The Cockatrice is essentially a two-legged dragon with the head of a Rooster’s. It has become synonymous with the Basilisk, and though they are remarkably alike, Basilisks are typically portrayed without wings. A Cockatrice was said to be birthed by a cock’s (male chicken) egg that had been incubated by a toad or snake. Cockatrices, like the Basilisk, could kill by simply looking at its victims, and alternatively by touching or breathing on them. It is oddly noted that the only animal immune to the death stare of the Cockatrice is the weasel. Even weirder still, the Cockatrice could die by hearing the crow of a rooster and according to legend, having the beast look at itself in a mirror would surely kill it. Cockatrices were also ‘comparatively rare’ in heraldry, but appeared in coats nonetheless.
F is for Falkor (The Neverending Story is a book too for those of you who weren’t aware!) Also made an edit to E is for Eragon so thought I’d re-post that. The composition was a little unbalanced before so I thought Saphira could use another wing:P
Name: Wyvern, Wivern Area of Origin: Medieval Europe
Wyverns are legendary winged creatures with a name derived from the Middle English word, Reven, itself derived from the Old-French word, Wivre which comes from the Latin Vipera, meaning Viper, Adder or Asp. Wyverns are very similar to that of the traditional European Dragon, though they only possess two legs as opposed to the usual four. They are generally smaller than Dragons, and while just as ferocious, they lack the grace and intelligence that their superiors usually possess. Also unlike Dragons, Wyverns do not usually have the ability to speak, and cannot breathe fire. However, they are armed with dangerous barbed tails, are sometimes attributed to having a venomous bite, and are for whatever reason, often associated with cold weather. Wyverns are also typically evil in nature, whereas Dragons are more sentient and therefore capable of good. Wyverns are fairly commonplace in heraldry, and as dragons do, seem to represent strength and valor, though not much information on their symbolism has been recorded, as other variations seem to liken the creature to disease and pestilence.
Dragon script alphabet is one of the ways you can communicate with dragons. Its also a great tool to use with enchanting objects with draconic energy, I was reading a fantastic book called dancing with dragons by d.j. Conway and, its all about draconian magick and I’m the back it had the dragon script so I thought I would show you if your interested. Also, dragon script is an amazing way to keep your draconic practices secret since few people know it. Blessed be!! )o(
Henry heard the news that Richard’s queen was dead and that a strong rumor that he would marry his niece Elizabeth was current only a few days later at Harfleur. His months of frustration and nervous tension erupted in a fit of screaming rage such as Jasper had not seen his newphew’s early childhood. (…) “She is mine, I tell you. He cannot have her!” –The Dragon and the Roseby Roberta Gellis
HAPPY BIRTHDAY LIZZIE !! this scene in TDATR was so funny but i turned it into a romantic gifset :P i hope you will like it !! it looked prettier in my mind lmao
Summary: Cullen Rutherford’s past and present, from childhood through the Inquisition, told through interconnected short stories one letter of the alphabet at a time.
Eventual Cullen/Mage Trevelyan. Eventual Inquisition spoilers, but not for some time. Spoilers for Origins and DA2, too. *throws confetti*
Cullen liked the chantry. Other children complained that it was boring or stupid—even Mia whined when Ma wasn’t around to hear—but Cullen didn’t really understand that. The chantry was always warm, always cozy, always lit by candles. It smelled of incense and baking bread and the flowers some of the village girls left at the foot of the statue of Andraste. He liked the statue; Andraste had a nice face and a really big sword—to protect everyone, Ma said. (“To remind us who holds the power,” said his Da. Cullen didn’t understand that, either.)
Best of all, though, was the music. One voice, or five, or fifteen, it didn’t matter. The Chant always delighted him, and there was always singing in the chantry. Always.
The Revered Mother smiled at him, and he didn’t mind if she ruffled his hair even though he hated when Bran or Mia did it. The Revered Mother never teased him, and never treated him like a baby. She only said he was a good lad and wasn’t he clever and what a pleasant surprise to see a boy so devoted. Sometimes she slipped him sweets, but that wasn’t why he liked coming.
He never said it out loud, because Mia and Bran and their friends already teased him enough about everything, but accompanying his mother on her visits was his favorite part of the week. He liked walking beside her, his hand safely tucked in hers. He looked forward to kneeling pressed against her side, closing his eyes, and letting the music wash over him. Peaceful was the word his ma used, when he asked why she liked coming so much. He thought that sounded right. No one yelling or laughing at him. No one sneaking up and pulling his hair or stealing his share of the cookies or calling him names like Cully Crybaby (he only cried that one time because Mia yanked out a whole handful of hair and it really hurt).