Maelon
(#41866214)
Level 8 Tundra
Familiar
Spoiling Scorpio
Click or tap to view this dragon in Predict Morphology.
Energy: 44/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Lightning.
Female Tundra
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
3.39 m
Wingspan
3.26 m
Weight
347.41 kg
Genetics
Antique
Tapir
Tapir
Flint
Toxin
Toxin
Maroon
Runes
Runes
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 8 Tundra
EXP: 2535 / 16009
STR
37
AGI
16
DEF
10
QCK
10
INT
10
VIT
10
MND
10
Biography
With blood on her paws...
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She was the pride of the arena, strong and confident, brutal in battle and merciless with her enemies. She was the best fighter the clan had, and integral part of raids and skirmishes with the beast clans. But despite how strong and capable she was, she was also hard to control, and as she grew older so too did her chaotic nature. She lived for battle and not much else, and in times of peace she would become increasingly aggressive. Sparring only did so much to help alleviate her need for violence. Her master noticed the spike in aggression and began to worry. He tried to help her by training her in the ways of meditation and in different art forms. She was not stable though, and he knew he'd need to send her away... or deal with her himself should the day she lost control ever come.
And one day it did. It was the first attack they'd planned in nearly half a year, she was all but out of control by the time the ambush began. It wasn't meant to be a bloody attack, just a robbery of a merchant caravan. But Maelon was feral with bloodlust and in her frenzy killed every merchant, and when they were done with she turned on her clanmates, blinded by the fury of war. It took everything her master had to stop her, but it wasn't before the damage was done. When she came round from her high, she realized what horrors she'd done. She looked at the broken bodies of her friends and saw the blood spattering her claws, felt it on her face, her pelt... the only one left alive was her master. He lay bleeding, breathing heavy in the dust. She collapsed in anguish at his side, cradling his head in her paws as she watched the light fade from his sagely eyes. He had let out his last breath, and with it his last instruction as her mentor...
"...Make peace..."
Maelon fled the bloodstain in the desert she'd caused, thinking she'd never look back. She ran for weeks, living with the grief and guilt of her actions. She vowed to find a way to control her bloodlust, and a way to make peace.
She was the pride of the arena, strong and confident, brutal in battle and merciless with her enemies. She was the best fighter the clan had, and integral part of raids and skirmishes with the beast clans. But despite how strong and capable she was, she was also hard to control, and as she grew older so too did her chaotic nature. She lived for battle and not much else, and in times of peace she would become increasingly aggressive. Sparring only did so much to help alleviate her need for violence. Her master noticed the spike in aggression and began to worry. He tried to help her by training her in the ways of meditation and in different art forms. She was not stable though, and he knew he'd need to send her away... or deal with her himself should the day she lost control ever come.
And one day it did. It was the first attack they'd planned in nearly half a year, she was all but out of control by the time the ambush began. It wasn't meant to be a bloody attack, just a robbery of a merchant caravan. But Maelon was feral with bloodlust and in her frenzy killed every merchant, and when they were done with she turned on her clanmates, blinded by the fury of war. It took everything her master had to stop her, but it wasn't before the damage was done. When she came round from her high, she realized what horrors she'd done. She looked at the broken bodies of her friends and saw the blood spattering her claws, felt it on her face, her pelt... the only one left alive was her master. He lay bleeding, breathing heavy in the dust. She collapsed in anguish at his side, cradling his head in her paws as she watched the light fade from his sagely eyes. He had let out his last breath, and with it his last instruction as her mentor...
"...Make peace..."
Maelon fled the bloodstain in the desert she'd caused, thinking she'd never look back. She ran for weeks, living with the grief and guilt of her actions. She vowed to find a way to control her bloodlust, and a way to make peace.
{Written by Nimrook}
⤟♦⤠
  
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MAELON
WINDWAYS WARRIOR QUOTE OR SOMETHING After fleeing from The Shifting Expanse and the horrors she had dealt, Maelon desperately sought redemption. Rumors of the Windways Clan came to her not long after, a haven that would not question her on the past she was running from, nor would judge. Upon her arrival, however, Maelon regretted ever setting foot within the Wind Region. It was not that the Windways Clan wasn't welcoming; no, it was the fact they were so open to her that immediately put her on guard. What happened if she lost control again? How could she live with herself if she slaughtered the dragons that had so dutifully taken her under their wing? They were not raiders or thieves; they were a peaceful, honorable group simply trying to live a good life. This became only more apparent when in a fit of restless rage she attacked one of the Windways Warriors. Expecting swift and merciless punishment for breaking the most important rule of the clan - to not threaten any of its members - Maelon was once again taken by surprise. Instead of being banished, the Captain of the Guard, Glakila, offered her a position among the warriors. Fighting was in Maelon's blood, she said, and any attempts to repress that would only result in more blood. So Maelon fights. Only this time, she also fights for control. |
 
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