Bitterbloom

Current Prisoner

He snarled softly to himself deep inside the ferns. Peering out with his dark purple eyes, he could see the dragons rummaging around. Searching for him. Why couldn't they just leave him alone? Let him wander back to Mother's home, where no one would bother him again and he could lose himself in the brambles.

Ah the wonderful brambles. They stabbed and tore at his scales, making hims forget the pain in his heart. Making him bleed out until he passed out, and the shadows consumed him... What a wonderful feeling, the cleansing agony. It made one forget the horrors of mind, spirit and feelings. But they were all the way in the Tangled Wood, his birthplace. Curse these dragons, who hunted him so diligently! He would make sure they felt his pain when the time was right.

And that time was now. As he'd been contemplating the brambles and their wonderful thorns, his hunters had gotten closer to his hiding spot. Their leader, a fierce red-eyed wildclaw with complementing silver armour and a wicked sword, was just outside of the grove of ferns. Flight was no longer an option,for he'd surely be seen. Now was the time to fight.

He leapt, silently landing on his opponent with no more then a rustle of ferns. Caught off guard, the wildclaw was unprepared and he took advantage, slicing glowing claws across her side. She toppled sideways with a roar. He used his weight to get on top of her, his jaws lunging towards her throat.

Too slow! Faster then he'd expected, she twisted away, his mouth clacking shut on empty air. Then with a mighty kick from muscular legs, he was sent sprawling. He landed on his side, his breath knocked out of him. Panting for air, he rolled as the wildclaw brought her clawed foot down on the spot he'd been.

The wildclaw drew her sword. Its wicked sharp edges caught the sun rays, gleaming as she swung it at him. He dodge, but he could not parry back as he was weaponless. He took to the air with a leap to avoid another swipe of the sword, and came down behind his opponent. As she turned, he lashed out, knocking the sword from her grasp. The wildclaw dropped it, unfazed, and stared him down.

He faced his opponent, glaring through his dark helmet. The wildclaw was hardly out of breath, but blood dripped from her side from where he'd slashed her. He did not waste a moment admiring his damage, and lunged again. His opponent met him, and they furiously fought. Claws glanced off armour, tails thumped bruises and wings battered. Jaws snapped as they both looked for a place to bite and crush. With a heave, they separated and circled each other, menacingly growling. They were evenly matched, something very rare that he was unfamiliar with. Most dragons who faced him he dispatched easily. This was a new challenge.

The wildclaw stopped pacing for a moment and squared off. "I'll give you one chance to surrender. If you do not accept, I will have to either kill you or take you prisoner for your crimes against my clan." Her voice was deadly serious, with an edge to it. Her red eyes never left his.

He laughed. "Is that a threat?", he snarled back, voice hoarse from disuse. "Good luck making it come true."
And then he whistled. A glowing form swooped from his previous hiding place, dancing around the wildclaw. She stared, utterly puzzled. The light emitting from the little creature was beautiful and dazzling. Her confusion was what he'd been waiting for.

He charged, driving his horned head straight into the exposed flesh unconcealed by her armour. The wildclaw stiffened, clawing uselessly at him as he yanked his horns free. Blood splattered off the horns on his head, dripping into his eyes. The wildclaw slumped against a nearby beech tree, several deep holes oozing blood from her chest. Her breathing rasped, meaning he had probably punctured a lung. His Gloomwillow Guide flitted around, giggling at its own role in the defeat of the wildclaw.

He paced over to her, grabbing her by her throat. He stared into those ferocious red eyes, and smiled cruelly. "I'm debating whether I should watch you bleed out or end your life now." He tightened his grip, his claws digging in, causing the wildclaw's eyes to bulge. He leaned in, whispering into her ear. "Those little hatchlings of your clan sure were delicious, and I look forward to feasting on you."

Her eyes got even wider, either from terror or disgust. She gasped for air, her broken chest rattling as her damaged lungs tried to work. "That won't be happening.", she coughed.

He had a moment to feel confused before he was roughly yanked away. He twisted, snarling, and came face to face with the eight eyes of two mirrors. They must have been the wildclaw's battle companions. He snapped at the largest of them, a brute decorated with bones and with strange boils crawling across his sickly coloured hide, but the mirror knocked him aside with a powerful swipe.

The other mirror pointed a claw at his Gloomwillow Guide who was now flitting around nervously. Immediately a gust of wind swept up, blasting the Guide into the grasp of the mirror. With the Guide no longer a problem, she turned towards the wildclaw, who was still struggling to breath. She placed her talons over the wounds, and a glow began to emanate from them. The bleeding stopped, and the wounds began to close. The wildclaw's breathing returned to normal. She stood up and looked over at him.

He was outnumbered and outmatch. it was time to flee again. With a screech of fury, he turned and tried to fly away. Sharp teeth closed around his tail and he was dragged back to the ground. He tried to claw his attacker off, but the massive mirror reared, crushing him. He was firmly pinned down as he thrashed in panic. A dreadful feeling took over him as he realized he was not getting away. He would not go back home to the shadowy brambles.

One of his attackers hit him on the head, and the dreadful feeling got worse as blackness rushed up, as the realization he would be knocked unconscious and exposed to be haunted by dreams of Mother's disappointment...

Born to a dragon known as the Lady of the Night, Bitterbloom was destined to be one of the Shadow Flight's most ferocious and deadly dragons. As a hatchling he was noted to be very popular among his nestmates, but often exploited their friendship for his own uses. He possessed the craftiness of any trickster, the battling skills of the finest warriors, and a charismatic charm to rule over others. Bitterbloom was well aware of his status, and used it to climb the ranks in his clan until he was battle general.

As a general he was well feared and respected. His most famous tactics was the ability to use his inherited talent to control black magic, often casting spells that concealed his troops in shadows or brought darkness and despair amongst his enemies. He fought like a demon, using powerful muscles and deadly force to overcome and kill anyone who stood in his way.

He was very popular in his clan, and even though he never took up a permanent mate it was well known he had very brief but passionate romances with a few of his female warriors. In fact, even though he did not care much about the dragon he had mated with, he often visited his children and was very fond of the lineage of fine his warriors he had fathered.

All was well for Bitterbloom until his clan began using him as a killer for hire. He was well payed, and eventually ended up working for the highest clans in the Shadow Flight, sometimes serving directly under the Shadowbinder herself. Eventually, his status and popularity overcame Bitterbloom until it was all he was concerned about. He was driven to the point of paranoia, often thinking that his clanmates were trying to get rid of him out of jealousy. In his sleep and waking moments he experienced horrible visions of the many dragons he'd killed, thinking they were peering out of the shadows at him. He eventually resorted to thrashing in the brambles of the Tangled Wood until they straggled and stabbed at him, causing him to pass out into a dreamless state. Fearing his craziness, his clan exiled him out of the Shadow Flight's domain, much to the disappointment of the dragons who used his talents for their own benefits.

For a while Bitterbloom wandered from clan to clan, stealing and killing when necessary. His dreams and visions continued to haunt him, but now they were images of the Shadowbinder, calling him back to Her. His madness worsened until he resulted into cannibilism, believing in the old legend that dragon flesh and blood gave magical powers to the consumer. In fact, it did not help except destroy the fragile mental state of Bitterbloom even more. He craved the taste of eating other dragons so much that he resorted to hunting down and killing hatchlings. He became a notorious villain, haunting nest tales, until he was finally caught by the dragons of the Torn after he had murdered a handful of their young dragons who were out playing.

He was taken prisoner by the Torn, and has sat in a dungeon cell deep underneath the Hill since. He is continuously haunted by nightmares, spooking his guards with his howls of revenge and bloodlust.

He came close to escaping once, when he charmed the young wildclaw who was sent down to feed him. Her name was Juno, and she fell in love with the handsome criminal sitting alone in the dark. She came to his cell whenever she could, and plotted to free him and run away with him the next elemental holiday, a time which most of the clan were absent or caught in the festivities. Their plan went awry when Juno laid three eggs, upon when they hatched it was obvious who the father was. Juno was exiled along with her three children, and unable to defend themselves, they were all killed at the hands of rival Beastclans.

With his only hope dashed, Bitterbloom sits in his cell, quietly contemplating the deaths of his captors. Often he wonders why he is not dead yet. Truth be told, the clan only keeps him alive out of fear. Not fear of Bitterbloom, but fear of the shadowy horrors that may descend from the Tangled Wood if the Shadowbinder learns of the dragons who would dare kill her favoured warrior.