violi » Lair » Adaar

Adaar

(#14036055)

"The Flames shall never be quenched!"

Titanilla

Phoenix

Energy: 0/50

Personal Style

Apparel

Skin

Scene

Physical Attributes

Battle Stats

Measurements

Length

11.24 m

Wingspan

19.86 m

Weight

11018.15 kg

Genetics

White
Basic

Maize
Facet

Beige
Spines

Hatchday

Jun 13, 2015
(8 years)

Breed

Adult
Guardian

Eye Type

Fire
Glowing

Level 11 Guardian

EXP: 5311 / 34264

STR

AGI

DEF

QCK

INT

VIT

MND

Lineage

Parents

none

Offspring

Biography

ADAAR

PATRIARCH AND GUARDIAN OF

THE FLAMES OF ISMENE

Adaar was found, still unhatched in his egg, inside a chunk of broken off obsidian near the Blacksand Annex. The centuries old egg, having been preserved by the volcanic glass, was still intact and miraculously capable of hatching.
The Snapper who found the egg, Ismene, raised Adaar as if he was her own, along with another Guardian she hatched from a Lightning egg, which she also just sort of stumbled into while out scavenging.
Clan members had always joked that normal dragons collected colorful gemstones or unique seashells, but Ismene collected Guardian hatchlings, and the clan has placed bets on what the next one's element would be (the odds were in favor for Plague.)
Of course, no one had meant it with malice, because the boys have been a delight to watch grow up. Adaar idolized his mother, always drinking up her wisdom to the last drop. He never has questioned her about her views on fighting, or her distaste for violence, and especially not her fragile, golden heart which refused anything that wasn't peace.
He has integrated them into his own belief system, letting it mold his personality and making him into a gentle giant with infinite patience.
He never has questioned that fighting fire with fire was a fool's errand.
Until one day he did.
There have been some hushed whispers and worried glances exchanged by the adults. Fearful gossiping, brought on by traders from over the Shifting Expanse; fierce-looking dragons in groups of varying sizes, bearing eerie warpaint and armor made of other dragons' bones, if they wore any at all, that is. They called them The Pack.
Adaar was big, having left behind the traits of a hatchling and slowl but surely was taking up the characteristics of an adult. He was still a bit gangly, but his mother kept saying that he would pack on muscle come summer, and after that he was ready to go on The Search. Still, he's been scared.
Unlike Durglas. The younger brother boasted that he would stand against them six to one and laugh in their faces. Two days later they took him, and Adaar had watched as his brother thrashed and screamed and reached out towards Adaar, eyes full of terror. No one tried to save him; they weren't fighters, they made jewellery and smithing tools for other clans.
Adaar paled as he watched them fly with Durglas in their claws, and his little brother has cursed him. Cursed him, cursed Mama, cursed the Clan. All dragons used magic in one form or the other, but Adaar never believed in curses.
Then their luck began to take a turn for the worse.

Not even two years passed, and The Pack have returned. They came to feed. And they fed on their own dragon brethren. Adaar and Ismene fled towards the 'Plateau, but Snappers cannot fly. Ridgebacks and Mirrors and Guardians can. But not Snappers.
She told him to hide. He obeyed, even though every fibre of his being was screaming at him to stop what's happened to his brother from happening to his mother, too.
But he didn't.
They clawed him up good, as well, but in the end left him. They were full.
He passed out from the shock and the bloodloss, and when he woke up, he found himself in a refugee camp called The Shelter. Victims of the rampage of The Pack had gathered inside a slumbering volcano, licking both their physical wounds and those which are invisible to the eye.
Adaar met his saviors: an Imperial named Rasaan and a Skydancer called Asala, and, to his delight, his childhood friend Kas. They were out scouting for survivors after hearing about the attack, when they found him half-dead.
His wings were torn horrible and needed the bulk of medical attention, which Asala provided in the months to come. She was wise, free-spoken, empathetic and well-versed in the various arts, and kept the convalescing Guardian excellent company, helping him through his mourning and dealing with the post-traumatic stress.
In hindsight, he always thought, it couldn't have been any simpler to fall irrevocably in love.
She gave him the strength and courage to overcome the gnawing guilt and the feeling of hopelessness, and together they rallied the Shelter to retaliate. It made Adaar horribly conflicted, given how Ismene raised him. But his thirst for justice(or vengeance)was greater than his inner turmoil. The revelation could have come a few days earlier, however.
A scout came, heralding in the approach of the enraged Pack. Mirror discovered their lair, and now they wanted them dead.
They prepared a defense, and fought back the attackers, disoriented and stunned by the sudden shift of attitude from their victims. The next day, the Shelter were the ones who attacked.
They fought with fervor, all the bitterness and anger and uncertainty that has been welling up gained clarity when their hearts were set afire. The Pack was forced to retreat and abandon their lair.
The enemy has been defeated.
In the aftermath events took place that are most reminiscent of a fairy tale.
The refugees found camaraderie and affection among their fellows, quickly forming bonds of friendship and romance, and an attachment to their cause. Their hearts were still heavy with grief, but they found comfort under each other's wings, and wished to stay together. The Shelter got molded into the clan that is known today as The Flames of Ismene: stalwart warriors who are ready to lay down their lives for one another and those who cannot protect themselves from those stronger and more cruel. At their front, Asala and Adaar, their chosen leaders, the latter having been found his Charge without even Searching: his Clan.
The Clan grew when others got word of the Battle of The Slumberer, and migrated to join with The Flames in the heart of the dormant volcano.
Adaar and Asala mated and had Ashkost, and many hatchlings run amok amidst the rivers of lava in the years to come.
But reality is not a fairy tale.

He enveloped his most beloved's broken, scorched body and his own with his wings. Tenderly folded it over her, as if wrapping her in a blanket, ready to sleep. Like he used to do on many a night. Nights where the lazy flow of lava pools in the distance cast the night sky in a brazen orange and red and yellow, as if they were stars themselves in their millions, down on earth.
Nights where the Seared Soul Clan lay down their heads with bellies full and mind content, with the sole thought: life is good.
Nights unlike this one, where the wailing of the mourning dragons shattered the darkness, the smell of charred scales and rot and murk filled the nostrils, and the mate of his life exhaled for the last time.
It was a good thing that he covered himself, not just her. He didn't want others to see him weep, which was a foolish thought. It wasn't the time for pride.
Everyone wept.
Kairi was dead. Casado was dead. Kasaanda was dead. Kost was dead. Tanith was dead. Countless others were dead. Half of the bodies were missing.
But Asala was there, or at least her soulless husk.
And tonight he will mourn her, scream his anguish into the night sky, like the others.
But tomorrow, he will harden.
He will be terrible.
Whether Mama would approve or not.

Hardened by the tragedies he suffered through from his early youth and on, Adaar is a stern, strict leader and teacher. He deals with the daily practice routine of clan warriors, coordinates attacks and plans battle tactics, and oversees the training of the children. He is the kind that won't ask you for what you can't give, but will push you to your limits if he feels that greater ambition and/or skills lie within you. He likes to be the one to tap into that potential, plant the seeds of self-confidence, nurture it with a firm paw, and watch it grow into the sky so high it'd poke the Windsinger on the nose, and he would rest well knowing the roots are strong below the surfice. He knows the hotheads need a different approach; he coaxes the kindling in their hearts into roaring flames that would make even the Queen of Fire nod her head in acknowledgement. He feeds their burning souls with roaring cheers and feverish encouragement, admiring the wildfire he unleashes upon the poor training dummies (poor 'Meda always has a hard time keeping up with the repairs).
He is also the kind who comes down hard on the backtalk, and would chase you to the Starwood Strand and back if you would dared to try skip combat practice.

Though his youthful softness was replaced by a steel plating around his heart for protection, he opens it to a small creak occasionally, and allows some gentleness to pour out, especially around tiny, waddling hatchlings and a few special someones. Despite being a Fire dragon through and through, some connection to the Tidelord remains, manifesting itself in the form of Adaar loving all manner of water themed activities, be it swimming, deep sea fishing, or collecting trinkets and seashells with the children. His favorite food is singed lemming spiced with cinnamon.

Sidebanner by Counterklock, Sidebanner border by Mibella.
Dividers by Paladingineer
Dragon Emblem by Drytil
Flags and Elemental icons by osiem

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Exalting Adaar to the service of the Flamecaller 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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