Faolan
(#13469650)
Level 25 Nocturne
Familiar
Tourmaline Vulstal
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Energy: 50/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Ice.
Male Nocturne
This dragon is hibernating.
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
5.17 m
Wingspan
5.68 m
Weight
698.47 kg
Genetics
White
Crystal
Crystal
White
Shimmer
Shimmer
Maize
Smoke
Smoke
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 25 Nocturne
Max Level
STR
129
AGI
8
DEF
5
QCK
50
INT
5
VIT
12
MND
5
Biography
|
༻ F A O L A N ༺
Friendly | Quick-Witted | Naive
O C C U P A T I O N - Occupation Here F A M I L Y - 
Mate
F A M I L I A R - 
A R T - Art Here T H E M E - Theme Here E X T R A - Extra Here ྿
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"The split moment when you realize you've made a horrible, horrible mistake lasts for eternity, burning itself deep into your mind."
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The clan had once resided peacefully on the Shifting Expanse. It was here were young Faolan was found, an ice egg, thick beads of melt sliding down the sides, giving it the appearance of melting. Mist quickly stole him away into a dip in the sand, the coolest spot she could find in camp. By an amazing coincidence, another egg, ice too, had been abandoned on the same day. The two tiny forms inside stirred. Faolan opened his eyes, the cold membrane bumping into his nose. He squinted, and was surprised to see another hatchling, still in her egg, pressed against the side of a translucent shell. Swimming forward, he too stared at her through the milky fluid, placing one small hand on the concave spot of the shell. The other grinned cheekily; a smile he returned. They had both hatched that day. Her, named Hope, and him, an ancient draconic word meaning gift. Faolan and Hope, partners in crime, causing trouble for the rest of the clan. But Mist took this for alertness, intellect, natural skill. So the moment they came of age, Mist took it upon herself to train them into the best warriors she could. Faolan was smart, his cunning making up for his small size. Hard work formed the fundamentals of Mist's way of teaching; without it, any talent was useless. They were forced until the breaking point, until they teetered at the edge of no turning back. Only then were breaks, around a candle's times worth, issued out. But Hope, cheeky, witty, beautiful Hope, had kept him going, a quick grin able to send waves of energy back to his bones. Mist's training paid off. They patrolled the borders, fending off enemies, driving back the swarms of Beastclans. They were good at the job; often bringing little trophies back for the clan's hatchlings. Faolan realized that he had developed feelings for his best friend. Her mischievous grin, her sarcastic comments. Her liveliness, elements that brought so much joy to him, and so much trouble for the clan. Faolan sought to impress her, often messing up in the most foolish of ways, but he didn't mind being a fool for her. His eagerness to please her was fairly harmless. Until it wasn't. Faolan was scouting the border by himself when he saw that a small group of harpy Beastclans were causing a disturbance with some transients. They scattered when they spotted him, but Faolan was intrigued by the breathtakingly intricate pattern of one's mask, carved into double spirals that curved around her eyes. Hope would certainly be impressed if he offered her the mask. Faolan imagined her face, smile curving in delight, nodding fervently as he asked for her to be his mate... He realized something was wrong as he made the kill. The harpy's hair was flaxen gold, its eyes a terrified, young blue. First off, Faolan knew that only the most experienced of fighters had masks like that. The innocence in the harpy's eyes was foreign, and had a quality to them. Harpy eyes weren't blue. As he struck the killing blow, the mask fell, and underneath was a chiseled face, free of any scars. Faolan made a terrible mistake. The youth's face was male, distinctly male, and he knew that harpy males were such a treasured birth. Male harpies live a sequestered life, pampered by the flock and fiercely protected by the clan matriarchs. Due to their rarity and importance to the flock, male harpies are prohibited from participating in the war against dragonkind or handling the mask of a warrior. And now he had killed one. The other Beastclans screamed in fury, such rage catching roughly in their throats that Faolan was turned to stone. He could only watch as they turned, screeching as they beat their wings, no doubt to find reinforcements. Old and new, traditional and favoured, many and strong clashed in a war that waged for four days and four nights. The Beastclans poured down in waves upon the small clan, utterly and totally overwhelming the dragons of such skill. Ruthless, heartless, they slew the helpless, preying upon the youngest of the clan, smashing fragile eggs into the sandy turf. Strangely, it seemed as if they had only spared the eggs of imperials, stashing and stealing them away. It wasn't too hard to figure out why they had done so. With the power of the deities they fought, Faolan trying hardest of all. But to no avail. Dauntless, Aspen, Wit, Morpheus, Glisten, Reign. And countless others. Eggs smashed into the ground, cracking as a first and final breath escaped. Hatchlings strewn about the clearing, tiny throats slit with a single slash. They fled with the ones that were not yet torn apart, the harpies hard on their heels. |
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Exalting Faolan to the service of the Windsinger 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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