Ardalrian
(#35345094)
Level 1 Wildclaw
Familiar
Rabid Grinfin
Click or tap to view this dragon in Predict Morphology.
Energy: 50/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Lightning.
Male Wildclaw
This dragon is hibernating.
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
4.44 m
Wingspan
6.33 m
Weight
412.91 kg
Genetics
Black
Metallic
Metallic
Smoke
Alloy
Alloy
Smoke
Opal
Opal
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 1 Wildclaw
EXP: 0 / 245
STR
8
AGI
9
DEF
6
QCK
5
INT
5
VIT
6
MND
6
Biography
He knew the Shade well. It had burrowed its vile little wisps into his soul, warped his mind. It had shown him the deepest hellscapes found in the brightest cosmos. And he beat it. An eternity of suffering and hoarse screams, with not a single soul in sight who could help him conquer his plight. And he came out of that damnation, weary and scarred, but alive. Bless the gods, and the Stormcatcher himself, he had crawled from the abyss and regained his mind.
Rather. What remained of it. He found Sornieth to be more nonsensical. The grass under his feet didn't feel real anymore. The sun burned his eyes, black spots in his vision with every rapid blink. Had the world grown more harsh, or was this just another effect the Shade had cursed him with? Its retaliation knew no end. It would never retake his soul; he would rather throw himself to the Shifting Expanse's canyon before letting his mind be poisoned further.
It was a time before he realized the gravity the fight had on his body. He spotted the florescent glimmer of none other than himself as he passed a river, turning back to gawk at himself. His spotless hide marked by shifting rainbows of color. The electric blue of his eyes looked tame in comparison to the neon patterns. The only reasonable explanation that came to mind was he had beaten the Shade; the blackest void of thought. Could its opposite be blinding color, the fabrics of the universe now coursing through his veins? He felt no wiser.
With this in mind, it was perfectly acceptable that others looked at him in bewilderment. He must of been a sight, he mused- stumbling, watering eyes and a wild array of colors on his skin. Concerned dragons tried to speak to him, their words muted to his ears. He'd known the deafening screeches of darkness for too long. Eventually they would stop trying, and he continued on.
His tired prayer was answered on the winter solstice. Huddled under a tree, he watched in quiet wonder as nocturnes littered the skies, blotting out the clouds with their leathery wings. For a moment, he forgot himself, and it was the first time he had known peace since his freedom.
"You look tired." He jumped with the airy voice to his left, glancing to his reflective company. A green Spiral, perhaps, her face hidden behind some sort of costume head. Her voice seemed clearer than others who spoke to him.
"I have been for a while," he rasped, grating to even his half-deaf ears. "Peace comes at a cost."
"Well versed with the void, are you?" she tittered, lidded eyes gazing at his look of befuddlement.
"Yes, I suppose one could call it that. It left scars in its wake."
"Scars, yes," she said, "but what glory you have found in its sloppy work. How crass of it to think you were a fool."
"A tired fool. The butt of the joke."
"Hardly," she retorted. "The punchline. How exciting to meet another aware of the world. Though I cannot say you're worthy of my tricks."
"I've had enough of witchcraft," he replied dryly, returning his eyes to the moonlit night. He thought the conversation was over with their pregnant pause, only to squawk in surprise when his eyes were covered. He struggled briefly, pulling the fabric from his face. It was the same range of color as his curse, shimmering with the slightest twitch.
"Do not be so unkind to your trauma," she said, mirth in her lazy twist, "for you survived it, and it did not you." Her voice was pristine now, cutting through the fog in his brain.
"What do I call you?" he asked, still griping the cloak in his shaky claws.
"I was once called many things. A god, a beast, a scoundrel. They knew me as Baphomet."
"Baphomet," he repeated, the very name a spice on his tongue. "Thank you."
"You have a long winter ahead of you, runner. Outrun the frost, and you can outrun more than time." She floated away into the sky with her final farewell, and her bright colors faded into the blur of nocturnal flurry as if she were little more than a dream.
He never took off the guise, the sun no longer burning his eyes out. There was nothing- beast, dragon, Shade, god- that gave him worry now. What could this planet and beyond do, to someone who had seen what awaited early? He did not care. Baphomet had been right, there was no use in stumbling around the world as a wounded madman. He would regain his self, or rewrite it trying. He was not done here.
Spectrum Serenade
Prismatic Arm Silks
Prismatic Leg Bow
Respectable Alabaster Spats
Murderous Tools
Rainbow Starsilk Tailwrap
Prismatic Tail Bangle
-this is the original owner's tidbit, but i like it too much to delete it D:)
Marks the day of The Great American Eclipse.
He is the manifestation of a fallen star. He chooses to take a different form compared to the others he guards.
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This dragon doesn't eat Insects.
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This dragon doesn't eat Seafood.
This dragon doesn't eat Plants.
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Exalting Ardalrian to the service of the Plaguebringer 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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