Ayin
(#114944)
Level 8 Wildclaw
Familiar
Amber Gulper
Click or tap to view this dragon in Predict Morphology.
Energy: 0/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Arcane.
Female Wildclaw
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
6.17 m
Wingspan
5.07 m
Weight
575.83 kg
Genetics
Camo
Poison
Poison
Green
Spinner
Spinner
Sky
Stained
Stained
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 8 Wildclaw
EXP: 9551 / 16009
STR
33
AGI
10
DEF
21
QCK
10
INT
8
VIT
10
MND
21
Lineage
Parents
- none
Offspring
- Arviasal
- Floraine
- Unnamed
- Unnamed
- Abby
- Andradite
- Aurkene
- Arcolyte
- Arcolyte
- Arcolyte
- Arcolyte
- Arcolyte
- Arcolyte
- Arcolyte
- Arcolyte
- Arcolyte
- Arcolyte
- Arcolyte
- Arcolyte
- Arcolyte
- Unnamed
- Unnamed
- Mantis
- Oszkar
- Flopsy
- Singed
- Draled
- Fluorite
- Trysta
- Bran
- Tabian
- Kingsford
- Ragabash
- Prayer
- Breakdown
- StenvelaArmy
- StenvelaArmy
- Hauora
- Aleister
- Phillipson
- Steffa
Biography
Ayin
Cunning | Private | Wild
I.
How do you explain to others what exile is like? Being forced to leave behind everything you knew and understood? Sitting in the black silence with only your thoughts for company? Hearing death pant in your ear…?
II.
When Ayin was an adolescent, she was exceptionally beautiful. Girlish, one might say. She loved bright silks and soft blooms, and polished her scales daily to mirror-brightness. Most wonderful was her airy, sweet voice, which she used to sing love songs and recite arias.
However, her feminine charms attracted the desire of her old clan’s leader, a grabby male Nocturne with a taste for young girls. At first she was pleased that the clan Baron attended all her poetry recitals. She loved each new bracelet, each new golden trinket, each new silk cushion.
But it slowly became clear that he wanted more than her presence. He began telling her what poems to recite, what songs to sing—and he grew angry and abusive when she refused.
Ayin slowly became cold. Those in her old clan wondered where the bright girl had once gone, replaced by this lifeless silken bloom.
Unfortunately, her new attitude came too late. The Baron’s mate had noticed his attention to Ayin.
In a fit of rage, the Clan Matriarch cast Ayin into the wilderness with nothing but the clothes on her back.
As Ayin stomped into the woods, the first faint flakes of snow began to fall.
III.
Girlish…but not weak.
Ayin was hungry, cold, damp, but most of all, furious. It wasn’t her fault the clan leader was a nasty old man, or that his wife was a jealous old biddy.
Fueled by her anger, Ayin grew determined to survive.
She left her silky veil in a thorn bush, burned her flower leis for scant warmth.
Every day she grew stronger, better able to hunt. And almost every day, she dressed herself in a new trophy: bones, or a fresh, still-bleeding cloak. Soon she looked more like beast than dragon, and some local Beastclan tribes developed legends about her.
One lonely autumn day, she happened across a muddy little brook and looked down.
She didn’t recognize her reflection. The girlish dragon was replaced by something feral, dark and wild, like the wilderness itself was shining through her features. She was a mess of mud, fur, bone and darkness. Looking at her reflection hardened her heart.
No man, she thought, could ever love her.
So she was startled by the approach of a young Mirror. Like her, he looked lean, hungry and tired. And like her, Bleddyn was ready for company again.
IV.
Together they forged an alliance. Dragons—most of them outcasts—clustered to them for warmth and companionship. She developed inside herself a strength that ran even deeper. She was able to call out orders, to explain things. And with Bleddyn’s help, she was able to carve a rift into the wilderness.
But deep down, she knew she wasn’t destined to be a leader. She wanted a different role.
Though the old Nocturne had soured her thoughts on mates—and she still had nightmares about his greasy talons—she kept an eye out.
And she still remembers the first night the three Imperials got dragged back to the camp.
V.
No man would ever love her. Well, she was wrong.
She caught the attention of the three male Imperials at once. They were sitting around the campfire.
Her eyes went from one brother to the next. So young, handsome, and virile…
She watched with amusement as the three began to boast of their hunting skills. Then, seeing her attention, the three made dire threats about fighting one another. Then, when she was still amused, they began squabbling, hurling death oaths and more. She could see from Berserker’s gaze that he, at the very least, was serious.
“Please,” she laughed, amused. “There’s more than enough of me to go around. No need to fight—unless you boneheads would anyway.”
They weren’t used to being called bonehead—especially not by something half of one of their size. But they were quickly bemused. The death threats turned to vows to protect her.
Now, Eliminate, Berserker and Ambush jealously guard their “wild treasure.”
Dragons alternately are jealous and afraid of Ayin for sustaining relationships with such strong figures. Regardless, the close-mouthed Wildclaw makes sure her business remains her business, hiding any vulnerability behind her strong façade.
Bio by Caelyn
Cunning | Private | Wild
I.
How do you explain to others what exile is like? Being forced to leave behind everything you knew and understood? Sitting in the black silence with only your thoughts for company? Hearing death pant in your ear…?
II.
When Ayin was an adolescent, she was exceptionally beautiful. Girlish, one might say. She loved bright silks and soft blooms, and polished her scales daily to mirror-brightness. Most wonderful was her airy, sweet voice, which she used to sing love songs and recite arias.
However, her feminine charms attracted the desire of her old clan’s leader, a grabby male Nocturne with a taste for young girls. At first she was pleased that the clan Baron attended all her poetry recitals. She loved each new bracelet, each new golden trinket, each new silk cushion.
But it slowly became clear that he wanted more than her presence. He began telling her what poems to recite, what songs to sing—and he grew angry and abusive when she refused.
Ayin slowly became cold. Those in her old clan wondered where the bright girl had once gone, replaced by this lifeless silken bloom.
Unfortunately, her new attitude came too late. The Baron’s mate had noticed his attention to Ayin.
In a fit of rage, the Clan Matriarch cast Ayin into the wilderness with nothing but the clothes on her back.
As Ayin stomped into the woods, the first faint flakes of snow began to fall.
III.
Girlish…but not weak.
Ayin was hungry, cold, damp, but most of all, furious. It wasn’t her fault the clan leader was a nasty old man, or that his wife was a jealous old biddy.
Fueled by her anger, Ayin grew determined to survive.
She left her silky veil in a thorn bush, burned her flower leis for scant warmth.
Every day she grew stronger, better able to hunt. And almost every day, she dressed herself in a new trophy: bones, or a fresh, still-bleeding cloak. Soon she looked more like beast than dragon, and some local Beastclan tribes developed legends about her.
One lonely autumn day, she happened across a muddy little brook and looked down.
She didn’t recognize her reflection. The girlish dragon was replaced by something feral, dark and wild, like the wilderness itself was shining through her features. She was a mess of mud, fur, bone and darkness. Looking at her reflection hardened her heart.
No man, she thought, could ever love her.
So she was startled by the approach of a young Mirror. Like her, he looked lean, hungry and tired. And like her, Bleddyn was ready for company again.
IV.
Together they forged an alliance. Dragons—most of them outcasts—clustered to them for warmth and companionship. She developed inside herself a strength that ran even deeper. She was able to call out orders, to explain things. And with Bleddyn’s help, she was able to carve a rift into the wilderness.
But deep down, she knew she wasn’t destined to be a leader. She wanted a different role.
Though the old Nocturne had soured her thoughts on mates—and she still had nightmares about his greasy talons—she kept an eye out.
And she still remembers the first night the three Imperials got dragged back to the camp.
V.
No man would ever love her. Well, she was wrong.
She caught the attention of the three male Imperials at once. They were sitting around the campfire.
Her eyes went from one brother to the next. So young, handsome, and virile…
She watched with amusement as the three began to boast of their hunting skills. Then, seeing her attention, the three made dire threats about fighting one another. Then, when she was still amused, they began squabbling, hurling death oaths and more. She could see from Berserker’s gaze that he, at the very least, was serious.
“Please,” she laughed, amused. “There’s more than enough of me to go around. No need to fight—unless you boneheads would anyway.”
They weren’t used to being called bonehead—especially not by something half of one of their size. But they were quickly bemused. The death threats turned to vows to protect her.
Now, Eliminate, Berserker and Ambush jealously guard their “wild treasure.”
Dragons alternately are jealous and afraid of Ayin for sustaining relationships with such strong figures. Regardless, the close-mouthed Wildclaw makes sure her business remains her business, hiding any vulnerability behind her strong façade.
Bio by Caelyn
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This dragon doesn't eat Seafood.
This dragon doesn't eat Plants.
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Exalting Ayin to the service of the Arcanist will remove them from your lair forever. They will leave behind a small sum of riches that they have accumulated. This action is irreversible.
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