending her sentence in an exasperated huff.
Baragwanathia blinked. She almost couldn't believe it, but for a moment, she felt more connected to this harpy than to any other dragon she had ever known.
"Er... whatever your name is... this Brackish, they're not a male are they?" Baragwanathia muttered.
"Oh, no, she's female. Plus she has a mate already. Also my name's Duskfeather," the harpy replied, turning back around.
"Well, in that case, er, Duskfeather, do you think you could take me back with you to your clan to see Brackish?"
Duskfeather smiled at her. "Most certainly I can."
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