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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
26.99 m
Wingspan
18.32 m
Weight
9392.92 kg
Genetics
Umber
Metallic
Metallic
Maroon
Stripes
Stripes
Crimson
Basic
Basic
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 25 Imperial
Max Level
STR
127
AGI
9
DEF
6
QCK
14
INT
8
VIT
8
MND
6
Biography
Alarik ("leader of all")
Art by Hobovampire
In a village in the deepest of heartlands, surrounded by a sea of trees, young Alarik dreamt of water. Once of age, he was meant to participate in the family business, become like Falke and Isane and his siblings, esteemed woodworkers, carpenters, wood carvers. Firmly rooted in earth. But Alarik dreamt of water. He was gloriously talented at finding quality lumber, but good trees to build ships, not furniture or houses. The sea was in his blood as much as it could for a forest child. His parents tried arguing with his inkling until a convoy of seers passed through the town and confirmed their sons’ calling.
A decade later, the carpenter’s son indeed left the woodlands for the coast, spring in his step, ready for anything, but also carrying the weight of a nugget of wisdom left secretly by one of the seers from his childhood. “Shipwrecked four times,” the mystic had told, “to survive thrice. Once with many, once with few, once alone, no more.” Alarik knew he was to die at sea, kept it a secret, obviously, otherwise he wouldn’t have been allowed to go. He couldn’t decide if it bothered him or not, yet left anyway.
In an immense, typical bustling port city, he found work as a coastal guard. Where there was commerce, there were pirates, these waters were no different, and people didn’t exactly queue up to be the next to take on the wolves of the sea. ‘Rik did. He was given a vessel and a crew and a rank, a slap on the back and a “get out there and kill yourself some pirates, eh”. Through the years, he sailed all seasons round, protecting mercantile ships, running after miscreants, boarded their ships before they boarded innocent merchants, killed them before they killed anyone else. Never call him a pirate. He was different. Did the same thing, but differently. Coastal guard. With his own morale code, thank you very much.
Through the decades, he did wreck many a times. The first, most of his crew mates saved themselves, some even wanted to sail under his captainship again. The second time, he lost those good men and saved only a handful of the others. The third time… It took him a while before sailing again. Now more of a washed up depressed sailor than the hopeful lad with eyes full of stars he once has been, with many vices to numb himself... Never once did it cross his mind that he was running down the course of his own life, but he felt such guilt for all the sailors he doomed before. It took years of careful maneuvering of the third iteration of his precious vessel before the most violent storm of his career split her in half and drowned the whole crew, eaten by giant waves, but not him. He was still alive. Not for long, the seer reminded him in his head. Yet he still took to the waters again. Knowing full well the next time, he would die.
But what if the equilibrium changed? And what if the Siren that was supposed to take his life is way too attractive for Alarik's hot head to handle?
Art by Bon
♪♪♪ Theme Song ♪♪♪
[Or give the Live version a try and fall in love with Lisa Lambe like me ;o; kill me she's perfect]
Góide a thug na tíre thú? arsa an dúlamán gaelach
Ag súirí le do níon, arsa an dúlamán maorach
Cha bhfaigheann tú mo ‘níon, arsa an dúlamán gaelach
Bheul, fuadóidh mé liom í, arsa an dúlamán maorach
"What are you doing here?"
"At courting with your son."
"Oh, where are you taking my son?"
"Well, I'd take him with me."
Art by Hobovampire
In a village in the deepest of heartlands, surrounded by a sea of trees, young Alarik dreamt of water. Once of age, he was meant to participate in the family business, become like Falke and Isane and his siblings, esteemed woodworkers, carpenters, wood carvers. Firmly rooted in earth. But Alarik dreamt of water. He was gloriously talented at finding quality lumber, but good trees to build ships, not furniture or houses. The sea was in his blood as much as it could for a forest child. His parents tried arguing with his inkling until a convoy of seers passed through the town and confirmed their sons’ calling.
A decade later, the carpenter’s son indeed left the woodlands for the coast, spring in his step, ready for anything, but also carrying the weight of a nugget of wisdom left secretly by one of the seers from his childhood. “Shipwrecked four times,” the mystic had told, “to survive thrice. Once with many, once with few, once alone, no more.” Alarik knew he was to die at sea, kept it a secret, obviously, otherwise he wouldn’t have been allowed to go. He couldn’t decide if it bothered him or not, yet left anyway.
In an immense, typical bustling port city, he found work as a coastal guard. Where there was commerce, there were pirates, these waters were no different, and people didn’t exactly queue up to be the next to take on the wolves of the sea. ‘Rik did. He was given a vessel and a crew and a rank, a slap on the back and a “get out there and kill yourself some pirates, eh”. Through the years, he sailed all seasons round, protecting mercantile ships, running after miscreants, boarded their ships before they boarded innocent merchants, killed them before they killed anyone else. Never call him a pirate. He was different. Did the same thing, but differently. Coastal guard. With his own morale code, thank you very much.
Through the decades, he did wreck many a times. The first, most of his crew mates saved themselves, some even wanted to sail under his captainship again. The second time, he lost those good men and saved only a handful of the others. The third time… It took him a while before sailing again. Now more of a washed up depressed sailor than the hopeful lad with eyes full of stars he once has been, with many vices to numb himself... Never once did it cross his mind that he was running down the course of his own life, but he felt such guilt for all the sailors he doomed before. It took years of careful maneuvering of the third iteration of his precious vessel before the most violent storm of his career split her in half and drowned the whole crew, eaten by giant waves, but not him. He was still alive. Not for long, the seer reminded him in his head. Yet he still took to the waters again. Knowing full well the next time, he would die.
But what if the equilibrium changed? And what if the Siren that was supposed to take his life is way too attractive for Alarik's hot head to handle?
Art by Bon
♪♪♪ Theme Song ♪♪♪
[Or give the Live version a try and fall in love with Lisa Lambe like me ;o; kill me she's perfect]
Góide a thug na tíre thú? arsa an dúlamán gaelach
Ag súirí le do níon, arsa an dúlamán maorach
Cha bhfaigheann tú mo ‘níon, arsa an dúlamán gaelach
Bheul, fuadóidh mé liom í, arsa an dúlamán maorach
"What are you doing here?"
"At courting with your son."
"Oh, where are you taking my son?"
"Well, I'd take him with me."
“I was supposed to die today.”
“But here you are. Very much alive. Yet you remain convinced?”
“Listen, everything the Seers said happened-”
“You believe in prophecies?”
“Prophecy? Nah, not this, this is just, my bland death getting foretold. Aren’t prophecies for important people? I wont change the world, in it or out of it.”
“Are you certain? A ripple in the water here causes a tidal wave somewhere.”
“Ha, figured you’d be the type for sea metaphors.”
“…what?”
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Exalting Alarik to the service of the Stormcatcher 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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