Ghoul
(#33396379)
Level 4 Wildclaw
Click or tap to view this dragon in Predict Morphology.
Energy: 0/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Wind.
Female Wildclaw
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
7.38 m
Wingspan
9.08 m
Weight
395.36 kg
Genetics
Eldritch
Cherub
Cherub
Ivory
Butterfly
Butterfly
Carrot
Glimmer
Glimmer
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 4 Wildclaw
EXP: 1704 / 4027
STR
10
AGI
10
DEF
11
QCK
11
INT
11
VIT
11
MND
11
Biography
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GHOUL NEXT IN LINE ⏀ HUNTER 
"Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit, sed do eiusmod tempor incididunt ut labore." |
I've never been a loud dragon, of talkative. I always keep to myself, out of others way and away from large crowds. As a hatchling, I lived by myself for the most part, and so I didn't learn to speak at all. I've never been described as kind, either, I suppose I have more of a 'depending' personality. I might be nice, it depends on who I'm in the company of. I may lash out, again depending on what's happening. One thing that I know for certain is that I am very alert, poised. I can't remember a time when I wasn't ready to attack at a moments notice, ready to fight for my life on a whim. Then again, that comes from having to be self reliant. I would say that I'm determined, competitive on occasion. I hate to lose, and will attempt to win at all costs. There were many times when I raced my familiar friends, flying through clusters of bamboo like a rocket, weaving past the thick grass that clumped around my talons. I remember one race vividly, my third win I think it was. I was up against a Wolf; the fastest Wind flight familiar. It had been deemed unbeatable and was known for its vicious tactics. Our course was around my clans territory, sweeping the edges of it to avoid any patrols. The wild familiars were always careful, skittish at times. The route was nothing new to me, it was fact that we were skirting the edges of what I was used to that put me off a little, but I wasn't going to alert the Wolf to this. As the call rang out around me, signalling the start of the race, I had an instant lead. My longer legs and large muscles gave me an advantage, but this wouldn't last against the Wolf. We split ways around a particularly large clump of bamboo, and that wa s the last I saw of him for a while. I was left with my thoughts, talons pounding the unyielding earth beneath me, throwing clouds of dust in my wake. There were checkpoints along the way that we had to pass, each one marked with a signal of some sort that would trigger as we passed by. This was to ensure that there was no cheating, but I doubted the Wolf would abide by these rules. It was as I passed the last checkpoint, the crowd of familiars at the finish line just wing lengths away, that I saw my competition once more. I was tired by this point from the run, he was not. His small, swift legs matched my pace, and soon, he was gaining a lead. I then tried something I had never attempted; using my wings. I pushed them out from their place at my sides, flapping them up and down like the birds did, slow but rhythmic. I started gaining speed. My exhausted talon raced onwards, adrenaline spurring me on through the final steps. The Wolf snapped at me as I passed, his jaws whispers away from my flesh. Then, I barrelled through the crowd; winning the race. Momentarily, I only heard silence, and a cheer rising to engulf me. The Wolf snarled at my back, spitting and growling in his language, a language that I only half understood. I paid him no attention and walked away, ready to collapse from the near day long run.
Backstory
Really, I didn't spend enough time in my birthclan to remember much about it. What I do know is that it was small, very small, and settled somewhere at the edges of the Zephr Steppes. I stuck to the meagre shrubbery for the most part, straying away from my parents and clanmates. I never really even knew my siblings, or felt any attachment to them. From a young age, I preferred my own company to that of another dragon, preferred the stars to a warm cave ceiling. Even now, I find it difficult to sleep indoors, to communicate. I blame this on myself, I was the one to make the decision to keep out of normal life, to live by my own ruling.I left my parent, siblings, my clanmates at only a few days old. I didn't fit in, nothing felt right. I wanted to walk through the sparse and coarse grass, not along hard worn dirt paths and through rough rock caves. I was brought up by the familiars of the Steppes, they taught me what I know now. It was the familiars that became my family, but their family structures were very different from those used by dragons. The familiars saw themselves in groups, unrelated, but helping each other for survival. I ran with the Hainu's of the WindSinger, learned to hunt with the baying wolves. Each branch if their network ran slightly different, and each branch was welcoming. I see myself as a dragon of the Beastclans, not a dragon of the Deities. There was one downside to this life though, as great as it was. I never really learned to speak, at least, not in the dialect that is most commonly used. Instead, I learned the language of the wild, the more instinctual sounds; roars and growls, body language and eye contact. This was my speech, and even now it still is for the most part. Anyway, I never bothered with social interaction as a hatchling, not when there was such a wide array of creatures just waiting, creatures that spoke in a language I understood, a language I could adapt and mirror for my own purposes. Living alone was much simpler, and loneliness was not something that I felt a lot. I did think about my family, my clan, but as I thought, i moved further away, further into the wild. I was still young, hesitant to move out of the territory that I knew. I stayed in the area claimed by by birthclan, although by now my existence was little more than a rumour. Since I was spotted every once in a while, roaming a little to close to the clan, they started calling me Ghoul. A lot of my old clanmates were superstitious, believing strongly in the supernatural. They believed that Ghouls were creatures of speed, appearing for a few seconds at a time, like me. I didn't understand their words, I still have trouble, but the repetition of the word Ghoul drummed it into my brain, and I just started calling myself by it.
The sky was painted with white spotted clouds on the day that I finally left my birthclans territory. Each cloud seemed unique, constantly rearranging and shifting their patterns to suit whatever mood they might be in. They moved where they pleased, without being trapped anywhere in particular. I wanted to move, wanted to see something new. I had explored every inch of my clans territory, and now I hungered for more. Prey was growing scarce as the colder months made themselves known. I stared at my hooked claws, sharpened from months of chasing and hunting. I turned away from my clan, looking at the small cluster of dragons for the last time, and took off. I ran like I never had before, roaring growls piercing the air around me. I said goodbye to my familiar friends, their answering calls lost to the rising wind. My wings spread of their own accord - I'd never learned to fly, so to me they had no use - and began flicking about in the breeze, as if they took had a life of their own. Soon enough, I had reached the end of the WindSingers territory. The vast plains churned with hurricanes, gale force gusts sweeping the non existent plant life, humming through the bamboo shoots. I knew that I would miss my first hunting grounds, but I yearned to travel. My tail swished behind me, and once more I turned away. I travelled slower after that, there was next to nothing around me and the air was tinged with thick smoke. This was the border between Wind and Fire, a place of false calm. I took each footstep with care, placing my talons down first to scrape the ground before putting my weight on each leg. The familiars told stories of this place, of how dragons could go missing after leaving the WindSingers domain, lost to the smoke, never heard from again. All of my senses were alert, primed and ready for attack. A small shape flashed in front of me and with a growl, I plucked it from the ground and swallowed. It tasted smoky, burnt almost. I could see little eyes darting through the gloom all around me, pressing closer then disappearing. Gloom. The world had grown darker in the last few moments, as if a heavy cloud had been summoned out of nowhere. I looked up, expecting rain. I was not expecting the roiling mass of ash and Smoke descending upon me. It clogged the air above me, sucking out all oxygen and life. Panic flared lie, a match within me. And I ran. I didn't care about where I stepped now, my instincts took over. Dust and ash flew behind me as I kicked them up, growling at any creatures in my path. A habit if mine was to keep my mouth opened slightly as I hunted, and as I ran, but here, I was forced to clam it shut. The dust was already choking me as it fell, falling into my nostrils and eyes. I had to escape, that was what I did best.
Benny
I ran for a while, stopping abruptly when a shape appeared, silhouetted through the thick smoke. It was large, with pointed edges and flat feet. A creature of some sort. My senses quivered, nerves shot from my recent panic. I couldn't sense any danger, but the shape did appear to be speaking. I didn't understand a word that it said, and as it came closer, I recognise it to be draconian. The creature was a Bogsneak, obviously male from its fin positions. Then, I didn't know what a Bogsneak was, only that I recognised it as a dragon. He continued speaking, not realising that I could not understand a single word of what he was saying. Instead, I took in all that I could about him. He was rather rotund, dark apparel straining to cover his width. My eyes narrowed. In my experience, creatures with this characteristic were leaders, higher up in hierarchy than I would like. He seemed to notice how tense I was as he stopped in his tracks and tried something different. His tone changed to a soothing one and despite being unable to understand, I was coaxed into trusting him by this change. He didn't seem like a danger, if anything I could run a lot faster than his short stumpy legs could carry him. When he turned around, I followed at a distance. I tried growling and snapping in his direction, using the language that I knew to communicate. Each time I did this however, his eyes shone with fear and caution, like i was readying to attack. He did growl back a few times, but each thing he uttered was jumbled and messed up, so I stopped after a while. As we walked in silence, me following off to his side, he began speaking again in that guttural grunt I had yet to learn. One thing I did pick up was a name, Benny, and then another, Callan. I preferred the first one better, and so began to repeat how he had said it. The word felt rough, foreign on my tongue, but I tried anyway and earned a smile for my work. Soon, we arrived at a clan. It seemed to float from the smoke, rising up out of the foggy air like a shining temple. I was amazed at its size, so much larger than my birthclan had been. The next few days were a haze of misunderstanding for me. None of the dragons in the clan could communicate with me, that is, until they brought forward a dragon that called themselves a Familiar Tamer. This dragon was able to interpret and respond to me and soon the other dragons were nodding along to our conversation. The Tamer translated what I said to the others in the room. At first, the Tamer slipped up, leading to me attacking them with a vicious claw swipe down their face. Instead of being respectful, they had insulted me, albeit without meaning to. The other dragons had gasped and wrenched me from the Tamer. Had they not understood? I didn't see a problem with my reaction, so why was I suddenly in the wrong? The weeks after that passed easily, with me living with the Bogsneak male, slowly growing closer to him as we spent time together. It turned out that he was a Clan Warrior, defending the territory from attack. He seemed attracted to me as well. After my first month in this new clan, I had taken it upon myself to have Benny as my mate, to do this, I had to keep him protected from other dragons, away from their wanting talons. This didn't prove very hard; none of them seemed to interested in the lovable lump. But that suited me just fine. Each night, I would curl up beside my mate, loyally protecting him even though he was oblivious.
Hunter
In retrospect, the Tamer really should have taught me some basic draconian. It would have aided my position in the clan greatly. As it was, I didn't know about their hierarchy and had no idea that roles were decided upon by the leader and not by the individuals. Due to this ignorance, I hunted daily. I rebelled in the joyful, familiar sense of running. My talons flew across the scorched earth like the wind itself, allowing me to easily ensnare prey and outpace the other hunters in my near vicinity. Each day, I brought home my spoils and shared the, out amongst the clan. No one protested, and I saw no problem. I took extra back for myself and Benny, mainly because I had hunted it myself but also because I had seen familiars taking more food back to their mates as a sign of love. Benny always seemed jovial when I brought the prey back and we would sit together to eat on most nights. I loved my job in the clan, loved the excitement of racing after fast running deer. It felt like the old times, when I lived by my own rules, by myself with no cares. I didn't want to go back to that though, for a start, I knew Benny would never accompany me and I didn't wish to leave him, not for anything. It could be said that I had grown overly protective of the lovable brute, but I guess that was a SideEffect of having a mate. As the days wore on, I noticed subtle change sin the hunting patterns of the rest of the clan. They had started copying me. When I left early in the morning to start my day, it would be desolate, nothing but a few half asleep creatures emerging from their holes to give me a reason to run. Yet as the hours wore on, more hunters appeared. Each fell into a rough formation behind me, splitting off as I darted for prey, rejoining with their own kills. I was the fastest - I made sure of it - but the determination and speed of my competition amazed me. There was always one thing that annoyed me though. I was used to being able to communicate during a hunt, and it was very frustrating to have the dragons around me throw cautious looks at every growl I sent their way. I did settle into a rough routine after a while, and enjoyed the thrill of hunting with others. Months passed in this way, with me gaining more and more control over the party that hunted with me. The routine became easy and constant, and the repetition didn't bother me. Soon, my growls became instructions, and it became apparent to the other hunters that I was giving them messages, rather than expressing my annoyance towards them. They learned some of my language throughout our time together, and even began to adapt and use what they learned. Overall, I loved my new clan. Hunting was my second favourite thing about this new life, the first being my mate. I don't have any plans for leaving in the foreseeable future, I guess this place has become a permanent home.
By Kiradog234
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This dragon doesn't eat Plants.
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Exalting Ghoul to the service of the Flamecaller 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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