Brynjolf
(#38774458)
Level 1 Imperial
Click or tap to view this dragon in Predict Morphology.
Energy: 7
out of
50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Ice.
Male Imperial
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Effect
Scene
Measurements
Length
27.29 m
Wingspan
22.58 m
Weight
8245.35 kg
Genetics
Sable
Skink
Skink
Spruce
Bee
Bee
Spruce
Glimmer
Glimmer
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
BRYNJOLF - Bard
Brynjolf is a wandering soul, and that's the way it's just gotta be.
He's had the wanderlust in his veins since he was just a boy, running hotblooded under the surface, always ready to search for something more. It's the strongest melody he's ever known, this push-pull hum, this steady beat. It's not always in sync with his heart, but it's always in harmony, the truest love in all of his lie.
So why not follow it all the way to the ends of the earth?
He couldn't at first, of course. There was too much expected of him, too much on his shoulders. He was supposed to grow up a fine young dragon, classy like his mother, savvy like his father. He was an heir to a fortune, to a clan, and there was a bright future ahead of him so long as he played by the rules. And he did for a while, until the music was too loud to ignore and his heart too broken to go on this way.
His family didn't want to let him go. They tried all manner of things to stop him, to convince him to come back, but Brynjolf was already gone. The wanderlust was stronger than any family, and that was that.
Of course, he didn't know what to do with himself for the longest time. Once he hit the road, heartstrings singing, there was something like peace in his life, but that wasn't enough. He didn't just want peace, not when there was surely more. He wanted thrills and joy, the sweet sound of music in the morning or at midnight, the delight of a clear note on a clear day. Nothing in life had prepared him to take up an instrument, but somehow, he scrambled together the funds for two, trusting in a lute and a cornet to carry him across Sornieth. He spent the last of his savings, squirreled away from home, on those two beautiful instruments and their cases, and if anything happened to them, he'd willingly die to keep them safe. The instruments were his everything, more than he had anticipated they would become, and for the first time, he felt real joy.
He was a natural on both, with the finesse needed to pluck the strings of the lute, and the soul required to coax spirit from the horn. Wherever he went, he brought a fierce, bright joy along with him. Dour clans lightened at the lute, and cornet could summon cheer from the ether. And Brynjolf himself only contributed to the festivities. His rolling voice and smooth gait were easy and likable, and his ability to flirt without getting attached endeared him to many. He was a dream, musical and melodious and just a little bit mysterious, so much so that the clans of Sornieth couldn't get enough.
Halls filled, streets overflowed, and his name spread far and wide, the dragon with all the soul in the world, a pioneer of jazz, a peddler of blues. Where he wandered the world was blessed with new music, music that made everything else fade out so only the beat remained, enchanting and sweet. It's a gift, maybe even magic, but Brynjolf doesn't do it for the money when he can do it for happiness instead. Only joy is rewarding; treasure is for the life he used to have, the life he left behind so long ago.
As of late, he's been in the Tangled Wood, and his instruments have taken on a somber sound. They croon low and dark, twisting through the dark like the sirens of old, coming from one direction and then another, eerie and haunting. The Shadowbinder's domain is not a place for boundless joy and unabashed enthusiasm so much as it is for the things that hum all through the night. That's not to say Brynjolf isn't happy, of course; he's quite at home entertaining the Moon Siren Coven, always singing or playing or flirting without ever settling down, as is his habit. But oh, what a new sound the Tangled Wood makes, so mournful and tempting and sweet. It's the kind of music that belongs at the top of a mountain under a full moon, or in the deep dark glades that the unwary never leaves. It belongs among the thorns and the ruins and the shadows of the night, and it resonates in the hearts of the beasts that make their home in the darkness.
It's going to be some time before Brynjolf takes his leave and moves onto brighter, greener pastures. The Tangled Wood has mysteries to uncover, music to compose that has never been heard before. Its secrets sing to him, his ears perfectly attuned to their pitch, and sometimes, when he lies awake at night to listen to the rhythm of the world, he wonders if he'll ever be able to give shape to it all.
Bio by Tues.
By Anchoram
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Exalting Brynjolf to the service of the Shadowbinder 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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