Windrift
(#31024357)
Level 4 Spiral
Familiar
Spirit of Wind
Click or tap to view this dragon in Predict Morphology.
Energy: 0/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Wind.
Male Spiral
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
4.44 m
Wingspan
2.59 m
Weight
85.83 kg
Genetics
Seafoam
Crystal
Crystal
Seafoam
Facet
Facet
Mint
Thylacine
Thylacine
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 4 Spiral
EXP: 345 / 4027
STR
8
AGI
17
DEF
5
QCK
8
INT
6
VIT
10
MND
6
Biography
He's a dragon of fancy hats and poetry!
Poetry works:
*-_*_-*
Poems to the loveliest, his wonderful Windchaser:
Reach for the clouds, stretch for the sky
Leave the ground, leave the earth
with all of the pains and cries
Move to above, with it's ignorant mirth
Go to above, the wind more pure than any hearth.
No, because you know from times again
what is land-bound
you know that the Pillar wasn't quite sound,
you know how the sky may as well have shed tears of tar,
being how the void has made it this far.
So fly, fly away
The evils can be saved for a later day.
But don't let the zephyrs take you astray,
and keep in thought that shadow
still soaks the sky in gray.
*-_*_-*
The wind calls us.
It speaks, sings for some of us if not for those who wouldn't hear it and you call back. You call back with your wings and your claws, back with your leaping bounds and back even as you push ever onward, ever into the breath of the world.
Ever into the life of the world.
Onward. Upward. Cinders blown like petals darken the clear air. May the wind carry away sorrow and leave dancing in its wake the joy in our hearts, for it is yours. Windswept wanderings carry the haphazard traveler, yet one is never truly lost when they follow its call, never truly alone in its playful grasp and whistling whispers.
Warmed by the fires of the forge, the grandest of bird, or beast, or yea, even the greatest of dragons are carried upwards in the updraft's sweeping, merry funnels only to drift gently downwards in the cool beyond, and the cruel cold may from there capture the very sky itself to push about fallen snow, plow its fields of barren winter.
But the journey never ends.
The wind is never still.
The song is never silent.
*-_*_-*
A poem for Vaeren, the cursed:
The heir is done, the heir is through,
Have you heard? Have you heard the news?
No, not through death nor exile nor flee,
No, but for that unfortunate alignment to that of greed.
No, not greed itself, but merely a symbol
Just a color, just a gem,
accursed their life through and whole,
smothered chances for what could have been.
Did you hear, oh did you hear?
The poor soul has gone out this night,
Perhaps they truly grew fed up at the leers,
the pitying eyes. The life, their own unjust blight.
Out with quiver, you say?
Not to hunt, and heavens sake - to slay?
Pray to the skies for whoever would be humored to assist,
if there are any gods left that have her in their interest.
*-_*_-*
Poems to the loveliest, his wonderful Windchaser:
Reach for the clouds, stretch for the sky
Leave the ground, leave the earth
with all of the pains and cries
Move to above, with it's ignorant mirth
Go to above, the wind more pure than any hearth.
No, because you know from times again
what is land-bound
you know that the Pillar wasn't quite sound,
you know how the sky may as well have shed tears of tar,
being how the void has made it this far.
So fly, fly away
The evils can be saved for a later day.
But don't let the zephyrs take you astray,
and keep in thought that shadow
still soaks the sky in gray.
*-_*_-*
The wind calls us.
It speaks, sings for some of us if not for those who wouldn't hear it and you call back. You call back with your wings and your claws, back with your leaping bounds and back even as you push ever onward, ever into the breath of the world.
Ever into the life of the world.
Onward. Upward. Cinders blown like petals darken the clear air. May the wind carry away sorrow and leave dancing in its wake the joy in our hearts, for it is yours. Windswept wanderings carry the haphazard traveler, yet one is never truly lost when they follow its call, never truly alone in its playful grasp and whistling whispers.
Warmed by the fires of the forge, the grandest of bird, or beast, or yea, even the greatest of dragons are carried upwards in the updraft's sweeping, merry funnels only to drift gently downwards in the cool beyond, and the cruel cold may from there capture the very sky itself to push about fallen snow, plow its fields of barren winter.
But the journey never ends.
The wind is never still.
The song is never silent.
*-_*_-*
A poem for Vaeren, the cursed:
The heir is done, the heir is through,
Have you heard? Have you heard the news?
No, not through death nor exile nor flee,
No, but for that unfortunate alignment to that of greed.
No, not greed itself, but merely a symbol
Just a color, just a gem,
accursed their life through and whole,
smothered chances for what could have been.
Did you hear, oh did you hear?
The poor soul has gone out this night,
Perhaps they truly grew fed up at the leers,
the pitying eyes. The life, their own unjust blight.
Out with quiver, you say?
Not to hunt, and heavens sake - to slay?
Pray to the skies for whoever would be humored to assist,
if there are any gods left that have her in their interest.
Click or tap a food type to individually feed this dragon only. The other dragons in your lair will not have their energy replenished.
Feed this dragon Insects.
Feed this dragon Meat.
This dragon doesn't eat Seafood.
This dragon doesn't eat Plants.
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Exalting Windrift to the service of the Lightweaver will remove them from your lair forever. They will leave behind a small sum of riches that they have accumulated. This action is irreversible.
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