Desmond
(#44448901)
Level 25 Wildclaw
Familiar
Coast Charger
Click or tap to view this dragon in Predict Morphology.
Energy: 50/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Plague.
Male Wildclaw
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
3.88 m
Wingspan
7.84 m
Weight
661.13 kg
Genetics
Blood
Basic
Basic
Lead
Current
Current
Coal
Glimmer
Glimmer
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 25 Wildclaw
Max Level
STR
122
AGI
8
DEF
5
QCK
67
INT
5
VIT
5
MND
5
Biography
Watch the Ice. It lies.
20 Gems
Given Basic 10kT
Glimmer 1.2k Gems
Current 130 Gems
Trained by EmeraldHalftail 150g
(289438) Sillywinter's
Actaeon
Post Link:
The trees are aflame with the warm colors of chilly autumn, whispering slightly as their branches sway in a gentle breeze. A short inhale and the bow is strung, aligned with the sharp gaze of a hunter, who currently observes the meadow below from his perch, hidden by the leaves of the large oak he sits upon. The Imperial’s face is slack in concentration, grip steady. As he exhales, he lets the arrow loose, watching it embed itself in the heart of the grazing stag. The beast instantly falls stiff upon the ground, dead.
A smile curls upon his lips and he leaps down, returning his bow to his hip and approaching the recent kill. He picks the stag up by the antlers, examining its form, pleased to see that it would sustain him enough for a few days. Only in this forest would the prey be almost as large as their predators.
There’s a rustle in the tree line to his left and he turns, eyes sparking with curiosity as he watches a Wildclaw enter the meadow. “Hello,” The stranger greets, his gaze a dark alluring red. As he turns his head to the side a bit, the hunter discovers that a large scar runs across his left eye. He finds it… attractive. “Do you know where the nearest settlement lies? I have lost the path I was following…” The Wildclaw trails off awkwardly, as if he is hesitant to admit is predicament.
The Imperial chuckles warmly, pulling the arrow from the stag and cleaning it with the burlap sack that is draped across his shoulder. “I can lead you back to the path that you were following.” After the arrow is cleaned of blood, he returns it to its quiver and then proceeds to bag his kill within the sack, slinging it over his shoulder again, full this time. “In fact, my dwelling happens to be along the way of your journey.”
“Thank you.” The Wildclaw murmurs, making his way over to the Imperial, eventually falling into step besides him.
They walk in silence through the forest for awhile, listening to its sounds and the wind. The warrior (the hunter presumed he was a warrior from his kind of stature), walks confidently, but a frown is creased in his brow and his brooding eyes tumult with worry.
“Does something ail you, my friend?” The Imperial inquires, his voice compassionate, kind, and slightly deep.
“I am fine.” The Wildclaw states briskly. “When will we reach the path?”
“Soon. But first…” The larger dragon trails off as he begins to push his way through some rampant bushes. As he worms his way through, the warrior following, a large cabin is revealed. Moss and an overgrowth of plants cover its roof. The structure is made of warm mahogany wood, and throughout the yard, potted flowers (and even a chair and table) lay about. “I need to put with beast into my cellar, or the meat will spoil upon my back.”
The Wildclaw, quite perturbed and impatient, stood aside, glaring slightly as he watched the hunter open two large doors embedded within the ground. He clambered down some steps, disappearing below, before emerging again. Slamming the doors shut and clicking a padlock in place (which the Wildclaw was sure he didn’t have before), he resumed walking in the direction he was before.
The warrior fell into step besides him again, quiet, but suddenly he spoke and asked, “Do you live alone, with no clan?”
“That is correct.” The Imperial hummed, a small smile alighting his lips. His eyes swivel towards the smaller dragon. “Why do you ask?”
“I could not imagine living alone, without a companion or the safety of a clan.”
“Ah…” The hunter chuckled. “I see.”
They reached a path made of light brown dirt, wide enough for a wagon to roll through. The Wildclaw turned to look at the other drake, curious. “What do you mean?”
“What do I mean? Nothing, love. I’m merely just making an observation. A shame really,” He murmured, turing his attention on the path. “I believe this was the one you were following?”
The Wildclaw nodded. “Yes. It was.”
“Good. As much as I do not want to part with you, for I have immensely come to enjoy your company, I must take my leave. You shouldn’t lose yourself again, and in about an hours time, you’ll come across a rather agreeably quaint town.” A cheeky grin crosses his maw. “I’m sure the local ladies would love to meet a dragon as handsome as you. Farewell, friend. Safe travels. May we hopefully meet again!”
With his last words spoken, he turns away, quickly disappearing into the forest from whence he came.
Poem By Sillywinter
20 Gems
Given Basic 10kT
Glimmer 1.2k Gems
Current 130 Gems
Trained by EmeraldHalftail 150g
(289438) Sillywinter's
Actaeon
Post Link:
The trees are aflame with the warm colors of chilly autumn, whispering slightly as their branches sway in a gentle breeze. A short inhale and the bow is strung, aligned with the sharp gaze of a hunter, who currently observes the meadow below from his perch, hidden by the leaves of the large oak he sits upon. The Imperial’s face is slack in concentration, grip steady. As he exhales, he lets the arrow loose, watching it embed itself in the heart of the grazing stag. The beast instantly falls stiff upon the ground, dead.
A smile curls upon his lips and he leaps down, returning his bow to his hip and approaching the recent kill. He picks the stag up by the antlers, examining its form, pleased to see that it would sustain him enough for a few days. Only in this forest would the prey be almost as large as their predators.
There’s a rustle in the tree line to his left and he turns, eyes sparking with curiosity as he watches a Wildclaw enter the meadow. “Hello,” The stranger greets, his gaze a dark alluring red. As he turns his head to the side a bit, the hunter discovers that a large scar runs across his left eye. He finds it… attractive. “Do you know where the nearest settlement lies? I have lost the path I was following…” The Wildclaw trails off awkwardly, as if he is hesitant to admit is predicament.
The Imperial chuckles warmly, pulling the arrow from the stag and cleaning it with the burlap sack that is draped across his shoulder. “I can lead you back to the path that you were following.” After the arrow is cleaned of blood, he returns it to its quiver and then proceeds to bag his kill within the sack, slinging it over his shoulder again, full this time. “In fact, my dwelling happens to be along the way of your journey.”
“Thank you.” The Wildclaw murmurs, making his way over to the Imperial, eventually falling into step besides him.
They walk in silence through the forest for awhile, listening to its sounds and the wind. The warrior (the hunter presumed he was a warrior from his kind of stature), walks confidently, but a frown is creased in his brow and his brooding eyes tumult with worry.
“Does something ail you, my friend?” The Imperial inquires, his voice compassionate, kind, and slightly deep.
“I am fine.” The Wildclaw states briskly. “When will we reach the path?”
“Soon. But first…” The larger dragon trails off as he begins to push his way through some rampant bushes. As he worms his way through, the warrior following, a large cabin is revealed. Moss and an overgrowth of plants cover its roof. The structure is made of warm mahogany wood, and throughout the yard, potted flowers (and even a chair and table) lay about. “I need to put with beast into my cellar, or the meat will spoil upon my back.”
The Wildclaw, quite perturbed and impatient, stood aside, glaring slightly as he watched the hunter open two large doors embedded within the ground. He clambered down some steps, disappearing below, before emerging again. Slamming the doors shut and clicking a padlock in place (which the Wildclaw was sure he didn’t have before), he resumed walking in the direction he was before.
The warrior fell into step besides him again, quiet, but suddenly he spoke and asked, “Do you live alone, with no clan?”
“That is correct.” The Imperial hummed, a small smile alighting his lips. His eyes swivel towards the smaller dragon. “Why do you ask?”
“I could not imagine living alone, without a companion or the safety of a clan.”
“Ah…” The hunter chuckled. “I see.”
They reached a path made of light brown dirt, wide enough for a wagon to roll through. The Wildclaw turned to look at the other drake, curious. “What do you mean?”
“What do I mean? Nothing, love. I’m merely just making an observation. A shame really,” He murmured, turing his attention on the path. “I believe this was the one you were following?”
The Wildclaw nodded. “Yes. It was.”
“Good. As much as I do not want to part with you, for I have immensely come to enjoy your company, I must take my leave. You shouldn’t lose yourself again, and in about an hours time, you’ll come across a rather agreeably quaint town.” A cheeky grin crosses his maw. “I’m sure the local ladies would love to meet a dragon as handsome as you. Farewell, friend. Safe travels. May we hopefully meet again!”
With his last words spoken, he turns away, quickly disappearing into the forest from whence he came.
Quote:
soft, heavy sighs
a blade, needs to be cleaned
old bones that refuse to break
scars and a story to be told inked upon scales
heavy footsteps that are still dreadfully quiet
strength in the chest and heart, failing all elsewhere
yearning for more touch, hesitant to love
falling asleep, slow languid blinks
red blossoms in an old garden of statues
where did he go?
rain in a forest
pattering on the floor
time to rest, but the dirt is too damp
an ancient soul from powerful civilizations decades past
a blade, needs to be cleaned
old bones that refuse to break
scars and a story to be told inked upon scales
heavy footsteps that are still dreadfully quiet
strength in the chest and heart, failing all elsewhere
yearning for more touch, hesitant to love
falling asleep, slow languid blinks
red blossoms in an old garden of statues
where did he go?
rain in a forest
pattering on the floor
time to rest, but the dirt is too damp
an ancient soul from powerful civilizations decades past
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