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owlburrow: Clan Profile » Dragon Lair » Nesting Grounds
owlburrow's Clan
Have you come for the feast, stranger?
Ancient Lair
of the
Beacon of the Radiant Eye
Clan Information

Hi I'm Katie Emma, creator of the comic Taxicat :)


I am just returning to FlightRising after a long break, so the lair will be messy for a while!







You pad across the damp sand, following the many footprints
winding their way alongside the cliff face. Seabirds are wheeling and shouting their shrill cries above you, and you pause to pick a piece of seaweed from between your claws. As you stand, swaying slightly with the gnawing hunger in your belly, you catch the most fleeting whiff of something delicious blowing in the warm breeze. Baking bread? Here? Maybe the rumors really are true. Mouth watering, you resume your trot alongside the cream-colored cliffs. It’s been a long, hot morning of searching. You’re incredibly relieved when you round a bend on the beach and find the place where the cliffs begin their transition into gentle, crumbling slopes, dotted here and there with berry-laden shrubs and young pine trees. Here, at last, a dragon could stand a chance of climbing up!

You manage a weary, shuffling jog as you approach the shrubs. The berries are surprisingly ripe, and you gulp them down, glad of any moisture to rinse the salt taste from your mouth. You’re several bites in before you even notice what kind they are- pale red Winterberries. After nothing but seafood and salt-tinged water for weeks, your tongue feels like a piece of rawhide. You strip the shrub of its fruit, then resume your journey, this time more slowly. Your head is hanging with fatigue, and as you stare at your shuffling feet, you can hear a faint sound up ahead, amongst the tangle of rocks, sand, and pine. You don’t recognize it, and it takes you some minutes of walking before you notice the tiny beads of moisture collecting on the scales of your toes. The roaring increases in volume, and before you even register the sensation, you find yourself tripping into a shockingly cold, deep pool of water! The waterfall roars all around you as you plunge into the current, gulping down mouthfuls of the clean, clear water.

You don’t know how long you spent in the pool, but as you begin to emerge some time later, water sheeting off your scales, the sun is lower in the sky, and the sunlight is taking on the pale orange hues of late afternoon. Life is coursing through your veins, and you suddenly charge out of the water, shaking and dancing with renewed vigor, sending a rainbow spray of droplets in every direction. You snort and blow liquid off your face and are just beginning a very satisfying roll in the sand when you hear what sounds like snickering. Whipping around, you spot the tip of a red-feathered tail disappearing amongst the craggy boulders of the slope.

“This way to the feast!” a cheerful voice echoes back to you, through the rocks. You’re up and bounding after her in a heartbeat, coated in sand and still dripping. The feast! The feast! You shove your way between two tough, gnarled old bushes, leaving a trail of wet sand behind you, clawing your way over boulders and under roots. Every time you round a bend, the red tail dances just a little farther up the slope, and you can hear a faint voice calling back to you through the rocks. As you rush headlong through the rugged territory, your mind is filled with visions of steaming cauldrons full of thick stew, and heavy chill oak tankards overflowing with pear cider. You even allow yourself the luxury of imagining a dainty little plum tart, just for you, the crust shining and flakey in the light of a glowing hearth. You almost thought you wouldn’t make it. Without this swift-footed cliff guide, you reflect, I probably wouldn’t have.

The slope grows steeper, and as you pause and chance a glance behind you, you can see the Sea of One Thousand Currents stretching off into the distance. You’ve already climbed a fair height, and the shadows are lengthening across the land as the sun sinks towards the sea. The crashing aquamarine waves are barely audible below you. The height makes you slightly dizzy. The sharp, clean smell of pine is all around you now, and you curse as you manage to trample over one of the pointed pinecones that are littering the rocky soil. You hear one last chuckle from your mysterious guide as you crest the peak of the slope. Panting and blowing, you look around, but she’s nowhere to be seen.

You’re at the edge of an ancient forest. The amber and moss-colored redwoods stretch up to the sunset sky above you, towering, their needles rustling slightly in the warm evening breeze. Somewhere, a nightingale begins its warble in the still. You pad slowly into the quiet woods, the needles cushioning your footfalls. As you walk deeper in, you can see the forest is dotted with clearings where tall grass and wildflowers are growing amongst small saplings. Faint light from the setting sun makes its way down through the trees in amber shafts.

Something gently bumps your head, and you startle, unaware you’d grown tense in the quiet atmosphere. A small paper orb, perhaps the size of a large apple, is hanging from a tree, and glowing with pale rose-colored light. As your eyes adjust to the dimness, you can see more of these colorful lanterns hung all around you in the woods, casting playful shadows of teal, lilac, honey, and orange. It’s so unexpected that you find yourself laughing out loud. You begin to follow the trail of lantern strings, and as you jog amongst the tree trunks, the pine needles under your feet begin to give way to cool, worn cobblestones. It’s growing lighter up ahead, and the branches whiz past your head as you break into a sprint, kicking pinecones out of your way.

A distant and sweet little flute melody reaches your ears as you run, and quite suddenly the redwoods give way altogether and you’re stepping through an ancient and crumbling stone arch, covered with creeping ivy and wildflowers. The cobblestones suddenly change to a large and grassy clearing, the length of several Imperials across, hemmed in by the tall woods all around. Clumps of wildflowers grow here and there, and carefully pruned apple and peach trees dot the grass, heavy with fragrant fruit. All of this is practically uninteresting compared to the massive, sturdy stone tower dominating the scene. Like a teetering stone chess piece, it sits squarely in the middle of the clearing, its many windowsills glowing with warm amber light. Long, draping lantern strings are strung from the upper terrace of the tower stretching all the way to the redwoods around the clearing, creating an umbrella of glowing light. The flute music is quite nearby now, and a rush of scents fills your nose as you turn away from the tower.

You turn to find yourself facing nearly 30 dragons. Many of them are staring at you, but just as many others are continuing their work. Some are stretching rose-and-white checkered tablecloths over several long wodden tables set out in the grass, and other burlier ones carrying heavy oaken benches out from a covered awning jutting out from the tower’s side. Hatchlings dance around underfoot, some brandishing forks they’ve stolen from the drakes setting the table. You step back cautiously as they charge you, squealing and screaming war cries. One fierce little wildclaw leaps onto your back, an impressive distance, and is working his way towards your bewildered head when you hear a sudden voice call out from the tower.

“Children, I’ve got a plate of cricket kebabs for the first 10 drakes to the kitchen! Last one here is a moldy eel!”

The effect is instant, and the little dragons are charging off through the grass before you can say a word. The little wildclaw runs a few paces, then stops and turns, staring at you with beady eyes. He drops his fork suddenly and disappears after the others. You step forward and pick it up absentmindedly. The crowd of dragons setting the tables seems to have forgotten about you entirely, and you hear the happy rumble of conversation continue on. You stand, unsure of what to do, for several minutes, digging in the dirt with your fork and looking around. Dragons are pouring in and out of the tower’s massive door every minute, ducking and twisting around one another with their loads of dishes, napkins, vases, and hatchlings. There must be nearly 60 or 70 of them, you think. Quite suddenly, a hush spreads over the crowd, and you spy a ripple between the scaly sea of shoulders around the tower door. You hear a crisp, clear female voice calling out commandingly over the crowd. You can’t make out the orders being called, but you see a sort of organized chaos following her words. Hatchlings dive under cover, seeming loathe to be caught causing trouble. Finally the crowd parts, and a big orange-striped Coatl barrels out, her neatly folded wings clinking gently with peridot jewelry. She’s making straight for you.

Within moments she’s in front of you, stretching her neck up and peering at you with inquisitive blue eyes over a tiny pair of gold-rimmed spectacles. She sniffs shrewdly, turns on her heels, and struts away, and before you know what you’re doing, you’re following her.

"You'll be here for the feast, then? Seems like nearly every scaly rascal from here to the Icefields shows up for them these days!" she calls over her shoulder (if coatls have shoulders). "Fine then, but it won't be ready until nightfall, so I suggest you make yourself busy! I’ll put you to work. Read me the next thing on my list," she barks at you. You open your mouth to speak, but she cuts you off. “Speak clearly, enunciate your syllables, and don’t ask me questions. I’m a very busy lady.”

She is carrying a long furled scroll in her tail, which she waves at your snout as she continues to stride ahead. You hurry after her, struggling to read the scrawling claw writing on the paper as she trots along. You cough and clear your throat carefully, making sure you won’t stutter.

"Remove Bananascale from S. Field," you read, squinting. And before you can help yourself, "What on this green earth is a Bananascale?"

The coatl groans in response. She’s leading you through the bustling crowd, dragons leaping out of her way, and before long you’re past the tables and striding through the long grass of an orchard. Past the trees, you can hear a loud and unsettling sound, somewhere between an earthquake and a Guardian’s roar. The peach trees part, and the coatl leads you into a sheltered little field, circled around by another tiny stone wall. It is almost entirely occupied by a massive, lounging yellow form, the coils bunched up like a fat snake. You feel completely dwarfed by its size. After a moment's silence, you hear a booming voice ring out from somewhere amongst the coils.

"Oooooooooh, there once was a dragon!
Just as big as you'd imagine!
And he lived by the sparkling seeeeaaaaaaa!
He was incredibly handsome,
and striking, and then some!
And he was loved by every ladyyyyyy!
His scales were golden,
A sight to be beholdin',
much admired by everybodyyyyy!
Next to his fine tail,
every dragon does pale,
and they call him... BANANA SCAAAAAALE!"

The last line is roared out in a deafening baritone, and you flatten your ears back against your head at the cacophony. The coatl next to you is also wincing, gritting her teeth and flicking out her tongue the way irritated coatls do.

"THAT is a Bananascale," she says. "And we have to get him out of here. This is where we're holding the children’s midnight games, so this noisy brute has got to go. Are you up to the task, stranger?" she asks, sizing you up. You’ve barely nodded your head when she turns and vanishes amongst the peach trees, leaving you alone next to the coiled bulk of Bananascale.

You cough awkwardly, hoping it might notice you, but the twisting bulk has begun to hum a loud tune to itself. You try gently tapping on a huge, banana-colored scale. It makes a faint metallic noise. You butt your shoulder up against the bulk, hoping to catch its attention, and are rewarded with a particularly loud humm. Nothing happens.

The absurdity of your situation dawns on you, and you call out suddenly “HALOOO!”, startling even yourself with the loudness of your voice. The humming stops abruptly, and the coils begin to shift, curly and sliding along the ground and sending up a cloud of cabbage butterflies from the long grass. After a long, slithery rustle, you are face-to-face with the biggest muzzle you’ve ever seen in your life. It’s nearly the size of your torso, and you stare, wide-eyed, at your own reflection in the lenses of a pair of copper-plated flight goggles.

“HHHHHMMMMMMMMMM!” comes a long, curious noise, and the resulting blast of air from Bananascale’s nostrils nearly knocks you backwards. You can’t see his eyes behind the goggles, but his giant maw is grinning in what you hope is a friendly way.

“ANOTHER ADMIRER, EH?” he booms, and the effect of his voice close-up is nearly deafening. “MY GOODNESS, WHAT A DAY. WOMEN FROM ALL OVER THE COUNTRY COMING TO VISIT ME. BUT YOU KNOW, I SIMPLY WONT HAVE TIME TO DANCE WITH ALL OF YOU TONIGHT!. YOU’LL HAVE TO BE SATISFIED WITH HEARING A FEW OF MY FINE LOVE BALLADS AFTER THE THIRD COURSE!.”

You have no idea what to say. You stand, gaping. Dance? With HIM? You’d probably be trampled and crushed into the dust before the first reel is over. Before you can think of a proper response, you are knocked back on your tail by a massive gust of wind. Bananascale is spreading his wings, and the dying light of the setting sun is blocked out by his massive wingspan. You cover your eyes as he takes off, flattening the grass all around you and buffeting the peach trees. There is a rush of slithering scale, and he’s gone. Peaches are thumping to the ground all around you, knocked loose by the sudden wind. You remove your paws from your eyes, squinting into the sky.

“SEE YOU AT THE PARTY, GOOD LOOKING!” you hear in the distance, hardly any less loud than he was face-to-face.

You make your way back through the little peach orchard, promising to try and wipe that surreal memory from your mind.

(To be continued!)


Gene Project List:
Recent Clan Activity [View All]
12/22 Birthed new hatchlings! 3 Imperial Male
12/21 Birthed new hatchlings! 1 Wildclaw Female, 1 Coatl Male, 1 Coatl Female
12/17 Birthed new hatchlings! 1 Pearlcatcher Male, 2 Pearlcatcher Female
owlburrow User ID: 94061
Date Joined: 2014-10-13
Birthday: March 01
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Recent Comments
1 2 3
NeneBoBene wrote:
Am babey, gib dragun
Jul 04, 2019, 19:59:45
QueenClam wrote:
Hi there! I really love your art :D
Feb 23, 2018, 05:08:17
Cosmological wrote:
Pumpking was on the front page! Love his colors! (Also, congrats on all the front page dragons! :D )
Dec 31, 2017, 02:40:56
Cosmological wrote:
BeanBug was on the front page! He's so pretty!
Oct 14, 2017, 10:48:27
AnimeLover9631 wrote:
Your sunflower will be ready to breed tomorrow ^-^ are you still ok with trying again with my sauda for me?
Aug 28, 2017, 20:21:51
ReaTheToyFox wrote:
Tidepool made it to a front page..! Nice match of celebration lanterns and the solar flame apparel..! c:
Aug 27, 2017, 11:21:06
MonochromeSilver wrote:
Tidepool was on the front page! :D
Aug 27, 2017, 11:21:03
AnimeLover9631 wrote:
I seen their clutch. No imps. Its ok. Is there a breed that would make it more possible for an imp to be produced that i can change her to? Not really sure on how common or uncommen breeds are
Aug 04, 2017, 14:46:16
AnimeLover9631 wrote:
So hows my Sauda doing ^-^
Aug 02, 2017, 20:07:00
AnimeLover9631 wrote:
I would absolutely love it if you would let me breed my sauda with your sunflower (male imp with metals/sanguine) my second dream derg is an imp with near identical colors to her but the primary color was always up in the air
Jul 26, 2017, 17:28:17
momoi wrote:
he has such great potential i had to!
Jun 25, 2017, 18:41:45
Saphirosa wrote:
I love your lair. And your bios. They made me smile :)
Feb 26, 2017, 13:50:18
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