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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
23.33 m
Wingspan
16.59 m
Weight
6515 kg
Genetics
White
Falcon
Falcon
White
Peregrine
Peregrine
Charcoal
Smoke
Smoke
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 1 Imperial
EXP: 0 / 245
STR
6
AGI
6
DEF
6
QCK
5
INT
8
VIT
8
MND
6
Biography
Blanc
______________________________________________________________________________
Blanc is an imposing figure. His head alone is the size of a smaller dragon’s entire body, or maybe even bigger; his wings are great and powerful, his bulk is immense, his low and rumbly voice would startle any dragon, and he is one of the few dragons on all of Sornieth who knows of the caverns under Gelida. In fact, not only does Blanc know of them, he’s one of the most important figures within the caverns these days. Blanc grew up in a part of the Sea of a Thousand Currents, the Leviathan Trench, so deep below the waters he scarcely saw the sun’s own rays until he was a full-grown adult. And as such, partly due to his family’s already existing involvement with the field, and partly due to his own willing fascination, Blanc grew up to be an occultist to the highest degree.
It is not one, nor any, of the deities that Blanc bows to, but the Horrorterrors. What good worshiping the deities did for anybody, anyway, when his own supposedly so great and noble Tidelord abandoned not just him, but his entire flight. It is believed that no organized religious groups or otherwise institutions exist to worship the horrorterrors, but small groups of like minded individuals across Sornieth will always find each other every now and then. To Blanc and these other enigmatic souls, the Horrorterrors are creatures so ancient and so incomprehensible they must be older and greater than the deities themselves. The complete unknowingness, and the secrecy held about them only causes greater interest in one wanting to discover and devote themselves to these eldritch beings.
For years he daydreamed of moving to the Southern Icefield, working his way up the ranks of the flight’s higher-ups until maybe, just maybe, he could become a member of one of the Gaoler orders who guard his horrorterrors. And he did, in a way. He moved to the Southern Icefield and spent a few years drifting from clan to clan, but with no successes in achieving his dream. His goal was realistic and childish, a far-cry from any reality—until one day, Blanc was meeting with a small group of other Horrorterror followers in the Snowsquall Tundra when they were approached by a few peculiar Gaolers. Ancient-looking Gaolers, who had been watching them. Watching them for weeks, months, maybe even years, because they knew exactly what they, no, Blanc, wanted: to meet the horrorterrors.
Through hours of conversation and persuading the Gaolers to spill their secrets, Blanc discovered these Gaolers were part of a rebel Order unlike any of the other five serving under the Icewarden. They called themselves the Watchmen, a group who schismatized themselves from the other Gaolers many centuries ago when the five Orders were just being created, for they wanted not to contain the horrorterrors, but to care for them, make them as powerful as possible, and then to one day, release them. They, just like Blanc, rejected the power and divinity of the traditional eleven deities. And, for just as many centuries, the Watchmen have conducted their doings right below the Tundra. Right below Gelida.
Blanc hardly even needed to take a breath before he was begging to join, to become a Watchman. The Gaolers were impressed with his devotion to the horrorterrors already, and after many more oaths of secrecy and agreements such as how he will be instantly killed if he ever speaks about the horrorterror caverns to an outside soul, he was taken deep, down below, and there he saw the faces of his Gods. Blanc knew being here was the purpose of his life all along, and would be for as long as he would remain alive. The inordinate darkness and haunting emptiness of the freezing caverns reminded him of his childhood home in the Leviathan Trench; both existed without light, ever without a single ember of warmth.
After this Blanc’s slow integration into the official Watchmen order, and adjustment to his new life, began. Blanc’s job was to guard, care for, and sometimes even train the horrorterrors just like the other ancient Gaolers there who had been doing the same thing for centuries now. His devotion to the eldritch creatures allowed his mind to not be corrupted and overwhelmed by them like how other modern dragons would—he considers them his entire life’s worth, anyhow. Caution must still be used around the horrorterrors, of course, even a billion dragons would never be able to overpower just one of these mindless beasts. But the point still stands, and years in this same service has enabled many of the Gaolers to respect Blanc. He is also one of the only dragons they trust to visit the surface world, and sometimes check ups on the surface are part of his job, too. He is, by technicality and by law, a member of the clan of Gelida, after all. He might as well show up every now and then.
Blanc isn’t sure when the horrorterrors are actually going to be released per the Gaolers’ supposed plan. If they’re still waiting for the right time, a time so far in the future it could be eons after his life ends, Blanc doesn’t particularly mind. Serving what he perceives as his purpose is reward enough for him, and if all goes south he still has his apprentice, Sylph, to carry on his legacy. So in the meantime, Blanc’s life continues as it always has: converse with friends, help his clan out, and care for the gargantuan and incomprehensible eldritch horrorterrors encapsulated under the Snowsquall Tundra.
______________________________________________________________________________
Blanc is an imposing figure. His head alone is the size of a smaller dragon’s entire body, or maybe even bigger; his wings are great and powerful, his bulk is immense, his low and rumbly voice would startle any dragon, and he is one of the few dragons on all of Sornieth who knows of the caverns under Gelida. In fact, not only does Blanc know of them, he’s one of the most important figures within the caverns these days. Blanc grew up in a part of the Sea of a Thousand Currents, the Leviathan Trench, so deep below the waters he scarcely saw the sun’s own rays until he was a full-grown adult. And as such, partly due to his family’s already existing involvement with the field, and partly due to his own willing fascination, Blanc grew up to be an occultist to the highest degree.
It is not one, nor any, of the deities that Blanc bows to, but the Horrorterrors. What good worshiping the deities did for anybody, anyway, when his own supposedly so great and noble Tidelord abandoned not just him, but his entire flight. It is believed that no organized religious groups or otherwise institutions exist to worship the horrorterrors, but small groups of like minded individuals across Sornieth will always find each other every now and then. To Blanc and these other enigmatic souls, the Horrorterrors are creatures so ancient and so incomprehensible they must be older and greater than the deities themselves. The complete unknowingness, and the secrecy held about them only causes greater interest in one wanting to discover and devote themselves to these eldritch beings.
For years he daydreamed of moving to the Southern Icefield, working his way up the ranks of the flight’s higher-ups until maybe, just maybe, he could become a member of one of the Gaoler orders who guard his horrorterrors. And he did, in a way. He moved to the Southern Icefield and spent a few years drifting from clan to clan, but with no successes in achieving his dream. His goal was realistic and childish, a far-cry from any reality—until one day, Blanc was meeting with a small group of other Horrorterror followers in the Snowsquall Tundra when they were approached by a few peculiar Gaolers. Ancient-looking Gaolers, who had been watching them. Watching them for weeks, months, maybe even years, because they knew exactly what they, no, Blanc, wanted: to meet the horrorterrors.
Through hours of conversation and persuading the Gaolers to spill their secrets, Blanc discovered these Gaolers were part of a rebel Order unlike any of the other five serving under the Icewarden. They called themselves the Watchmen, a group who schismatized themselves from the other Gaolers many centuries ago when the five Orders were just being created, for they wanted not to contain the horrorterrors, but to care for them, make them as powerful as possible, and then to one day, release them. They, just like Blanc, rejected the power and divinity of the traditional eleven deities. And, for just as many centuries, the Watchmen have conducted their doings right below the Tundra. Right below Gelida.
Blanc hardly even needed to take a breath before he was begging to join, to become a Watchman. The Gaolers were impressed with his devotion to the horrorterrors already, and after many more oaths of secrecy and agreements such as how he will be instantly killed if he ever speaks about the horrorterror caverns to an outside soul, he was taken deep, down below, and there he saw the faces of his Gods. Blanc knew being here was the purpose of his life all along, and would be for as long as he would remain alive. The inordinate darkness and haunting emptiness of the freezing caverns reminded him of his childhood home in the Leviathan Trench; both existed without light, ever without a single ember of warmth.
After this Blanc’s slow integration into the official Watchmen order, and adjustment to his new life, began. Blanc’s job was to guard, care for, and sometimes even train the horrorterrors just like the other ancient Gaolers there who had been doing the same thing for centuries now. His devotion to the eldritch creatures allowed his mind to not be corrupted and overwhelmed by them like how other modern dragons would—he considers them his entire life’s worth, anyhow. Caution must still be used around the horrorterrors, of course, even a billion dragons would never be able to overpower just one of these mindless beasts. But the point still stands, and years in this same service has enabled many of the Gaolers to respect Blanc. He is also one of the only dragons they trust to visit the surface world, and sometimes check ups on the surface are part of his job, too. He is, by technicality and by law, a member of the clan of Gelida, after all. He might as well show up every now and then.
Blanc isn’t sure when the horrorterrors are actually going to be released per the Gaolers’ supposed plan. If they’re still waiting for the right time, a time so far in the future it could be eons after his life ends, Blanc doesn’t particularly mind. Serving what he perceives as his purpose is reward enough for him, and if all goes south he still has his apprentice, Sylph, to carry on his legacy. So in the meantime, Blanc’s life continues as it always has: converse with friends, help his clan out, and care for the gargantuan and incomprehensible eldritch horrorterrors encapsulated under the Snowsquall Tundra.
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Exalting Blanc to the service of the Icewarden 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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