The Dragon Warden Characters

Status
Not open for further replies.


"Not all hope is lost."
「 IDHRENAN 」
⦙⦙ RACE | Human ⦙⦙ MAGIC | Arcane ⦙⦙ AGE | 35

personality
Idhrenan is a very calm and thoughtful individual. She enjoys opportunities to teach and guide others. She is very logical, but does not lack a keen sense in knowing how to handle an emotional situation. Her passion lies within diplomacy, and quickly rose through the ranks to become an Emasari. Due to her duties and natural affinity towards compassion, she can be quite motherly at times, desiring to insure everyone under her care is taken care of and well.
history
Idhrenan always struggled with the physical aspects of a Dragon Warden. In her younger years, she desired to sit indoors or off on her own. Her caregivers encouraged her to make friends, often pairing her up with other Wardens to go play together whether it be inside or out. It eventually worked, allowing Idhrenan to be a little more adventurous so that by the time she did feel her dragon's bond, she would not be afraid to venture out.

She felt her dragon's bond at the age of 7. Children that young were typically not left to venture out to find their dragons alone, and so Idhrenan's mentor, Jassaire, accompanied the girl on her journey Westward that took her into the lands of Edros to find the Arcane Dragon Eosphelon. The dragon's nest was nestled within a cavern North of Gradas filled with glistening crystals. By the time they reached the nest, the babies had yet to hatch and were still maturing within their rock-like eggs. Somehow the mother knew and granted the girl the egg.

Caring for the egg for when it hatched was difficult and frustrating. Idhrenan spent a lot of time in the hatchery, and it was quite a lesson in patience for the young girl. Most people returned from their journies with their dragon already hatched. It was explained to her that her travels through Edros were not as lengthy as what other Dragon Wardens had to go through. Eosphelon soon hatched, and the two were just as inseparable as the rest of the Dragon Wardens.

Idhrenan was encouraged to become a caregiver as she grew older. She liked to watch over the young wardens as she remembered the impact of her own caregivers. Working as one allowed her to nurture a wide range of younglings, offering advice and comfort with natural ease.

When she wasn't working as a caregiver, she worked within a squad of Dragon Wardens designated with diplomacy in mind. They operated under Emasari Fostas typically settling civil disputes within the Allied Kingdoms. While it was required for every Dragon Warden to learn martial combat and offensive spells, she took to diplomacy very quickly and preferred to settle conflicts without violence. Her skills eventually landed her a promotion as her own Emasari. She accepted and became a part-time caregiver.

details

STRENGTHS
+ Thoughtful: She is a thinker above all else, and reflects before acting or speaking.


+ Caring: Her heart is with others, and she will see to their needs.


+ Diplomatic: She knows how to negotiate and resolve conflicts with little to no violence.



WEAKNESSES
- Trusting: She will give the benefit of the doubt before quickly striking out an individual as untrustworthy.


- Sentimental: Her attachments make things difficult to let things, or people go.


- Passivist: She would rather not have to fight, trying despirately instead to resolve things through negotiations.
appearance
Idhrenan stands at an even 6 feet with a lean, thin build. Her fair skin is dappled with light freckles, more thickly sheeted upon her shoulders. Her eyes are grey and deeply set within her angular features. Age has started to take its toll around her eyes particularly with faint lines that extend to light traces of crows feet from smiling.

Secondary Weapon || She carries two daggers at her sides.
dragon
ImVYK6z.jpg


Name | Eosphelon

Type | Arcane

Height & Length | 9 ft tall by 15.5 ft long

Personality | Eosphelon loves attention, and will often do what he can to receive it. He does what Idhrenan calls "singing" when he feels like being loud, though his singing is more like guttural moans. While on diplomatic missions, he would often get bored, as the dragons are tasked with observing the crowds while the humans spoke with the leaders. Eosphelon loves to do flying tricks despite Idhrenan's hesitancy, and hates being grounded. Despite all this, he can be cooperative if Idhrenan insists.
writing sample


***

 


"Waethrin snores really loudly."
「 OLSTEN 」
⦙⦙ RACE | Human ⦙⦙ MAGIC| Fire ⦙⦙ AGE | 14

personality
Olsten is a volatile, ambiguous boy, prone to flares of extreme kindness and destructive hate alike. Energetic and cheerful at his best, gloomy and downcast at his worst, Olsten's late bonding (just after turning 12) has left him emotionally unstable and at the core, he feels more like a burden than a help. This dualism is a pattern that is reflected on every level of Olsten's personality. He can be kind and caring one week, before turning hateful and apathetic the next. When he feels wronged, he will lash out with words first, and fists second. Impulsiveness guides him more than reason, sometimes to his benefit, but more often to his own detriment. Get on his good side however, and you will not soon be brushed aside.
history
Olsten and Grybil weren't your typical Fire Warden and Dragon. For one, Olsten much preferred books to physical training, and Grybil was rather small for a Fire Dragon. Aside from getting into trouble for skipping close-combat training, Olsten was a pretty well-behaved student.


When time allowed it, Olsten often ventured out on Grybil's back to seek some peace and quiet elsewhere. There was something to gain for Grybil in these expeditions as well because pine tree bark up high was the best remedy against itchy scales.


While Grybil lost to every other Fire Dragon in terms of strength and size, he had an edge when it came to speed. It was an advantage he was rather proud of and sought to maintain by trying dangerous maneuvers whenever he and Olsten ventured out.


When together, the two were quite happy. But as soon as they were seperated, both felt a sense of dread coming over them. Olsten nor Grybil had managed to make any friends, and so they often sought each other's company during the dark of night.


It was this habit of Olsten to visit Grybil and bring his only friend some snacks, that ended up saving both their lives.


New! History:


Olsten and Grybil were among the lucky few Wardens who managed to escape Haven during the siege. After having survived for a little while in the wild, they found themselves to be hunted by the bounty hunters Kurfast and Jensen. Jensen was slain by Hale and Kraeg who had taken note of the assault. Olsten, in the meantime, brought down Kurfast and interrogated the old hunter to find out who had put the bounty up. Kurfast eventually told Olsten to find the Silver Lance Inn and ask for the innkeeper Jern. Little did Olsten know that he (and those in his company) weren't the only Wardens headed towards the Silver Lance.


Jern easily saw through Olsten's makeshift disguise and made his neutrality with regards to Dragon Wardens quite clear. Before their conversation could continue however, a large Baladuri bounty hunter by the name of Vorstag entered the inn with a prisoner (Thannel) in tow. Feria, a surviving ice warden, noted that Vorstag carried a necklace that once belonged to her dear friend. Enraged, she charged the large hunter. Soon enough, the situation escalated and a fight ensued. It was only thanks to a clever plan devised by Jern that Olsten, by putting himself at great risk, managed to kill Vorstag. But not before he learned that Vorstag was a henchman of Wallace Savere.


After the havoc at the Silver Lance inn, Olsten decided to abandon the group of Dragon Wardens and fly southwards, back towards the ruins of Haven. The surviving Wardens might be his brothers and sisters in arms, but he could see clear as day that they were nothing but a defunct, crippled family. As a result he decided to leave and seek refuge with his real family. But before he could, he would have to return to Haven to try and find out who his real parents were and where he might find them.


He never made it there. An ambush awaited them and Grybil was shot down. Dragon and Warden crash landed several dozens of feet apart and have only been able to sense each other. The Thalls escorting him to Rosenfall claim to be Guides and allies of Dragon Wardens, but Olsten doesn't trust them. They informed him of the Butchering of Edlenfeld which came as a great shock and surprise to him. For now, he maintains hope that he'll be able to convince Queen Malan of his innocence.


details

STRENGTHS
Agile, Brave, Intelligent, Resourceful. Olsten, still very much in training, had to rely on quick thinking and his magical attunement instead of physical strength and combat skill. This is also why he prefers a bow. Why try to stick and enemy up close when you can hit him from afar? Olsten is far more useful at a distance and has no desire to throw himself into close-quarter combat unless he really has to.


New! Olsten suffered an injury to his upper arm and shoulder during his fight with Vorstag. It has been treated and is healing, but currently still hinders his ability to use his bow.



WEAKNESSES
Hot-headed, Opinionated, Ambiguous, Stubborn. Olsten won't hesitate to speak up if he disagrees, and he can be quite hard to persuade. Worse, with only minor combat skills Olsten is prone to getting himself into serious danger. When angered, he will stupidly stand his ground, just to make a point. Naturally, he thinks he knows best too and has a knack for finding things out the hard way. Speaking is very much in his dictionary, but listening less so.
appearance
Standing 5"4 tall, Olsten gazes into the world with fresh, mint-green eyes. His amber hair is almost always a tangled, spiky mess. While he is slender, as if he works too long and eats too little, he isn't scrawny like the scarecrows in the fields. Although he's not the strongest, his passion for archery has rewarded him with beginning muscles in his arms and chest. His jawline is strong, but his cheeks are still soft. Olsten is caught in the uneasy transition from boy to man: narrow shoulders are beginning to broaden, thin lips are growing fuller every day. Much to his dismay, his voice hasn't broken yet, causing many to assume him to be younger. He has the careless strut and indifferent nonchalance of a boy, but also carries dull, sullen eyes, weighted down by the responsibilities bestowed upon him.


Secondary Weapon ||Bow
dragon
hqB0ROn.png



Name | Grybil


Type | Fire


Height & Length |13.5ft tall, 29ft long (


Personality |Gybril is a rather large, living, fire-breathing amplification of Olsten's emotional turmoil. Like Olsten, Gybril tends to act on instinct rather than careful planning and has little patience for beings that aren't Wardens or Dragon Wardens.


What Olsten lacks in close-quarter skills, Grybil more than makes up for, quite capable to use claws, teeth, tail and horns to slaughter those who dare come in his path. Grybil tends to mirror Olsten's mood. As a result, an angry Olsten can become a rather terrifying sight with no lack of theatrics as Gybril likes to set things on fire.


Gybril's bond with Olsten is strong and marrow-deep as they recognize themselves in each other. At his worst, Grybil will be quiet and reclusive, retreating deep into himself to seek his own counsel, the only counsel he takes seriously. Unfortunately, he tends to get anxious and impatient soon after and will do anything to gain attention and have someone pity him.


The most straightforward way to anger Grybil would be to insult his ego. Though small by Fire Dragon standards, Grybil is very proud and will not tolerate anyone questioning his awesome power. In fact, he doesn't hate all non-Wardens right away, he just thinks very low of them and wishes that bi-pedals show proper respect. If they don't, it will take some serious pandering before Grybil will stop being butthurt about it.


When around Olsten, Grybil is surprisingly calm and tame for a fire dragon. His smaller size gives him less strength than most of his kind, including his smaller-than-usual blasts of fire. He more than makes up for these deficits however with increased maneuverability and a speed close to that of an average Arcane Dragon.
writing sample
Not even fourteen years of being a Dragon Warden could stop Olsten from feeling quesy as he tip-toed past the many Dragons sleeping peacefully in their nests. He knew they wouldn't harm him, but it was hard not to be scared by the monstrously large animals that could snuff out his life in an instant. A sigh of relief escaped him when he reached Grybil's nest. The small fire Dragon raised its head from its paws, a flash of recognition shining in the glowing golden orbs that were his eyes.


"Hey Grybs," Olsten whispered. "I brought you something."


The basket he'd been dragging with him landed with a heavy thud. Grybil sniffed cautiously at it.


"I am not sure what's in there, but it's meat so-"


Before he could say another word, Grybil had torn the basket apart and was burying his nose in the bloody mess that came spilling out.


"-So have at it..." Olsten finished quietly. A little flame burst into life in the palm of his hand. He was glad he was a fire mage; never a shortage of warmth or light. Dropping to his knees, Olsten checked the knapsack he had packed. He would be leaving early the next day to map out a region on the northeast mountain. Of course the area had been mapped already, and in much greater detail than he could ever hope to achieve, but that didn't refrain the elders from tormenting their pupils with useless tasks. Besides, he didn't mind an excuse not to practice sword fighting. Or rather, 'desperately fling your arms around and hope you hits someone'. Going out and drawing maps was decidely better than adding to his bruise collection.


Just when he was about to check on Grybil, a shout ripped the air. His heart jolted. Grybil even stopped eating to glance at the direction of the noise. Olsten wouldn't have paid it much heed if he hadn't heared desperation in the voice. Holding his breath he perked his ears. The crescendo of clammering rolled over him like an avalanche. The quiet air had been torn asunder. Something was wrong. Very wrong.


"Grybs..."


His Dragon gulped down half a liver and didn't pay him much heed.


"Grybs...I think we should go and see what's going on."


---


The exit of the undergroud caves was drawing near. But no blue sky was greeting them. Instead, an infernal glow dawned at the horizon. The shouts and screams were unmistakable now. People were dying. Wardens were dying.


Dragons were dying.


Grybil plowed ahead without pause. It wasn't until they had broken out of the underground caves that their enemies took note of them. An arrow whizzed right over Olsten's head and the young rider spotted a handful of heavily armed soldiers approaching from various angles. Instinct took over. Grybil sent a wall of fire towards the charging soldiers, but it did little to deter them.


It's no use. Go!


There was a flicker of hesitation in Grybil's eyes. Fleeing was for cowards. They couldn't abandon their fellow Wardens without a fight!


Go! Olsten pressed.


With a mighty pump of his wings, Grybil took off and flew in the opposite direction of far nobler Dragons.

Art by Effervescent
Dragon by jjpeabody
 


"Courage is most important. I will stub your toe without hesitation."
「 FERIA 」
⦙⦙ RACE | Human ⦙⦙ MAGIC| Ice ⦙⦙ AGE | 28

personality
Cold (how fitting), bitter, and distrusting, Feria isn't exactly someone you'd want to be friends with, or even get the chance to befriend. Brutally honest, if Feria has a problem with you, you're more than likely to know, and more often than not she is working towards a personal goal. The only person Feria seems to show any heart towards is her dragon, but even then, they have a seemingly quiet relationship. The only reason why anyone might keep Feria around willingly is because of her skill set. She is stealthy, nimble, and calculative, offering much to the table, as well as her fighting capabilities.


There may, perhaps, be a softer side to Feria, shown in rare moments under dire circumstances. After the events that followed the attack on the Haven, her cold exterior is slowly beginning to thaw. The loss of her friend, her arm, and other tragedies have lead her to soften up slightly in the presence of those she is beginning to trust, but only become angrier in those who deserve her wrath.
history
Like most Dragon Wardens, Feria was snatched from her real family at birth and brought to the Haven. Unlike most, Feria felt rather bitter about this throughout her childhood, and at an early age, was cold and distant, spitting in the face of all those who attempted to show kindness to the girl. When she bonded with Ifer, Feria became even more of a recluse, finding comfort in her dragon and seeking it out in no other.


However, she did make one (human) friend in the days when the Haven still stood. An ice warden like herself, Zachary held a flamboyant, sarcastic exterior but deep down he cared for those he loved like no other. He always wore a necklace with a glimmering blue pendant, one that he made up a new story for every time. He and his dragon Liola (who was equally close to Ifer) spent a lot of time with the pair, and though Feria would never admit it, she cared for him like no other, too.


When the attack on the Haven began, Zachary urged Feria to flee. He attempted to cause a distraction allowing her to escape, in which he promised he would follow promptly, but Zachary never made it out. Her mistake was believing he could handle it alone. While Feria and Ifer hid in the Twisted Woods, the battle on the Haven raged on. When the pair returned to the Haven, they found it in ashes, Zachary and Liola nowhere to be found.


After the fall of the Haven, Feria returned to the Twisted Woods. There, they were attacked by Wyverns and Feria was inflicted with their poison. A man who called himself Edmund appeared and promised safe passage through Thallas to a healer who would save Feria, but Feria was of course rather wary of someone who wanted to lead her to the place that meant her demise. Luckily for her, a fellow Dragon Warden by the name of Hale found her in time to save her the choice of following Edmund into Thallas, offered his assistance instead. With his knowledge of healing, Feria recovered swiftly.


With their new companion, Hale and Feria traveled to the Silver Lance Inn, hiding their dragons as well as their bright red hair. Upon their arrival, Feria was surprised to meet some of her fellow Wardens, one of them being Olsten, a boy who Feria knew back at the Haven who had destroyed a piece of cloth Feria held very dear as it had been the only thing Feria had from her "true" family. Thus, Feria held a distaste for the boy.


At the Silver Lance, Feria noticed a man by the name of Vorstag enter, not only with a cloak made of red hairs, but wearing the very necklace that Zachary never took off. In a fit of rage, Feria tackled the man, and came oh so close to killing him, but faltered before she got the chance. In the mess of a battle that exploded after Feria lunged, Vorstag cast shadow magic upon Feria's throat, leaving her unable to speak for some time. After the mess at the tavern, Feria learned that Vorstag had been holding Liola hostage, the dragon weak and injured, but still alive, if barely.


They retreated into the mountains, where the Mouth of the Mountain had been made into safe location for Dragon Wardens to meet. There, the group met former councilmen Wuld, one of the remaining wardens among a few others, including twins who had been sent out on a hunt. When the twins came back, alongside three other sickly looking wardens, something was clearly wrong.


The three wardens suggested they join Wallace Savere, a leading threat in the world of Shadow Magic. This of course, sparked an upset among the other dragon wardens, including Ava, a friend of Hale's, crying out in rage, and before Feria could comprehend, another fight began.


Coupled with the fact that Vant had apparently been vying for Ava before Hale came around, as well as the new allegiance, Hale was sought after by Vant, one of the wardens who were now turning to shadow. He thrust a taint into Hale's chest, and though they managed to defeat Vant and his comrades, it was at the cost of Hale's life. This was also when Feria discovered the necklace's powers, after a shadow burn had been cast on all the wardens, yet Feria had been protected from it.


After Hale's death, his dragon Kraeg flew away from the scene. Feria had begun to feel guilty of the way she had treated Hale throughout all his attempts to help her, and now that he was gone, the least she could do was comfort his dragon. She found Kraeg sleeping, and putting a gentle hand on the dragon's muzzle, Kraeg woke sharply, snapping around out of fear, teeth bared, and then.. half of an arm was missing. Luckily Ifer was there with her to help Feria to the other wardens and she received treatment in time, while Kraeg fled the scene due to his guilt. She does not blame the dragon but all in all mourns the loss of her arm and has been quite weak up until this point, as would anyone after such an injury. The taint placed upon her throat has healed significantly, and she can talk, but not without some feeling of discomfort. Unfortunately, she has other ailments to worry about.


details

STRENGTHS
Clever, Feria has a bright mind about her which she uses both on and off the battle-field. Her cleverness, however, doesn't seem to stop her from lashing out at people when she probably shouldn't. Nimble, Feria is fast and quiet, moving around with grace and elegance constantly. Determined, once Feria sets her mind towards achieving a goal, she does not stop until the job is done. Cunning, Feria is skilled in the art of acting and lying to achieve her goals, but this skill is usually put towards sarcasm.



WEAKNESSES
Cold, Feria isn't quick to show compassion or kindness. Judgmental, she is always casting glances at others as if they are below her or idiotic without quite getting to know them, as well as always offering a very critical point of view. Feria can also hold grudges longer then most dragons live.
appearance
If you were to ignore the fact that such a hair color is already intensely eye-catching, Feria's appearance would grab you even without it. Tall and graceful, standing at a height of 5'9" with sparkling blue-green eyes, Feria is all around, rather beautiful. Despite her cold stare and demeanor of "I'd rather be left alone", her appearance attracts even if she would rather it not.


Recently, however, one more eye-catching trait has been added to Feria's appearance; her left arm up to the elbow has been gruesomely ripped off. It is swathed in bloody bandaging and makes most cringe at the sight.


She also constantly wears a necklace with a glowing blue pendant, one that once belonged to a dear friend of hers, which she recently learned has the power to negate shadow magic.


Secondary Weapon ||Daggers
dragon
Cdk5aJA.png



Name | Ifer


Type | Ice


Height & Length |10 feet tall at full standing height, 17 ft long.


Personality |Matching his warden quite well, Ifer is a dragon of bitterness and spite, picking fights quite quickly among other dragons and throwing hissy-fits when he realizes he can't quite win. Ifer may not be very strong in terms of brute force, but he is stealthy, agile, and nimble, just like his warden. The only person he shows kindness too is Feria, otherwise, Ifer isn't very friendly. He is extremely protective of her and can get rather violent when her safety is threatened. However, once his trust is gained, Ifer is known to be quite playful, like an energetic puppy, bouncing around, eager for walks (or perhaps flights), and quite the snuggler if you can handle the spikes of ice that cover his body.


Recently, Feria and Ifer have become a little more distant. Feria has begun to show a little more empathy in regards to certain situations, and Ifer has become more reckless. They find each other growing apart and changing, something hard for them to handle as things had been the same between them for quite some time and that was how they liked it. After Feria lost her arm, however, he refuses to leave her side with Feria being in such a weak state, and has also become rather jumpy and skittish if anyone unfamiliar approaches.
writing sample
Feria and Ifer waited in the silence of the Twisted Woods, neither saying, or perhaps thinking a word. Ifer's breathing was angry, it came in short huffs, while Feria stayed absolutely silent.


"He wasn't going to let us stay." She finally breathed, and Ifer only whined.


"Feria! You need to go! Take Ifer and go! We'll hold them off." "I'm not leaving you--" "I said go. We'll be right behind you. I promise." "..You promise." "I promise. Now go!"


Ifer halted, letting out a snort, gesturing towards the way they'd come from. "We can't." She breathed. He snarled. "No!" She exclaimed, and he snorted louder again. "We can't!" Ifer roared, a roar that broke and turned into a sharp cry. "You have to be quiet!" She exclaimed, whipping around and putting a hand on his muzzle.


Their eyes met and their gaze locked -- Feria and Ifer were scared. For their own safety, for their friend's safety. They both knew it. Neither wanted to admit it. Feria and Ifer didn't get scared, but here they were. Scared out of their damn minds. Not only that, but they were running like cowards. From their friends and their home.


"You have to be quiet because we can't go back." She mumbled. "They're strong. They'll be okay. We'll meet them again soon, Ifer. We will." He'd promised; Zachary didn't break promises. But this.. this wasn't his choice. He wasn't allowed to make promises. Yet, Feria still held on to every word, how strong he'd sounded when he'd told her to go. It was wrong of her to believe him. But it was not wrong of her to have faith in him.


Ifer hissed, before pushing his big head into her arms, his breath leaving little crystals of ice on her cloak.


Feria closed her eyes and sighed deeply, wrapping her arms around him tightly, leaning her cheek against the top of his head. Feria couldn't tell if she was comforting him, or if he was comforting her, but either way, she didn't care. Oh, Zachary, please. Please be alright. She begged in her mind as she held Ifer.


Why didn't she believe that he was?

 


***
「TAMRANA」
⦙⦙ RACE | Human ⦙⦙ MAGIC | Arcane ⦙⦙ AGE | 29

personality
Tamrana can generally be seen as a timid, "Keep to herself" kind of person. She will be social and polite, yes, but she does enjoy her alone time. She has never been a particularly trusting person, so earning her trust will be hard, but once you do, you will have a friend for life. One who will run off into battle with you and defend you till it's over.
history

***


details

STRENGTHS
+ Her bond with Sassy is strong. They know what the other is thinking without even giving each other in instructions.


+ She is small, but agile and fast. She can squeeze through spaces and run faster then most grown men.


+ She knows how to run her mouth. Meaning, she is good at distracting people. Sassy likes to help.



WEAKNESSES
- Due to being a bit timid, she does tend to get scared rather easily. And it's when she's scared that her swordsmanship falters.


- She is agile, but clumsy. It's not uncommon to find her tripping on obsolete things, like a bump in the road, or a tree root.


- Her dragon is particularly headstrong and doesn't always listen to her.
appearance
She is a tad bit on the short side, being 5'5. She stares out at the world through dark, emerald green eyes. Her skin is pale, though not an unhealthy looking pale, with a healthy splattering of freckles on her cheeks and nose. Her features are soft, which makes her look delicate. But with the armor and the scar on her forearm, she is definitely not delicate.


Secondary Weapon || She specializes with a longsword
dragon
aba4991bbbe830318add6bce6bb069dc.jpg



Name | Saskan aka Sassy


Type | Arcane


Height & Length | 18 feet tall and 20 feet long


Personality | Despite all of Tamrana's attempts to tame her, Saskan has proven to have a particularly headstrong, feisty and mischievous nature. She loves to get into trouble, at least thats what Tamrana thinks, with all the problems she has caused in their time together. The dragon does however seem to care deeply about her rider, and will defend the girl with her own life. She is rather hyperactive, and gets bored easily. She likes to fly around and has a hard time sitting still.
writing sample
"Saskan, for the last time, we are NOT stopping so you can kill an elk and eat it. Keep flying you're going to run into a tree!"

The green dragon roared in agitation and dipped to the right of the tree, her huge claws brushing the branches before she rose higher into the sky on the thermals. Tamrana sighed as she sat back on Sassy's back, laying down and stretching out. "I know that you're hungry," she said over the blustering wind, "I am as well. But we to find a proper place to settle for the night. Then you can go eat however much elk you want... Just bring some back, alright?" She finished, rubbing her stomach and mumbling. By the time they found their way down into the forest, the sky was dark and the stars were out. Saskan settled amongst the sycamore trees, and rested her head with a loud sigh, her head made a thump and a cloud of dust flew up as Tamrana slid off her neck. She coughed at the dust and complained, but the dragon paid no mind. She simply rolled her eyes and rolled over so she could look up.

The evening passed quietly. Sassy had run off to hunt, and Tamrana had managed to get a roaring fire going in their little make-shift encampment. The young woman sighed as she watched the fire crackle, smoking rising up into the sky. It was peaceful, sitting in these woods.

How much longer would it be peaceful?.

 


***
「MALCOM」
⦙⦙ RACE | Half-Elf ⦙⦙ MAGIC | Arcane ⦙⦙ AGE | 41

personality
He was once a caring, compassionate man. In tune with those around him and awed by the beauty of the world. The narrow minded-ness of foolish humans has gone a long way to killing these things in him. Elder wardens warned him to be more suspicious of those they mediated, but he always looked for the best in people. Despite his past. Now he is more often than not cold and calculating. Those he would have been more... alive with are lost to him, dead or scattered. He has been primarily alone with Elain since the Wardens were scattered, and they are extremely close. When in the presence of others he tends only to speak when he has something to say. One or two of the very few beings he makes regular contact with dread the thought of being left alone with him. Simply because his enigmatic expression gives nothing away, and often leaves small talk unanswered.
He and Elain share the bond of a Dragon and Warden that have fought and flown for several decades. She often brings out the Malcolm that faced the world with a gritty optimism but sometimes he will catch himself laughing at her snapping at shadows from the fire, or smiling and spreading his arms as they soar through the clouds and withdraw into himself once more. He feels such joy at a time of such horrific loss is an insult to all those whose trust was betrayed. Elain and Malcolm's empathy runs deep and she feels the pain and loss he does. He loved Haven for giving them both a home, he a half-breed and she the runt of a litter. His compassion lead him to her and his latent talent tamed her, and one day she may bring him back to the man he once was.
history

***


details

STRENGTHS
+ Sword Play


+ Tactics and Reasoning


+ Hate of oppression and suffering. It has led him to help those in need, but it has cost him before.


+Fight skills.



WEAKNESSES
- Closed emotionally. He can barely empathise with people, and although he doesn't see in black and white, emotions often fail to come into his plans sometimes exposing him to the rash actions of others.


- Unwaveringly loyal to those he trusts, but it's what got him his scars.


- Ruthlessly logical. Sometimes a gut feeling needs more due than he gives it. "Think critically." he would always say to young wardens.


-Offensive magic. Perhaps some of the Vuaturi within him has limited him mentally, but from his earliest training he has never mastered the ability of other Arcane attuned to attack their foes, limited at most to immobilising them or fooling them.


-Known to kick himself. If a plan went wrong or deal failed, Malcolm would be the first to hold his hand up and be counted. Whether or not he really was at fault, he'll often blame himself.
appearance
(Image is a stand in of him in his twenties) Malcolm is a tall, slender man with long deep red hair he generally wears in a five-strand plait down his back. He has grey-blue eyes that coolly and realistically analyse the world. He bares scars of the battles between the fearful people of the world and the Dragon wardens. The most prominent one runs from his left shoulder to mid chest where a sword grazed him. His skin is tanned and weathered from long periods spent outdoors. He tries to remain clean shaven, despite how long it takes to shave with a combat dagger.


Secondary Weapon || Katana-style 4' blade.
dragon
bd646b4b02c639edb9acb259a1d12543.png



Name | Elain


Type | Arcane


Height & Length | 8 feet tall and 12 feet long


Personality | A small, fast dragon with a sharp mind. Her mischievous nature has been dampened since the battle at Haven, but still loves to perform aerobatics with Malcolm. She is his one unquestioningly loyal friend and has similar virtues as he does. Suffering angers her and an intelligent solution always leaves her happy. She and Malcolm fly well and fast, and they are both well experienced.
They are nigh on empathic, and if one is sad or pained the other surely feels it. Their synergy is symbiotic and they hate to be separated. After so long isolated with just the other to rely on their bond is very tight. Elain has been known to "take the initiative" if she feels her idea holds more merit than Malcolm's but generally they act to enhance the other's endeavour, agreeing on a course of action. She has on occasion become angry at Malcolm for hours on end in recent months, frustrated by his melancholy, hiding away in some nearby cave. It is yet to cause them trouble, but he worries for her when she is not there, the most emotional he has been since Haven's conflagration.
writing sample
***

 


***
「ERION」
⦙⦙ RACE | Human ⦙⦙ MAGIC | Earth ⦙⦙ AGE | 77

personality
Although some may look at old age as a weakness, Rion treat her years as if they're a medal of war, won through hard work, adaptability, and not rarely struggle. She's a stubborn, hardy woman who simply just refuses to die easily, carrying her head high with pride and confidence, and usually with a smile, too.
Although she is stubborn as few, she have a way of making friends and allies due to her respectful and gentle personality. She is too old (she likes to think, 'too wise') to hold grudges or get riled up over silly little nothings. However, she can also be quite fierce if needed be, the looks of an old woman be damned - she is highly skilled in Earth magic, and specializes in plants and poisons. Violence might be a last resort for her, but that doesn't mean she's not damn good at it!
history

***


details

STRENGTHS
+ Rion is incredibly level-headed, not being affected much by fear or taunts, and is able to think straight even in severe situations.


+ She have seen too much in her years to be bothered with judgement. She is incredibly accepting of most things and most people that others would look at funnily, as well as accepting other peoples shortcomings, which have aided her a lot when it comes to making friends.


+ Quite adept at Earth magic, Rion specializes in plants, and is especially pilfering with poisonous or otherwise dangerous ones.



WEAKNESSES
- Although Rion is in great shape for her age and can do every day chores and more just fine, truth is that she have been losing her edge, and it shows in direct, close combat. Younger people just have an undeniable edge on here there.


- Due to her level head, she might often come across as cold - losses doesn't bother her as much as they used to, and the way she rarely seem to take offense sometimes makes it seem as if she is okay with an injustice.


- Ruthlessly logical. Sometimes a gut feeling needs more due than he gives it. "Think critically." he would always say to young wardens.


-Rion is stubborn. Really, really, really stubborn. Sure, she tries to be openminded baout listening to other peoples opinions, but it doesn't mean she is actually going to change her mind. Nope. Sorry. Likely not happening.
appearance
Although Rions grey-white hair show only traces of that brilliant dragonrider red these days and her face have has as many wrinkles as she have years, age has been fairly kind to the old woman. She still stands at her full 169 cm and have the fitness of someone 40 years her junior, possessing a slender, stringy-muscled and completely ailment-free body (well, aside from the plentiful of scars across her face and body, which have long since healed). Her clothes are practical rather than pretty, and she wears a brown leather vest, hardened into armor, on top of a dull green wool robe, as well as a few belt pouches, a knife holster, and a bow and quiver. Large, 'poofy' linen pants, often stuffed with additional fabrics in cold weather, are stuffed into leather boots. Beneath her outer robe, she wears a linen tunic that looks like it was probably blue back when it was new, and her hair is cut quite short. The only remotely fancy thing about her is her necklace, a thick chain of silver chainmail rings ending in two wolf heads, biting a ring. Her grey eyes are still quite fierce, and she have a very sharp gaze.


Secondary Weapon || Poison. Usually in combination with a bow and arrows.
dragon
82531b31207153e7d5b5ef1209578537.png



Name | Lupin


Type | Earth


Height & Length | ***


Personality | Like his rider, Lupin is a pretty chill 'ol fellow, taking almost everything with a big healthy dose of calm. Although he is faultlessly loyal to Rion and closely bonded after seventy years spent together, he isn't very protective of her unless there is a damn good reason to be - he simply trusts her judgement enough to let her take care of herself. He's just chill like dat.
Lupin have three modes: battle, play, and lay down to watch the grass grow. The latter is definitely his favorite, and the duo have spent many a lazy afternoon in each others silent company. However, he also have an undying curiosity.

writing sample
***

 
DECEASED


***
「HALE」
⦙⦙ RACE | Half-Elf ⦙⦙ MAGIC | Earth ⦙⦙ AGE | 20

personality
Hale does for others. If he can make someone smile or make their life easier, he will, for he loves to please others. Unfortunately, his bum leg means he can't do for others well or with regularity, a fact that he sees regularly as a failing on his part. As such, he's often self-depreciating.
More than all else, he's a hardy friend, slow to anger and quick to laugh.
history

***


details

STRENGTHS
As indicated above, Hale is generous to a fault. Concerned that his ability to fight would be limited due to his leg, he spent much of his life at the Haven studying maps, survival tactics, and other traits of being a good scout. In compliment to this trained scouting ability, Hale is an Earth magic prodigy, and finds it remarkably easy to manipulate earth and stone. This ability is however highly unrefined, so he uses it sparsely. Lastly, the bond he has with his dragon Kraeg'zech is particularly strong, allowing them to understand each other and work together in a more efficient manner than most Dragon Wardens.



WEAKNESSES
For all his generosity, Hale is very hard on himself about his biological limits, and almost seems to look for opportunities to berate himself. He is also remarkably lazy when it comes to doing for himself. It's not uncommon to find him laying beneath a tree, daydreaming. Lastly, due to his handicap, Hale is more or less worthless in a melee fight.
appearance
Hale is a cripple. He makes no bones about it and wishes others wouldn't either. His left leg is shorter than his right, and his left foot is twisted too far in. His slightly pointed ears show through his dull, almost auburn red hair, which is trimmed to a medium length. From between the few strands that do hang long, his piercing gray eyes peer out. Those eyes are set deep on either side of a strong nose, and his mouth is frozen in a perpetual half-grin. Standing 5'10", he wears clothes of green and brown, including a short fur-lined cloak, over some very light leather armor. On his cheek is a deep red jagged scar, possibly the one topic he finds offensive to discuss.


Secondary Weapon || Throwing knives / Weighted Staff
dragon
88ddcd9fb8ae6875e13df7ffacfa679d.png



Name | Kraeg'zech


Type | Earth


Height & Length | 27 ft tall, 56 ft long


Personality | Kraeg'zech, or Kraeg to those he calls friend, is enormous, pushing the limits of size by even earth dragon standards. But for all his strength, he's a gentle giant. He's had to be. After all, in Kraeg's mind, Hale cannot protect himself.
Kraeg needs to feel needed, and can oftentimes make a nuisance of himself in insisting that he be put to work. Patience doesn't come easy to him, particularly regarding rest, and his impatience is often one of the only things that breaks Hale from his laziness. For who would deny a many-tonned dragon work? Unfortunately, this often means Hale has to remind Kraeg to rest, which can lead to some intense feelings at one another. But they have each other's back when the time comes, and they both know it.

writing sample
Silence filled the air, interrupted only by the rumble in the dragon's throat. Kraeg was taking it hard, too.
Hale stood knee deep in the water, rinsing his cookware as best he might. But the clear water was bitterly cold, and both of their hearts hurt enough without that. So the half-elf hobbled out of the stream and back to shore. Stumbling up the bank, he threw the spoon and pan onto the ground, where they bounced with a clatter. For minutes uncounted he stared at them, letting the chill north wind muss his hair about and dry his wet legs. He shivered.
-----
"Look out!"
Tilly gestured at her student, and a wall of ice suddenly appeared beside him, pushing both him and his enormous dragon aside. And none too late. An arrow tipped with fire and set to explode upon impact zipped through the now unoccupied air, missing Kraeg by mere feet. Hale gripped his dragon's back tightly, panic evident in his body language. To his right, the young Dragon Warden's mentor pointed back the way they'd come.
"Get out of here! You'll be killed!"
Underneath Tilly, Malika opened her mouth. Almost quicker than sight, shards of razor sharp ice began spewing from the open maw. Below, the small force of Sur elves fled and died, some turning to give parting shots. The elder Dragon Warden pointed again, more insistently this time, as Malika landed to pursue them.
"I said GO!"
But Hale felt his jaw tighten. Kraeg was prepared to fight; he should be, too. Bum leg be damned. The small Dragon Warden lifted his hands. Beneath them, the human company had ceased fleeing, choosing instead to hide beneath an outcropping of stone. Some were sending arrows and darts at the ice dragon, and others were doing to the same at Kraeg. With a yell, Hale clenched his hands, expecting the base of the outcropping to crumble and the rocks to crush the sheltering enemies.
But the base didn't merely crumble; it exploded. Stones and slabs of appreciable size went flying, many finding their marks with the attacking ranks. Even some boulders rolled down the falling hill, taking many men with them.
But amid the yells of the enemy, another scram pierced the cloudy sky. Kraeg landed heavily and Hale leapt off, hobbling as fast as he could to the crumpled heap of ice dragon and Warden. Tears poured down his face as he examined her. A heavy slab of granite lay upon Tilly's chest, her ribs surely crushed to dust.
One way or another, Hale knew as soon as he fell to his knees at her side: she was dead. She was dead, and it was his fault. All he could do was weep, cold to the world around him. The despair kindled a rage within Kraeg, and the massive dragon dispatched the remaining soldiers in short order. Only then, once his friend was safe, did he creep up beside Hale to comfort him.
-----
A hot breeze caught him in the face, waking him from his memory. The earth dragon's nose was inches from his own. The creature's breath was comforting. Hale reached out and touched his snout.
"I know; me too. But we'll keep going in their memory."
He smiled, trying to comfort himself as much as his dragon.
"It's all we can do."
Cleaning up the rest of camp, Hale and Kraeg crept off, keeping to the underbrush to hide from spying eyes.

 


***
「AVA」
⦙⦙ RACE | Human ⦙⦙ MAGIC | ire ⦙⦙ AGE | 16

personality
Ava is an elusive, yet bold person once you get close enough. She instinctively likes to hide and judge newcomers from afar, but if she deems you at least harmless enough that she can beat you in a fight, then she reveals herself to be rather loud and commanding. Ever since the attack that burned her home to the ground and set her and Feral on the run, she has held a deep hatred towards people, elves, and all creatures in general besides other Dragon Wardens and Wardens. Ava can switch between being a relaxed, jovial prankster to a hardened fighter in an instant.
history

***


details

STRENGTHS
+Strong


+Fearless


+A relatively good strategist


+Fast



WEAKNESSES
-Loud


-Instinctual


-Easy to anger


-Judgemental
appearance
Ava is rather delicate appearing at first glance, standing at only 5'2, however once you take a closer look her name is almost the complete opposite of both her personality and build. Thin, lean muscle etches her body, like that of a runner, and her hair has grown long and wild after fleeing her home in the Haven. Her enchanted clothes are thin and tattered, irreplaceable as of the moment, and she wears an animal skin cloak with similar spells woven into it to keep her warm on long flights. She wields little but two half-swords for close combat, utilizing Feral's fire to kill and cook whatever prey they come across.


Secondary Weapon || Two Half-swords

dragon
aa5cc8c8061398b86ffa3104f9cd2f79.png



Name | Feral


Type | Fire


Height & Length | 17 ft tall, 30 ft long


Personality | Usually pretty relaxed for a fire dragon. Chill even. She is very prideful of her appearance, grooming her spines and stroking her chest so it looks as if she will burst into flame at any moment. However, if one keeps watch, they will see that Feral keeps a constant eye on her partner, and if the girl should be in any situation that she may not be able to handle, Feral will instantly step in and roar, or even attack, the one who is responsible for threatening Ava. Her fire can be compared to lava at times, flowing between her teeth and dripping out onto the ground to create a deadly barrier between her and opponents, besides the defenses her spines, strong wings, tail, and claws as well as teeth provide.
writing sample
Ava considered her current situation, then quickly rejected it.
Method of rejection: wild kicking and some words best left unheard.
Feral growled and grabbed Ava between her foreclaws before she could escape. Ava glared back at the dragon and got a sense of annoyance emanating from Feral's thoughts. Yes, this had happened many times before, but how could she be blamed for it?
When Feral eyed her, Ava crossed her arms. "What about that time you thought you could pull off a spiral-dive like one of the Council's dragons, and had to try it the first time with me on your back?"
The dragon chuffed -a sound Ava had long since come to associate with amusement, and stuck out her tongue. Images of a stirrups coming loose and Ava falling with a terrified expression on her face flicked through the girl's mind. Ava winced. She'd forgotten that... "F-fine! Fine! Kill me and see where it gets you!" she sniped.
Once Feral let her go Ava reluctantly clambered onto her back, using the dragon's spines like rungs on a ladder. As soon she was situated between her wings, Ava slipped her legs into the saddle straps and made sure to tighten them this time.
Let's hope we don't have a repeat like last time. She knocked on the aged leather for luck and yelped when the dragon swung forward.
Oh she was going to hate this...


 


***
「DINYLA」
⦙⦙ RACE | Human ⦙⦙ MAGIC | Earth ⦙⦙ AGE | 28

personality
From the day of her birth, Dinyla was different. Her inability to see, while for others would turn their worlds upside down, was natural to her as breathing. She had to adapt and through using her other senses, became aware of looking at something through different angles. She could read another person's personality simply through speech, often good at judging the character of another without needing to see body language. Dinyla is very smart, versing herself with any book she could find and tries her best in everything, regretting how her blindness hinders her from some accomplishments. She is very interested in the stories of others, eager to learn more about the world she may not be able to understand through touch, smell, taste, or sound. She can be stubborn and bull-headed when it comes to proving herself, often digging herself into a bigger hole if she knows she cannot win, especially in physical tasks. She is fiercely loyal to her friends and overprotective, willing to lay down her own life for those she holds dear, especially for Erramund. She often sings and plays a small harp she carries with her every now and again, wanting to soothe the weary souls of her companions and often, to try and give herself piece of mind.
history

***


details

STRENGTHS
Astute in registering situations that may need a solution that requires thinking outside the box, can speak to others on multiple levels to establish alliances or continue peaceful talks, well versed in the cultures of other people



WEAKNESSES
Very dependent on others in situations such as physical combat or anything involving the importance of sight (swimming, scaling landscapes, etc.), stubborn when asking for help from others especially when she feels helpless, can be naive at points with the intentions of others

appearance
Dinyla stands at almost 5 feet and 4 inches, her figure a little athletic but lean due to her lack in sight making physical training more difficult for her to accomplish. Her hair is of a lighter red color, usually done up in an elaborate updo given her studies in diplomacy, wanting to be presentable to those of higher positions. Her eyes are of a deep blue but is clouded due to her blindness at birth. Her skin is fair and pale in color and has the occasional birthmark here and there. She bares small scars across her hands from years of examining the world around her through her sense of touch and has a larger scar across her back from her angered attempt to try and prove herself a warrior in her youth while sparring with a peer.


Secondary Weapon || Keeps a dagger at her side to protect herself if the worse came to pass.

dragon
26d50848f497f1cb74bf7c81d41675f8.jpg



Name | Erramun


Type | Earth


Height & Length | 28 feet tall by 50 feet long


Personality | Erramun is the perfect epitome of the big, gentle giant. Rather large for his size, Erramun has always been delicate and careful with his Dragon Warden Dinyla, assisting her in anyway he could come up with due to her blindness. He tends to be quiet, only grunting or snorting for simple answers if Dinyla wanted to ask him something. Given his loyalty to his Warden, Erramun remains on the ground for her sake, forfeiting any chance to strengthen his wings for flight simply to stay by her side. But while he knows how to register Dinyla's actions and feelings, he can have a hard time registering the intent of others, growing overprotective of his rider and can have a short temper with anyone he does not like. While he does like to fly occasionally, Erramun grows tired if he flies for too long and lands shortly after. He can be playful in his own way, sometimes known to tease Dinyla with blowing some air to mess with her hair or tugs at her robes like a large puppy to grab her attention if he was feeling needy. But he is always one for physical touch, known to fall asleep with his large body wrapped around Dinyla protectively as she would study endlessly into the night.
writing sample
"Run...just keep running..." Dinyla thought to herself, cloudy blue eyes misty with tears as they trailed down her pale bony cheeks, small cuts breaking the skin from the pine needles of the trees that raced past her. It seemed like forever for her, her blindness making the world seem go on and on under her feet, an end never surfacing. She couldn't take it...she couldn't take it anymore. The elder Wardens promised her she would find her dragon. The 'senses' would awaken within her in her dreams or when she least expected it. She was 15 now...they were never coming. That lingering, festering fear in her gut finally burst and she could not hold back the tears this time. She could hear the Wardens in the distance calling to her, begging for her to stop as their dragons roared in the search, their wings beating like drums in the skies. "Let it end...please, please let it end!" Dinyla screamed in her mind. She took another step forward...
Nothing.
Her milky blue eyes widened to feeling her body float for a moment before the sinking feeling of her stomach indicated she was falling. Her red hair tangling within the branches and shrubs that clung to the side of the steep slope, her body tumbling quickly down the hill before she landed with a firm thud. Head reeling from the fall, Dinyla slowly pushed her body to sit up on shaky hands, breathing quickly from the rush before her fear was quickly overwhelmed by her grief. She hung her head in shame, her wails echoing through the trees like a songbird's cry. Her hands pawed the dirt floor of the forest, pulling herself towards anything she could rest on for just a while. A pale skinned hand pawed at the solid surface of a dark grey rock, leaning her upper body against the cool surface as her tears streamed down the face of the stone, her cuts across her face soothed slightly from the cool earthy surface. Her shoulders trembled, knees curling up to have her body form into a small ball against the rock as her breathing hitched, struggling to try and calm herself. Unknown to her, a yellow eye slowly opened upon the side of the boulder, the pupil dilating before turning to focus on the small human before it. The eye began to close as rocks started to shift, rumbling before the roots of some ancient trees groaned from the pull and tug, snapping under the strength of the enormous dragon emerging from a long slumber, the stones separating to reveal the individual scales of the earthly giant.
Dinyla sat up quickly to the sound of something shifting, shaking as she glanced all around to try and figure out what the sound was and where it was coming from. Panting quickly in fear, she scooted herself as close as she could to the stone behind her, arms hugging her knees to her chest before her eyes shut tight, hoping the horrible sound would go away. The dragon's head slowly lowered to meet Dinyla's level before a soft puff of air escaped its nostrils and blew her hair from her face. The sudden breeze made Dinyla gasp, slowly turning in the direction of the large dragon's head, unable to fathom how large the creature must have been from the sound of its heavy breathing. Slowly, her eyes began to widen, milky blind eyes staring into the golden pools of the dragon.
"It's you..." she whispered in realization, the dragon tilting his head as a deep rumble erupted from his throat in curiosity. Shakily pushing herself to stand up, Dinyla inched her way closer to the giant, her right hand extended out to try and feel for whatever was before her. She stopped in her tracks, pawing the air faintly with extended fingertips. The dragon purred deeply before slowly lowering his head, sniffing the hand before inching his large head forward, his snout touching Dinyla's hand. She gasped to the sudden rocky texture under her fingertips before her other hand slowly reached forward, feeling the details of the dragon's snout before the biggest smile grew across her lips. She found him...


 


"Quote"
「 WAETHRIN the INFERNO」
⦙⦙ RACE | Human ⦙⦙ MAGIC | Fire ⦙⦙ AGE | 78

personality
As his life has left his body damaged, so too has it left his spirit scarred. Waethrin is a bitter old man, caring little for the lives of those about him or the consequences of his actions. He responds to anything beyond a question or statement of simple fact with anger or sarcasm, finding reason (albeit likely false reason) to be angry at them. Nor has he been provided any reason to abandon this mood; his suspicions and emotional distance has kept him and his dragon safe in the long years since his self-imposed exile.
history
"Popular" was not an especially applicable term to the Dragon Warden pair, but Waethrin and Ancalagon certainly carried a very far-reaching reputation. Almost from graduation, they were a martial force to be reckoned with, and their battle prowess soon became almost legendary. Indeed, so effective were they are their duties that the Warden's temper and the Fire Drake's disinterest were mostly overlooked, and save for the occasional private chastisement, the Council largely allowed them to work as they would. In short, life for Waethrin and Ancalagon was fast, violent, free, and everything they could have wanted.

But it was not to last. On the Fire Warden's 40th year, he and his dragon disappeared. No trace did they leave as to where they had fled, nor for what reason. And Haven's martial conflicts suffered for it. While they still held their own against their foes, it was not with the ease that they once had, many Wardens' spirits were lowered by their absence.

For their part, the old man and his Drake fled southeast, to the Cliffs of Anova on the Glassy Sea. There they lived a hermit's life, as far from other creatures of intelligent thought as could reasonably be managed. At least, until one enlightening day while visiting a particular tavern on Thallas shores ...

Since that day they've been making their way steadily back towards their first home, hoping to find signs of other Wardens on their way to Haven. Most lately, they have found themselves near Rosenfall, ducking companies of soldiers and pretty well every other form of dangerous life.

In their youth, Waethrin the Inferno and his Ancalagon were the pair that often at the forefront of martial actions, leading many to victory wherever they were involved. But men age, and with age a forced lack of involvement. While there may be some few who remember the pair's decades-old accomplishments, the Inferno is more often spoken of in legends and myths, and the man, when he shows himself at all, is rarely if ever acknowledged.

details

STRENGTHS
+Experienced in living in solitude in the wilderness

+A once renowned Spellsword, retains much of his skill

+Forthright and always (often brutally and insensitively) honest



WEAKNESSES
-Untrusting of anyone beyond his dragon

-Incapable (to date) of empathy with others

-Due to his dissociative mannerisms, stands out in a crowd like a Fire Drake in a hay field

-Has no concept of subtlety

appearance
An old man scarred and weathered by life's harshness, Waethrin nevertheless retains much of his physique that made him a legend on the battle field. Though he is only five and a half feet tall, the old man is built like a wall.

Waethrin hides much of his form, however, and has for some time now. He generally goes about in a shabby brown hooded cloak, with little showing but his chest length ash-white beard and one gleaming eye of green. Yes, one: a scar crosses his left eye, leaving it closed forever in empty pain.

Under his cloak Waethrin keeps himself protected with a simple black leather breastplate and two leather bracers to match. Not only that: across his back, displayed readily, is slung a bastard sword, his weapon of choice.

Secondary Weapon || Yaeger, his single edged bastard sword
dragon
db14fa8bd3a71bca09904b7464f23ddb.jpg


Name | Ancalagon

Type | Fire

Height & Length | At 14 ft tall and 28 ft long, Ancalagon is rather short in the way of his kind. He is, however, of impressive muscle and build that only long years of a hard life can bring. Much like his Warden, the Drake carries scars of his own, most notably a section across his left cheek where his gray scales have been irrevocably burned away, leaving naught but blazing angry yellow flesh.

Personality | Ancalagon is, for a Fire Drake, quiet and subdued. Where life has made Waethrin angry, it's left Ancalagon weary. While he will still leap into battle as he used to, and especially in the defense of his friend, more and more he feels like neither have reason to live. Or to care.
writing sample
"Didja hear?"

An old man in an old brown cloak turned his head at the voice. It was clearly not meant for him, but with the volume at which the speaker was talking, the old man could hardly be accused of eavesdropping. The question came from the all too eager mouth of a foppish Thall youth. He held a page of parchment in his soft hands and was recounting to the other dandies around him the notice he'd read earlier in the day.

"The Queen finally made a move against those awful Riders!" Cheers matched his overly joyful tone. Had there been other guests within the tavern, the bar keep would likely have told them off. But, save for the strange septuagenarian in the corner, the inn common room was otherwise empty. So the keep let the boys have their fun. One of the gathered fops, a short brunette, slapped the table.

"Hah!" His voice rose triumphantly. "Now those damnable men who dabble with, ugh, dragons will leave off interfering with our lives! Tell us, Smythe! How did it happen?"

Smythe, the boy with the paper, shrugged noncommittally.

"The notice doesn't say. But!" He glanced about conspiratorially before continuing. "I heard they killed everyone within their Haven: Wardens, their initiates, and their dragons!" As he spoke, Smythe waved the paper around for emphasis. "Even the hatchlings! None were spared to bully us ever again!"

"'Bully'?"

The new voice was strained with age. As it echoed through the room, Smythe's page burst into flame, almost immediately incinerated. The boy yelped and withdrew his hand, fingertips red from the fire's heat. The old man in the corner stood, a naked blade somehow in his hand where before there had been none. Both hand and weapon shook with the same anger that lent power to his voice.

"You know naught of being bullied. But I fancy myself a teacher. Come: I shall instruct you."

The blaze that subsequently engulfed the building burned long into the night, and in the morning no corpse within its ashes could be identified. Nor was the cause of the fire ever discovered, its maker having fled into the night hours before. Fleeing as he always did reminders of his past.

 


***
「CINDER」
⦙⦙ RACE | Human ⦙⦙ MAGIC | Arcane ⦙⦙ AGE | 33

personality
Cinder is usually considered the life of the party, due mostly to her rather inviting personality and general friendliness. She's often found chatting up people of all classes and dispositions, causing even the coldest of individuals to break down into an engaged conversation on whatever topic seems to tickle their fancy. Her ability to get along well with people is bother trained and inherent to her nature and is a result of her tendency to keep observant. It's hard to get on her bad side, but if you do, she'll become much more serious as she does during battle. The recent attack on Haven has driven her to be more serious and it make take some time for her to rebuild her trust for individuals as the Warden's recover.
history

***


details

STRENGTHS
Cinder is a highly analytical individual and can usually read a person or situation as it develops in real time. As a result of this she's become a skilled tactician and is a fearsome opponent to best on the battlefield on on the chessboard. Of course, Cinder has the brawn to back up the brain and is particularly skilled in the art of the spear.



WEAKNESSES
Cinder can get too focused at times on one object or task and at times leaves her open or causes her to miss things entirely. She also tends to be rather pragmatic in her decision making when in the heat of the moment and is often considered to be self-righteous at times when defending that pragmatism.

appearance
Cinder stands at an average 5'10" and has an athletic build. Her red hair is cut very short and styled to stand up at most times. Blue eyes and freckles define were face along with a crisscross of healing scars situated on her lips, left cheek and over her left eye.


Secondary Weapon || Spear

dragon
e96f101454a72fd72ce87317d66e460c.jpg



Name | Voarex aka Voa


Type | Arcane


Height & Length | 15 ft tall and 30 ft long


Personality | Voarex is a younger dragon and it shows in her personality. Smart as her kind are, Voa is equally mischievous and has more than once gotten Cinder into trouble. Despite this, dragon and rider have a very close relationship and Voa can usually help level Cinder's analytical mind and is usually about as friendly as she can be at times. She's very intelligent and skilled in battle and usually follows Cinder's directions without question unless she spots an opportunity that her rider did not. Not much else brings her more joy in the world as deep snowfalls do and she'll often be found rolling around in the fluff when on mission to the colder regions of the world.
writing sample
Voarex had sensed the danger before anyone else within the small group that Cinder was instructing that evening. Her head perked up and glanced in the direction of strange sounds of machinations and footsteps from the tree line. Unexpected visitors were uncommon, at least when being accompanied by such sounds. Cinder had picked up on Voa's concerns and stopped mid-sentence in her instruction of the younger riders to look off in the same direction as the arcane dragon. She blinked unable to hear what she could but it seemed like the other dragons could feel it as well. Coming from other directions. Likely not friendly. Voa's insight had set the red head's features into something more serious as her students were recieving similar information from their dragons.
"That's it for training today. Return to your Emasari and await further instruction." No sooner had she given out her orders did she find large balls of flame come hurling towards them from the treeline. The projectiles sailed well over their heads and collided with or passed over Haven's Eastern walls. Not friendly indeed. "Go! Now!" She yelled before turning and making a dash before hefting herself up onto Voa's back. In the distance she could hear the chorus of thousands of voices yelling in unison coming from the direction of the fireballs. As Voa lifted them further into the air Cinder soon found out that they were indeed surrounded by a vast army. And as they flew back towards the city on the tails of the younger wardens, she couldn't help but share in Voa's disdain. This will not end well.....
---------------------------------------------
Three hours was all it took for things to fall apart. Their gates were breached on all sides and losses were heavy. It was bad enough that the initial projectiles sent out by the enemy trebuchets had killed a number of Haven's inhabitants before the Wardens had time to react. But now, entire swathes of Haven were in flames. Black smoke polluted the air and made coordinating with the handful of dragon riders that remained and the remaining troops on the ground nearly impossible. She'd lost the entirety of her squad in the chaos, her face stung from deep cuts that she had received when a fireball had collided with a nearby building for the short amount of time that she was on the ground.
She had likely sent a number of people to certain death in an attempt to organize a defense at the Eastern side of the city and now she had to make another of a string of tough calls that the night demanded. The city was overrun, and she wouldn't risk losing more of the dragon riders to the ballistas and other siege equipment that was turned their way. And so she circled the city to find what riders she could before giving the signal for a retreat. It hurt to leave those who remained in the city, but if they remained in the skies, there'd be noone left to escape and give their account of what happened on this damned night. And so, Cinder gave Haven one more longing look before turning Voa away and towards the Norther, where the artillery was least concentrated. With any luck, she'd make it out alive, she owed that much to those she'd be leaving behind.

 


***
「EADRIC」
⦙⦙ RACE | Human ⦙⦙ MAGIC | Arcane ⦙⦙ AGE | 31

personality
Eadric talks a good game, and those who first meet him would perceive him as the valiant and heroic type of person. That is very much the person he strives to be, but inside, Eadric is extremely worrisome and quick to run away from a fight. Most of this is hidden behind a strategic way of thinking. Thus, Eadric is the master of excuses. He not only makes them to his companions and opponent, but to himself. He isn't backing away from a fight, he's making a "tactical retreat." He hasn't failed his task, the "circumstances changed in a way outside of my control." Still, he is ultimately a good person at heart and he constantly strives to overcome the less-desirable parts of his personality. All that being said, he is a relatively intelligent and resourceful man, and very good at coming up with a backup plan in a pinch, provided he has been able to overcome his fear.
history

***


details

STRENGTHS
Eadric is very resourceful, and when this skill is put to use well, he can be very useful in a tough situation, able to come up with a backup plan. He is also a surprisingly adept leader, being able to manage a group very well, though he tends to try and keep himself out of harm's way more often than not. Lastly, he is very adaptable, being able to handle it well when things don't go as planned and continue moving forward.



WEAKNESSES
Eadric has a few primary crippling weaknesses that have limited him his entire life. His first is his fear of physical harm. He prefers to keep out of the front lines as much as possible and sling spells from the back. His second weakness is his tendency to become lazy when nobody is watching. He requires a strong-willed companion in order to keep on task and carry out his duties properly. Last are the lies he is able to tell himself. He is constantly making excuses for his unreliability to the point where even he himself believes them. He can get himself to believe that he is doing the write thing, even when his actual actions would suggest the opposite.

appearance
Eadric stands at about 6'2" in imperial units and weighs about 175 pounds. His frame is reasonably athletic, though he is not exceptionally strong. He has light skin, blue eyes, and auburn-colored hair cut short with sideburns. His shoulders are broad and his body has no irregularities to speak of. He's normally wearing his suit of steel and leather armor.


Secondary Weapon || He primarily uses his arcane magic for defense, but also carries a heavy cavalry sabre around for hand-to-hand combat

dragon
16c62598b917020f5fd818fc00caf397.jpg



Name | Dromar


Type | Arcane


Height & Length | 11 ft tall and 28 ft long


Personality | Dromar is a highly intelligent dragon who, like his master, does not always properly demonstrate his mental aptitude. Like Eadric, Dromar is very good at finding a way out of a fight, utilizing his smaller size and speed well to maneuver his way to safety. Though he does appear to be lazy, it would be more accurate to say that he is waiting for Eadric to realize both of their full potential. Of the pair, Dromar is usually the one providing the defense in fights, gliding and swooping through the battlefield with elegance, allowing Eadric to utilize his magic for attack.
writing sample
"Alright guys, form a wedge, we need to break through the line at its weakest point!" Eadric called out to his companions.
"This is it, just one more push until we're free from this Hell," he thought to himself.
The attack had begun whilst they were dropping off a cargo of supplies for the tavern when the attack began. All of a sudden, a giant rock had flown onto the roof of the place, crushing all the men drinking and gambling around the round table. Immediately they heard the call to arms, its horn bluntly ringing out through the air. He jumped into action, rounding up his surviving friends and heading out to join the fight. The town was surrounded by men and siege engines, and the gates of the town had already been broken down, enemies streaming through. Escape was neigh-impossible for all but the fastest of dragons, as the siege engines provided a hail of stones upon any dragon that would attempt to pass over them. Thus, they joined the fight.
Initially they had success. Under Eadric's leadership, his band was able to push back the invaders at the south end of the city. After many hours of strenuous and grueling fighting they were given an opportunity to charge out the city gates and attack a nest of siege equipment.
He was currently preparing his companions for the final push. His long time friend and companion Colton was riding next to him in this final charge. As they prepared to take the nest head on, he turned his head toward the man and said to him,
"When we make it out, let's open a new tavern in some faraway location."
"Yes, that would be nice..." Colton muttered in reply. His eyes seemed desolate and empty as they prepared for the push.
"Everybody charge on my count!" Eadric shouted to the other wardens formed around him.
"3"
"2"
"1"
"CHARGE!" He raised his sword high in the air as he shouted this final command.
As the dragons and their riders raced down to the fortified defenders, they swooped and swerved around a hail of projectiles and arrows. Eadric witnessed many of his good friends plummet to the ground dead after being hit, but the band continued to charge. As they neared the position each dragon prepared to unleash a hail of ice, fire, and arcane onto the humans below. Dromar began to glow blue in preparation.
When they were within striking distance, all of the dragons emptied their throats onto the defenders, destroying the siege equipment and killing many of the people around it. The human soldiers were well, disciplined though, and quickly worked to fill any gaps in the line. They did not have much time.
"This is our chance!" Eadric shouted when he saw Colton flying next to him.
"We have to go now!"
"There are still others trying to get out of Haven, we must assist them!" Colton shouted back.
"You've already done enough for all of us, leave now and we'll join you when we get more wardens out!" Colton and Eadric both knew full well that anyone who went back into the fight would not likely come back.
"Please come with me, There's no point in throwing your life away!" Eadric pleaded with Colton.
"My conscience won't allow it I"m afraid," Colton replied. "Men, there are still people attempting to flee the city. I'm not going to force any of you but those that want to help others escape should come with me!" he shouted out to the other survivors.
As Eadric flew away he caught a glimpse of all his former friends and allies headed back out to their deaths.

 


"Light can radiate, even in places unseen.... But not all darkness is corrupt and sometimes fire can burn."
「RALEIA」
⦙⦙ RACE | Human ⦙⦙ MAGIC | Fire ⦙⦙ AGE | 24

personality
Regal and focused, Raleia can, on the occasion, come across as cold or stoic. Her manner is often dictated by her environment, and she tends to show less comfort in circumstances outside of her direct control. Given the history of her people, she can be slow to trust and often times suspicious of the motives of others, particularly those who might appear willing to assist her. Her heart was greatly broken, and because of this, she can be quite closed off and emotionally distant. Beyond even herself, Winnock is Raleia's main concern, and there is nothing she won't do to protect her dragon, even at a risk to her own life.
history
Little much about her younger years bears mentioning. Raleia was born the forth child to a young farmer and his wife. Due to the manner of her coloring, they prepared early to have her taken by the Wardens and in infancy, Raleia came to live at Haven. Her childhood was spent in focused on her studies, to which Raleia adapted exceptionally, until the age of seven, when she began her period of bonding.

Her dragon, Winnock was a temperamental bull, but their bond was forged with incredible depth and fortitude. Winnock was not just her dragon, he was her best friend and such was the emotional connection that Winnie adopted the notion of trying to cheer Raleia up, if ever she needed the encouragement.

As she grew and eventually, after she'd graduated, Raleia formed a bond of an entirely different nature with a Dragon Warden named Valnir and over time, the two arranged to marry. Before they could, however, the Haven was attacked and during the siege, Valnir was killed, helping Raleia to escape.

Devastated by loss of her betrothed and her home, Raleia set off with her dragon, wandering nomadically, in search of answers, in search of sanctuary. She keeps to herself, unless absolutely necessary, and since escaping has come across little in terms of adversity. It's only a matter of time, however, and she's only too aware hiding is only an option for so long.

details

STRENGTHS
+ Driven: What she sets her mind, she throws everything into.


+ Mindful: Focused and attuned to the world around her, she rarely allows herself to lose control. Her temperament reflects this, as she so rarely exhibits anger.


+ Devoted: Those she commits herself to, to any degree, she holds unmitigated loyalty towards.



WEAKNESSES
- Suspicious: A hard life has made it difficult for Raleia to trust easily.


- Haunted: Having lost so much, Raleia is haunted by the memories of the departed.


- Idealistic: What Raleia believes, she does not doubt... not ever. Her single-mindedness can be helpful, but it has also been the catalyst to many disagreements.
appearance
Raleia is unquestionably beautiful, with pale ivory skin, scattered with freckles. Her hair is a bright coppery red in tight curls, running in length to the center of her back, her eyes blue pools, speckled with bits of green and grey. Her features are delicate, with finely arched brows, rosy cheeks and full lips.

Her form is small and lithe, with subtle but feminine curves, long arms and legs, ending in smaller hands and feet.

Secondary Weapon || A simple short sword, twelve inches in length - thick and blunt, with a heavy wooden hilt, wrapped in a scrap of red cloth.
dragon
h3eeAKG.jpg


Name | Winnock

Type | Fire

Height & Length | 18'5 tall, 32' long

Personality | Temperamental, impatience and stubborn, Winnie can be a handful on any given day. He can be blatantly defiant and and has a bad history of making impulsive decisions, but he is wholly and affectionately bonded to Raleia, loyal to a fault. He enjoys nothing more than pushing limits, and has been known to behave recklessly, particularly if there's anyone around he's less than taken by, which happens to be most everyone he meets. Still, he's not without his charms - he's particularly cuddly, for a giant brute, and always does his best to save some of the meaty bits of his meals for Raleia. All in all, he's a great show off, and seems attuned to Raleia's moods well enough that he's even been known to try and make the Dragon Warden laugh.
writing sample
odkv5oB.jpg


It was them. They're certain now. The attack was unprovoked..." Raleia sat on the edge of the hearth, with her feet curled beneath her, the warmth of the flames licking at her bare legs. Shades of gold cast upon pale skin, reflecting in her empyrean eyes, coiled through sanguine ringlets. The once-stark hem of her nightdress had begun to singe, but she either had not noticed, or bore it no mind. Her voice, normally so resolute, shook with emotion, matching the quake in her hands, which gripped the sword balanced across her lap with a white-knuckled ferocity, "They killed them all. Every single one of them. Even the children... slaughtered, like lambs. I don't understand... It's our job to keep peace. Why? Why would they do something like this?"

Concern etched across Valnir's face and she was aware then of how she must have looked. She did not blame him for his wariness. Three nights in a row now, she had been wrested from sleep by the thoughts which plagued them all.

"I've told you, Leia. We'll get to the bottom of it. Those responsible, they'll be punished... " Sinking down beside her, Valnir reached out, his wide palm cupped around her cheek, the pad of his thumb brushing tenderly against her temple. His free hand moved to grasp the sword and slowly, carefully, he eased it from her hands, set it on the mantle above his head, "No one blames us..."

"You say that now, but it's only a matter of time, Val, before they decide we're all a threat." Her fingers brushed against his hand, wove around it and pulled it gently to her chest, her head coming to rest against his shoulder, her other hand curved around the amulet he wore beneath his shirt. "I'm so afraid."

"I swore an oath to you, my love, I would never let anything happen to you. Do you think me so ill fit a protector that I cannot keep my wife from harm?"

"I'm not your wife yet, Val..." She said, pulling away, and a smile softened the anxious lines, creased through the gentle curves of her face, "It's you I'm worried for. These hostilities... they're why you've been called away, aren't they?"

"It's only negotiations, Leia. There is nothing to fear."

"Then why am I so afraid?"

His arms came around her and he pulled her to him, his lips pressed to her crown, fingers wound in locks of red, "Shh. No more, my love. No more..."


Stones fell around her like hail, pebbles raining, pattering against the earth, great chunks of the outer wall slamming down with a thud which shook the ground and stirred up enormous clouds of dust. There had been no time to grab anything, no time to plan. Her bare feet cut against rocks and bits of metal, slipping in the mud. Valnir's heavy footsteps came from behind and above, high enough, she hoped to avoid detection she could sense Winnock's presence.

For a city under siege, there seemed to be an eerie sort of silence. It took Raleia some time before she realized that was because her hearing had been drowned out by the slamming tattoo of her heart, pounding in her chest. Looking up, she saw another wall crumbling and jumped out of the way of the rocks, smashing down around her. Valnir had caught up, his strong, sturdy hand closed around her arm and with a gentle tug he leg her down a set of stairs, which she knew would eventually lead to the catacombs, beneath the city, and through that, they would come out in the valley, with some grace, far enough away from the carnage and destruction of their beautiful city.

A cracking sound splintered above and rocks rained down. Valnir released her, pushed her forward and she heard it, rather than saw it... the massive slab, slamming down where'd she'd stood a moment before. For a second or two, they stood still, silent. There was a crunch, and the steps beneath her feet began to quake, to quiver. Looking up, she could see Valnir's face, could see him mouthing for her to run, but she couldn't hear, couldn't make out the sound of his voice amidst the chaos. Spinning, she set her foot down, and as she did so, the step gave way, then the next one after it. The foundation had shattered and the staircase would not hold. Her eyes shot to Val, still trapped behind the massive pile of boulders and debris and her heart gave a stab as she watched him, screaming now, to run... to leave him and run. Her feet moved when he heart would not and she leapt over the broken steps, ran, fast as her legs would carry her down, down, down...

She could hear the steps now, crumbling behind her, like a race she had no desire to be a part of. But at least she could see the end in sight, could see the stone gateway, the arch leading into the catacombs. She hit the last stair, twisted her foot and fell, slapping hard against the ground. Behind her, she could see the staircase as it came down, great plumes of dusty smoke rising from the debris. Heart hammering against her ribs, pain in her side, in her hands and feet, she looked, searched, desperately, hoping to see a glimpse of Val, coming after her...

Above her head she heard the subtle swooping sound of leathery wings and looked up to see Winnock descending, landing with a heavy thud beside her. His great, beastly head lolling towards her, lolling her towards the archway.

"I can't." She whispered, "I have to find Val."

Winnie chuffed, smoke curling from his nostrils and with the tip of his snout he nudged her, "Winnock, no! I have to find--"

The dust had settled and she could see him, surrounded by great heaps of rubble. The red of his hair stood out, a shock amongst so much grey. Stepping tentatively, then swiftly, she clambered over stones, ignoring every stitch of pain, until she came to a skidding halt beside him, landing on her knees by his side. His upper half had twisted at a strange angle, his left arm curved behind him, the rest laying flat on his chest, his lower half was gone, buried beneath the rubble. He gave a choking gasp, and his blue eyes opened, met her gaze. She felt her stomach churn, her throat tighten, her eyes stinging with dust and with tears, as she reached out, her hand clutching his.

"Val. You have to move. We have to go." She murmured.

He laughed, lightly, and it turned into a brackish cough, pink, foaming blood bubbling between his lips, "You never were very good at listening, were you, my love."

"Val! Stop it. We have to go... You have to get up!" She tugged, yanked on his arm and he grimaced, but he didn't budge. Tears streamed down her cheeks, leaving streaks smudged in the dirt coating her pale skin. He reached up, brushed them away with the pad of his thumb.

"You have to leave me, Leia."

"No." She hissed.

"Leia."

"No!" A shout this time, and she pounded her fist into his chest in anger, "No, Val! Get up! Get up, now!"

"Raleia!" Cupping her cheek, he shook his head, "I can't. My legs. I can't feel them."

The words hit hard, punched into her gut like a fist. She stared at him, silent, tears pouring out, now, and she was irrationally angry at the emotions, how they clouded her mind, "Dear Heart, you promised... You promised..."

"That we would be together, forever. And we will, my love. I will be with you, always ..." His voice crackled, dimmed. He pulled his hand free, tugged the amulet from around his neck and pressed it into her palm, "This is not the end, Raleia. Not for you... not for us. For now in memory, in song... and some day... in eternity."

"...Val..."

"I love you, Leia."

"Stop it."

"Always..."

"Val, stop it!"

"...Always."

"...And I love you." But as the words slipped from her lips, so too did Valnir slip... his eyes falling closed, his hand limp in her own. "...No." The word, an utterance of disbelief poured from her, again and again, her voice rising until the only sound within her was a sob, a cry of absolute agony.


A curl slipped to the edge of the hood and with a sigh of frustration, Raleia tucked in back beneath her woolen shroud. She loathed wearing the thing, but it's weight was a necessity in these parts. For three days now, she'd traveled on the outskirts of Thallas, stopping only to eat and to rest. Winnock flew over head, high enough that he could not be seen by passerbys, but not high enough that she could not sense him, the comfort of his presence.

It had been several weeks since the fall of Haven, and while she had no tail and come across very little in terms of trouble, she knew it would not be long before the hand of fate once more cast her aside. Comfort, it seemed, was a relative term. There was no comfort, no peace. How many were left? How many had they lost...?

Her fingers curled around the amulet she wore around her neck, and with a sigh she looked up into the clouds overhead. He was safe. He was free. That was all that mattered. That was all that would ever matter, now.

 


***
「QUYNTALIS」
⦙⦙ RACE | Half-Elf ⦙⦙ MAGIC | Ice ⦙⦙ AGE | 23

personality
Quynn was, and is still a man with something to prove, even though he was supposed to have grown out of the newly-graduated-Dragon-Warden phase some time ago. His demeanor is usually cool and pleasant, open-minded and easy-going, yet pragmatic and almost apathetic sometimes; not entirely unlike the chilling ice that he is attuned to. Quynn likes to think of himself as calm, civilized, humble, and he tries to act like it; that is until someone makes a rude comment about his intelligence, his martial prowess or his patchy mess of a stubble. While it's not something he would duel to the death over, it's not an act easily forgiven. Unshakably loyal to his friends, ferocious and ruthless against his enemies yet prideful to an almost insecure degree, not that he'd ever admit to that last one.
history

***


details

STRENGTHS
Back when Haven was still a thing and he was just a wee lad, Quynn spent half of his days in the courtyards either bullying a training dummy with a wooden sword or getting beaten up by a much older, much stronger Dragon Warden. That has never discouraged him though, and now he carries his longsword with pride and skill honed by both training and experience. The other half of his days were exploring the ways he could freeze anything he could think of, a habit that developed into a greater understanding of magic in his later life. That does not mean he is a brute however. While lacking in academic knowledge, due to his experience in the field, he is quick-witted and streetwise, and not easily fooled.



WEAKNESSES
His arrogance will be his downfall, his mentor used to say. Quynn has a tendency of underestimating his foes or overestimating his own abilities, usually with highly undesirable outcomes. His lack of knowledge may also prove to a be a problem as the Haven library was the only place he never desired to explore both because of how hot it was inside, and how boring the books were. A bit of a wildcard when it comes to plans: he is not known for making them, or sticking to them.

appearance
Quyntalis stands at an average 5'11 and sports a lean build, no doubt inherited from the Elven side of the family. His dark red hair is kept short and is usually swept to the side, yet somehow still sticks out at odd ends and angles, his eyes, deep-set and bold, are the pale green of rough emeralds; a straight, if not handsome nose rests between them. He is marked with a prominent scar running from his forehead down to his left chin, a little souvenir from a time when he arrogantly misjudged his opponent. He has a patchwork beard of light red stubble and unblemished skin, due to his conflicting bloodlines. As he can conjure his own armor, he is usually seen in a simple leather jerkin and cloth trousers, held up by a belt adorned with trinkets and and a scabbard for his blade.


Secondary Weapon ||Longsword

dragon
17f4eac2d2fbae5449dd2e75ed204c8a.png



Name | Kovinth


Type | Ice


Height & Length | 9 ft tall and 19 feet in length


Personality | For something the size of several over-fed cows with claws and fangs sharper than any blade, Kovinth is surprisingly tranquil. Rarely making a fuss over anything, he is the envy of many a Dragon Wardens simply over how easy it is to take care of him. Quiet, observant and cunning, Kovinth is by no means lazy, just a bit aloof when it comes to life as a whole. He doesn't care much even when insulted, putting it off as beneath him.
In battle however, he is a brutal fighter, preferring claws and teeth and shards of ice over his ranged attacks. Kovinth very much mirrors Quynn's own behavior, often charging the enemies then backing off, before once again jumping back into the fray, spreading confusion and fear among their lines while avoiding getting injured himself.
writing sample
Some might call Kovi a lazy dragon that did nothing but sleep and lie around all day. While it was partly true, he never really slept. With his back leaned against the ice dragon and his legs stretched out across the grass, Quynn could feel Kovinth's chest slowly expanding and contracting with each steady breaths that were almost meditative in nature. His eyes were open, like always, watching nothing and everything. Atop this hill that had been 'Quynn and Kovi's hill' for as long as he could remember, they could see it all: from the city, the other dragons, the young trainees, to the massive army marching upon their safe haven.
Kovinth saw it first. The dragon lifted his head up and craned his neck, and the subtle movement was enough to bring Quynn out of his own trance. "What? Some lady dragon caught your eye?" Quynn spoke groggily, his voice drifting as he caught the banners in the corners of his eyes. Unmistakably Thall. More men than he could count and what looked like orcish siege engines - an army, all ready for war and thirsting for blood. "We should go" Quynn lifted himself up, gripping the blade by his side tightly. Kovi followed suit, slow breaths progressing into heavy growls. He looked alert. Kovi was never alert unless something bad was about to happen.
Quynn climbed onto Kovinth's back and strapped on. With a kick off the hindlegs and the thunderclap sound of air being subdued under his mighty wingspan, they were off to war.
-------
Quynn couldn't breath, and he wasn't sure if it was because of the smoke and fire, or the massive mace that just slammed into his chest.
The armor had taken the brunt of the impact and he could see the remnants, shattered shards of broken ice now lying on the ground. That would have been his ribs if he hadn't been encased in solid ice, and it would still be his ribs soon enough, if he doesn't end this now.
They were surrounded, in the very courtyard that he spent the entirety of his childhood in. Kovi was beside him, parts of his scales were missing, several arrows were stuck in his backside and a spear was impaled into his legs, they were the parts that the ice armor couldn't protect. Quynn wasn't much better off. Sometime during the fight he had taken an arrow in his shoulder, a mace that shattered his frozen chestpiece along with his lungs and a dagger through the back of his knee. They were hurt, near death, but still fighting. All around them were the sights and sounds of the death of the Dragon Wardens.
"Guess this is the end, huh, you big bastard?" He found himself backed up against Kovi, his hands gripping the leather bound hilt of his sword until his knuckles were white. The Ice Dragon bellowed with desperate anger. One of their assailants flinched and nearly took a step back, until he realized there were a dozen of them, against a lone Warden and his Dragon. For some reason, Quynn found it funny how he hadn't thought of the same idea before.They can run. Of course they can run. But then he'd be leaving behind all his friends to die.
But what was the alternative? Stay and fight and die with them?
Quynn bit his lips and fought against the tears forming around his eyes. "Can you still fly?". Kovinth hesitated for a moment, eyeing up the rest of their enemies, then gave the draconic equivalent of a quick nod. "I hate it as much as you do. But it's over" Quynn sheathed his sword. There was no reply, the dragon remained still. The soldiers started closing in, their spears ready to shed the blood of another Dragon.
"Don't ignore me. You know it as well as I do" Kovinth only growled as the circle became smaller and smaller. The sharp points of Thalls spears now only inches away from their flesh.
"Damn it, you bastard. It's over!" Quynn screamed, his voice cracking. He felt cold talons around him, and with a beat of dragonwings, they took off. The young Warden heard the sounds of whizzing spears beside them, but none could reach their height so quickly. They were safe, at least for now.
It was only from the air that he could really see the carnage. Metal against metal, flesh being torn apart, hundred year old buildings crumbling into dust within seconds. Somewhere in the distance, a dragon and her Warden spirals head first for the ground. The fiery beast, massive in size, looked as if she had been hit by a stray boulder. The Warden still held tightly onto her neck as both fell to their doom.
Quynn turned away. Kovinth never looked back. The pair was determined to get as far away from this place as possible, their destination uncertain. Neither of them knew where to go, but that was just something to get used to now.

 


***
「RASRIK」
⦙⦙ RACE | Human ⦙⦙ MAGIC | Arcane ⦙⦙ AGE | 42

personality
Rasrik's intimidating image is well deserved. He is renowned for his dedication as one of the best sword instructors, levelheaded personality, and harsh criticism. Deep down though, Rasrik has the heart of a teacher. He sees the potential in his students and is willing to push them to their breaking point only to be the first hand offered to help them build their way back up. His sense of humor can be best described as sarcastic, and he is occasionally harsh in his criticisms. He is a realist and bit of a pragmatic, but can occasionally lose his temper. If he is not teaching or off on Emasari duties he can usually be found in some quiet corner with a book or training with sword or magic. Rasrik does have a mischievous streak to him and prone to the occasional good natured prank or a night spent drinking at the tavern.
history

***


details

STRENGTHS
His countless years of study and training have honed Rasrik into a talented spellsword. His knowledge of various sword fighting arts is combined with his unique approach to applying his arcane magic into combat through minor wards to reflect or turn an opponents blade or using illusion wards to "disappear", only to strike from a different angle or position. His years of teaching and instructing have earned him the ability to spot openings or vulnerabilities, giving him an edge. He will use energy blasts to disable or wound his enemy, but only in last resort, preferring to use his magic to augment instead of predominantly relying on it for offense.



WEAKNESSES
Despite his skill and physical abilities, Rasrik's stamina will falter faster than someone half his age. When pushed to his limit he is prone to tunnel vision and a hot temper, leaving him open to things he would normally be aware of. Though his skill and focus allow him access to what would be considered advanced Arcane talents, he is only capable of using them on one, maybe two opponents if he must, though this puts considerable strain on him. At the worst of times his sarcasm funnels into pure pessimism.

appearance
Rasrik stands at 6'2, and despite his age weighs in at 200 pounds, corded with muscle, and has the stamina to still run his students into the ground. A broad, muscular chest tappers down into a V shaped waist line, still giving him an attractive physique for his age. His hair is fading from a deep auburn to ashen grey, causing a contrast with his green eyes. A multitude of scars cover his face and body giving him an intimidating appearance to strangers and young Wardens alike. When not in combat Rasrik wears well worn leather armour with a coat-of-plates, but if called for he has a full suit of plate steel designed to mimic his dragon's appearance.


Secondary Weapon ||Longsword

dragon
e49f1f28f2b409ca2a0ae0e964b48f47.png



Name | Valos


Type | Arcane


Height & Length | 18 ft at the shoulder and 36 feet long.


Personality | Valos' intelligence rivals that of the best of his species, though he is prone to boredom and tends to sleep if he has nothing pulling for his attention. As skilled a fighter as Rasrik is a swordsman, Valos has a cruel streak to him. He is prone to toying with his enemies at first. He takes a slow, sadistic approach as he slowly injures them over a period of time to try and provoke them to fight without remorse, only to turn around and use their rage to find an opening to end the fight quickly. When he isn't sleeping or mulling over whatever suits his fancy at the moment Valos can be quite entertaining to be around. His often comical antics can make him appear younger than he truly is, and he gets along well with some of the younger dragons, sometimes mentoring them in a similar fashion to Rasrik and his students.
writing sample
"Watch your footing."
Shhhcrrraaack!
"No don't block! Parry, angle your blade so that it slides off. Don't just stand there, repost!"
THUUUMM!
Rasrik looked up in curiosity. The deep rumbling almost sounded like distant thunder. He looked into the sky. Not a cloud in sight, he made a note and resumed watching. He was currently teaching a mixed age class of young Wardens in sword play. Some of the older ones were pretty competent. They were practicing with blunted steel. Their dragons, no more than fledglings themselves, watched from the sidelines as they squared off with some skill and understanding of the art. The younger ones though, they would need some serious work before Ras felt comfortable giving them steel. Even blunted steel. Rasrik shook his head as the two currently squaring off, their ages were eight-ish, mostly looked like they were swatting away flies. Finally one of them got the idea, stepped forward with a feint before side stepping a blind strike and-
Ssssnap!
The victim fell onto his butt, his wooden practice sword falling to the ground as he clutched his face. "HOLD!", one of the younger trainers called out. Blood had started to seep from the kid's fingers by the time Rasrik was kneeling beside the him. "Let me see." He pulled the kid's hands away from his face to study the damage. One beautifully broken nose and a busted lip. "Well, it looks like-"
"Wut hmnpnd?" Though the kid's voice was muffled the horror was genuine.
"Don't worry kid," Ras laughed, "It's just a busted mouth and a broken nose. Come on, get up and go to the infirmary." Ras grabbed the kid's hand and pulled him to his feet before sending him off with one of the younger instructors. "Alright, form up."
THUUMM!
The sound of thunder again, this time followed by what sounded strangely like distant shouting from further into the Haven. Ras paused, wondering what was going on. His fencing school was a few blocks out from the heart of the Haven and a good distance from any of the gates leading into the city. Anything that had wanted to reach them had a short walk ahead of them.
The students lined up in a single row. From oldest to youngest they ranged sixteen to six, their competency with a sword was not so mathematical though. Ras stood in front of the line as his younger instructors, just barely old enough to be graduates by his book, walked by and took up the practice swords. "Alright, what did we learn from this sparring session?"
The kids looked nervously around at each other. Many of the younger ones had heard from their older peers of the trials that awaited those who studied under Master Rasrik. It was nothing unusual for Ras to make his older students run three miles before practice, followed by strict form push-ups, sit-ups, squats, and one lap on the Gauntlet, a strenuous obstacle course designed to keep them light on their feet and their heads on a swivel.
"All day long I see you talking to each other when you think I'm not looking, yet when I want you to talk you suddenly keep silent. Come on now, I know at least one of you paid attention." The lesson was targeted at the younger students, the older ones having learned this time and time again. Before long a young girl ,probably around six, raised her hand. "Well, Master Ras," her voice was wavering in that typical child-like fashion, "we must always be moving in a fight."
"Yes, good. Movement is key. Why is that? Anyone?"
The next kid, a square faced boy with a black eye from an earlier bought, was next to speak up.
"A moving target is harder to hit?"
"Close. Only walls can stand up after being hit by a sword. Yes, our plate armor does give us an advantage, if we are wearing it, but you won't find an enemy patient enough to let you kit up before you fight. In the real world we don't follow a set of rules except one; at the end of the day, be the one who comes home again."
THUUUMMMM!
THUUUMMMM
THUUMMM!
Rasrik stopped his lecture and turned towards the direction of the cities center. He could just see what looked like smoke looming over the city, just barely make out the smell of fire on the wind. By this point the students were hearing the noise as well, some of the younger ones looking scared. "Class is dismissed. Get everyone to safety now!" The instructors and older students ushered the now panicked students and fledgling dragons towards safety. Those who lingered, members of Ras' wing, joined him as they headed towards the armory. Concern filled his mind as he sought out Valos, whom had been lazing about the cliffs above the city earlier. The exchange of emotion was instant and almost knocked Ras off his feet.
Haven was burning.
---------------------------
"WATCH OUT!"
A collapsing tower began it's decent in the direction of Rasrik, and the Wardens he was trying to evacuate. Quickly Ras called upon his Arcane talents, throwing up a ward over the group. Pieces of the tower bounced off of the magical barrier, but the majority of it thankfully missed. Rasrik released the ward and ushered the group onward. Haven was under attack by Thallas. What madness drove them to this genocide? The Dragon Wardens has always dealt fairly with the human nations, but for some reason they now attacked on all sides.
Suddenly he heard the sounds of someone falling behind him. Ras turned to see one of this students laying on the ground, their foot having caught on a fallen beam. He rushed back and looked at their foot quickly. "Don't worry, I've got you." Carefully Ras hefted the child into his arms and turned to rejoin the group, only to watch as a flaming chunk of rock caved in the roof of the building they were hiding in. "Don't look." Ras held the child close to his chest, keeping them from watching their comrades die amidst the inferno.
Tears came unbidden, but unhindered, to his eyes. Many of his wing, most of them older Dragon Wardens that had been with him for many years, had put their lives on the line to help him escort as many as they could to the various exits throughout the city. Several had died from exposure to smoke or being consumed in the fire, four of them had just died in front of his eyes as they had been escorting new Dragon Wardens and their dragons through the corridor the rock just destroyed. The child began to cry as Rasrik pushed onward.
"No matter what happens don't open your eyes, and don't let go of me. Okay?"
"Okay."
Rasrik spun the kid around the his back, letting him wrap his arms around his neck and legs hook around his waist before taking off at a sprint. as he ran Ras watched for anyone else. Above him the skies were filled with smoke and the screams of dragons and wardens alike as bolts fired from ballistae struck dragons from the air with terrible accuracy. Fear struck deeply at his heart. The smoke tinged sky denied any ability to identify the dragons that fell, and Ras feared the worst. He was comforted to find Valos was alive and well, heading on course to meet them at the western tower.
As Ras rounded the corner, leaping over pieces of a fallen home or workshop, he could see the tower and Valos circling low as he awaited their arrival. Ras dashed in and started up the stairs as quickly as he could. His heart pounded in his head, his lungs burned as if the fires that ravaged Haven had lit within him, but he had another life on the line besides his own. Where all of his wing or students had disappeared to he didn't know. He hoped that one day they might be reunited but pushed the thoughts from his mind as he continued to race up the stair case. The tingles down his spine could only be explained as warning. Valos must have seen something-
THUUssssSRAAAAASSHH!
The tower was struck towards it's base, causing it to shake and begin to collapse. Ras pushed out of the door at the top and looked around, finally spotting Valos clinging to the side of the tower to counterbalance it long enough for them to get on. As Ras grabbed hold of Valos' saddle and started to swing onto it he felt the arms around his neck loosen, only to let go with a scream. Ras caught the kid's hand as Valos began his ascent. "Hold on! Hold on! I've got you!"
"I can't!, I'm slipping!"
Ras gripped as hard as he could and pulled with all his might, but he slowly felt the boy's hands slipping through his gloves. Ras could only watch as the boy slipped from his grasp and plummet, screaming into the hell that had once been Haven. Ras screamed in agony and remorse as he slowly pulled himself into his saddle to keep from falling himself. He laid forward as his body racked with sobs. His wing, his students, his friends, his family, his home, all of it taken from him. Everything Ras cared for and loved lay in smoldering ruin under a bloody sky. Ras could feel Valos mewling as they flew away from the city. The deep rumbling sound almost felt like a cat's purr.
"We are hunted now, the best we can do is find someplace secluded and pray that they don't pick up our trail."

 


"Quote"
「 COLEITE 」
⦙⦙ RACE | Half-Elf ⦙⦙ MAGIC| Ice ⦙⦙ AGE | 19

personality
Coley tends to lead a one-track kind of life. In her mind, it takes too much concentration to focus on more than one thing at a time. This is because Coley gives the entirety of herself to everything she does. When she's angry her whole being is angry. When she's happy, her soul shines with it. This is both a strength and an obvious weakness. As of late, since the Fall of the Haven, she's struggled with the way she's been her whole life and the person she needs to become: One who's able to think rationally, one able to set aside her emotions and choose the right action to take. It doesn't help either, that Coley and Briseis have been on their own for the better half of three months and have become... quite wild.
history

Born in a small southern Thallas village two weeks before winter began, Coleite began her Warden way of life only a few short weeks after birth. Her human mother knew her half-elf child would be raised with kindness and without bias in the Haven and bittersweetly gave her up. The only thing she has of her mother is a simple silver chain marked with runes, that is rarely, if ever, taken off. To this day, she still does not know who or what her father was.


Among the Wardens who sensed their dragon counterparts young, Coley quite literally grew up with Briseis. As the pair grew, so did their knowledge and love of experiencing new things. When it came for combat training, Coley discovered something she'd never of expected of herself: she was a great fighter. Though she was thin she had strength. She was lanky yet had incredible reach. It took years for her feet to become as nimble of her mind, her hands as deft and as sure as her heart, and her connection with Briseis to blossom like her strength of will.


When the Haven fell, Coley and Briseis were on their way with a squad of Dragon Wardens, intent on investigating the disappearance of the Veridian Fae. A day and a half into their mission she was sent back to the Haven with a message. Irritated with being sent back, for she and Briseis both wanted to explore the Woodlands of Valnahar, they took their time, drifting high above the clouds. Thankfully so. They saw the flames on the horizon. Briseis refused to go any closer despite Coleite's yearnings.


The pair fled north, straight into the Northern Mountains. Since the Haven's demise they've been on the run, never staying in one place for too long. Recently, Coley has met a Guide who instructed her to travel to an orc-camp where Dragon Wardens were said to be gathering.


details

STRENGTHS
Tenacious


Intuitive


Meticulous



WEAKNESSES
Aggressive, Moody


Reckless


Insecure
appearance
Coley is tall, especially for a girl. She has long, lithe limbs, and an exceedingly long reach. Though she's lean with muscle, Coley still flaunts the appearance of being stretched out. Despite reaching maturity, she has yet to receive her womanly curves. In fact, if it wasn't for her feminine facial features, she could easily pass as a boy. Coleite has light chartreuse green eyes and hair the color of spilt blood. Her hair is long, serpentine, and unruly. Coley prefers to braid it up or tie it behind her head with leather bands.


Secondary Weapon ||Two-handed mace
dragon
DEUk3LY.jpg



Name | Briseis
Pronunciation | Bris-E-hiss


Type | Ice


Height & Length |Briseis is slightly larger than your typical ice dragon, standing twelve feet tall and reaching just over twenty two feet long.


Personality |Briseis is the epitome of an Ice Dragon: quiet, borderline unsociable, and shrewd. He and his Warden are quite the opposite in many ways and yet, like all Dragon Wardens, their friendship is unconditional and lifelong. Though he had always been protective of Coley, Briseis' has become even more protective of her since Haven's fall. The same stands true of Coley.


Though he's close to being unsociable, Briseis was always more comfortable around Wardens than humans or elves. Lately, however, he's been rather skittish, prone to overreacting to the slightest of things. Whereas Coley, in sight of danger, would like to investigate, Briseis is the one to halt and make her see reason. Before Haven fell, Coley would rarely, if ever, heed his advice. Now she sees the wisdom in his stubborn ways. Coley's still a bit headstrong, which irks Briseis to no end.
writing sample
The Warden and her dragon drifted lazily above the clouds, reeling in their mutual annoyance. The air was cold though neither minded; anger warmed their bellies and their attunement to ice kept the chill at bay. Coleite shifted in her saddle, finding a more comfortable position. It had been a long, hard flight to the edge of the Valnahar Woods, only a sunset and sunrise ago. Her Emasari had sent her back, despite knowing Coley had practically waited her whole life to see them, to report on suspicious activity in the east.


Dragon and Warden grunted together, the former coming from the bottom of his throat, more growl than grunt. Briseis shared her curiosity of the Veridian Fay and had been just as reluctant to leave the squad of Dragon Wardens intent on investigating their disappearance. Coley rested a hand against the soft white-blue feathers that coated his serpentine frame, remembering how he had snapped and growled at her Emasari's dragon when they received the news. The older dragon merely snorted them away and flicked his tail in amusement.


That was nearly two sunsets ago and the pair grew ever closer to the Haven. Soon they would see it on the horizon, tall and proud and full of life, a sentinel for the Allied Kingdoms.


A feeling, deep in her gut jarred Coley from her thoughts. "What is it, Briseis?" She asked carefully, never having felt panic emanate from him in this magnitude.


In answer he let out a long, sad screech, his wings beating fast to keep them airborne. They were no longer flying and Coley couldn't see why. Warden and dragon moved simultaneously; Coleite grabbed the reins attached to her saddle and leaned to her left while Briseis angled himself to the right.


She didn't understand at first, why the sun was only falling over the Haven. Why the sun's orangey light flickered and danced around her home. Then awareness reared and she screamed. The dancing light were flames not rays of light from the falling sun. Swinging herself back into her saddle, she pulled hard on the reins, horror and pain lacing her every move.


"Briseis we have to go help them!"


He didn't move except to flap his great feathered wings.


"There are children there! We have to help them!" It came out as a sob.


On the horizon the Haven burned and the pair hovered in the air, watching the destruction of the only place they had called home.


Briseis turned from the flames, his instincts speaking, warning him of danger. He flew north, back towards the snowy peaks where he was born. The distress from his Warden was distracting, he wished he could tell her everything would be alright; but that was a lie. His brethren were under attack and from the smell of blood and defeat, they were not winning the battle.


His Warden kept telling him to go back but nothing would be found there… nothing but death. Didn't she realize that?


Hard and fast he flew, higher and higher, and all the while he listened to his Warden pleading to return, screaming that we ought to help, crying that we were doomed. He did nothing but fly faster and screech out a lament of his own.



Weeks passed in paranoia and fear. Days were the hardest, huddled in empty dragon nests high in the mountains. Waiting for the light of day to fade and the chance of being seen slim. They had no destination, no place of refuge. They saw no faces except their own. On and on they fled, from who or what they could only guess at.

 


***
「LLAMARRYL」
⦙⦙ RACE | Half-Elf ⦙⦙ MAGIC | Earth ⦙⦙ AGE | 22

personality
Llamaryl can be considered to be your typical cheery half-elf despite their social status in populated cities. She is a flamboyant woman, and enjoys spending her time among peers and acquaintances. Many know her to be, or, at least knew her to be, one of the more sassy wardens. She thoroughly enjoys wordplay and manipulation, often hustling new acquaintances with her harmless impressions that transition into fruity attitudes. Apart from being a slightly confusing warden, she takes herself to be considerably flirtatious, more-so with other women than men.
Despite her usually pleasant attitude, Llamaryl bolsters a fairly quick temper, and dislikes being refused. Naturally, she despises when things do not go her way, this part of her often seen when arguing with her incredibly stubborn dragon. However, part of not taking no for answer does have its advantages. From those features, cleverness is born, Llamaryl often attempting to find ways around obstacles and walls of doubt. It is why she was regarded as one of the more revered tacticians of the Wardens.
history

Born in the buzzing streets of Windfeld to a human whore and a Sur merchant, Llamaryl was gladly given away to the Wardens almost immediately after birth. Half elf folk were not exactly very smiled upon, and her mother wasn't intent on keeping this accidental infant, so it seemed like a good way to kill two birds with one stone.
In Haven, Llamaryl was raised to be quite the sass queen. She often gave her Warden instructors a hard time, and it took quite some time for her to grow into proper discipline. Regardless, she was revered as an adept thinker and problem solver. It was only by the time she came of age to bonding that Llamaryl finally dropped her childish habits and progressed into her real duties as a Dragon Warden.
Bonding herself with the fat and stubborn boulder they called Negloth, Llamaryl grew to be a superb tactician and diplomat for Haven. Her expertise at manipulating people were put into use as an ambassador, and she usually brought pleasing results from peace negotations during missions, among other things. Like any other Dragon Warden, however, all things eventually went downhill when the continent turned on Haven and began to hunt down all Wardens and dragons alike.
Now, Llamaryl and Negloth reside in the woodlands, secluded from much of human and Elvish life. They live among the Shae tribes, and take care to stay out of sight from traveling merchants and anything of the like. Rumor has it, however, that the two soon plan to take flight and roam the continent once more.
details

STRENGTHS
+Manipulative - "No" is simply not an answer. Llamaryl more often that not gets what she wants, expertly manipulating others with her words to fall to her bidding.


+Adept Thinker- As a woman who always seeks to get what she wants, her ambitions must be supported by picky planning and careful plotting. Llamaryl can be considered to be someone who always thinks one step ahead. Someone who can think quickly on their feet, and are able to devise crafty, ingenious ideas for the sake of masterminding operations.


+Amicable - It's no secret that Llamaryl is an extremely approachable person. Of course, her motives may confuse people who intend to make friends with her, but she is truly a friendly person. In fact, she will often be the one who approaches people, which partly has to do with her flirtatious nature.



WEAKNESSES
-Noncombatant - When away from her dragon, Llamaryl is fairly weak in combat. Like any Warden, she can handle herself averagely with her blade and magic, but she is considerably weaker than her more expert Warden companions.


-Dust - Llamaryl is awkwardly sensitive to her allergies, and will get considerably sickly and irate when she suffers from them. Dust is one of the more common causes of her stuffiness and allergies, and as such she chooses to live a clean lifestyle.


-Injured Hamstring- A few years ago, while running, she accidentally pulled her hamstring! It was a horrific injury, and it has never quite healed correctly. While the pain does subside, her hamstring will usually act up again when she is running or when she makes a grotesque movement with her leg.


-Strict Mindset - Once she has set her mind on a certain opinion or ideal, she rarely ever changes her mind. This leads her to hold many grudges on people, or have certain ideologies that never change.

appearance
This particular half elf stands at 5'10, her weight consistent at 120lbs(55 Kilos). Llamaryl has only trimmed her hair about twice in her life, and likes to leave its length untouched and untied, her tips just barely reaching her high waist. She prefers dark blue clothing to adorn her curvaceous figure, sporting slightly wide hips and narrow shoulders. More often than not, acquaintances will find her wearing her usual corset, crafted from leather and shaded dark blue, as well as trimmed with silver linings. In addition, it sports a metal ring just below her bust which is meant more for adorning and appeal rather than actually holding the corset together. To protect her bare shoulders and chest, she sometimes wears a hide small-cape fashioned from the pelt of a black bear, keeping it buttoned at her neck with a decent amount of space to show off her bust.


Secondary Weapon || A short, one handed, single blade axe forged from mountain steel and Folhathian wood. She doesn't use it very often, considering she is not a very fighter-esque person, but she is capable with it. She always keeps it clipped to her waist.

dragon
063292156b7fea1297183d1fbb180dca.png



Name | Negloth


Type | Earth


Height & Length | 30ft tall, 56 ft long


Personality | Negloth is an incredibly fat, sluggish, stubborn, and lazy earth dragon. He despises flying for extended periods of times, and prefers to be a lug and be fed until satisfied rather than actually be productive. On the weeks when he is not hungry, he only sits around or sleeps. He enjoys being irritatingly stubborn, and takes great comedic relief in making his Dragon Warden friend (Llamaryl) mad, usually by refusing to move or constantly pestering for food when hungry. Aside from all his shenanigans, he is a very able bodied dragon, and knows the boundary between when it is that he can be a vegetable and when he needs to actually step up during dangerous times or a call to arms. Negloth also shares a very deep bond with Llamaryl, and they both do love each other despite their constant bickering. He will usually be indifferent to other wardens or people in general, but only because he loves the attention and being coddled.
writing sample
The rhythmic clanking of a bucket, and the mellow snoring of many beasts echoed gently in the vast caves.
Llamaryl grunted, plopping the heavy wooden bucket onto the stony ground. "You fat oaf." She ranted, wiping faint traces of sweat from her cheeks as she straightened her back and faced the giant Negloth, resting high and proud on his green nest of moss and stone, as if he was the greates being in existance. Plucking a dead rabbit from the bucket, she held it with two fingers, hesitantly tossing it at Negloth whom promptly caught it in a mouthful and virtually swallowed it whole. "Do you ever stop eating?" The half-elf continued, while her beast proudly groaned and adjusted his weight over his nest. With an exhausted sigh, she took another rabbit by the leg, before the ground abruptly rumbled all across the cave system and tripped Llamaryl over the bucket.
First it was the sharp screech of an ice dragon that filled the caves, as siege machine ruthlessly bolted into the Haven dragon caves followed by a dragon slaying army and hastily pierced the poor dragon through the torso with a ballista spear. Llamaryl and Negloth could react, chaos had already ensued. Dragons woken from their slumber angrily retaliated against the forthmarching army contingent that sought to eliminate them all, shards, ice, and magic flying just about everywhere as the skirmish began. It took her quite a while to react and realize what was happening, but she soon mounted her dragon and took off towards the cave breach. Already dozens of the Warden's dragons had been slain, and the same could not be said for siege engine group. There was little Negloth could do at this point, except escape through an alternate exit, much against Llamaryl's will whom desperately wanted to stay and fight.
"Are you trying to get us killed?!" Llamaryl screeched as the flaming boulder of a war catapult quite literally flew right over her head, Negloth making no attempt at evading all projectiles sent at him and other escaping dragons. He wasn't particularly agile while flying, after all. Flapping his enormous, stony wingspan, Negloth only flew forward, apishly groaning every time Llamaryl chose to issue a command or complaint.
Out of the blue, Negloth took a nose dive downwards, followed by Llamaryl's fearful squeal, and a very large thud as Negloth set his colossal body right over a catapult, effectively crushing it to bits and pieces. The dragon roared violently at the now scrambling soldiers who all chose to run from the beast. On top of him, Llamaryl furiously swang her fists at his neck, only serving to injure her own fists. For some reason, Negloth was not listening to a single word she was saying, and was seemingly acting on his own will. "Baaah! You enormous baffoon! What are you doing?!" The woman went on and on as Negloth took flight once more, apparently heading for the mountain tops. "Where are we going! The battle is back there! Negloth! NEGLOTH!! I swear I won't feed you for a fortnight if you don't listen to me--Aaaaaah!" Negloth grew tired of her bickering and gave her a rump, almost shaking her off his back.
By daybreak the pair had traveled past the mountains, Llamaryl promptly asleep and snoring over Negloth's back while the dragon sailed the winds, deciding to land over a small Shae village in the woodlands. It took alot of explaining from Llamaryl, but the goatfolk eventually agreed to grant Llamaryl and her fat buffoon refuge.

 


"Quote"
「 AUREA 」
⦙⦙ RACE | Half-Elf ⦙⦙ MAGIC| Earth ⦙⦙ AGE | 16

personality
The role of the earth mages is to protect and support others in their party. Such a role describes Aurea perfectly. Rather than take the spotlight, she is more than happy to surrender the attention to others looking for glory. Indeed, she gets her happiness from others’. Aurea is also a big fan of order. She’s not one to lose small items: they are always exactly where they need to be. This often manifests in her grooming of Plainswalker: she makes sure the garden on his back is nice and compartmentalized for small, medium and large flora. Finally, Aurea is generally shy, waiting for others to start a conversation. She much prefers to listen anyways.
history
Aurea was born amongst the Sur tribe in Folhath. The red head of hair was a rare sight among the elves. It meant that they would be getting a visit from the dragon wardens. The wardens who visited weren’t strangers to the area, and did a good job assuring the parents that they wouldn’t ruin their child. It was a fitting beginning for someone who would grow to love the usual.

Growing up in Haven was perfect for Aurea. Meals were at these times. Classes began and ended at the same time on each day. Chores peppered in some available time slots. She appreciated the structure, even before she knew what that was. Many of the children dreamed of adventure, but Aurea dreaded it. The extent of her adventures outside consisted of her sitting underneath a tree in the garden area. It was a quiet area to practice her panflute.She wasn’t sure what attracted her to the area in the first place. For some reason, she felt the plants around her enjoyed the sound, encouraging her to keep playing. She mentioned this in passing to a teacher and was immediately placed in earth mage classes.

The pivotal moment came when Aurea was 10. She had been spending more and more time in her garden spot, practicing her magic and playing her music. She started going there twice a day. Then she ate meals there, away from the other children. She couldn’t explain why she had to be there; sometimes she forgot she was there at all. It was when she couldn’t go that a teacher began suspecting a bonding event. Aurea had broken her leg during a training exercise, confined to the student quarters. There was at least one flight of stairs between her and the garden; she was unable to get there by herself. It wasn’t for lack of trying; after spending two days bedridden, Aurea crawled out of her bed and made her way to the stairs. Fortunately, the teacher caught her before she tumbled down. “I have to go! I have to go to the garden,” she cried out. Her sickly appearance was unlike her, and taken together with the other signs, he took action. The teacher carried her out of the castle and placed her under the tree. Almost immediately, Aurea began feeling better, more calm. Suddenly, the garden began to shake. Next thing she knew, she was 16 feet in the air as her garden sprouted legs and walked off. Aurea was upon a mighty earth dragon! The dragon took one look at her injured form, a look of concern upon his reptilian face. Rather than bellow a mighty roar, he whistled like a songbird. It was his turn to sing her a song, the same one Aurea practiced. Anyone else would have screamed bloody murder with the sudden change of scenery, but to Aurea, it was like a piece of her returned to her body. She dubbed the dragon Plainswalker, the first step in the bonding process.

Training with PW was…bumpy at first. Aurea was glad to have an assistant to help her with her chores. She was quickly informed that that’s not how this worked. They were assigned small errands to villages not far from Haven, accompanied by a mentor to supervise their relationship building. Her attempts to guide Plainswalker during these trips often led to long detours and lost supplies. The air was filled with “Go right!” and “No, your other right!” followed by annoyed squawks from PW. It took some time to get used to their quirks, but like most wardens, they learned to live with each other. Eventually, PW was the first to get Aurea out of her shyness.

If one were to describe what developed over time, one could say Aurea and PW were an old married couple. One particular day after four years of training, Aurea was grooming PW, cleaning the garden on his back of weeds and trimming overgrowth. His mewls of protest were followed up by his warden assurances: “You’re going to look pretty! Now hold still, we’re bonding!” Afterwards, the dragon would see his reflection, he’d stay quiet. This was followed by “I told ya so!” by Aurea. He stuck his tongue out and she did the same, each mimicking the noises “nay nay nay nay”. They still acted like kids sometimes.

By the time she was 16, Aurea was showing proficiency in earth magic and archery. Both complimented her preference to avoid too much attention. Her ability to summon a pillar of dirt at just the right time saved some classmates some trips to the infirmary. When it came time for war games, students would bribe her to get her on their team. When needed, she could summon a pillar beneath her feet for a temporary height advantage. It made picking off targets with her bow a bit easier. Such skill eventually led to talks about tests and advanced classes, specifically those that would lead to graduation. Aurea wasn’t in so much of a rush to join the dragon wardens in missions outside Haven. She had grown far too comfortable with her current lifestyle.

Fate would of course change her plans.

details

STRENGTHS
Aurea is loyal to her friends and will always come to their aid when called. She’s not one to talk back to those of higher rank; she thinks very highly of those who worked hard to get such rank and skill. Aurea will work even harder for those that earn her respect. In addition, Aurea likes to take care of others, lifting spirits when she can. Her caring personality is a boon on the battlefield: she prefers to stay in the back, minding the barriers while the others get the kills. When it’s needed, Aurea has skill with the bow and earth magic, working to combine both for new strategies.



WEAKNESSES
As Aurea lets others take glory, her role may go unrecognized. In fact, she’ll downplay her efforts herself, particularly if she doesn’t meet her own high standards. While happy to take on other tasks, Aurea is often at risk of biting off more than she can chew. She has a hard time saying “no” to people. Finally, Aurea hates unpredictability. Performing the daily morning chores around Haven? Great! Spending one morning in the rain and the next running from an angry mob? Bad!
appearance
Aurea stands at 5’ 6” and weighs around 125 lbs. Like the other wardens, her hair is a brilliant red, which contrasts greatly with the pale skin she inherited from her elfen mother. Her hair is kept short, about shoulder length to keep it out of her face during training. It is often tucked behind her slightly pointed ears (much less pointy than the picture suggests). If one manages to look at her face long enough, one can see her blue eyes, not cold, but warm.

Aurea wears garb typical of trainees of the Haven; it was the outfit on her back during her escape. She wears a blue tunic, with the bottom pleated for a more feminine touch. The black leggings give her the flexibility to dodge quickly. She was lucky to be wearing boots for long treks across the world.

Secondary Weapon ||Bows
dragon
TBfuMwa.jpg


Name | Plainswalker (Nickname: PW)

Type | Earth

Height & Length |16ft tall, 38ft long

Personality |Of all the dragons in Haven, PW is likely the least ferocious-looking. He usually spends his days walking about the landscape, getting sunlight all across his body in order to maintain his grassy feathers. He tends to linger around human activity, particularly when music and celebration are involved. PW is just as friendly as he looks: children have fun playing in the garden upon his back.

PW’s back is typically filled in with soil, allowing for a garden to be grown, whether for food or medicinal plants. Those plants may change periodically, but the one constant is a large bonsai tree of pink petals. The tree is about 5 feet tall, which is just tall enough to hide someone small (or someone sitting down) beneath its branches. His thick grassy pelt hides a massive wingspan. This can take some by surprise if they aren’t familiar with the dragon.
writing sample
Piles of papers were stacked two feet high upon a large mahogany desk. They surrounded the office worker like hungry wolves determined to gobble up her remaining time. She was outnumbered, but not outgunned. These unsorted mission files had no idea who they were dealing with!

Aurea was found seated in the historian’s office, going though files that need sorting. The historian had recently acquired a new series of shelves to store more of their records. Mission logs, historical records, important speeches, it all had to be placed in its particular cubby hole. There were specific instructions on how to organize them: each row was dedicated to a period of time. Within one row, files were to be alphabetized by the lead emasari, author, or speaker depending on the contents.

Aurea wouldn’t have it any other way.

To anyone else, this would have been a mind-numbing task. In fact, it was to be someone’s mind-numbing task before that someone passed it on to Aurea. She used this time to reflect on her day, and what she would do the next. Perhaps she would have a picnic with Plainswalker?

That was the last thing she remembered before blacking out.

Aurea woke up to the cries of the dying, both man and dragon alike. Her head throbbed from the stone debris that fell upon her. The smell of smoke filled her lungs. Instinctively, her hands grasped dust and ash, a precursor to the horror she would see. She finally gathered the courage to open her eyes. Aurea’s vision blurred in and out, making it more difficult to believe what she was seeing. The room she was in half gone. In place of a wall and shelves was a view of Haven in flames. Dragons were falling out of the sky, crashing into the flaming ruins of what was once her home. It was all coming to her all at once. What had she done to descend into this Hell?

All she could think about was getting away. Aurea looked behind: the doorway was collapsed. Suffering from a concussion, she couldn’t gather the magic to even attempt to move the stone. In front of her was a 100 foot drop into the hall that she ate breakfast in that morning. She wouldn’t survive the fall. Aurea looked to the sky to find her Plainswalker. Every other horror was pummeling her senses, drowning out her bond with the dragon. Every time she thought she saw him, the dragon fell lifeless. Every time, her stomach dropped thinking that she had lost him forever.

“It wasn’t him, it wasn’t him…”

Finally, she pulled out her pan flute and played a note. There was nothing. She did it again. Plainswalker didn’t show. What if her bond wasn’t being drowned out? What if it just wasn’t there anymore?

“No…it was him…”

Just as she given up, a massive head of an earth dragon emerged, a view of hope to block the one of despair. Aurea’s face filled with tears and fury.

“You were supposed to call back!” she cried out as she ran to PW, hugging his neck tight. It was like she had bonded with him all over again. Immediately, he began nudging her to get behind his neck; they needed to get out now! Aurea didn’t bother to get into the saddle. She simply wrapped her arms and legs tight around his neck, her hands grasping his grassy pelt. PW pushed himself off the ruined castle and into flight. The dragon did not look to see others of his kind. If he saw them in need of aid, he would have to help them. He couldn’t risk Aurea like that. His only concern was to get her out. He would fly until he couldn’t smell death, until the flames were but a memory.

 
Status
Not open for further replies.