Ulafin certainly isn't the respectable sort of dragon one could depend on. No, far from it. At an early age, Ulafin was cast out of her Clan by her parents directly. Having already developed into a hard-hearted little thing, Ulafin pulled a brave face and refused to get near a soul, depending completely on a battered old puppet she lovingly dubbed 'Henry'.

She had found Henry while exploring for trinkets to sell at the age of eight days, and kept him ever since. The other dragons call her crazy, but as Ulafin was never a dragon person anyway, she didn't mind. Ulafin began to confide in Henry, telling him her woes and triumphs at the end of each passing day.

Slowly Ulafin's constant chatter began to build a sort of bizarre aura about Henry, enabling him to move of his own free will. While he couldn't speak, Henry could nod or shake his head, and follow Ulafin everywhere. He grew into a creepy, yet loyal pet, and Ulafin loved him so.

The other dragons began to worry about the effect of the puppet on the younger children. While Henry seemed friendly enough, he often snapped his wooden jaws when a hatchling or any other dragon grew near. It suited Ulafin well, but certainly not the busy and close life of Clan dragons.

There was...one incident. An Imperial hatchling was trying to prove Henry couldn't possibly be meaning to do harm to his sister, Norven, but disaster struck. Henry broke the hatchling's skull, and he was killed instantly. The death effected everyone, and the blood still stains those splintered wood teeth.

Ulafin has grown rather distant from the Clan, and if any where to approach she'd simply take a leaf from Henry's book. Her eyes often look wild and afraid, and her body is usually tied up in the telltale knots of worry of a Spiral.

Bio by ValiantDarkness




Art by Pippasaurs


Art by Gottllieb
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Praxidike knows fear when she sees it and right now, she's staring right in the eyes of a nervous, chattering spiral. Correction: a nervous, chattering, absolutely gorgeous spiral. Praxidike also knows beauty when she sees it, and it just so happens to be right in front of her.

There's also a set of sharp, quivering wooden teeth right next to her ear and Praxidike really doesn't like dragons--or anything, for that matter--breathing down her neck. As in if-you-don't-stop-that-I'll-break-your-neck kind of way. Being a con-artist, a gambler, and a spy isn't a very safe occupation, and she knows this very well.

Life is funny like that.

Praxidike allows herself a nervous laugh--she likes being underestimated--and gently steps away from the marionette. The spiral glares at her and beckons the painted marionette over. The thing (what else would you call an animated puppet?) nods but its teeth are still bared and-- oh Plaguebringer is that blood?

She really doesn't like where this is going.

"So, uh-you come here often?" Praxidike winces at her stupidity. This is a forest in the middle of the Icewarden's domain. What was she talking about?

The spiral blinks in surprise. Plaguebringer, those eyes are beautiful.

Her familiar, a heartred croaker, hovers nervously over her shoulder. Praxidike swallows. Charming dragons was supposed to come easy to her, but this was a very odd situation indeed. Her trip was to another clan in the Southern Icefields to obtain information, and this was the last thing she expected.

Oh well. Her mother had always told her to make the most of a bad situation. Of course, Praxidike's mother had been a thief and an assassin, so of course she knew what she was talking about.

The spiral is still looking at her in confusion. The painted marionette just glares.

Here goes nothing.

The soft sound of footsteps seem to resonate within the earth. A dark-clad wildclaw moved with purpose towards the knotted spiral.

"I see you watch, but do you see?"
Her voice was quiet, and her pitch deep. She kept a reasonable distance between the spiral and her puppet, colorless eyes stared unblinkingly at said spiral. "I see. I always see. There are those that doubt, but I? I know. I know the power even the smallest act can hold." She paused, considering the dragon before her.

"I am Janyln. Seer for Esmyth's Clan of the Charged Depths. And you... You are a changer. I see that you are cause of many events, be they for ill or fortune." She cocked her head slightly, her deadly clawed toes tapping on the ground almost curiously.

"I have doubts that you've enjoyed our talk -- the spirals I know as my allies only knot themselves when anxious or distressed. Perhaps," Her eyes seemed to swirl, "you haven't great care for company." She lowers her body ever so closer to the ground, and took a few steps back. "Think of me as you will, but if you've mind to talk to me again-"She seems to pause mid-sentence to whisper something."(not many take that route, no no)," As she whispers, she crouches lower to the ground. When she finishes her words, she holds herself higher and nearly purrs. "-you may find me."