Rafe
(#30779429)
"And the day that I return, a hero I shall be."
Familiar
Mith Loremaster
Click or tap to view this dragon in Predict Morphology.
Energy: 50/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Plague.
Male Ridgeback
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
18.32 m
Wingspan
12.96 m
Weight
8758.27 kg
Genetics
Stone
Poison
Poison
Blood
Noxtide
Noxtide
Blood
Spines
Spines
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 1 Ridgeback
EXP: 0 / 245
STR
8
AGI
7
DEF
7
QCK
6
INT
5
VIT
7
MND
5
Biography
Rafe the Unwavering
Clan Brewmaster | Winemaker | Procurer of Rare Ingredients
Part Time Bartender and Full Time Chef at the Emerald Locust Tavern
Clan Brewmaster | Winemaker | Procurer of Rare Ingredients
Part Time Bartender and Full Time Chef at the Emerald Locust Tavern
|
The smell of his nestmaid's perfume is precious little he can remember from that night. She'd gathered him from his bed, sleepy and confused, and whispered something that he does not remember. He simply laid his head to her shoulder, and clung tight as she carried him. It was still dark, he thought--it wasn't time to get up yet...so, where were they going? His eyes fluttered shut once more. Cool wind sailed by as she set the brisk pace through the streets, making sure to avoid any main road--as if their lives depended on it. Thinking back, that had most likely been the case.
Soon, the sound of gulls. The rush of water, of merchants bringing in their wares in the darkness of the earliest of morning. Again, his maid's whispers, this time punctuated by lower ones...unfamiliar, frightening. His skin prickled, eyes opening slowly into the dim light to see a man of blood and salt peering at him. Shrinking back made him chuckle, and the young boy wrinkled his nose. "Take care of him." His confused face turned to the young woman's above--she was crying. Bells rang. "We're out of time. Come, now. Up on your own feet. Go with him. Be a good boy, and go with him." Suddenly standing, the boy tilted his head fearfully upward. There was a hand extended to him, now--big, and calloused, and scarred. Hesitantly, he took it. The man was...surprisingly gentle. There was yelling, now, from far away. "Hurry...please, I have to go..." That was the last he ever saw of her. The ship was a wine merchant's, he'd come to realize, and he hated it with every fiber of his being for as long as he can remember. But he didn't hate...him. The captain. His sour gaze was reserved only for his crew-mates, but never for him. They hated it, but he hated them more. Their words were like rotted fruit, sweet and fetid, and he learned early on to sleep with one eye open to avoid the hands that reached out in the dark. He was proficient with a dagger within a year. He was an expert liar within another. On his thirteenth year, he was finally allowed to come ashore while the crew peddled their wares. The port city was beautiful, and the air was ripe with the scent of fruit, of fish, of people. It was almost overwhelming, but the first moment he stood on a crate to direct buyers to their wine was surprisingly easy. And it worked. People smiled, and laughed, and so he put on the smile of a salesman--and soon, he laughed with them. Their pouches of coin flowed endlessly as the wine that day. He was never left on board again. Time passed, and he'd all but forgotten his nestmaid. Of familiar faces peering down at him--one sad, one...sinister. A word he'd heard from a fishmonger. Like a rising storm. Like the feeling of eyes upon him in his cabin, of a creature sickly and wheezing, beckoning him frantically with twitches of his head. The racket from above could only mean one thing, and Rafe knew he did not have much time left. Claws scrabbled at his arm, leaving scratches, until he'd finally gotten to his feet. The thing slithered across the floor like a hunting cat to the door before it burst open to reveal the first mate smiling far too serenely--coated in his captain's blood. It wasn't so hard, cutting him down. He was smaller, faster, and the creature at his feet was oddly strong--lashing its tail to keep the others at bay. He spat on him before he left, pushing frantically past body after body. Brother after "brother." Some protected him, some lashed out at him. The sea of faces was too much, but that little creature bumped his legs in the direction he needed to move. The longboat. He needed to get to the longboat. Waves rocked the merchant ship as if it were a toy, sending barrels and crates, bodies and weapons, flying. Someone cried that there was a leak. He burst into the cold air seconds later, salt spray all but blinding him as he clambered for his only source of salvation. There were already men waiting for him, pushing bags into his arms, and kisses to his temple. They ruffled his hair, told him to be a good boy, and to hold on tight. He swears, to this day, he could still see the tears through the rain. The creature was now clinging to his leg, trembling as the longboat was lowered. Seconds later, their pained cries echoed even louder than the thunder. Shadows fell into the water below, and he frantically tugged the ropes that would loose him. He was...going back up. No. -No.- Dragging his dagger across the first, he held tight. One more...one more... He and the longboat, and that strange little creature, fell into the waves below. The rest of that night was a blur, his eyes opening to meet an eerily similar pair on the beach he lay on. Scrambling to a sitting position, smeared with sand, he brandished the dagger he still clutched close. The man...an...Imperial? He thought, wishing desperately he weren't seeing three of him right now. Laughed. Turned. Walked away, slowly. Falling back onto his palms, he finally caught a glimpse of green... Green...more than he'd -ever- seen in his entire life. The Labyrinth. How had it made it all the way here? And why on Sornieth was someone waiting for him? A little tug at his arm, and a chattering squeak. Oh...so he was here, too. Somehow, he was happy he'd made it. Mussing his salt-flaked fur, Rafe sighed. Well. Wasn't this nice? When he was sure he was seeing only -one- of everything, he finally moved. The figure ahead of him was watching, carefully. Turning, he moved away again. Following on shaky legs, he brushed debris from his soaking clothes. The scent of salt was slowly replaced by rain-kissed leaves. The sound of waves, by birds. Closing his eyes, he listened. It would be a lot to get used to, he thought. But it wasn't anything he hadn't done before. |
TEMPLATE BY XEMRISS #44020;
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