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Energy: 50/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Ice.
Female Snapper
This dragon is hibernating.
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Personal Style


Daisy Flowerfall
Gossamer Fillet
Silver Sylvan Headpiece
Teardrop Pastel Spinel Pendant
Teardrop Pastel Spinel Armlet
Filigree Rapier
Desert Dynasty Tail Rings


Skin: She Sought The Sky


Scene: Lovebird Landscape


4.71 m
3.02 m
5879.18 kg


Primary Gene
Secondary Gene
Tertiary Gene


Feb 02, 2015
(9 years)



Eye Type

Eye Type
Level 11 Snapper
EXP: 32109 / 34264
Frozen Might Fragment


{ ahn-THEE-ah }
Sentinel of the Imperator


In the full light of the sun,
blessed am I who keeps its flame.

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blankblank Before Anthea was a guardian, she was a gladiator. Just as fierce, just as strong. Just as loyal to those she trusted. Taken as a young hatchling by a band of ruthless Serthis, she and many others were forced to fight. It was a brutal life and did not offer much in glory, but Anthea was never the sort to give in to hurt, pain, and hate.

She thrived in the rings. In front of the spectators and her owners, she fought with a ferocity that rivaled a Mirror. She was an unstoppable force and used her tenacity as it was meant to be used: to tire her enemies until she could knock them out. But that was it. Never to kill.

Out of the rings, Anthea was often a beacon of hope for those who had long since succomed to their dark thoughts. She tended to those wounded by the fights and apologized again and again to any she'd hurt. For these acts, she assured them, she could never forgive herself.

Nearing the end of her adolescence, Anthea was to fight in the ring against a young hatchling. He was fodder for the masses, a mere rodent in comparison to the mighty Anthea. Or at least that was what they wanted. But the poor little creature was cowering by the gate, their claws guaging shaky lines in the dry soil.

This was not how a gladiator fought. There was no glory or honor in it, and even though the Serthis never promised such things, Anthea felt they asked too much. She refused to fight and as such she was punished for it. But pain had long since become numbing to the Snapper, so the pain had to be delivered another way.

In her stead, the hatchling took the punishment. Horrified at what she'd done, Anthea took to her cot and fell into a stunned silence. She had caused more damage than good. Was there truly no end to this torment? Had they all been forsaken to suffering forever?

The next morning, Anthea was to fight again.

She took to the ring, dusted cloak trailing behind her. The air was dry and tasteless; the sky a cloudless blue. Across from her, a runt Guardian thrashed in the sand to kick up dirt and grit, leaving Anthea with painful air to breath. What was this Guardian playing at? Did he not care that they were all food for the masses to feast on? That they would soon die and no one would mourn them?

In her fury, Anthea lunged at the Guardian first. Waiting was asking for too much - this time she wanted to strike before her opponent was ready for it. But while Guardians were not built for speed, Snappers were even less so. She was met with a tail to her side, the crushing weight of the larger breed sending her towards the cracked and fissured stone wall of the pit.

Around her, angry hisses and screams sounded. Angry at the fight? No matter, Anthea's eyes were only for the Guardian ahead of her. She would not throw the fight this time and she would not lose.

Anthea charged towards the Guardian, but this time when the other dragon swung it's tail, Anthea only slowed her speed and braced herself for the hit. The force of it jarred her bones, but she only slid back in the sand. Regaining her speed, she lowered her head and rammed into the belly of the Guardian.

This she did again and again, using her own weight to bruise and batter her opponent. White stars blinked at the edge of her vision, but she blinked them away. She clenched her jaw and stared at the other dragon, both bruised and bloody. Anthea's teeth had nipped where scales did not cover, and the sharp horns of her opponent had pierced her own skin more often than she'd like.

The stadium was silent now, only the wind that twisted the sand in it's fingers stirring the air. Anthea's heavy breathing reached her ears, and it was only then that she remembered herself. Where was the noise? The hissing and screaming of the Serthis?

Tearing her gaze from the Guardian, Anthea looked to the stadium seats around her and, to her great shock, found them empty. She had little time to ponder this before she felt the Guardian lift her up with it's horns and raise her high in the air.

With wings too useless to carry her away from the situation, Anthea could only struggle to slide off the horns of the Guardian. They flew up and up and up until all around her was the blue of the sky.

Then she fell.

When next she woke, it was surrounded by faces. They were all draconic and unfamiliar, but none were dirty or scarred. Not ring fighters, then?

"Easy," a voice said soothingly when she attempted to rise. Her feet did not support her and she gave up the attempt immediately. "You nearly died, Snapper."

Looking at the speaker of these morbid words, Anthea was met with the sharp red eyes of a Fae. He spoke even toned, but not in the dry and plain way that was common of the breed. His speech was practiced, but could not replace what was bred into him.

"We had to kill the Guardian," he continued. "He went crazed and was intent on finishing you off where the fall hadn't." For some reason, the matter-of-fact tone the Fae used was soothing to Anthea. It lessened the blow of hearing that another had died because of her.

Swallowing her guilt, Anthea cast a wary look at the faces around her. "Who are you?" she asked.

The Fae offered a small smile, his crest fanning out before him. "We are from the Frozen-Sea Clan, Snapper, and we are very interested in knowing who you are."
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blankblank "Until We Go Down" by Ruelle
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