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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
5.01 m
Wingspan
5.94 m
Weight
532.52 kg
Genetics
Crimson
Falcon
Falcon
Crimson
Peregrine
Peregrine
Auburn
Underbelly
Underbelly
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 4 Wildclaw
EXP: 118 / 4027
STR
18
AGI
9
DEF
6
QCK
17
INT
5
VIT
7
MND
6
Biography
Original lore by Darksaphira / 251840 -
When (Unnamed) was born his mother screamed how dissapointed she was at the hatchlings in front of her, how they where no true heirs to them. She left the nest shortly after but (Unnamed) was foaming and seething in rage. He hissed and growled and screamed after her until her father finally managed to usher him out of the nest.
When they had been left alone he tried to convince his siblings that they needed to fight, go against the dragon that called herself their mother and against everything he stood for.
He grew up harboring that rage determined to grow stronger and stronger with every day. When he was all grown up and big he wanted to fight against everything realted to the plague flight and the blood magic his mother practised. The mere thought of his mother and anything she was related to induces rage to him. He hates Plague and Blood and is sure no one related to those things can ever be trusted or a good person. He was soon told that he had to leave his home clan as to not feed any rage that was already directed towards Taerea and Lahar as it was so he set out to learn and grow stronger still.
Lore by ixris / 26035 -
Kennan's first memory is of his mother's explicit rejection. She renounced him and his nestmates as her heirs, and Kennan, fighter from the first, hissed and frothed, awkwardly swiping his legs at her departing form until he could be removed to somewhere safer.
He remembered urging his siblings to fight for themselves.
He remembered being alone.
Resentful of this open rejection by someone who was supposed to be his mother, Kennan grew to despise everything she stood for. Her worship of Plaguebringer was first and foremost. Her dabbling in blood magic in an effort to create a 'perfect' being was a close second. It was not soon enough when he was asked to leave his birth clan, and he was not sorry to leave it.
If Kennan could have set ablaze the entire first chapter of his life, he would have. But that's not how time works, unfortunately, and he had to build on what he was given. And he was given drive.
Kennan's whole life is devoted to destroying blood magic where he can find it. Necromancers, zombies, vampires, liches - all these things and more are high on his list to prevent, fight, and destroy. He has no patience for those who would defile the dead or the living in an effort to 'experiment' or 'create.' Life, to him, is sacred above all else.
In order to combat these horrors so effectively, however, Kennan had to seek those who could teach him. For all his fighting spirit, he had no experience of his own. So he traveled to the Hewn City and took up residence among the Endhaven clan. There, among the Light dragons, he learned to fight and protect both himself and others. But where their strength came from the sun and its purifying powers, Kennan's strength lay elsewhere.
He mastered the silent steps of his birthclan and the swift and soundless strikes of the warriors in the brambles. And, as he ventured with the Endhaven dragons, he learned to discern Truth from Illusion. He could see within the guises of the creatures who masqueraded as dragons and beastclans alike. He could divine their true form, and in many cases how to kill it. And more than that, he learned a final trick - to become one with the shadows, slip within them and exit elsewhere. It saved his hide more than once, and the Endhaven dragons were eager to see him master it.
When he left Endhaven, Kennen was stronger, more skilled, more ready. And he began to make a name for himself as a freelance hunter of fiends.
It was shortly into this that he was contracted by a bogsneak named Amador. A fellow shadow dragon who had moved to Dragonhome, he complained of a peculiar haunting among the cliffs where Amador chose to make his home with his clan. Kennan agreed to check it out.
When he arrived, he found less of a clan than an army. And Amador, who greeted him openly, told Kennan it would only be a couple weeks before his services were needed. And Kennan realized that these dragons were not digging a new lair but a tunnel into the depths of a mountain.
Kennan watched, curious and horrified, as the dragons of this army worked day and night to dig in Amador's name. He watched as the tunnels were cleared of dirt and stone and debris. And sometimes, they were cleared of bodies.
When, at last, the tunnels were dug, Kennen learned the true nature of the horror at the heart of the mountain. And that he would have to stand against it ... alone.
A Second King wrote:
Kennen walked ahead, his ears straining to hear even a shift in the earth above their heads. Behind him, Amador and his retinue followed at a moderate pace. The Captain was in no rush, which was good since Kennen was getting paid for completion. If he'd been paid by the hour, he got the feeling the Captain would be rushing him along.
Glowstones had been placed by the diggers as they progressed into the heart of the mountain. They made Kennen's life easier, since he didn't have to light the path for anyone else. But he wouldn't need the light for himself. He'd always been able to walk in darkness.
He drew deep breaths as he led the way through the tunnels, keeping his nose tuned for the scent of rotting blood that usually signaled necromancers. But, for a long time, there was nothing.
Just hewn stone and carved ceilings.
Kennen actually was starting to distrust the tunnels more than he had been when the tunnel opened suddenly into another path. He signaled for the retinue behind him to wait, and he hurried ahead to check it out.
Of all the odd things, he found the dried husks of what seemed to be thick ropy vines scattered across the floor. But he couldn't begin to guess why they were here, so deep buried beneath the mountain. There were a few signs of a fight, but nothing smelled wrong, and nothing looked wrong.
Kennen hurried back to the others and told them what he had found.
"Was there a throne?" the Captain asked.
Kennen thought back to the room, then nodded. "Some kind of chair, at the very least. There seemed to be something on it, though, so I could be mistaken."
The Captain smiled. "This is the place," he said.
Kennen wasn't sure where the Captain had gotten his information, but as one Shadow dragon assaying another, he wasn't about to ask. Instead, he led the way through to the chamber, warning the others over the husks of vines as they passed them. He waited near the door as the Captain stepped into the chamber.
One of the retinue dragons cast light and filled the room with a warm glow. There were a few toppled braziers ringing the room, and in the center of the room was a low dais, which looked to hold what used to be a chair.
Seated on the dais was a withered husk of a dragon, half mummified, with teeth like knives. Beneath its massive feet, bone meal powdered the floor.
For a moment, it seemed nothing more than a curio - a strange tableau ensconced beneath the mountains of Dragonhome.
Then Kennen saw its weight shift.
The Captain was already approaching as Kennen hurried forward, shouting at him to stop. But as he ran, Kennen felt his muscles lock up, and he landed on his face amid the dust. His ears rang with words he knew and didn't know, and he could tell a bargain was being made.
"Stop!" he screamed, struggling to get to his feet. "What are you doing?"
'... and fill the cisterns with their blood...' the strange voice instructed as Amador reached for the crown atop the mummified creature's head.
When his claws placed it upon his own head, the world filled with a clap like thunder, an Kennen's fingers clawed at his ears to stop the noise. They came away bloodied.
But the thunder broke whatever had sealed their movement. And as the Captain turned a frenzied look upon the retinue and the fiend on the dais looked on with satisfaction, Kennen surged to his feet.
The others were confused, disorganized, and not expecting their Captain to turn against them. When he reached for the first and used his clawed ring to kill him, Kennen knew there was bigger trouble than they'd expected when they hired him. For when the lifeblood of that young soldier hit the ground, it hit with a sound like boiling oil - popping and cracking - and Kennen knew blood magic was in the works.
A glance at the creature on the dais showed a little more structure every moment more blood was shed in the room. Kennen knew to stop that thing, he would have to stop the Captain.
He rushed the bogsneak, but as he did, an enormous snapper threw himself between them. "Not the Captain!" the snapper wailed, and Kennen tried to dance around him while two more soldiers were left in bloodied heaps upon the floor.
Kennen juked and danced, but the snapper astoundingly kept up with him. He was considering beating him soundly just to get around him when the decision was made for him.
The snapper looked so surprised when his own blood join the others'. Kennen regretted his loss, but turned towards the Captain, putting himself between him and the remaining entourage.
The crown, he assumed, was the key. If he could remove the crown, perhaps he could stop the murder. He lunged towards the Captain.
And he was surprised by the otherworldly strength with which he struck Kennen hard enough to send him tail-over-teakettle into a wall. Kennen heard something crunch, and breathing was much harder.
The Captain turned his frenzy towards Kennen, and though he was grounded, the wildclaw put up a fight for which his teachers would have been proud.
'... leave him for me ...' the strange voice said, fading in and out as if it were a mirage. '... there are many others upon which to feast ... soak the ground in their blood ... and grow stronger ...'
For a moment, Kennen thought the Captain would land the finishing strike. Then, he turned and ran from the chamber.
Kennen's labored breath left his lungs in relief.
Then the creature's low laughter filled the room. '... to grow stronger...' it said, lumbering slowly towards Kennen's prone form. '... I, too, must feast...'
Kennen watched the mummified creature descend towards him, and he drew the deepest breath he could manage with his busted ribs. Another time, he thought, and faded into the shadows like dusk into night.
Glowstones had been placed by the diggers as they progressed into the heart of the mountain. They made Kennen's life easier, since he didn't have to light the path for anyone else. But he wouldn't need the light for himself. He'd always been able to walk in darkness.
He drew deep breaths as he led the way through the tunnels, keeping his nose tuned for the scent of rotting blood that usually signaled necromancers. But, for a long time, there was nothing.
Just hewn stone and carved ceilings.
Kennen actually was starting to distrust the tunnels more than he had been when the tunnel opened suddenly into another path. He signaled for the retinue behind him to wait, and he hurried ahead to check it out.
Of all the odd things, he found the dried husks of what seemed to be thick ropy vines scattered across the floor. But he couldn't begin to guess why they were here, so deep buried beneath the mountain. There were a few signs of a fight, but nothing smelled wrong, and nothing looked wrong.
Kennen hurried back to the others and told them what he had found.
"Was there a throne?" the Captain asked.
Kennen thought back to the room, then nodded. "Some kind of chair, at the very least. There seemed to be something on it, though, so I could be mistaken."
The Captain smiled. "This is the place," he said.
Kennen wasn't sure where the Captain had gotten his information, but as one Shadow dragon assaying another, he wasn't about to ask. Instead, he led the way through to the chamber, warning the others over the husks of vines as they passed them. He waited near the door as the Captain stepped into the chamber.
One of the retinue dragons cast light and filled the room with a warm glow. There were a few toppled braziers ringing the room, and in the center of the room was a low dais, which looked to hold what used to be a chair.
Seated on the dais was a withered husk of a dragon, half mummified, with teeth like knives. Beneath its massive feet, bone meal powdered the floor.
For a moment, it seemed nothing more than a curio - a strange tableau ensconced beneath the mountains of Dragonhome.
Then Kennen saw its weight shift.
The Captain was already approaching as Kennen hurried forward, shouting at him to stop. But as he ran, Kennen felt his muscles lock up, and he landed on his face amid the dust. His ears rang with words he knew and didn't know, and he could tell a bargain was being made.
"Stop!" he screamed, struggling to get to his feet. "What are you doing?"
'... and fill the cisterns with their blood...' the strange voice instructed as Amador reached for the crown atop the mummified creature's head.
When his claws placed it upon his own head, the world filled with a clap like thunder, an Kennen's fingers clawed at his ears to stop the noise. They came away bloodied.
But the thunder broke whatever had sealed their movement. And as the Captain turned a frenzied look upon the retinue and the fiend on the dais looked on with satisfaction, Kennen surged to his feet.
The others were confused, disorganized, and not expecting their Captain to turn against them. When he reached for the first and used his clawed ring to kill him, Kennen knew there was bigger trouble than they'd expected when they hired him. For when the lifeblood of that young soldier hit the ground, it hit with a sound like boiling oil - popping and cracking - and Kennen knew blood magic was in the works.
A glance at the creature on the dais showed a little more structure every moment more blood was shed in the room. Kennen knew to stop that thing, he would have to stop the Captain.
He rushed the bogsneak, but as he did, an enormous snapper threw himself between them. "Not the Captain!" the snapper wailed, and Kennen tried to dance around him while two more soldiers were left in bloodied heaps upon the floor.
Kennen juked and danced, but the snapper astoundingly kept up with him. He was considering beating him soundly just to get around him when the decision was made for him.
The snapper looked so surprised when his own blood join the others'. Kennen regretted his loss, but turned towards the Captain, putting himself between him and the remaining entourage.
The crown, he assumed, was the key. If he could remove the crown, perhaps he could stop the murder. He lunged towards the Captain.
And he was surprised by the otherworldly strength with which he struck Kennen hard enough to send him tail-over-teakettle into a wall. Kennen heard something crunch, and breathing was much harder.
The Captain turned his frenzy towards Kennen, and though he was grounded, the wildclaw put up a fight for which his teachers would have been proud.
'... leave him for me ...' the strange voice said, fading in and out as if it were a mirage. '... there are many others upon which to feast ... soak the ground in their blood ... and grow stronger ...'
For a moment, Kennen thought the Captain would land the finishing strike. Then, he turned and ran from the chamber.
Kennen's labored breath left his lungs in relief.
Then the creature's low laughter filled the room. '... to grow stronger...' it said, lumbering slowly towards Kennen's prone form. '... I, too, must feast...'
Kennen watched the mummified creature descend towards him, and he drew the deepest breath he could manage with his busted ribs. Another time, he thought, and faded into the shadows like dusk into night.
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