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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
6.69 m
Wingspan
8.36 m
Weight
411.46 kg
Genetics
Rose
Iridescent
Iridescent
Rose
Shimmer
Shimmer
Pink
Thylacine
Thylacine
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 1 Wildclaw
EXP: 0 / 245
STR
8
AGI
9
DEF
6
QCK
5
INT
5
VIT
6
MND
6
Biography
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Anxious | Naive | Zealous
How does one decide to pursue a life of faith? What is it that can push even the most stalwart of nonbelievers to devote themselves wholly to the service of the Gods? Most would agree that what they needed was just a sign from above, and for young Alisdair that’s exactly what went down. A sign from high, high up above. -- As the small, amicable clan stared in horror at the hoard of bandits closing in on their homes, Alistair knew he was looking Death straight in the eye. His mind shouted at him to run, to hide and to let the adults take care of it, but a dead man seldom listens to his own mind, and with the courage of a martyr, he took a step forward. The band of thieves stopped themselves right before the Wildclaw, their mouths all curving into thin, crooked smiles. Some of them even started laughing. Was this clan so pitiful that only a frail, little youngling would dare defy them? The Wildclaw’s shrill cry did nothing to calm the now roaring laughter that was spreading throughout the group, and it didn’t look like it’d stop any time soon. They weren’t laughing when the meteor hit. Once the dust had settled down, it dawned on the bandits that could still hold themselves upright that there were plenty other clans in need of a good robbing, and legged it as fast as their broken limbs and prides would let them. The shocked clan stared on with mouths agape, and the tiny Wildclaw looked up at the sky, a gleam in his eyes. -- Nobody protested when the young Alisdair, now a fully grown dragon and lover of the stars, decided to leave the clan to become a priest. In the years that followed the mysterious meteor fall, his devotion for the Arcanist did nothing but grow. He was overjoyed when all the clan came to say goodbye as he was leaving, although why some of them were covering their heads and looking fearfully at the sky was beyond him. -- There is something that can be said about Alisdair. He is, without a doubt, incredibly devout. His piousness, like a very religious type of gas, will always fill the space he’s in. There’s another thing that can be said about Alisdair. He’s also incredibly naïve. And if there’s one thing a priest doesn’t like is a priest who’s better than them. Alisdair’s stay with the Brotherhood of Dreamers was thus a rather short one. The prestigious group was lauded as the Arcanist’s chosen school of knowledge, and only its most religious of acolytes were regarded as proper professional priests. Despite the Wildclaw’s loving heart and bubbly personality, he managed to get on all the aspiring priests’ nerves with his beautifully crafted sermons and pure devotion. The Dreamers knew they stood no chance against him if they wanted to be on top, and so they decided his time in the Brotherhood was up. Taking advantage of the Wildclaw’s gullible mind, the priests told him they had heard the Arcanist speak, and that he was waiting for him, especially for him, deep in the Starwood Strand. Alisdair, his heart racing, ran headfirst into the forest, the hooting of the owls quickly drowning the laughter of the cunning acolytes. It wasn’t long until the young Wildclaw began to notice something was wrong. He didn’t know where he was going, but he could feel in his heart that the encounter was not going to happen. He turned, but the forest gave no clue as to where his path had been. Anxiety began to mount. He was lost. The twinkling trees blended with the stars as tears began to well up in Alisdair’s eyes, and for the first time since the bandit attack he felt scared. He dropped to the ground, tears already falling down, and prayed. A soft rustling of leaves made him sit bolt upright, and as he peered into the trees a figure emerged. Illuminated by the soft starlight, the Tundra appeared almost to glow. Alisdair looked into the dragon’s kind eyes. They mesmerized him. ‘Hello,’ the Tundra greeted him with a soothing voice, ‘I did not expect to find anyone in the forest at this hour. Are you lost, by any chance?’ Alisdair nodded, entranced. ‘Well, you can stop worrying now, my friend,’ the stranger replied, a sincere smile on his face, ‘My name is Darjeeling, you’re more than welcome to stay with me and my clan, the Lodge is just a few minutes from here.’ If it had been lighter, Darjeeling would have noticed the Wildclaw’s tear stricken face. Tears were still falling, but there were no longer tears of fear. They were tears of joy. As he followed the Tundra through the maze of trees, safe from the dangers of the world, Alisdair whispered to himself the words he had always believed in. Thanks, Arcanist. |
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