Arger
(#23869574)
Level 10 Guardian
Familiar
Sakura Owl
Click or tap to view this dragon in Predict Morphology.
Energy: 0/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Arcane.
Female Guardian
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
10.31 m
Wingspan
19.42 m
Weight
10930.63 kg
Genetics
Tomato
Crystal
Crystal
Fire
Shimmer
Shimmer
Brown
Spines
Spines
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 10 Guardian
EXP: 719 / 27676
STR
33
AGI
6
DEF
22
QCK
5
INT
5
VIT
36
MND
7
Biography
Arger (Anger)
Firm // Motherly // Leader
Firm // Motherly // Leader
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"Oh, dear. Are you alright?" The matriarch of Clan Aniyche, Arger is kind-hearted, even-tempered, and loyal. Though she can be a bit of a nag at times, like all good mothers, the Guardian wants only the best for both her clan and her Charge, the Starwood Strand. ~~ Arger was born to an Arcane father and a Wind mother, both Guardians. The pair had crossed paths while both were looking for their respective Charges, fallen briefly into love, then fell in short order out of it. Her mother, true to her flight's general nature, wandered away to continue her Search as soon as she had laid and incubated a single egg, leaving the dragon who had briefly been her mate to raise the hatchling that emerged a few days later all on his own. From the cranny in the Reaches that he and his partner had shared together, he flew with his new daughter to the border, where the Starwood Strand met the rippling pestilence of the Scarred Wasteland. There, they found a copse of birch trees, creating a half-moon that bulged out towards the boundary of the Starfall Isles' only land neighbour; this place would be home for most of the red she-dragon's life. ("I don't know if my mother ever found her Charge," the Guardian says. After the briefest of pauses, she continues, "I hope she did.") Arger's father, Wahren, was, from birth, a quiet dragon, small for his species and unsure of his every step. As he matured, this unsureness gave way to taciturnity, always uttering a single stilted word when two would be necessary to convey proper tone. He was also, as Arger quickly found out growing up, distant, treating the act of raising her as a grim duty that had fallen to him out of necessity. In fact, he treated everything he had to do with a faint disdain, not as if it was beneath him, but rather that it was too lofty a task to be assigned to a dragon like him. From hunting to sleeping to teaching his daughter how to read and write Common Draconic, to even patrolling the border that was his Charge, Wahren was constantly aloof and inapproachable in everything he did. Everything, that is, except exploring the Strand. ("He didn't smile whenever he took me out," Arger remembers. "He never smiled, but you could tell that he was..." She searched for the proper word. "Goodness, I don't know. Not happy. Satisfied.") Every three days, sometimes four, the pair of father and daughter would push past the trees that created a sort of wall between them and the rest of the forest and enter the Starwood Strand proper. With trees that towered over even their heads (which was impressive as, though Wahren was a runt by Guardian standards, he was still a fully-grown dragon of that species) and an air that audibly thrummed with magic, the forest was full of wonder and mystery to them both. Her father was not interested, however, in uncovering its secrets, like most Arcane dragons; no, he was too much in the here and the now for that. Instead, he devoted these sessions to studying the interactions between everything in the environment around them: how hummingbirds, in their quest for nectar, flitted from flower to flower and pollinating them; how prey interacted with predator, who in turn was prey for another; how everywhere, rivers and branches and burrows deep underground, could and did serve as what other creatures, great and small, considered home. ("How everything, living and non-living, acted in accord with each other and interacted with one another...that was what my father loved, and that is his legacy to me.") ~~ "Arger," Wahren called. "Come." "Okay." She tore her attention away from the bird feeding her chicks and flew over to him. "What is it, father?" "Look." She looked. It was a group of tiny mounds and holes in the soil, sounds of squeaking and scurrying reaching her ears and eliciting a smile. "It's a satin mouse den!" "Good. This is how to kill them." He raised a foot; before Arger could try to stop him, he slammed it down with enough force that she could see the ground shake. The bulk of the shockwaves hit the mouse den, causing the small projections of earth to collapse inwards. As Arger, eyes widened, flew to hopefully save any survivors, a large yellow tail blocked her path. The obstruction, however, did not prevent her from seeing her father, eyes riveted on the ground, skewer on one claw each mouse as it wriggled its way free of the soil one after another, staining it with luminous pink blood. "Father, stop!" Arger's scream didn't seem to trouble Wahren at all, the Guardian getting up to six bodies hanging limply before finally stopping; at the same moment, he lowered his tail, his daughter immediately flying over in front of him and slapping him in the face with her wings. "Do you know now?" he asked her, unconcerned with Arger beating against him. "Do I know--father, you just killed six satin mice! You just skewered them on your claw like they were nothing! I thought you said that we should protect all life! But now--" "Arger." "--now, you just destroyed their home, and then you--" "Arger." "Listen to me, father!" Her voice cracked; she hadn't noticed she'd been crying, tears staining the ground alongside the blood. "You're a murderer," she sniffled. He seemed unperturbed by the harsh word. "We were running out of food. Now we have some." "But...but...it's not fair!" Wahren sighed. "Would you have protested if you weren't here?" Silence. Yes, she wanted to say, but both he and her knew that was a lie--she loved eating satin mice, especially raw. "...No." "Would you have protested if they were any insect?" She hated insects. Wahren's voice was not unkind, but, as Arger looked up at him, his gaze was piercing and expectant. "...N-no, father..." "See?" He sat down on the forest floor, watching the remaining mice scurry back and forth and back again across it. "Arger, you must understand that we must do what we have to to survive, the same as the mice, the same as everything. Do mice weep for the plants they destroy with their teeth, the seeds they prevent from growing into trees?" ("That was the most number of words I had ever heard him say at once.") "...no." Despite her admittance, her voice was still harsh and cold. Wahren sighed again. "I am not saying that one should kill blindly; the opposite. One should always be aware of the mark they are leaving on the world, for dragons, no matter what, always do. But letting things go on wildly is almost as bad as cutting things short. Remember, the Viridian Labyrinth is as dangerous as the Scarred Wasteland--one simply looks more pleasant." He looked down at her. "I do not expect you to understand right away; you're still young. But you must remember this." ("After that day, I didn't talk to him, or eat anything, for a week." The Guardian laughed. "And I didn't understand what he had said until much, much later--sometimes, I'm not sure if that's what he meant. I keep my interpretation close to me, though, and I appreciate the place of death, and the role of everything, in life much more." "You still hate bugs," Sadama pointed out. Arger chuckled. "I said I appreciated their role. That doesn't mean I appreciate them.") ~~ The red she-dragon grew in both knowledge and size, until, as they walked through the Strand, Wahren abruptly stopped. "What is it, father?" "Come." He gestured for her to come closer, and she complied, trying to stand as still as she could as her father inspected her from all sides. "What is it?" she said, fidgeting despite herself. "You've grown." There was no nostalgia in that voice, no hint of approval or sadness; as usual, it was purely business. "I know." "Then you know what you have to do." ~~ Arger left that night, nothing but a pack full of mice to bring with her. It had been an unsentimental goodbye, as she had expected, with no tears or fanfare--they simply weren't that type of dragon. ("But you aren't like your father at all!" Tristesse's crest fluttered in adamance. The red she-dragon, for her part, simply smiled. "I'm flattered you think that's so.") She flew for miles, following the coast, until she reached the opposite side of the Starwood Strand. She knew, from the moment she begun packing, where her destination was, what was worthy of her time and protection. And now, standing in front of trees that still towered over her head, surrounded by blooming flowers that glimmered in the night like so many stars, she could feel her core of magic reacting to the place, binding her to it forever. She would stand there every night for months until tragedy struck. ~~ ("I had flown to the other side of the Strand to check on the saplings I had transplanted--there had been a wildfire a week ago or so in the area, you see, " She purses her lips. "Or at least I thought it was a wildfire. Now...now I know who was to blame for that, too." She takes a deep breath before continuing the story, her eyes glowing.) There was smoke rising up in the distance, and as she came closer she saw that it was fire. She had to do something. She had to do something. Against her better judgement, against any sort of judgement, Arger ran into the forest--and almost immediately tripped on a burning log, falling down on the ground and taking in one sharp intake of smoke. She couldn't do anything, she realised as she struggled to her feet. Against such a force of nature--how had it started during the rainy season?--she was powerless. That made her very, very angry. The last thing she saw before blacking out was a flash of green. The forest will live after-- ~~ "--think she's waking--" "Let me--" Something furry prodded at her face. "Oi, are you awake?" "Zavist!" The voice was in reality merely high-pitched, but to her suddenly sensitive ears it sounded as shrill as a siren, causing her to groan. "What in the--" "Don't talk," said the second voice--Zavist? "You're gonna--" He was interrupted by a bout of coughing. "Okay, maybe I'm struck with t' bug, too." "What?" "Is that all you can say?" The first voice was back, much to Arger's chagrin. "I thought you said she just inhaled a ton of smoke, not that she hit her head or something!" "First off, Tris, you don't 'just' inhale a ton of smoke; that stuff's dangerous. Secondly, she didn't. She's just a little disoriented, 'm sure." She was tired, and hungry, and felt empty, images of the fire, of leaves turning to ash and trunks falling, the screams of unlucky fauna as they died a painful death, playing over and over and over in her mind. What would father say to me? What would any of her kind say to her, for that matter? She had failed to protect her Charge. She was worse than half a dragon: she was nothing. "She's stopped moving," Tris said in the most unconcerned, monotone voice she had ever heard. "Hey, lady. You doin' alright?" Another prod. It wasn't a hard shove; quite the opposite, in fact. Nevertheless, she snapped. ("I still am very sorry for my conduct then." From the way Arger held herself to the look she gave the pair concerned, it was clear she was telling the truth. "It's okay, Arger," Tristesse replied. "Emotions flare up very easily when you lose something you love." Sadama whistled. "Saying something that isn't fluff for once, Fae. Good job.") "Stop. It!" The red she-dragon finally awoke, her eyes, snapping open, reflecting invisible fires. Standing up, she saw the state of that swath of growth: all gone, nothing but piles upon piles of ashes. It'll take decades for this to grow back, even with magic. That only made her even angrier. "Who are you?" she demanded. "Did you start this?" Surprisingly, the two dragons dwarfed by her massivity, a green Tundra and a blue Fae, didn't seem perturbed by this chain of events at all, pink meeting pink as she roared in anger. As soon as she was done, the latter looked to the former, crest twitching; after a few moments, the he-dragon nodded in agreement, facing the Guardian once more. "We didn't start any fires, lady. We swear. We saw some centaurs escaping the forest 'bout thataway, though," the Tundra began. "Now, to other matters..." He grinned. "You're like us, eh?" |
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Age: Adult Gender: Female Sexuality: Bisexual Mate: None. Relatives: A father somewhere. Friends: Tristesse, Zavist, Zorion |
Likes: A balanced ecosystem, nature tours, hatchlings Dislikes: Dragon-made fire, Beastclans, fighting Hobbies: Ecological studies, defending her Charge/park rangering |
STRENGTH ██████████ MAGIC ██████████ AGLITY ██████████ |
INTELLIGENCE ██████████ CHARISMA ██████████ VITALITY ██████████ |
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