Elfyn
(#46696334)
Level 1 Tundra
Monch
Ectoplasmime
Click or tap to view this dragon in Predict Morphology.
Energy: 50/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Wind.
Male Tundra
This dragon is hibernating.
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
3.25 m
Wingspan
2.66 m
Weight
169.64 kg
Genetics
Coal
Tapir
Tapir
Mauve
Peregrine
Peregrine
Cream
Underbelly
Underbelly
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 1 Tundra
EXP: 0 / 245
STR
7
AGI
6
DEF
6
QCK
5
INT
7
VIT
7
MND
7
Biography
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Elfyn the Mimic it’s just the furniture talking Theme: WIP |
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━━ story ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
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Elfyn was an unsettling sort of being, bright even though his boards were the color of burnt coal. He was friendly, though, for a Mimic. “I do have to thank you. Not all the furniture is as easy moving as others are.” “Should I, um… Should I load you up, too?” Chrys offered, seizing the nearest box━twice Elfyn’s size━and hoisted it into the net. Later, the rings would be attached to his travel harness. He could carry at least three dragons’ things this way… and, probably, this Mimic’s things, too? Could furniture own furniture? He’s not a box, you numbskull. A hissing sound seemed to come from behind him and inside the box at the same time. Chrys swung around, feeling at once terrified but also like he belonged here. “Did you, um… did you hear that?” Chrys asked quietly, lowering his tone to hide the squeak. He wasn’t a Guardian, though he looked like one; Guardians shouldn’t have been afraid of anything. That was definitely just one in a list of many things why Chrys couldn’t be an actual Guardian. All the same, Elfyn chuckled, rocking back and forth with a nod. “I do hear something. What exactly do you hear?” Chrys tilted his head to try to pick out and better define the sound. “Whispers. Creaking.” “That’s the furniture,” Elfyn broke in. “How about the whispers?” Chrys asked. Elfyn paused, grin somehow discernable from his oddly-gaping mouth. “Yes. That’s the furniture, too.” |
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━━ history ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
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Even though Elfyn looks like a simple tradesdragon, he’s anything but. The same is true for his appearance, as well as his generally harmless disposition. Elfyn’s arrangement with the Tempest Chase is quite simple: fight the magically sapient furniture that sometimes pops up, and tame them if possible. And if that seems easy, one ought to try getting past a herd of hungry eight-legged chairs first. Elfyn, likewise, is not what he seems. During the coldest and longest night of the year, the night right in the middle of the Nocturne’s famous emergence from hiding, a young Tundra went foraging. Whatever he found, it wasn’t what he was looking for. The magic of darkness coalescing that night turned him into something quite different. He fled from his home; no amount of explaining seeming to . It took a long time for Elfyn to understand, for when he looks in a mirror, he only sees a Tundra. Others seem to see him as any manner of things. He might look like a Nocturne, a Fae, a Longneck. Some dragons have had somewhat confusing interactions with what they perceive to be a Hainu, a bush, or a table. Elfyn finds some solace in knowing who he is, even if others are incapable of seeing. On the run, Elfyn had to defend himself from dragons believing him to be dangerous a Jawlocker or a Poltergeist Pile. Not surprisingly, perhaps, he’s found some kinship with these magically-sapient beasts (though all of them seem to see him for the Tundra he is), and some of these friends live with him now. Among his best friends are a Snarling Mimic that likes to think of herself as a comedian (she’s not), a Calculating Candelabra that will rhyme every word you speak, and a Glowing Globe he’s actually quite fond of. Elfyn has gotten used to the way things are, to being thought of one thing when he really is something else. Even though he likes to tell himself it only matters what he thinks of himself, it is obvious that it also very much matters what others think of him. After all, a dragon may only trust a Mimic so much. And perhaps that’s okay. He can’t change the way they are, and he seems to be stuck the way he is. All he has to do is keep moving. At least his furniture can move itself. |
━━ familiar ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
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I actually don’t know what his familiar is but this one seems to match him? I think I’ll probably keep it, but I guess I’ll see if there are any new furnitures this NotN... |
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━━ family ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
| Since she’s an enchanting aficionado, Mab found Elfyn fascinating when she first met him, thinking he was a walking, talking jewelry box. She was even more interested when she discovered he was a Tundra, in effect, enchanted to look like a box. Shadow magic really is something else. Rather than help solve any of Elfyn’s problems right off, she simply enchanted her own eyes to be able to see him as she was. As one might expect of a dragon and the only other who seems to be able to see him clearly, they became quite close very quickly. |
| Even though he’s still not very sure that Elfyn is a Tundra and not a Snarling Mimic, Chrys understands dragons that do not appear to be dragons. He also understands furniture that might be a dragon. Being a magical curiosity himself, Chrys considers it his duty to be friendly and warm to all things, regardless of whether they at first appear alive or not. Chrys is therefore not only friends with Elfyn, but also all of his furniture. Of course, only a former statue would consider it rude to ask a chair if it’s okay to sit in it, even if he’d only met a single sapient chair in his life. |
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━━ notes ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
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» Elfyn inherited his parents’ impeccable sense of aesthetic. Of all the Tempest Chase, his tent is definitely the prettiest. » » Elfyn’s last name is Furbox. His Snarling Mimic picked it for him and it stuck. |
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This dragon doesn't eat Insects.
This dragon doesn't eat Meat.
This dragon doesn't eat Seafood.
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Exalting Elfyn to the service of the Windsinger 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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