Wynten

Nothing short of a mad scientist, Wynten is the dragon that most of the members of Ashthorne would describe as absolutely insane. A mostly decayed husk of a Bogsneak, Wynten (or his soul at the very least) Is a wildly hyperactive creature with a deep obsession with the various effects that reveal themselves when magic and potions mix. Despite this, Wynten was trained to be an incredible healer, and though the secrets of science and magic consume his thoughts, He cares just as much for the family that allows for him to engage in his questionable studies. Should any of his clanmates find themselves in pain, Wynten will drop whatever he’s doing to tend to those who need his extensive knowledge with startling enthusiasm. Unlike most bookish dragons, Wynten is incredibly outgoing and friendly with a penchant for talking the ear off of any dragon who dares ask about the state of his body, his potions, or his healing methods. Of course, many members of Ashthorne would recommend you keep your questions to a minimum lest you find yourself in Wynten’s den downing the most recent “Scale dyeing potion” that he’s concocted. Wynten is a staple of Ashthorne, his ghostly figure found wandering the clan grounds at all hours of the day, that despite his somewhat lack of sanity has earned his place and his respect within the clan. Till the day he dies, which he seems to be unsure of how to achieve if he still can at this point, Wynten will be following the path of the healer, chasing the sciences, but above all, serving the leader who took him in and carrying on the legacy of his mentor, Blackrose.



The buy and sale of young dragons is a common event within the underbelly of Sornieth, a black market where Dragons can sell all forms of illegal items including those few who choose to sell the eggs they kept to themselves instead of selling off before they hatched. This fate, as it did to many unloved hatchlings, unfortunately befell Wynten as after barely a day of his life beginning he found himself being hawked as nothing more than a ware for sale by none other than his own parents, being leered at by all types of dragons that wandered the darkened stalls. Beside him, His brothers and sister cowered, but Wynten stood tall with his trusty black mirror plushy held tightly to him, in his young naivety believing that he was serving a greater purpose to his family, who he also mistakenly believed loved him. It was a long time before any dragon stopped to really look, and the looker happened to be a large female mirror that didn’t look too far from his toy, and as her intimidatingly bright orange eyes landed on him, Wynten puffed out his chest, holding her gaze as the grip on his plush tightened. She glanced at it for a moment before looking back at the Bogsneak, a soft smile crossing her lips.

“Can you fly?” She asked softly, coming forward to smell him curiously.

“Yes mam. Fiwst of my Cwutch.” Wynten responded proudly, though he had to resist the urge to flinch as the other dragon came close.

The mirror pulled away from him, looking toward his parents. Digging into a satchel on her wing, Wynten watched as she handed a small satchel of coins to his parents, gesturing for the small bogsneak to follow her. Jumping off the table, He came to the Mirror’s side, Walking towards whatever new life he had just been bought to serve. He never felt the need to look back.

Upon reaching his new home, having become comfortable, and even excited about the idea, Wynten walked into the camp of Ashthorne with his head high and expectations centered on a clan of marauders or other vicious faction only to be surprised by a welcoming crew of dragons that happily inducted him into the fold. Wynten’s facade of courage, no longer needed, quickly faded as he found it easy to find his place in Ashthorne, quickly finding friends in some of the other hatchlings in the clan, especially another young bogsneak, Whisper.

After a couple days exploring the clan, Wynten found himself gravitating towards the den of Blackrose, a kind Guardian healer whose love of potions and magic fascinated him. Day after day Wynten followed her around asking questions and making himself a miniscule force of havoc in her den, but when Wynten’s questions turned into him making his own potions out of dirt and rocks, Blackrose realized that this young dragon was destined to be her successor. Once he reached the age where he would be apprenticed, Nightkaia granted him the name of Moonbraining apprentice to Wynten’s elation. The guardian would train him well, fostering the Bogsneak’s love of potions and magic until he could hold his own even against the extensive knowledge of Baldwin himself. This would all culminate in Wynten’s greatest achievement, attempting to recreate potions from bygone eras of dragonkind.

One fateful day as blackrose went off to trade some of the clan’s wares, Wynten chose to stay behind to care for some of the sicker dragons, Hoping to test some of his new healing potions on them. He himself had been subjected to one of his own potions, and found himself twitchy and unable to control some of his limbs as a side effect, contributing to his choice to stay home. While working on one of his projects to revive another old recipe, his body started to flail, and Wynten spun wildly, his thich tail slamming into the side of his cauldron, knocking it into a shelf full of alchemical reagents. This shelf and the contents of the potion collided, and in an instant the den was in flames. The cauldron had exploded with Wynten so close that he was bisected in two as he was thrown across the room, the remains of his body on fire with the chemical reactions. Barely alive but losing himself quickly to the pain and blood loss, Wynten reached out, calling for someone, anyone to help him. In his delirium, Wynten looked around the room dazedly, his eyes coming to a stop at a small object smoldering next to him, a black mirror doll, the very same he had kept as a hatchling. Pulling it to his chest with great effort, he started muttering under his breath, his claws glowing with mana as he recited an ancient, forbidden spell. He spoke, not even knowing if he was saying the right things as his consciousness slipped from him, the edges of his vision darkening while the world around him burned. The last thing he saw before he slept was the Mirror plushie, the glow of the fabric brightening as the light from his claws seemed to be sucked into the item he held, and Blackrose slamming the door open in front of him.

---

...................Phyla

Wynten’s Phylactery started out as naught but a battered mirror doll that Wynten had received from his parents the day he was hatched, A counterpart to the Fae and Imperial dolls that his siblings had received. While his siblings never cared much for the toys, Wynten found himself attached to the doll, finding comfort in its worn fabric during even the most tumultuous times of his life. Even in his last moments, as he fought for life against the haunting lament of the Flamecaller, the doll came to his side. Taking it into his shaking claws as his breath started to fade, He began to speak, rasping out a spell that would bring his soul into the tiny toy in the vain hope that it would somehow, someway save him. And as the patchwork dragon fell from his grip, the hatchling’s comfort that he had loved so dearly had just now become the very thing that saved his life. Wynten’s Phylactery, affectionately referred to as Phyla, is not a familiar in the traditional sense as it is essentially the embodiment of Wynten’s soul. Though the majority of him stays in the animated corpse of his body, The most vital of Wynten’s soul energy stays hidden within his phylactery. This gives the doll somewhat of a mind of its own, allowing it to move and play without input from its owner. Friendly and happiest around other dragons, Wynten likes to muse that the part of his soul that transferred into his phylactery was the part of his soul that held his inner hatchling.

^^Please note, this is not final formatting^^
Coding and Section bars by Me

---

Aaaaaah, tysm DenshiRenji -->

Red Sea Slug Cloak

Apparel

A bright cloak of warning.

250

Priority outfit

Celadon Silk Veil: Buy (AH: 15Kt)
Windbound Plumage: Buy (AH: A Lot) I can't believe I bought this for less than 10Kg