Carrick
(#21078622)
Level 1 Guardian
Familiar
Zeeba
Click or tap to view this dragon in Predict Morphology.
Energy: 0/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Ice.
Male Guardian
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
14.64 m
Wingspan
14.62 m
Weight
10205 kg
Genetics
Shadow
Ripple
Ripple
Midnight
Shimmer
Shimmer
Goldenrod
Glimmer
Glimmer
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 1 Guardian
EXP: 0 / 245
STR
7
AGI
6
DEF
8
QCK
5
INT
5
VIT
8
MND
6
Biography
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Carrick
Trainee Patrol
savage, hardworking, gifted
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Carrick is determined to make his mark on history. He's a general like his father- a tactician and leader, but perhaps a little too brutal. Dragons under his command tend to lose limbs or get severely hurt; not because he's bad at what he does, but because he expects everyone to give their all, regardless of how it may effect them in the long run. He sees everyone around his as chess-pieces to be commanded, and when there is resistance it baffles and angers him. His short temper was his undoing in the end- a skirmish between the clan and some harpies that otherwise would have gone swimmingly left him blinded, his eyes slashed by claws after his men were forced to flee thanks to his headstrong tactics. Ashamed and furious, he struck out and injured several innocent dragons, forcing his father to knock him out and leave him with little but a few supplies. Having brought dishonour to his family, he seethed and took off into the night, making his way by sound alone but refused to be cowed, refusing to die. Blind, stumbling, Carrick was lost. Too prideful to seek help, he was alone in the darkness for far too long. Desperation took hold. He could not fight well enough to keep this pace up, many rogue dragons had already took advantage of his feeble state; he had earned many more scars. Before, he had no need for armor. Now however, until he could battle enough that his skills increased to where he could fight along his old level, he needed armor. Shame filled him. He had not needed this battle armor before, he was not weak enough. |
Rage filled Carrick. He was so desolate and few of supplies that he would needed to replenish, meaning - he needed to seek other dragons. Some out there were far stronger than him, filled with the righteousness of their clan. He would need to find weak prey.
Carrick ventured to the Viridian Labrynith, where there were feeble dragons. Nature dragons were not known for their battle fury, right? Wrong. Carrick stumbled through the forest, more lost than ever, as his hearing did not pick up upon the steady trunks that occupied the forest. Shaking his head, furious at both himself and the world, Carrick missed the approaching wing beats. He soon became aware of the other dragon, as they quickly had him pinned with his venerable stomach showing. He thrashed furiously, desperately trying to escape. It was no use. His claws and sharp teeth failed to penetrate as the enemy dragon - it must be a Guardian, he could feel fins - had on hard armor. As the minutes passed, his energy waned. He could fight no more. He closed his useless eyes, turning his head to expose his jugular. He would die with honor.
And so with the strong Guardian, Carrick stayed. He learnt. Her name was Keshav, she said. He followed her, day after day after day as the days turned to months. Their routine, for it had turned theirs, was monotone. They looped through the forest, keeping intruders out of the long loop that they maintained. "Why?" He asked, after the first month. Keshav didn't answer. Carrick kept asking. They let some dragons through, couriers and such. He didn't know what their purpose was, or even what he was guarding. Keshav wouldn't let him speak to any, and she rarely spoke herself.
More time passed, until Carrick could navigate through their route as if he was born to it. It was only then that Keshav spoke directly to him, instead of ordering him as she was prone to doing. "It is my charge."
Her Charge? That made everything that they have done have meaning to it, have logic. Keshav rarely left the route she had carved through the forest, even to see her mate Firnen, who had come to meet them once. She had explained to the large guardian that Carrick was her new prodigy. This was news to him, but he preened inside. He had a duty. A purpose.
Oh - a Charge.
Just like Keshav planned.
Art
Carrick ventured to the Viridian Labrynith, where there were feeble dragons. Nature dragons were not known for their battle fury, right? Wrong. Carrick stumbled through the forest, more lost than ever, as his hearing did not pick up upon the steady trunks that occupied the forest. Shaking his head, furious at both himself and the world, Carrick missed the approaching wing beats. He soon became aware of the other dragon, as they quickly had him pinned with his venerable stomach showing. He thrashed furiously, desperately trying to escape. It was no use. His claws and sharp teeth failed to penetrate as the enemy dragon - it must be a Guardian, he could feel fins - had on hard armor. As the minutes passed, his energy waned. He could fight no more. He closed his useless eyes, turning his head to expose his jugular. He would die with honor.
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"Why do you trespass, youngling?" His killer spoke. "Just kill me." "Why, young one?" his stronger opponent spoke. Carrick remained silent. "Lost, then. Blinded. Shamed." "KILL ME" He shouted. It was all too much. "There is no reason to. Come with me." She let go of Carrick, turned around, and walked away. And for some reason, Carrick followed. |
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And so with the strong Guardian, Carrick stayed. He learnt. Her name was Keshav, she said. He followed her, day after day after day as the days turned to months. Their routine, for it had turned theirs, was monotone. They looped through the forest, keeping intruders out of the long loop that they maintained. "Why?" He asked, after the first month. Keshav didn't answer. Carrick kept asking. They let some dragons through, couriers and such. He didn't know what their purpose was, or even what he was guarding. Keshav wouldn't let him speak to any, and she rarely spoke herself.
More time passed, until Carrick could navigate through their route as if he was born to it. It was only then that Keshav spoke directly to him, instead of ordering him as she was prone to doing. "It is my charge."
Her Charge? That made everything that they have done have meaning to it, have logic. Keshav rarely left the route she had carved through the forest, even to see her mate Firnen, who had come to meet them once. She had explained to the large guardian that Carrick was her new prodigy. This was news to him, but he preened inside. He had a duty. A purpose.
Oh - a Charge.
Just like Keshav planned.
Art
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Exalting Carrick to the service of the Gladekeeper 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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