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Abraxas

(#14006484)

Go; live another day.

Familiar

Crowned Roc

Energy: 0/50

Personal Style

Apparel

Skin

Scene

Physical Attributes

Battle Stats

Measurements

Length

23.61 m

Wingspan

22.19 m

Weight

8679.01 kg

Genetics

Emerald
Iridescent

Emerald
Shimmer

Teal
Underbelly

Hatchday

Jun 12, 2015
(8 years)

Breed

Adult
Imperial

Eye Type

Earth
Common

Level 25 Imperial

Max Level

STR

129

AGI

DEF

QCK

INT

VIT

MND

Lineage

Parents

Offspring

Biography

.Add as many dots as necessary to center it! need better method. please
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A B R A X A S
he/him

Chief Warrior

*	• Dependable and loyal • Talented and honorable in battle • Serious, stoic, and inexpressive • Suffers from memories of his past • Would do anything for his family

PERSONALITY

Abraxas is intimidating to most who don't know him. Strangers subject to his gaze have become petrified, leading his clanmates to joke about dubbing him "the basilisk" (although the nickname's never stuck). His default expression is serious and stern, and he is far from frivolous with his words.

All this might lead onlookers to think Abraxas is cold and detached, or even callous and cruel; in truth, he is anything but. He loves as fiercely as a wildfire, protecting his family and clanmates without hesitation. On the battlefield, he behaves with honor, allowing any enemy the chance to forfeit, though he doesn't let his guard down until he's sure things are safe. In the midst of a fight, he is a sight to behold; his moves are fluid, clever, and precise, accomplishing only the minimum damage needed to bring someone to their knees, and no more. Abraxas likes the thrill of a well-fought battle, but he finds no joy in causing others pain, and he harbors deep distaste for any who do.

All the same, he is not soft; he will stop at nothing to defend his loved ones. He wears the Ferocious Banner as a promise and a warning: anyone who threatens his clan, or the well-being of dragonkind, will feel the wrath of his claws.

DAILY ACTIVITY

RELATIONSHIPS*********

Moonlight | Mate, Partner
*********

Abraxas loves Moonlight with a devotion nearing worship. She is the brightest and kindest part of his life, a much-needed balm for the wounds of his past. Their bond has been strengthened by their time together as a warrior team, running deeper than most attachments.

Cybc | Partner
*********

Spec | Friend
*********

Being forced into barbaric gladiator battles together is, well, a bonding experience. Abraxas and Spec understand each other's pain in a way that transcends words. Though they have chosen different paths and grown apart, Abraxas would risk his own life for Spec's in a heartbeat.

Glorin | Friend
*********

Cobalt | Son
*********

The only world Abraxas had ever known was the bleakest, most hopeless of worlds. Even when he was a tiny hatchling, his head poking out of his eggshell for the first time, he had known something was off. Instead of seeing, as he should have, the two bright faces of his parents, he saw nothing but steel and other eggs, other hatchlings.

As it turned out, he had been the child of a breeding program. The clan he was born to had picked and chosen dragons to breed together, to get the prettiest hatchlings and sell them for treasure that served to line the overly luxurious nests of the "higher ups"; the clan leaders, esssentially.

He was a good hatch, and so he was auctioned off into the dragon black market, of sorts, to another clan that was equally cruel. He was implemented into a program much like the one that had caused his own birth, and he yielded only three eggs to two females. Because he provided so few hatchlings, of which did not sell well, he was kicked out and sold once more.

The next clan was the absolute worst, and it would be the clan where Abraxas would spend most of his life before now. It was the epitome of barbaric, this clan, a brutal, cruel system where the weak were left to die.

By then, the Imperial was no more than a shell, his emotions locked deep within his heart, afraid to come out. He rose steadily across the ranks of those like him, becoming one of the clan's most prized treasures. He was trained to be a fighter, a warrior who dueled with his own kind for glory. His clan would set him against another like himself to fight, and whichever clan's dragon won that one-on-one battle would be the winner of whatever stupid little dispute they had.

Abraxas was, essentially, forced to fight for his entire clan, while the lazy leaders lounged about, luxurious in every way. He hated it bitterly, but could do nothing; he would die if he did. There were guards everywhere.

And he did not want to die.

So the seasons rolled around, and Abraxas found himself smack in the middle of a strong iron cage, along with many others. The older dragons whispered amongst themselves, and from their words, he gathered what was going on.

They would be forced to fight each other as entertainment. Yearly, in the network of dragon-trafficking clans, there was a carnival. It did not celebrate anything; it was simply held for the sake of a few kings' enjoyment. Like any other carnival, it had games, food, and dragons everywhere.

Unlike any other carnival, it had brutal tournaments that involved dragons. Their own species, made to be slaves! For "fun"!

It was enraging to even the most battered, worn-down, tired souls. One particularly angry Imperial was in the cage to the right of Abraxas. He would hiss at peering strangers, even if they were no more than dragons, and seethe at the higher-ups for hours on end.

The sheer enormity of his hatred was almost scary, but Abraxas found himself befriending him anyways. His name was Spec, and he seemed to be a good-natured dragon when he wasn't behind bars and made to do things against his will. But he was behind bars the entire time, so Abraxas wasn't quite sure how he came to such a conclusion.

Two by two, the dragons began to disappear. The remainders passed around snippets of information, like "Rook was limping from the aftermath of that fight, he'll probably get sent to the Tidelord without even getting healed, the poor thing" or "Lace is gone... and she had a little daughter, too, waiting for her..."

The days dragged on, until he and Spec were the only two dragons remaining. It was clear from the excited whispers that they would be the main event.

That day, Abraxas found himself clawing at the dirt on the arena, facing the dragon he did not want to fight. Their scratches were halfhearted, their blows barely making any impact. The announcer of the tournament was getting impatient...

If they didn't get brutal soon, both would lose...

And then, in a flash of pale green, the announcer was bowled over. Dragons began to rise from the crowd, dragons who blazed with fury at they way their fellows were treated. Led by the great Guardian who had knocked over the announcer, they moved as one, attacking the cruel dragons with all their might.

The network had been infiltrated.

They were saved! Saved! Abraxas got his first taste of a true battle that day, of the adrenaline pulsing through his veins and the sound of his heart thumping in his ears. A clan leader invited him to join her clan, Clan Apeiron, noting with approval how he fought honorably, even against those who had forceed him into submission.

Everyone deserved to be treated with honor in a fight.

Though at first he longed to stay and help the fight, Abraxas was convinced by the leader to leave. He reunited with Spec there, and after a quick explanation from the leader (her name was Glorin, she was part of a complex plan thought up by the Guardian, Moonstrike, to rescue them) they officially joined the little clan.

Not too long after the attack, news reached them of the results; many of the network had escaped. There were injuries on both sides, but no death on theirs. Most of the kings and higher-ups had been killed, save for one: the king of Spec's old clan.

Abraxas saw him sneak out one night, saw him come back with bloodstained claws. Their eyes met, and he knew that the king was dead. He gave the white Imperial a brief nod. It was not the choice he would have made, but he was bound to silence by choice.

Things were peaceful after that. Everyone worked hard to feed and build the young, slowly growing clan. They often ran out of resources, especially seafood, and Abraxas usually volunteered to go out and fish. But a famine was coming; the hot sun burned down on their land, drying Dragonhome of its few rivers and lakes. Abraxas offered to travel to the Sea of a Thousand Currents, in the hope that the dragons there would be kind enough to allow them to fish in their oceans.

The clan he ran into was, indeed, kind. They gave him a basket for his fish as well as part of their own stores, and gave his clan their blessings. Because he was tired from the trip, Abraxas stayed for a while before going back. In this time, he fell in love with one of the dragons, a beautiful blue Imperial named Moonlight who had the sweetest temperament he'd ever seen. He longed to invite her to his clan, but knew she would be met with unhappiness from the others of his species. It was an unspoken rule: too many Imperials in one place led to... disaster, to put it lightly.

So they parted, and he returned home, pushing her to the back of his mind. He could not dwell on such dreams.

The famine dragged on. Though the fish was enough to last for a while, it ran out, and it would be rude to go back a second time for more. Dragons were sent out for longer and longer, further and further away to find food. It was during one of these times, when everyone was away, when Glorin lost two of her adopted children and Moonstrike left in a fit of crazed belief that he was born to serve the Earthshaker.

Struck by grief, Glorin left Abraxas and Cybc to look after her last child, Cranberry, when she left in a fruitless search for her children, hoping to get them before they were exalted. But they were vulnerable. Everyone else was away, and they were attacked.

It was at least four brutal, well-trained Ice dragons against two Imperials, one of which had never fought a day in her life. The odds were against them. Abraxas fought valiantly, but one of them knocked him unconcious, and he collapsed, seeing black.

When he awakened, the hatchling was gone, and a revived Cybc was trying to restrain a grief-crazed Glorin from flying out into the night in search of her daughter.

Their once strong leader was reduced to a shell, and she hid away in the caves. Abraxas, wracked with guilt at failing to save her child, took over as the temporary leader. He knew there were others like those hatchling stealers, and he would need to be able to fight them off next time. Cybc shared this sentiment. When he was not overseeing the clan and she not trying to comfort Glorin, they worked together in battle in the Training Fields. He found that he actually enjoyed fighting, when it was for a cause he believed in.

But things were hard with only two dragons. They tried to find another, but no dragon wanted to; either they were too young, too busy, or too scared of an Emperor. Spec, still haunted, refused to join the team.

So Abraxas went back to the domain of the Water flight and sought out Moonlight. It was evident that she had missed him, and she immediately agreed when he requested that she join his clan, to join the team.

And then there were three.

They fought battle upon battle together, growing stronger and stronger. Eventually, all three became master warriors, and this became their niche in the clan. Abraxas is now the chief warrior. He's settled down to raise a family with Moonlight, always on the lookout, ready to defend his clan when he's needed. He would not lose another dragon like Cranberry.

He's gone from being bullied into fighting for his old brutal clan to a true warrior in a home where he is treated fairly. An equal. A friend.

He won't forget the kindness of clan, and the battle that changed his life. He holds Glorin —and, secretly, Moonlight— in high regard as the ones who did the most to save him. He has respect for the clan leader as a trusted aide to his team, much as his first son, Cobalt, thinks of Glorin's son.

HISTORY

POST-SETTLEMENT

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Art et al

Quote:

Earsplitting sounds of all sorts surrounded the caged Imperial. Young hatchlings tugged their mothers' wings and begged for some treasure to buy candy from some rather shady merchants and enter petting zoos with familiars of all kinds; older dragons gambled and played silly little carnival games in hopes of winning prizes.

And, of course, let's not forget the main event, he thought sarcastically, scratching meaningless patterns in the sand with a talon.

"Place your bets! Place your bets here!" cried a dragon, waving around a piece of parchment.

Oh, so now they were betting? Wasn't it barbaric enough just to force two of their own species to fight for amusement? Now they were wagering their riches on the winner.

"Team Green or White? Whaddaya think? Who'll come up top?" sang the same dragon from before. She pranced over to him, infuriatingly cheerful. "Abraxas, my bud! Personally, I'm rooting for ya, so make sure we come up top! Team Green, yeah?"

The emerald Imperial glared at her, forcing himself to stay calm. The dragon in the cage next to him, Spec, was having a harder time controlling his temper; his white scales flashed as he launched himself suddenly at the group that had huddled around him, teeth bared, his head ramming into the bars.

Abraxas felt sick. What kind of torture was this? Why did no dragon see the problem in keeping their own kind caged up?

Spec had turned away, his eyes alight with helpless fury. Abraxas looked at him sadly, unable to say any comforting words. He laid down and curled up, closing his eyes, ignoring the chatter in the carnival, and drifted off into sleep.

It was a restless nap he took, full of fear and blood, and it didn't last long. The Imperial heard a click as his cage was unlocked. He was unceremoniously led by the clan leader into the arena where they would fight. With a cruel grin and a growl of "Make it interesting", the leader moved away into the crowd. Dragons of all shapes and sizes milled around the roped-off area, muttering to each other. Abraxas briefly made eye contact with a pale green, angry-looking Guardian, before he was pushed into starting position.

He faced Spec, clawing at the dirt unhappily.

"Welcome one, welcome all, to the tournament you've been waiting for! This annual Carnival has a theme of —you guessed it— battle! Be it a joust or a wrestling championship, we have it all. Today, our fighters are Abraxas and Spec..." The announcer jabbered on, until finally:

"On your mark... get set... go!"

At first, Abraxas didn't move. Spec advanced tentatively, and the two Imperials walked towards each other until they were face-to-face.

"I don't want to fight," the other dragon hissed, his eyes panicked.

"Do you think I do?" They had no choice. So they fought, halfheartedly, clawing and scratching but not really injuring, until Abraxas found himself pinned to the ground by his opponent, who seemed frozen to the ground.

"Oh, come on!" shouted the announcer, who had been narrating the mundane events. "Just kill him already, or forfeit! Let's not drag this out!"

Two things happened then:

First, Spec stepped off of him.

Second, the announcer toppled over, pushed to the ground by a pale green flash.

Chaos ensued. Suddenly, a swarm of dragons rose from the audience and swooped down, talons out, screeching a battle cry: "Attack!"

"What is the meaning of this?!" roared the clan leader, before he was overtaken by a huge group of Faes.

"We will not put up with this injustice," snarled the pale Guardian from before, hovering in the air, claws outstretched. "Putting your own species against each other to fight for entertainment! It's an outrage!"

"But I don't understand," the leader hissed, struggling to keep his head up, "security... guards..."

"You've been infiltrated," the Guardian said darkly. "When the rest of Sornieth knows of your actions... whatever comes to you, you will deserve it."

But by then, the leader had fallen unconscious, and the Faes flew to attack something else.

"They're on our side," Spec breathed, as if he didn't dare believe it. "Come on! Let's help them!" The white dragon took off into the air, swooping joyful loops before turning to assist one of the infiltrators.

Abraxas followed suit, quickly finding an enemy that was trying to fight back. He pummeled the dragon, shredding and biting, before letting him go. The dragon escaped, flapping awkwardly, not looking back.

He felt an odd feeling, one he'd never known in his entire life: the fresh, invigorating thrill of battle. Adrenaline pulsed through his veins, and he fought, feeling alive like he never had before.

The Imperial spotted a struggling white-and-blue Fae out of the corner of his eye; she snapped at the enemy, but to no avail. Abraxas swooped over, attacking from the front, and the opposing dragon's eyes widened fearfully as she was hit by someone her own size. She fled, and he let her.

"You fight with honor," commented the Fae. "I'm not sure if they deserve it."

"Oh, sure. Every dragon deserves a chance to forfeit."

Her crest smoothed; Abraxas was not sure what emotion this conveyed, but he got the feeling the Fae approved.

"Come with me," she said briskly.

"What?"

"Come on. What's the point of a rescue mission if we're not doing the rescuing part? The others can handle themselves. You need to come back to my clan and rest."

"I can still fight," Abraxas protested.

"I know. And don't worry; I think your friend is back already. The white one."

Eventually, he complied, following the tiny dragon where she led him. She swooped down to perch on a cliff, and he followed suit, landing awkwardly.

"Here's the gist of it," she said. "The green Guardian you saw back there heard about how your clan was treating dragons. He set up this big plan to go and rescue you guys and invite you to join our clan, so we basically did that. We allied with a few others, set up the whole thing, and then attacked..."

Abraxas felt a rare smile curving his mouth as he listened. Reality set upon him: he was free, free, free!

"I want to join your clan," he said immediately, almost bursting with delight.

"We're happy to have you," the Fae said, and that was that.

Later, he would settle down, have a family, become the chief warrior. He would never forget his clan's selfless actions, and the war that they fought to win him freedom.

And he would never forget the thrill of that first battle.

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Exalting Abraxas to the service of the Earthshaker 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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