Varanth

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Varanth - Compliments of user Acrid

The original Blitzkrieg, father of the subspecies, first of his name.

Official Lightning Subspecies 011. Blitzkrieg

These are the Blitzkrieg, the lightning war dragons who command and lead the Stormcatcher's glorious army. These soldiers are not born, but made through countless battles in the ever continuing war for dominance over the lands and the flights within. Their hides are a mottled black, so speckled because they have been scarred in their many skirmishes with warring factions across the lands. Their wings are shades of equally mottled teal and aqua, a homage to their deity's colors so that even as he rests upon his Spire, he rides to war with his Blitzkrieg on their wings. It is said that the crackle of lightning has infused their bodies, staining them for all to see, but this is only an old wives' tale. In reality, their streaks and bands of ivory have a far sinister origin, one that instills fear among the flights that see these dragons on the war path. Each mark of ivory, whether large or small, represents a fallen opponent the Blitzkrieg has killed in the fight for dominance in the name of the Stormcatcher. Blitzkriegs scar their own hides to count their kills.

These dragons are Generals, Commanders, and Leaders. Their spirit is indomitable, and they pursue victory even at the cost of their very lives. Their devotion is unparalleled, and their loyalty unquestioning. To insult the Stormcatcher is to invite their wrath, and swift death befalls their foes. They are rarely found outside of the coliseum where they are typically training new recruits for the Stormcatcher's army.

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"You're nothing but a basic...Worthless waste!"

Varanth was born a Tundra male and at a tender age, he sought to secure himself some land to begin building his own clan. While scouring the Shifting Expanse, he found a nice patch of land in the Charged Barrens and began clearing the area to support several nests of copper wire he had gathered along his journey. While building, a small obsidian fae spotted him from her perch atop a saguaro cactus. She was alone, in need of a home, and Varanth wasn't going to turn down someone in need.

It was not long before the two began a clan together, establishing Eternal Myths and managing to clear enough rubble and sand to feel comfortable with starting a family. While Nymph tended to their nest of four precious eggs, Varanth secured food, and it was not long before their first, and only, clutch hatched. Two fae were born, a male later named Nyx and a female named Myx, and two tundras respectively named Flyx, a female, and Kyx, a male. For the first days of their lives, the lives of both Varanth and Nymph revolved around their four dragonets. On the third day, Nymph set out to locate food for herself, while Varanth took their young to a small oasis within the desert where the five of them could cool down and relax away from the heat.

As most tragedies go, nothing ever turns out as expected. A typical day in the water was not supposed to end in death. And while his young played and splashed within the waters lightning, which forever dominated the Shifting Expanse but rarely came down in the Scrubland, descended from the sky. They were too young, too fragile despite their lightning heritage to survive the voltage. When Nymph finally returned from her hunt she found her mate curled around the lifeless forms of their young and something in the little fae snapped.

"You killed them! Stupid! You said you would be there, that you would protect them! I trusted you!"

Of course it was to no avail to explain to Nymph how the death of their young was nothing more than a cruel accident. Her rage continued and her fury cut deep into Varanth's heart.

"I thought you would be enough, but I was wrong. You're nothing but a basic, too weak to protect our children. You let them die. Worthless waste! Leave, get out!"

For a time, Varanth believed his mate's assessment of his character. He was nothing special. There was nothing about him that screamed "hero" or "champion." He had failed to defend his own, and he had failed his clan. With a heavy heart, he left the lair he had built with his own claws and wandered the Shifting Expanse. His sorrow darkened his heart, and he grew distant and solemn. He began picking fights with whatever would engage him and though he lost often at first, he was driven. He was basic, but he would never be unable to defend his clan again.

Varanth grew in strength and agility, becoming a physical powerhouse able to sneak in and out and wound his opponents before they could lay a scratch upon him. Yet still, he was empty inside. All of this was for naught. He could never return to his clan. His mate would never have him back, not as he was.

"Stormcatcher!" There had never been a sound of such sorrow and desperation, such pleading. It was a hopeless endeavor, to plead with his deity whose concerns were far above his own, to change his stars. The Stormcatcher only rewards those that help themselves, and even then, it was a rarity. "I don't....I can't...I am more than my hide. I do not want your pity, or even your help, but if you are listening...I would serve your armies. I will never fail to protect my family, my clan, or my flight again."

"An eye for an eye, Varanth." It was a strange, eerie voice that came to the tundra, one that, though he held firm and unwavering, chilled his bones. "This is not a gift. This is a contract. Serve, or desert this land, I rightly do not care. But if you are to serve, then I suggest you get back to work once we are done here." There was a long pause, and what Varanth recognized as the Stormcatcher's own voice was gone leaving only a charge of static in the air. The calm did not last long. Lightning broke across the sky, and thunder drowned the land in a cacophony of sound. It was deafening and blinding all at once and there was pain, so much pain, when lighting struck the tundra male and white light engulfed his body. For a small, brief moment in time, Varanth fancied he heard the voices of his young...
"For you, dad."
"This one's from me!"
"I picked this one!"
"Here you go!"

The storm subsided as quickly as it had formed and Varanth was left lying upon the ground, coughing and sputtering dust that had been stirred up from his lungs. When he finally managed to get a good look of himself, what he saw stilled his heart. He had changed, and drastically so. A different gene, one from each child, and a new breed...It was then and there the usually quiet male broke down and pledged his loyalties to the Stormcatcher. Whatever had happened, whatever had been the cause for this change, Varanth didn't care. His hide now matched his heart, and there was no going back from what had been done. He would return to Eternal Myths and he would take up his clan and rebuild it from the fallout of the death of his children.