IceSculpture
(#30018453)
Level 1 Skydancer
Familiar
Spirit of Ice
Click or tap to view this dragon in Predict Morphology.
Energy: 50/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Ice.
Male Skydancer
This dragon is hibernating.
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
4.8 m
Wingspan
4.45 m
Weight
388.93 kg
Genetics
Ice
Crystal
Crystal
Ice
Facet
Facet
Sapphire
Smoke
Smoke
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 1 Skydancer
EXP: 0 / 245
STR
4
AGI
5
DEF
4
QCK
9
INT
9
VIT
4
MND
9
Biography
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A certain clan nestled itself high in the Cloudscrape Crags overlooking the Southern Icefields. Isolated away from most other clans, there wasn’t much time for entertainment. Once a year, however, the clan celebrated the flight-wide holiday: The Crystalline Gala. The clan viewed nests hatched during this time as a blessing from Icewarden. A young mother was startled to find a mysterious marking on one of the eggs. It was unlike anything even the more ancient clan-members had ever seen. As is often the case with new and unfamiliar things, many in the clan viewed the egg with fear and suspicion. Many wondered if it meant the egg was claimed by the shade; other feared it would birth a monstrosity that would destroy them before it was added to Icewarden’s collection. They clamored for the egg to be abandoned, somewhere far away. Let it freeze to death and never hatch. The mother, however, would have none of this. She, along with many others, appealed the harsh sentence. “What if the marking is a blessing from Icewarden? To throw out his blessing will surely doom us all.” The other clan members, seeing the wisdom in their words, reluctantly agreed to wait. If it hatched a monstrosity, they vowed to exterminate it. So the clan waited with bated breath as the eggshell cracked open, the mysterious marking splitting away. A skydancer hatchling shook off the fragments of the eggshell, and cried piteously for its mother. The hatchling, however, did not look like an ordinary hatchling. Its feathers glistened like ice. The hatchling was welcomed into the clan with open wings. Something about the hatchling, however, unnerved the mother. Maybe it was the way he rarely blinked; or how at times he held so still, she wasn’t quite sure if he was breathing. Or perhaps, it was the way his movements were accompanied by sounds that could only be described as two glaciers grating past one another. All of it made her uneasy. There was little she could do about it. The other clan members had already accepted the little one, even the more reluctant ones. She would just be told to get some rest, that she was “speaking foolishly.” The others were willing to accept his oddities, because he was, after all, “chosen” by the Icewarden. The mother had began to doubt this, but she kept it to herself. She only watched. Waited. Did what research she could without arousing suspicion. Hoping vainly that she’d be able to prepare. Prepare for something unknown. Years passed, and the hatchling was almost full grown. It would be then that the hatchling could choose his path. To remain, or to find his own clan elsewhere. His mother could hardly wait. She hoped he’d choose a name and never return. It was the eve before the naming ceremony. His eyes blinked open slowly. It felt like his eyelids were coated in a heavy layer of frost. Annoyance flickered through him, and he shook his head, trying to rid it of drowsiness. Tonight was the night. Icewarden had appeared to him in a dream. Not long after he was born. Everything had moved in and out of focus, but the Icewarden’s words rang clear. “In 7 years time on the eve before your birth, I want you to spread my word. Send out my calling.” And that had been it. He woken up feeling a little dazed, the words still echoing in his thoughts. He had looked forward to this night for so long. It had only taken him a year or two to figure out exactly how he’d do it. ‘Why stop at words?’ had been his conclusion. He had been, after all, born with a strange gift. He had never been warm in his life. From his breath and claws, ice formed. He’d discovered, from an early age, that the ice that formed could completely cocoon any being and lock them in place forever. He’d tested it out on birds first. Watching them fall to the ground and shatter hadn’t sat right with him. He didn’t like to watch them break. It made him think about what could happen to him, given enough height and if his wings were bound. So he mainly froze what was safely on the ground. Mice, rabbits-- the young tundra that wouldn’t stop picking on him. He’d buried her in the snow. The clan thought she’d gotten lost in a blizzard. No one ever suspected him, he was very convincing at acting tearful and concerned. But whenever he thought about the incident, he’d hide a smile. It had proven to be a good test, to see if a dragon could be bound in ice. He silently thanked the tundra for her contribution. Now he knew his plan would work. What better way to spread Icewarden’s word, that to turn his clan into Ice Sculptures. Everyone knew of the Icewarden’s “collection.” Soon tales would spread of his own. And he’d spread Icewarden’s word to the far corners of Sorneith. The mother was awoken to her clan-mate’s screams. The sound of cracking ice was deafening. Avalanche? No, there was no rumbling. Just crackling. She peeked out of her den, and froze in disbelief. She recognized her son, his wings reflecting moonlight. All around him her clan-mates were twisted in grotesque positions, and they weren’t moving. She fought back tears as she watched in silent horror as her son pushed the nearest figure over. The shattering sound echoed and bounced against the mountains. All that was left of the dragon were broken shards. No screams broke the silence then. She wanted to confront him, to scream for him to stop. But her heart choked up her throat, and silent horrified tears rolled down her face. The gift from Icewarden had been a curse after all. And it was her fault. She fought for him to stay. She caused this. She watched as her son spread his wings, glinting with a variety of colors. “Goodbye mother,” He called boldly. “I’m off to spread the Icewarden’s truth.” He shot into the sky, and his mother was left alone, alone with the bodies of her clan mates. She openly wept. She hoped her son would never return. She also hoped that the Icewarden would strike him down from the sky. Never to be seen again. | xxxx |
a labor of love brought to you by:
artist | taat60 (lore writer) | trainer
artist | taat60 (lore writer) | trainer
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