halcyon

HALCYON x

x he/him | quartermaster of the black tide | lawful evil | ♫

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x "i will bring about a golden age of prosperity for you and your crew, if you would allow me to join your number." x x RELATION x RELATION Brilliant Length Dragonmade A brilliant ochre length of cloth. 37

Ever since he could remember, he’d been a fighter. Countless scars marred his shimmering scales, and fresh, scarlet blood dripped from his claws after his latest kill; the prey hardly even stood a chance, if he was being honest. The life of a wandering brawler was one he enjoyed, despite how undignified others believed it to be. No, he didn’t care for their opinions of him, not when many of those who held power weren’t strong enough to defend themselves in the case of an emergency. How pathetic- he’s seen invasions of clans being carried out, and the sorry excuses for ‘fighters’ make him laugh every time.

That wasn’t to say that he disliked the thought of being rich. It’d been quite a while since he’d battled for that sweet, sweet cash, after all, and he was quickly approaching one of the arenas that even the most noble dragons would visit just to enjoy the suffering of others. In Castillo’s own mind, that was possibly the most corrupt thing about the higher classes- those who were supposed to make decisions for the unfortunate souls under their rule took pleasure in seeing dragons fight claw and teeth, possibly to the death. He may enjoy it, but he took no responsibility for anybody except himself, which made it alright! A nobody, fighting anybody who so much as doubted his strength, and telling off those too weak to say anything in his presence.

The life of a fighter is one he’d never give up for anything. The cavern used for the makeshift arena was lit with lanterns, fueled by a dangerous concoction of oil and Serthis toxins set alight to give off a vibrant golden glow. A group of Mirrors was lounging about the common area, perking up at the sight of him. Now, Castillo recognized the pack; brawlers who had challenged him in the hopes of thieving away the silks carefully wrapped around his body. After all, nobody ever dictated his choice in style, either, and they were a sufficient distraction in the heat of battle.

“Oi, it’s Castillo!” “Hey, he’s ‘ere!” “Are you gonna be fightin’!? I hear that some high-’n-mighty king somethin’ or other is competing too!” The yells of the nuisances prompted both a glare and a soft, curious ‘hm’ to escape the Ridgeback- so one of those money-grabbing types was really trying to win a title in the underground battles? That was the most surprising thing he’d heard ever since an old Guardian friend of his had been bested by a Fae, of all dragons! Nodding at the Imperial guarding the entrance, he stepped into the arena, greeted by the cheering of the Mirrors and a couple of familiar faces dotted across the crowded viewpoints. Now, the brawler wasn’t one for being worshipped as a fighting legend, seeing as he just enjoyed the thrill of the kill (even if it was required to leave the opponent alive).

A Tundra approached him to begin with, equipped with a rusted cleaver likely retrieved last-minute from behind the ruins the cavern was located within. It posed a threat, but the claws ‘pon his right arm weren’t nicknamed ‘exterminators’ for mere aesthetic purposes. Leaping into the air, the silks he was wearing reflected the dim light from above, temporarily confusing the poor dragon below with all the shadows as dark as the actual dragon. Castillo abruptly began to dive, moving his arm in a semi-circular motion to both disarm the Tundra and rid them of their balance. As they tumbled to the ground, he loomed over them, lifting a claw and taunting them with the prospect of a success, with his weakest spot- a heavily scarred wound on his front- completely exposed. Would they take the risk, though?

...No, they wouldn’t, seeing as he slashed at them once more, as soon as any hesitation was shown. With blood dripping from their shoulder and staining pristine, silver fur crimson, they slumped to the ground once more, eyes closed. Castillo grasped the rusty blade within his claws, then promptly tossed it at the edge of the cave, not caring as it became lodged within the cracks. Two Skydancers lifted the damaged dragon away from the fight, glaring at the intimidating Ridgeback patiently awaiting his next opponent.

The night continued, with each opponent decimated with sheer force. Battles hidden from the eyes of the many required no rules- poisons, dark magics, and even the occasional assistance from the background were allowed with no penalties, yet he remained content with agility and strength as his weapons. As a particularly feisty Snapper toppled over and the healers struggled to move them out of the way, he stood tall, daring anyone else nearby to challenge him. As it turned out, this was one of the times his life changed. For better, or for worse, you may be wondering?

He has no idea, even now.

A regal-looking Imperial dragon double Castillo’s size stepped down from the balcony, approaching him with a strange regard within his eyes. Oh, now this was shaping up to be a battle to remember! The squadron of Mirrors began to cheer on the underdog in the situation, along with a great amount of the other spectators, who began to place bets on who they believed would win. While the royal was large and had the power to back up his size, the wanderer, as tired-out from fighting as he was, remained nimble and lethal at the same time.

Sizing each other up, it was Castillo who attacked first, launching himself at the king’s wing and hoping to damage it sufficiently enough to cause lethargy. After all, it was usually one of the most sensitive spots on a dragon’s body, and the king beared no armor, but silk and jewelry, in the face of a known brawler who commonly used underhanded attacks and brute strength. Though he landed a hit, and another, and a third after that, the Imperial remained still, flapping his wings to keep the blood off of his attire. The two stared at each other for a time, before the larger dragon began to speak. Gently, softly…

“Your strength is impressive...what is the reason for you doing battle in areas like this?” Now, he may not have trusted this guy, but if there was one thing he did, it was at least listen when somebody tried to talk to him- even if he didn’t like them, distracting them with a conversation before a strike was a decent idea in his book- so he opted to circle around while answering the inquiry.

“It’s what I do. I don’t need to answer to anybody, it makes me money, and I like fightin’. What more is there to do?” At this answer, the Imperial nodded, seeing his reasoning as valid despite how many ‘intelligent’ dragons would see it as counter-intuitive. He extended a claw, and Castillo recognized it as how the ruler types would often extend a greeting or offer peace to their opponents. Stepping closer, he continued to speak to the smaller dragon.

“Well...I have a proposition for you. Say you travel to my clan and help to defend my family and my people from harm. You will be allowed to battle whenever any threat appears, as well as make money. I will not ban you from coming back here on occasion, but do not get seriously injured so pointlessly. Is that a deal?”

After about ten second of contemplating, he decided that more battle and more money on top of his current method of income wasn’t a bad idea. He placed his claw in the other’s, awkwardly tried to shake it, and turned, but the ruler spoke soon after.

“...I may have to walk home, or find a healer. You damaged my wings.”

“So, I win the cash?...I’m pretty sure there’s healers here, but we aren’t leaving until I get the cash I was promised.”

“Yes, I suppose so. Quickly, now.”

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TRIVIA.
• He can talk for hours about armor and weaponry, and loves to discuss battle techniques and strategies.
• The surest way to claim his heart is to be his equal in combat. He has great respect for those who match his strength and prowess.
• Castillo is (unsurprisingly) very vain and materialistic. He often has a hard time balancing between practical and fashionable attire.
• His familiar, a silky mole, is named Sol. It is quite possibly the only creature he has never felt inclined to attack.
• He hides some very large scars on his right shoulder and chest from duels as an adolescent. Even at a young age, he would try to challenge dragons clearly bigger and stronger than himself.

Biography by lunarpunch[/center]