Merry

A retired gladiator. He's the first to slip away at even a hint of danger. Practical to a fault. Frequently makes snap judgements about situations, dragons, etc. Deathly afraid of moths.

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The crowd roared, the arena filled with competing dragons fighting scale-and-claw for clan supremacy… and Merry, his familiar at his side, passed it by. On his way to the Auction House to purchase fish for the clan, he was more occupied with his belly, and those of his clanmates.

Once more at home in this arena and on the battlefield facing down monsters, Merry now rushed past the huge stone construction without a second thought. Though many had felt the sting of his claws, the feathery serpent paid the price to learn the better part of valor, many times over. After a particularly bad fight, hurt feelings, lost gold on betting, he’d sworn off it for good. It did him no good abusing his body like that, getting injured and healed and injured again, fighting and losing energy; if he was going to use his body for anything, he’d work for his clan, and so here he was in the Marketplace, looking forward to toting a heavy load on his back all the way home.

Though often sent to the Crossroads to Trade and bring home spoils, he had to walk past the arena each time, and most often the cheering washing over him was so powerfully familiar it was hard to forget the way it had felt, in the circle, his talons in the dust, blood and fang and the sting of enemy magic… but it was different now. There was no sense throwing his life away.

He kept his head up as he made his way down the wide high street that would take him to the Auction House, joining the streaming crowds making their way to and from the huge marketplace, wagons pulled by huge burly dragons or by their strong Familiars, smaller fliers flitting through the skies all around, every so often a large dragon flying in to touch down. The crowd of dragons and their following Familiars pressed together, and he couldn’t help recoiling as a small green Fae streaked right past his head, a fluttering Amaranth Moth trailing behind. He had to resist the impulse to go the complete other direction and fight the crowd, knowing he’d have to contend with all kinds of little fluttering things in the bazaar and that he had to keep himself strong; he was just glad the clan had no need of bugs this trip.

His own Familiar pressed its rough barky body against his flank comfortingly, and he brought his head around on the end of his long neck to look, forked tongue flicking out to gently tickle over the creature’s sensitive snout. It snorted and grunted, and tossed its head playfully, and the dragon couldn’t help the smile that curved his scaly maw. The boar was always good for a distraction, helping him refocus, and he lifted his head to move on into the bazaar on his short Coatl legs, big wings held close to his body as he walked through the crowd of dragons, all different sizes and shapes moving along the high road, pressing closer as they drew near to the entrance of the Marketplace, the huge Auction House nearby. He’d come for fish, and he’d leave with fish -- nothing too pricey, but something his clanmates could make something really delicious with…

Lore by twinMoon


-barkback boar