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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
4.14 m
Wingspan
7.88 m
Weight
581.54 kg
Genetics
White
Iridescent
Iridescent
White
Shimmer
Shimmer
Crimson
Crackle
Crackle
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 4 Wildclaw
EXP: 774 / 4027
STR
16
AGI
9
DEF
7
QCK
8
INT
5
VIT
10
MND
6
Lineage
Parents
Offspring
- BashfulRecord
- FaultyRaspberry
- AwkwardBurglar
- Guto
- Mindoir
- Vanity
- Arven
- Ginger
- Phobos
- Raya
- Alexa
- Shy
- Venture
- Angel
- Mar
- Natalya
- Scar
- Rinus
- Mace
- Nan
- Ashura
- Serezha
- Dawnflight
- Cello
- Alice
- Siel
- Hix
- SweetDeath
- RedTalon
- Ragnorok
- Timothy
- Avari
- Grindelwald
- Braun
- Atari
- Daren
- Sparky
- Frosting
- Desiree
- Shock
- Bloodsoul
- Cornet
- Strike
- Ietoro
- Koran
- Octavio
- Surana
- Jael
- Valen
- Kennit
- Yuka
- Visionary
- Merean
- Anahira
- Malle
- Axies
- Longtalon
- Gawain
- Alastrom
- Lyseria
- Andradite
- Suriya
- Denia
- Una
- Valentino
- Rolan
- Milion
- Sadri
- Arataki
- Samwise
- Destruction
- Splatter
- Death
- Adalyn
- BloodSlash
- BloodShed
- Unnamed
- Marrow
- Ripper
- Griffon
- Unnamed
- Unnamed
- Unnamed
Biography
[color=]Name[/color]
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Needs lore redone. new leader and all.
Art:
Past Memories
Grimm shook his head. “No! No, I won’t kill them. I’m not like you,” he looked at his father, pleading with him to understand.
“You come from a long line of assassins. Assassins born the white of an angel and dyed with the blood of their wounds and their enemies. Your ancestry prevents you from having much of a choice in the matter. As my successor, I need a proper killer. Are you a Blood Angel or not?” his father responded.
Grimm gripped his sword and thought that through. It sounded cool when he was young. Until he’d realized it meant killing the innocent for money. “No.”
“You deny me?” his father stood straight.
The young white Wildclaw nodded. “I can’t kill innocent dragons, father. I just can’t.”
His father picked up a sword. “If you are not a Blood Angel, you are not my son. And therefore, you are trespassing. Defend yourself, Grimm.”
Grimm dodged quickly to the side and yelped as his father’s sword struck directly where he had been. Another strike came toward him, but the Wildclaw was again to fast. He scampered out of the way and looked up at his father with wide eyes.
This time, the blade met right at his throat. Grimm, luckily, had been trained and had razor sharp reflexes. He quickly drew his own sword and parried the blow. Then he used his sword to pin his father’s and jump down on the weapon, knocking it from his grip.
“Father, please,” he tried.
“Out of my way,” his father shoved him aside and retrieved his sword. This back and forth swordplay went on for nearly an hour before the fight took a twist.
His father went straight for his throat. Grimm recoiled and spun around the blow, taking the first offensive strike he could. And he gasped in horror at what he had done. The blade pierced his father’s heart.
Grimm drew back, his sword red. He let the weapon clatter to the ground and ran to his father’s side. He shook his head and cursed himself.
“Father, no,” he said. “Oh, I’m so sorry…”
His father’s eyes opened slightly. “That’s a Blood Angel for you. The dragons stained with blood… when no one knows how much belongs to them and how much belongs to their enemies. Finally, you’ve found what you’re truly capable of.”
He watched his father die, and everything he’d believed in his entire life shattered. But in the end, his father had won. He turned Grimm into a heartless killer. Now Grimm believed the only way to get by was to take what others had
Grimm shook his head. “No! No, I won’t kill them. I’m not like you,” he looked at his father, pleading with him to understand.
“You come from a long line of assassins. Assassins born the white of an angel and dyed with the blood of their wounds and their enemies. Your ancestry prevents you from having much of a choice in the matter. As my successor, I need a proper killer. Are you a Blood Angel or not?” his father responded.
Grimm gripped his sword and thought that through. It sounded cool when he was young. Until he’d realized it meant killing the innocent for money. “No.”
“You deny me?” his father stood straight.
The young white Wildclaw nodded. “I can’t kill innocent dragons, father. I just can’t.”
His father picked up a sword. “If you are not a Blood Angel, you are not my son. And therefore, you are trespassing. Defend yourself, Grimm.”
Grimm dodged quickly to the side and yelped as his father’s sword struck directly where he had been. Another strike came toward him, but the Wildclaw was again to fast. He scampered out of the way and looked up at his father with wide eyes.
This time, the blade met right at his throat. Grimm, luckily, had been trained and had razor sharp reflexes. He quickly drew his own sword and parried the blow. Then he used his sword to pin his father’s and jump down on the weapon, knocking it from his grip.
“Father, please,” he tried.
“Out of my way,” his father shoved him aside and retrieved his sword. This back and forth swordplay went on for nearly an hour before the fight took a twist.
His father went straight for his throat. Grimm recoiled and spun around the blow, taking the first offensive strike he could. And he gasped in horror at what he had done. The blade pierced his father’s heart.
Grimm drew back, his sword red. He let the weapon clatter to the ground and ran to his father’s side. He shook his head and cursed himself.
“Father, no,” he said. “Oh, I’m so sorry…”
His father’s eyes opened slightly. “That’s a Blood Angel for you. The dragons stained with blood… when no one knows how much belongs to them and how much belongs to their enemies. Finally, you’ve found what you’re truly capable of.”
He watched his father die, and everything he’d believed in his entire life shattered. But in the end, his father had won. He turned Grimm into a heartless killer. Now Grimm believed the only way to get by was to take what others had
Past Memories and Bloody angels by Cay
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Exalting Grimm to the service of the Shadowbinder 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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