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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
19.62 m
Wingspan
24.35 m
Weight
8705.88 kg
Genetics
Black
Clown
Clown
Black
Current
Current
Black
Underbelly
Underbelly
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 5 Imperial
EXP: 206 / 5545
STR
17
AGI
12
DEF
10
QCK
14
INT
9
VIT
12
MND
10
Biography
| xxxxxx |
Cenere
The Ethereal Banshee  [Theme song: Elegy for the Rings · Andrew Prahlow]
A ghost-like serpentine dragon who sings her heart out to the souls of the woods.
Cenere's name comes from her darkened smokey scales which resemble dying cinders. Before becoming a Shadow, Cenere had always tried to fill the strange void that plagued her heart. Mate after mate, she saw her young grow and disappear and her mates leave. Her scales began falling and becoming frail like ashes but she would not die. Her skin now sports white patches of exposed skin, which lays scaleless. A terrible curse had been placed in her heart, forcing her to seek a remedy for the forever missing piece of her soul, devoured by a monstrous being, a Primal dragon. Many believe it to have been a fire one, as their untameable desire to destroy came from the deepest depths of the Flamecaller's forges. The shadow placed in her pendant that turned her and bind her to the woods, is all but a poor imitation of what used to be her whole soul. Her songs can be heard echoing through the woods as loud as thunders or as quiet as whispers, she sings for her mates and her lost children, luring travellers to her nest where the soul of the unfortunate is tested to see if it can replace the shadow and free Cenere from the woods. Their bodies are for the Red Skull to find and put to rest. The voices of those who did not pass the trial can be heard singing along the cinder scaled dragon and sometimes manifest themselves as a flock of ghostly crows, scattering around the dark forests in search of other candidates. To prevent Cenere from getting too close to the clan's borders, scavengers will leave unhatched eggs laying around at the edge of her territory for her to try and find her missing half. Sometimes, wide-eyed hatchlings with no clear heritage nor name stumble out the woods and into the clan's grounds chasing spectral wings back to the land of the living. Many leave and fail to remember about their early days but some just can't forget the chorus of lullabies lulling them to sleep. | xxxxxx |
Art by me!
Was on the front-page on 07/09/2021
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