Alo
(#46744866)
Level 1 Skydancer
Familiar
Ball-Jointed Bogsneak
Click or tap to view this dragon in Predict Morphology.
Energy: 50/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Light.
Male Skydancer
This dragon is hibernating.
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
4.07 m
Wingspan
5.85 m
Weight
446.25 kg
Genetics
Sky
Piebald
Piebald
Sky
Paint
Paint
White
Underbelly
Underbelly
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 1 Skydancer
EXP: 0 / 245
STR
4
AGI
5
DEF
4
QCK
9
INT
9
VIT
4
MND
9
Biography
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Alo - ???
"Who goes there?"
Lost, stripped of all purpose, Alo wandered alone for months, slowly making his way to the Windswept Plateau in an attempt to reconnect with any small part of the dragons he had called his family. However, upon his arrival at the Ascent, Alo stumbled across a small temple, where he found an order of spirit guides, who dedicated their lives to putting the departed to rest. Here, they welcomed him in from his long journey, in spite of the rumours that preceded him, with food and a warm bed, where Alo spent the night lying awake in the midst of an epiphany-yielding session of self-reflection. The next morning, Alo signed onto the ranks of the spiritualists, who tutored him in not only their traditions for tending to the dead, but also meditation and mindfulness. Gradually, through practise and overflowing patience from his peers, Alo was able to calm his raging emotions and, while he could never be rid of his anger, it slowly moulded into a fierce protective streak towards those who had finally filled the empty ache in his heart that had lingered since his hatching. Every ten years, the clan would perform a year-long pilgrimage across Sornieth, to visit a shrine in each of the elemental regions. However, Alo’s sixth pilgrimage proved to be his last; as one of the few dragons among the clan trained in combat, Alo volunteered readily to guard the procession, as it wasn’t unusual for the clan to run into ne’er-do-wells on their ancient route. As the clan trudged through the thick undergrowth of the Viridian Labyrinth, they were ambushed by a band of thieves who had claimed a section of the underused path as their new territory. Though their numbers were large, few of the spiritualists knew how to fight, and many had taken vows of pacifism, thus they were quickly overwhelmed. Seeking his friends’ safety above all else, Alo lingered behind as they ran in an attempt to slow their attackers, and while he offered a fierce fight, he was quickly overwhelmed and dealt a fatal blow that left him bleeding out, once again alone. However, as the light seeped from his vision and his body numbed, rather than the dark void that Alo had expected, instead colour began to consume his vision, shimmering and ever-shifting even once it had shaped itself into the rough silhouette of a vibrant creature reminiscent of a Wildclaw. Though he has no memory of the vision speaking, Alo distinctly remembers the offer it gave; his life, for his colours. Unable to fight his loyalty to his clan, Alo accepted with little thought on the matter, and awoke to the luscious green of the Labyrinth. Without pause, he rushed after his clan, only to find their bodies, strewn in a grim trail that led him to the only other survivor; his dear friend, Kiln, who barely clung to life. Remembering the strange Wildclaw, whose name – the Colour Castaway – lingered in his mind despite having no introduction, Alo quickly reasoned that the creature would appear and propose a similar deal to his friend. As such, Alo concluded that it would be better to let the Castaway heal his friend than attempt so himself, and risk losing them to infection later. Excited, he watched as Kiln’s body turned pale, and his limbs went limp, only for seconds, then minutes, then hours to pass without sign of movement. Finally, reality dawned on Alo, reigniting the rage he had long learned to cast aside. Unable to chase the Colour Castaway for his, in Alo’s mind, betrayal, he instead pursued the clan that had killed his own, and exacted his revenge, slaughtering them one by one. When the final foe hit the floor, the rage drained from Alo as if someone were forcefully dragging it from his soul, and in its place a hollow apathy developed. Calmly, he returned to his friends and collected them together, cleaned their bones, and carried them onwards, towards the next shrine. With each day that passed, Alo found his scales, already paled from their deep navy hue to a faded azure, continued to lose their pigment, until his once solid colours were a patchwork of near-translucent white and sky blue that slowly settled into an unmistakable pattern. Though initially he denied his new nature, with each new dragon that recognised him, and labelled him as a monster, a Wight, he lost his disbelief. However, as if out of pity, his new colours offered him protection from those who rejected him; in the blue, cloudy sky, Alo was invisible to any below him, and his body was now entirely immune to the elements, allowing him to travel beyond the reaches of his living kin at the very edges of the sky, where the cold would frost all but a Wight’s unfeeling wings. Once again an exile, Alo followed the path of the pilgrimage doggedly, until he reached home, where he could hide from prying eyes and those who would hunt him for his rare nature, and his exquisite hide. At the temple, he carefully performed the clan’s traditional funeral rights, to finally put his friends, who he had carried for nearly a year on his back, to rest. However, when it came time to bury them, he found himself, guiltily, setting a bone from each dragon back inside his pack, not through longing for a memento, but selfish fascination with the momentary relief it gave to the empty longing that had taken hold of his heart. Though his intention throughout his journey had always been to stay once he reached the temple, and rebuild the clan, within days of settling in, Alo found himself incessantly pacing, overcome with a need to move. It only took a handful more for him to crack, and he set out on his journey, pack in tow, towards the first shrine; a path he could walk in his sleep. As he travelled, Alo stumbled across more bodies, each forgotten in the wilds. As he had for his clan, he collected the fallen’s skeletons and carried them with him to the next shrine on his path, to bury at its foot after taking his payment in the form of a bone, or another morbid charm, in an attempt to hold onto the burst of emotion that their collection provided. Another year lapsed, and again when he reached the temple, he could not bring himself to remain within its walls, despite his now much heavier pack. Over the years, the traditions and stories of his clan have been lost to the world, and the shrines are now only known as burial grounds, which mysteriously grow with each yearly passage of the strange, sombre Skydancer, who vanishes the next day into the cloud-spotted sky. Rumours state that if a clan offers him food and shelter on his arrival, he will protect them until his dying breath. Written by Allstohel
POEMS
Born unwanted Scathed, alone He tries his best to survive But the world is- Unforgiving And trying... It’s not enough Kicking down other to earn his place He finds that he doesn’t care. His bitterness and spite Takes comfort in the blood he sheds But later He finds himself A spirit of what could’ve been In the form of a kind dragon In the form of another, His voice Her laugh The things he had never had. In time, he finds That sometimes family Doesn’t need to be based on blood. In fact, it doesn’t need to be anything at all. Written by vimai |
-ART-
-HOARD-
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Exalting Alo to the service of the Flamecaller 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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