Chainsaw
(#42277930)
the exalted prince: they/them
Familiar
Slight Eyewing
Click or tap to view this dragon in Predict Morphology.
Energy: 49/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Earth.
Female Skydancer
This dragon is on a Coliseum team.
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
4.28 m
Wingspan
3.65 m
Weight
492.8 kg
Genetics
Tarnish
Ripple
Ripple
Swamp
Alloy
Alloy
Black
Crackle
Crackle
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 25 Skydancer
Max Level
STR
117
AGI
8
DEF
5
QCK
70
INT
5
VIT
25
MND
5
Biography
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CHAINSAW
heir to the galehart clan | the exalted prince | they/them
CHAINSAW
heir to the galehart clan | the exalted prince | they/them
i.
Not for lack of love, Chainsaw had a troubled childhood. They are non-verbal most of the time, and because their sister was hatched profoundly deaf, their parents assumed this silence was due to a similar issue with their hearing. But Chainsaw's senses operate just fine. In fact, they often work a little too well. Ever since they could remember, they have sensed things that aren't there. Shadowy figures hound their every movement from the corners of their eyes, disconnected voices murmur as a constant undercurrent to the sounds of life around them. As a young drake, they were overwhelmed by this psychosis, and had no language to explain the cause of their suffering. All they knew to do was shut down and withdraw from their clanmates.
Chainsaw's only solace was flight. Above the clouds, they felt untethered from the relentless spectres that followed them on the ground. Up in the air, their head felt clear, their senses unclouded. But Chainsaw was a mirror like their mother, and their small, thin wings could not sustain the weight of their stocky body for long. Inevitably, exhaustion always pulled Chainsaw back to earth. They longed to soar as weightlessly as their clanmates from the Zephyr Steppes, so they decided to make a change.
Breed change scrolls are expensive for a reason: they are difficult to create properly, and dangerous to use if one doesn't know how to activate their magic correctly. Chainsaw, scarcely more than a hatchling and suffering from debilitating delusions, hadn't the faintest idea what they were doing when they stole a skydancer scroll from the clan vault. They definitely did not read the warning disclaimer affixed with a ribbon to the scroll, they just unfurled it, and started to read the incantation out loud. As the magic began its work, the flesh along their back rippled as their wings grew, limbs aching as they lengthened, senses a chaotic blur of transformation. But something wasn't right. After they finished the incantation, Chainsaw should have looked as if they'd been a skydancer their whole life, but their body was still writhing and stretching, ridges of bone protruding where bone shouldn't be, feathers bursting from their back in fits and starts. The last thing they remember before losing consciousness was an unholy shrieking sound rising from their own agonized mouth as their skull remade itself. Then, blackness.
Fortunately, Chainsaw's father is a gifted magical healer. When his child's screams alerted him to what was happening, he rushed them to his den immediately. They were caught in flux between the features of a mirror and those of a skydancer, the breed change reaction run amok and replicating itself back and forth. If Surtr hadn't found them in time, Chainsaw wouldn't have survived, their body torn apart by powerful magic turned cancerous. He was able to stabilize them and stop the reaction before it destroyed them, but some of the damage was irreversible by then. They were alive, but spliced between the two breeds. The doubling of mirror anatomy had been amplified by the magic, which responded to Chainsaw's desire for flight by forcing several pairs of vestigial feathered wings to the surface alongside their primary pair of strong, leathery plumed wings. Pale crests and spines of bone protruded from the crown of their skull and down their spine to the tip of their tail. Chainsaw still possessed a mirror's sturdy, muscular build, but stretched over the lanky, wiry frame of a skydancer, their hide now marred with a lattice of dark scars and stretch marks.
When Chainsaw awoke, they were curled small into their coatl father's coils, his warm wings forming a protective blanket over them. Their mother was keeping watch over the den while their siblings slept nearby. Noticing they were awake, Skadi rose and gestured for her child to follow if they were able. Unsteady on newly formed legs, Chainsaw rose and stretched, tottering out of the den after their mother. They were stiff and sore all over, raw and fragile as if they'd just been dropped into a stormy sea and thoroughly thrashed against the cliffs. Skadi led them to a clear drinking well in the clan's gardens and waited quietly while Chainsaw examined their reflection, getting to know their new body in the moonlit waters. They were monstrous, a corrupted creature that should not be, but for the first time in their short life, they felt on the outside as they always had on the inside. As ever, the voices in their head murmured away, casting strange shadows over their thoughts, but after surviving such a terrifying ordeal, their harmless chatter did not disturb them as much as it had before. By far, their face was the hardest thing to adjust to. Their four eyes had multiplied, pitting their skull in radial symmetry with dark orbs. Some were seeing eyes, some were infrared heat pits, and some others were shimmering bone like a skydancer's jewel. Their mouth was a snaggled maw of crooked fangs ending in a serrated point, and two long dark tongues lolled there. Their nostrils were blown wide: dark gashes in their skull that twitched and quivered as they picked up even the slightest scent and hint of movement in the garden.
Overwhelmed, Chainsaw spread their multitude of wings and launched themselves from the ground, praying to every deity they could name that they would still be able to fly, to outrun themselves temporarily. With feather-light bones clad in wiry muscle, they sprang into the air, higher than they would have thought possible. Experimentally, they flapped their wings in unison, and the wind rushed gladly beneath them, propelling the young dragon above their lair. Startled by the sheer ease of movement they felt, Chainsaw let out a joyous howl and beat their wings, spiraling higher and higher. They could fly. Really, truly soar just like they'd always dreamed of doing! They could forgive their body's mutations for this boundless freedom, they felt as though they could survive anything now, so long as they had this sensation at the tips of their claws.
When they finally alighted on the lip of the well, delicate as a dragonfly, they folded their wings into each other and cleared their throat. It was time to tell someone about their hallucinations, and Chainsaw's mother, whose own mind was plagued by the Shade, seemed the most likely to understand and know what to do. Back in their den, she listened while Chainsaw stuttered and fumbled in a disused, coarse whisper through their symptoms. They wanted to know what they meant, how to live with them, whether there were others with similar experiences, or whether they were alone in this. Surtr had slithered over to check on Chainsaw, and between the pair, they were able to coax the full story into the light. This was the most Chainsaw had ever spoken to either of them, and they were committed to doing everything they could to help their child. Chainsaw's sister from the same nest, Opal, had been considering studying psychology in the Sunbeam Ruins once she was grown, and learning about Chainsaw's condition galvanized her decision to become a therapist and help her sibling.
For their part, Chainsaw was restless during their recovery. Their accident had ironically made them more confident, braver, and now insatiably eager to know more of life. They knew they might always experience the world differently from other dragons, that the hallucinations might never go away, but they were determined not to let that hinder them. They needed to travel and connect with their nomadic clanmates to truly feel like they belonged in the Galehart clan. It was at this point that Chainsaw was approached by the clan's eldest and wisest: Odin. The ancient one-eyed imperial had a knack for knowing unknowable things, for speaking wisdom that had thus far guided the clan successfully through the generations. They told Chainsaw of a prophecy they'd received that they would eventually be the one to lead the Galeharts. This seemed unlikely to the young drake, as the current matriarch, Sif, clutched her self-made throne with an iron vise. No, Chainsaw, it's you, Odin assured them. Sif is a steward, no more. She is strong, and has not yet led us astray, but the Galeharts will not rally to her as they will to you. Your crown will not be a dead thing, battle-won and forced from another's claws, but a living crown placed upon your brow gladly by those you will serve. Any ruler can bend others to their will, but your task is more difficult. You must build your throne without breaking so much as a twig. With the humility of an exalt, you will walk among the lowest of this clan and lift them with you in your ascension.
The wise imp's words echoed the strange hunger Chainsaw had been wrestling with since their accident. They were terrified by the implications of Odin's prophecy, unsure that they could ever successfully lead themself through life, let alone a whole clan. But at the same time, something about it rang true in their bones, felt right in a way that defied logic. So, with only the bare essentials on their back, Chainsaw took wing towards their fate. Their clan, a motley collection of nomads, was scattered across Sorineth. Chainsaw had a map of the clan's communal outposts, but this remained tucked in the depths of their bag. If they were going to do this, they would do it as a leaf on the wind, letting the elements guide them where they needed to be.
ii.
iii.
__________________________________________________________________
_..
Not for lack of love, Chainsaw had a troubled childhood. They are non-verbal most of the time, and because their sister was hatched profoundly deaf, their parents assumed this silence was due to a similar issue with their hearing. But Chainsaw's senses operate just fine. In fact, they often work a little too well. Ever since they could remember, they have sensed things that aren't there. Shadowy figures hound their every movement from the corners of their eyes, disconnected voices murmur as a constant undercurrent to the sounds of life around them. As a young drake, they were overwhelmed by this psychosis, and had no language to explain the cause of their suffering. All they knew to do was shut down and withdraw from their clanmates.
Chainsaw's only solace was flight. Above the clouds, they felt untethered from the relentless spectres that followed them on the ground. Up in the air, their head felt clear, their senses unclouded. But Chainsaw was a mirror like their mother, and their small, thin wings could not sustain the weight of their stocky body for long. Inevitably, exhaustion always pulled Chainsaw back to earth. They longed to soar as weightlessly as their clanmates from the Zephyr Steppes, so they decided to make a change.
Breed change scrolls are expensive for a reason: they are difficult to create properly, and dangerous to use if one doesn't know how to activate their magic correctly. Chainsaw, scarcely more than a hatchling and suffering from debilitating delusions, hadn't the faintest idea what they were doing when they stole a skydancer scroll from the clan vault. They definitely did not read the warning disclaimer affixed with a ribbon to the scroll, they just unfurled it, and started to read the incantation out loud. As the magic began its work, the flesh along their back rippled as their wings grew, limbs aching as they lengthened, senses a chaotic blur of transformation. But something wasn't right. After they finished the incantation, Chainsaw should have looked as if they'd been a skydancer their whole life, but their body was still writhing and stretching, ridges of bone protruding where bone shouldn't be, feathers bursting from their back in fits and starts. The last thing they remember before losing consciousness was an unholy shrieking sound rising from their own agonized mouth as their skull remade itself. Then, blackness.
Fortunately, Chainsaw's father is a gifted magical healer. When his child's screams alerted him to what was happening, he rushed them to his den immediately. They were caught in flux between the features of a mirror and those of a skydancer, the breed change reaction run amok and replicating itself back and forth. If Surtr hadn't found them in time, Chainsaw wouldn't have survived, their body torn apart by powerful magic turned cancerous. He was able to stabilize them and stop the reaction before it destroyed them, but some of the damage was irreversible by then. They were alive, but spliced between the two breeds. The doubling of mirror anatomy had been amplified by the magic, which responded to Chainsaw's desire for flight by forcing several pairs of vestigial feathered wings to the surface alongside their primary pair of strong, leathery plumed wings. Pale crests and spines of bone protruded from the crown of their skull and down their spine to the tip of their tail. Chainsaw still possessed a mirror's sturdy, muscular build, but stretched over the lanky, wiry frame of a skydancer, their hide now marred with a lattice of dark scars and stretch marks.
When Chainsaw awoke, they were curled small into their coatl father's coils, his warm wings forming a protective blanket over them. Their mother was keeping watch over the den while their siblings slept nearby. Noticing they were awake, Skadi rose and gestured for her child to follow if they were able. Unsteady on newly formed legs, Chainsaw rose and stretched, tottering out of the den after their mother. They were stiff and sore all over, raw and fragile as if they'd just been dropped into a stormy sea and thoroughly thrashed against the cliffs. Skadi led them to a clear drinking well in the clan's gardens and waited quietly while Chainsaw examined their reflection, getting to know their new body in the moonlit waters. They were monstrous, a corrupted creature that should not be, but for the first time in their short life, they felt on the outside as they always had on the inside. As ever, the voices in their head murmured away, casting strange shadows over their thoughts, but after surviving such a terrifying ordeal, their harmless chatter did not disturb them as much as it had before. By far, their face was the hardest thing to adjust to. Their four eyes had multiplied, pitting their skull in radial symmetry with dark orbs. Some were seeing eyes, some were infrared heat pits, and some others were shimmering bone like a skydancer's jewel. Their mouth was a snaggled maw of crooked fangs ending in a serrated point, and two long dark tongues lolled there. Their nostrils were blown wide: dark gashes in their skull that twitched and quivered as they picked up even the slightest scent and hint of movement in the garden.
Overwhelmed, Chainsaw spread their multitude of wings and launched themselves from the ground, praying to every deity they could name that they would still be able to fly, to outrun themselves temporarily. With feather-light bones clad in wiry muscle, they sprang into the air, higher than they would have thought possible. Experimentally, they flapped their wings in unison, and the wind rushed gladly beneath them, propelling the young dragon above their lair. Startled by the sheer ease of movement they felt, Chainsaw let out a joyous howl and beat their wings, spiraling higher and higher. They could fly. Really, truly soar just like they'd always dreamed of doing! They could forgive their body's mutations for this boundless freedom, they felt as though they could survive anything now, so long as they had this sensation at the tips of their claws.
When they finally alighted on the lip of the well, delicate as a dragonfly, they folded their wings into each other and cleared their throat. It was time to tell someone about their hallucinations, and Chainsaw's mother, whose own mind was plagued by the Shade, seemed the most likely to understand and know what to do. Back in their den, she listened while Chainsaw stuttered and fumbled in a disused, coarse whisper through their symptoms. They wanted to know what they meant, how to live with them, whether there were others with similar experiences, or whether they were alone in this. Surtr had slithered over to check on Chainsaw, and between the pair, they were able to coax the full story into the light. This was the most Chainsaw had ever spoken to either of them, and they were committed to doing everything they could to help their child. Chainsaw's sister from the same nest, Opal, had been considering studying psychology in the Sunbeam Ruins once she was grown, and learning about Chainsaw's condition galvanized her decision to become a therapist and help her sibling.
For their part, Chainsaw was restless during their recovery. Their accident had ironically made them more confident, braver, and now insatiably eager to know more of life. They knew they might always experience the world differently from other dragons, that the hallucinations might never go away, but they were determined not to let that hinder them. They needed to travel and connect with their nomadic clanmates to truly feel like they belonged in the Galehart clan. It was at this point that Chainsaw was approached by the clan's eldest and wisest: Odin. The ancient one-eyed imperial had a knack for knowing unknowable things, for speaking wisdom that had thus far guided the clan successfully through the generations. They told Chainsaw of a prophecy they'd received that they would eventually be the one to lead the Galeharts. This seemed unlikely to the young drake, as the current matriarch, Sif, clutched her self-made throne with an iron vise. No, Chainsaw, it's you, Odin assured them. Sif is a steward, no more. She is strong, and has not yet led us astray, but the Galeharts will not rally to her as they will to you. Your crown will not be a dead thing, battle-won and forced from another's claws, but a living crown placed upon your brow gladly by those you will serve. Any ruler can bend others to their will, but your task is more difficult. You must build your throne without breaking so much as a twig. With the humility of an exalt, you will walk among the lowest of this clan and lift them with you in your ascension.
The wise imp's words echoed the strange hunger Chainsaw had been wrestling with since their accident. They were terrified by the implications of Odin's prophecy, unsure that they could ever successfully lead themself through life, let alone a whole clan. But at the same time, something about it rang true in their bones, felt right in a way that defied logic. So, with only the bare essentials on their back, Chainsaw took wing towards their fate. Their clan, a motley collection of nomads, was scattered across Sorineth. Chainsaw had a map of the clan's communal outposts, but this remained tucked in the depths of their bag. If they were going to do this, they would do it as a leaf on the wind, letting the elements guide them where they needed to be.
« the river takes her shape from every tempest she abides... »
ii.
« ...and like her, you'll be made new again. »
iii.
__________________________________________________________________
_..
|
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LINKS & NOTES
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▾ 2nd gen progen child
▾ 1/2 with their colors as of 11/19/19
ART
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▾ I. by dreamlogic (me)
▾ II. by Tanija ▾ III. by kyaniite ▾ IV. by kyaniite ▾ V. moodboard by Kinged | ───────────── |
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