Chinthe
(#19682555)
Level 25 Guardian
Familiar
Clown Hippocampus
Click or tap to view this dragon in Predict Morphology.
Energy: 44/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Nature.
Male Guardian
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
17.88 m
Wingspan
17.51 m
Weight
9618.18 kg
Genetics
Spring
Cherub
Cherub
Swamp
Peregrine
Peregrine
Lavender
Basic
Basic
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 25 Guardian
Max Level
STR
100
AGI
6
DEF
8
QCK
35
INT
5
VIT
8
MND
6
Biography
|
T H E -L I A R
Brother | Warrior | Penitent    ╭━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━╮ "Life is not a gift to be squandered." - CHINTHE - ╰━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━╯ Chinthe was born twice. The first time was fairly mundane: he hatched from a nature egg between his two sisters; Komatora was born moments before him, and Komainu moments after. His swampy colored coat, while not the handsome ideal, made him the perfect stealth warrior, so that was the path he pursued. Hiding among the emerald tendrils of the vines and leaves that populated the Nature territory, Chinthe could spring out and incapacitate nearly any foe without their seeing him. His precision for battle quickly made him an excellent warrior as well as a popularity icon within his clan. Of course, his sisters would not be left out and trained right alongside him, to his occasional chagrin. The three were evenly matched, and they may have become a great fighting team if his second birth had not intervened. It was slow at first, just a small tremor in a paw here or there, or a slight resistance when he tried to move. Then came the day when his paw refused to grasp his pen. The quill slipped from his fingers several times, trailing little lines of ink across the page without clear purpose. In anger, he flung his inkwell across the room, but beneath the anger lay a quiet forbodeing. He called Komatora to him in desperation, he explained that he needed a fresh copy of the contract he needed to sign as well as a fresh quill and ink. He refused to explain the situation, and Komatora put it up to one of his temper fits. Even as Komatora forged his signature on all his contracts, he knew he could endure this. Whatever was happening to his body, it would need to wait, the clan was at war and Chinthe was nothing if not a warrior. With Komatora’s help, they managed to conceal his illness. When he lost his ability to speak clearly, she told the clan he took a vow of silence. When his hand no longer grasped a sword reliably, she fashioned a gauntlet for him and welded it to his sword. Still the battles dragged on and with each one, Chinthe moved a hair slower. He prayed desperately for an end to the war, so he might remove himself with dignity from his clan. He shuddered when he considered the possibility of his mate, his children, finding out what was happening within the confines of his flesh. The answer to his prayer came in spring, when the tensions ran high. His clan stood on the brink of a final bloody battle, one that no dragon expected to live through. Chinthe and his sisters were placed on the front lines, a great honor, but a great danger as well. The battle passed well into the night in a flurry of claws and teeth. Both sides suffered casualties, and many dragons were injured. All the while, Chinthe felt his limbs protest the weight of his armor, his sword felt like a great weight dragging him to the earth. He could do this, he knew it, it was one last battle and then he would leave his life behind. The battle raged on, and then it happened. He couldn’t lift his shield in time, the other drake’s blow was going to take off his head, and he couldn’t move. He closed his eyes, feeling tears on his cheeks, but the blow never landed, and his ears were filled with a hideous wailing. His eyes snapped open and he saw them: Komatora kneeling over the still, bloodied body of Komainu amidst a mountain of corpses. Chinthe wept then, his poor, beautiful sister, gone in the blink of an eye. Dead from a blow meant for his own worthless hide. Komainu hadn’t known anything about his illness, she had died protecting him when he couldn’t protect himself, and she would never know it. Nonetheless, there was no time for burials or parting words, the living were sent to battle while the dead lay in mass graves. Hundreds of battle-weary dragons charged for a forgotten cause, trying valiantly to turn the tide of senseless bloodshed. Claws caked in blood, limbs trembling with exhaustion, Chinthe felt his body go weak as his lungs refused to breath, his arm could no more lift a sword than it could a pen months before. His opponent gouged his side, and his vision began to blur. He wasn’t ever sure when his body hit the ground, only that he ended up staring at Sunsea’s heartbroken expression as she begged, “not my brother too, by Gladekeeper, not today.” He heeded her plea and tried valiantly to keep himself awake, but even as his eyes slipped closed for what he thought would be the last time, he found himself drawn into the calm embrace of darkness. It seemed he had just surrendered himself to the comforting peace of eternity when he opened his eyes again. This time it was to a cruel world of pain and the sight of his younger sister gazing down at him with tear-filled eyes. His body felt cold, so cold, and he was wracked with indescribable pain. He tried to speak, but his tongue would not form the words, so the poor creature did the only thing he could: he screamed. Until his throat was raw, he bellowed the anguish of his heart into the cold, empty air while his sister tried in vain to comfort him. Eventually, his lungs gave out and he slipped again into unconsciousness. This time, his last sight was of the blood splattered snow in front of his mouth. His second birth was complete. When he regained his senses, the drake learned that he had fallen on the battlefield. He had been breathing when they found him, but his wounds were grievous, and few hoped for his recovery. He had been asleep for nearly a year, and his sister Komainu had dutifully nursed him and prayed for his healing. She hadn’t understood what had happened, only that she had been left for dead, until after the battle when Komatora came to find her and found her unconscious but alive. Komatora then confided Chinthe’s lies to their sister, and Komainu began to spend her time researching ways to help him once he woke. Although Chinthe’s lies drove a rift between the sisters, Komainu and Komatora worked together to fulfill his wishes. Against their own hearts, they moved him far away to Clan LockCharge, telling his mate and children that he had died honorably in battle. He was shocked to know that he had been asleep for over a year, and that his illness had progressed in the meantime. He had fallen in battle, but in his present state, that seemed laughable. His motor skills were like that of a hatchling, all wobbling steps and misjudged movements. Although he could coax a few garbled words from his mouth, the art of conversation was lost to him. Days into his new life, he began to see that Komainu dedicated herself to concocting new alchemical potions that feed trickles of strength into weakened limbs and restore warmth to a cold body. She could never cure him, they both knew that, but she could keep him comfortable and mostly mobile. Frustration egged him on, but Chinthe could never seem to regain the coordination and swagger that had inhabited his body before. He had been successful, handsome, fierce, and revered, and now, he felt, he was reduced to a mere shell of that former glory. It was his sisters that made him see the value in his new life. Komainu dedicated herself entirely to the task of caring for him, forgoing even the thought of a mate or children. While Komatora ruthlessly blamed herself for the events of the battle, Chinthe assured her that it was his fault. While she shouldn’t have lied for him, she had tried to do the right thing. It was his forgiveness that encouraged Komatora to move on with her life, and seeing this, Chinthe granted himself the same courtesy. Although he only speaks on rare occasions, Chinthe firmly believes that he was given a second chance at life and tries to make the most of it, living with honesty and decency over honor and glory. |
Art by Skylark
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