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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
19.72 m
Wingspan
16.39 m
Weight
7603.03 kg
Genetics
Gold
Poison
Poison
Ivory
Butterfly
Butterfly
Chocolate
Stained
Stained
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 1 Imperial
EXP: 0 / 245
STR
6
AGI
6
DEF
6
QCK
5
INT
8
VIT
8
MND
6
Biography
Kindly entrusted to this lair by GlacierFalls on 9/8/16, to be his new forever-home :D Bio template by @Mibella, find it here.
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M A L
Mostly Reformed Pirate-king and Brigand of the High Seas   
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Crew of The Grand Larceny
 Goldentop First Mate and Pirate Queen  FlyingDutchman 'Duck', the Ship Quartermaster  Albus Merchant Guild Leader, Trader  Bering Weather Mage, Navigator  Portobello Antiques Dealer, Highwayman Part-Time Vagabonds  Scamp Petty Thief, Aquisitions Expert  Nadine Merdragon, Created  Nereid Aquatic Skydancer, Created |
 B I O G R A P H Y
But he dreamt of freedom. He had a mischievous streak from an early age, and delighted his brothers and sisters with 'magic' tricks and inventive new games. He doted on them, even though he was the one 'chosen' for greatness, he never felt different to them. When the day came that he was intended to marry, the heiress of the clan to whom he was due to be wed, took one look at him and found him lacking. He had potential, she acquiesced apologetically, however his appearance had serious faults which she did not think desirable in a mate. So, he was sent from his first home in disgrace, for no fault of his own- he bid his brothers and sisters farewell, and travelled to a new clan in the ice fields, trying not to think of it as an exile or a punishment, though the creeping cold got into his talons and set icicles in his beard. This new lair, Glacier Falls, was filled with exquisitely beautiful dragons. Mal felt quite overshadowed by them at first, but they taught him to value his inner potential, as well- he earned his place amongst them, and eventually he was gifted with the miraculous magical scrolls in order to transform him into the incredible beauty which he was destined to be. He wanted to do more, though, than just be a beautiful fixture; he wanted to help people, wanted to make a difference- also, he wanted to find love, something he had been unable to discover in either home so far. So, he began by moving to the fringes of the Glacier Falls clan, working in isolated hamlets along the coast. As he moved, he acquired a motley band of others, in similar situation, who followed him. These were the misfits; exiles from other clans who scraped a living as best they could in the fringes between clans. He became quite entranced by their nomadic way of life; he felt sure that he could do more to help others, if he could but travel to a place where there was greater need. He conversed at length with the elders, who reluctantly gave their blessing that he leave his long-time home with them, to see the world, and make something of himself. For some time, he became a sailor. Joined up with exiled dragons without homes, the petty criminals or the simply misunderstood, the borderland loners and the frightened clanless who escaped exaltation, and they slowly gravitated to one another, for misery loves company. As soon as many were together, however, there was the risk of strife, as well as the risk of becoming a target to less well-principled folks. For the sake of protecting his 'band', Captain Mal began training fighters, producing a fleet of ships ready for sea warfare whenever necessary. When the weather began to turn colder, every year, the temptation was there- and increased, as hatchlings began to grow hungry and mothers ran out of energy to feed them- so, reluctantly, Mal took to organising raiding parties against rich merchant vessels on the high seas. He never took more than half the cargo, and he never killed a soul- he kept his crew in line strictly to this moral code; he was still the gentleman his family had raised him to be. A gentleman thief, but a gentleman nevertheless. He never took from those who couldn't afford it. He would rather scavenge and smuggle than outright steal, but he did if it was absolutely necessary- always keeping a few steps in front of 'the law', the merchant companies' armed forces, who ruthlessly hunted down and slaughtered any pirates they caught in their territories. Dread Pirate, Captain Mal, was the stuff of tavern tales and sea shanties he whole of Sornieth. He won some, he lost some, but his fame as a brigand of honour spread until some of the merchants he robbed would stop fighting when they saw it was his colours, and sigh in relief that it was he who boarded them, rather than some bloodthirsty crew without his famous mercy. However, the merchant companies of several dozen large and influential clans, got together and decided it was time to rid themselves of this menace to profit margins everywhere. A vast armada was assembled, and it headed out to the small floating town on which Mal's makeshift 'clan' lived, where old ships and parts thereof were bolted together by rafts and ropes and it nestled in a quiet bay away from trouble and away from that most dangerous influence, other people. Some of the fishing boat scouts saw them coming. Mal knew they were truly hunting for him, and ordered all his men to leave; to break apart the city, go their separate ways, however much it pained him- and they had to do this fast. The armada fast approaching, Mal knew what he had to do, to save his people. He filled up a small, fast ship with all the gunpowder that their small fighting force possessed, and boarded it himself, and then sailed it into the heart of the wicked armada sent out to kill every living thing in their makeshift city. For once, he felt no mercy in his heart, for there was none in theirs. He signalled them and tried to negotiate with their leader; but when they refused to take him into custody and let the others go, not even the nestlings and hatch mothers, his heart hardened. He set the ship alight, and stood there in the midst of the flames as the armada closed in around him like a vengeful fist- And then dove into the water at the last second, feeling the boom rip the ocean and the sky at once, blossoming fire and pelting shrapnel. Half-drowned, he floated, clinging to a piece of wreckage not large enough to hold his head above water. He dipped in and out of consciousness, half of him begging the Tidelord for a merciful end, that he freeze to death or slip under while still asleep- but the deities had other ideas, it seemed. For it was then, drifting, far from the world, one peaceful night after the storm, that he washed up on the beach in the Oakheart Clan. And then, he would say- his life finally began to get interesting.  |
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A Pirate-King's Treasure II
Mal, when he awoke from his near-death shipwreck, was blind. He blinked a few times, but could still see nothing. Every sinew in his body felt overstretched, every muscle ached, his blood roared in his ears when he tried to lift a hand, so he gave up. He felt the sun beat down on him, bare and exposed with the sea salt drying on his scales as the heat became almost intolerable- but then a reprieve, as a shrill breeze came up, and he could smell the change in weather- a storm, then. Like that which had driven him here. It was a Tidelord blessing that he still breathed; that his lifeless corpse was not now at the bottom of the ocean, torn apart by sharks or just drifting; dancing the slow gavotte of the drowned. But was that better than the fate in store for him now, baking slowly on this unknown shore- hoping for a quicker death than dehydration and starvation. He slipped in and out of consciousness awhile, and became distantly aware of a voice, humming to itself, growing louder- then it stopped, sharply. "Shipwreck! Shipwreck!!!" It shrieked, and he felt something tickling near his left wingtip. "Knew it! So much for punishment duty, one scouting run of the far shore and what do I find?! Pirates! Shipwrecks! And that means one thing- TREASURE!" He heard the patter of feet joyfully dance across his wing, but he couldn't feel it plainly- finally he realised why he couldn't move; he was entombed in sand and debris. He yearned to call out, to beg for help- but he couldn't move his chest enough to inhale that far. There was still the scrabbling noise though, as of sand being heaved manfully away with great enthusiasm. A gasp. "Lightweaver's great glimmering baubles, Treasure!! Gold!! All mine-!" Something tweaked at one of his long whisker-ends. He couldn't protest, but the tug did smart- "Here, of all places!! Oh, the glitter- it must be big though! Big, big! Might have to bring it back in stages, don't want anyone else finding it… treasure, and it's all mine!" Some weight was starting to shift from his chest. He heard groans and panting as someone made a large piece of flotsam slide sideways, freeing his lungs- they burned as he forced new breaths into them, and prepared himself to call out and request help- At that very moment, a piece of driftwood was pushed off his face, and his eyes snapped open, to reveal a jaw-droopingly enormous fae. The fae looked down at his eyes, still gripping the piece of wood. She was vast, a monster at least twice the size of himself, and her sharp fae teeth were like long katanas as she hissed instinctively and reared up in shock- he blinked, and goggled at her. She blinked. Then they both screamed. Mal didn't actually remember much more of that incident, because Goldentop then proceeded to knock him out violently with the plank of wood, but ultimately help was summoned and a team of dragons excavated him from his living tomb with some degree of difficulty. It was a relief to find out Goldentop was not a monstrously large fae, but an ordinary-sized one; merely the effect of her being extremely and unexpectedly close had confused him. And in her defense, a submerged tentacled (well, whiskered) sea monster with enormous eyes blinking up at her, would have been quite off-putting to the most hardened sailor. Knocking it over the head was the best course of action, all things considered- though that didn't stop Mal needing head bandages for a few days, because it had been a tough piece of wood. He took a good week to get his legs working, and longer still to get his strength back. But all the while, the mischievous fae (somewhat subdued by guilt) served as a semi-constant companion, bringing him choice morsels stolen brazenly from the kitchens and fetching herbs to help with his aching joints. Most in the clan assumed this was lingering guilt, which was somewhat out of character for the kleptomaniacal fae, but not so unusual if she had been anyone else. He was quite enchanted by her, in all honesty; her cheerful mischievous attitude he found very appealing, and her thievery and trick some antics reminded him of himself, when he was younger and carefree, back before he saw himself as unsatisfactory. She was beautiful; she fairly glittered like a handful of gold herself, and her eyes glinted like stars, especially while they spoke. He started engaging with her schemes, but also regaling her with tales of what he had gotten up to in his wilder days. She sat for hours, listening enraptured, eyes wide and glittering with awe at his tales of adventures on the high seas, being a pirate and the high jinks they got up to against the fat cat merchants and their hired goons. The odd couple became increasingly close as his strength returned, and it seemed that the two of them were amongst the last to predict what happened next.
A Pirate King's Treasure, Part III:[/url]
He was such a gentleman, yet so enchanted by her beauty, so he could do little but write his feelings down in extensive letters, which he left out for her at her door. He attached small tokens of affection to them; he guessed that she must like gold and jewels, given her prelidiction for thieving them, and he still had some from a casket which washed up on the beach with him when he arrived in the clan's lands. Every morning, the letter and jewels were missing- but every evening, he would find the letters pushed back under his door, unopened. One day, he found the pile of things he'd given her, all stacked neatly on his kitchen table, along with a note- on it was scrawled a single word, very poorly written as if someone had held a pen with her actual mouth- "Sorry." Thinking she was rejecting him and his advances, he wept- much to his disgust with his own turning lily-livered from being land bound too long- he decided right then and there that he would pack up and leave. He couldn't bear the prospect of seeing her cheery smile every day, knowing he was not good enough for her. Well, of course he wasn't. Never could be. Story of his wretched life. He didn't hear the knock at the door to his cabin over the noise of his careless packing. He felt the tap on his shoulder though, and turned in shock to see Mephala, Goldentop's silent right-hand dragon. She looked quizzical, and his eyes drew themselves to the pile of letters on the table and the jewels, left where they'd fallen. The note. Mephala tugged his whiskers meaningfully to make him look back at her, her expression serious- she could see he had been crying, gave him a look of absolute horror, and tried to sign something with her hands- he couldn't understand her, but frowned in concentration- she shook her head finally, rolled her eyes at him, and gestured meaningfully as if to wield a quill. He quickly scrambled about and found her ink and quill, and some parchment on which to write, and she did so in a flowing round script, albeit hurried- Foolish. Goldentop can't read to know they were gifts. But, she doesn't return things. Ever. She brought these back to you. Mephala paused, quill in the air, looking for something in his expression, which was clearly missing, so she added- pointedly; This is not normal. The last she underlined a second time after catching his eye, as if she was shouting it at him. "But- what does that mean?" He stammered, despair making his voice creak like a hatchling, much to his shame. "Does she- could she ever- do you suppose-" Mephala gave him an extremely knowing smile. "OH." He exhaled noisily, feeling a right fool. Then inquired- "Really? You're sure?" He paused, and added hurriedly- "And you won't- tell anyone about this, will you? I mean, blubbing like a-" Mephala gave him a deadpan stare until he trailed off and realised his mistake in asking a mute to be silent. He flushed in embarrassment. Mephala left judiciously, and he stood for a long minute, staring at the note with 'sorry' written on it, as if it were suddenly a precious and rare thing. A smile begun in a corner of his heart, and spread across his face till he was beaming like a lovestruck sailor in the embrace of a siren. He looked around when he heard someone clear their throat, and saw none other than Goldentop, perched amongst the rafters with a decidedly confident air about her; unabashed in the slightest for eavesdropping. She flitted down to stand proudly amongst the gold and jewels, staring him straight in the eye, which made his blush turn crimson at the direcness of her gaze. Goldentop turned her head on one side, grinned at him broadly and gave him the sauciest wink he'd seen outside of a pirate ship. "Wotcher," She said through the grin. Then pursed her lips, thoughtfully, though a hint of a smile remained in her voice; "…so does this mean I can keep the glitter?" Mal is as content as he'd ever hoped, in the Oakheart Clan. He never before had a clan where he could be truly comfortable as well as happy; for the ice clan made his bones ache, so he could not settle there even though they welcomed him as he was; his first clan rejected him for what he was not. Thanks to the Glacier Falls clan however, he had finally made his way here, the long way around. And here, in the Oakheart clan, he was welcome and wanted. And, at long last, he was loved.
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Bio template by @Mibella, find it here.
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