Tharn » Lair » Valkour

Valkour

(#5483105)

Emissary of Ice

Fafnir

Dusk Fuiran

Energy: 46/50

Personal Style

Apparel

Skin

Scene

Physical Attributes

Battle Stats

Measurements

Length

28.42 m

Wingspan

19.63 m

Weight

7298.33 kg

Genetics

White
Iridescent

Steel
Seraph

Denim
Okapi

Hatchday

Aug 07, 2014
(9 years)

Breed

Adult
Imperial

Eye Type

Ice
Common

Level 25 Imperial

Max Level

STR

AGI

DEF

QCK

INT

120

VIT

MND

Lineage

Parents

Manof
Lois

Offspring

Biography

[ x ]

Emissary to the Southern Icefields

A mantle of frost swirls about him, cold mist streaming from his scales even in high summer. White serpent, noble of the Cloudscrape Crags, an eternal outsider amidst the parched hills of the Summer Country. The Valari irreverently know him as Lord Frost, given that the two things most folk know about him is that he is someone of importance, and that he is very much an ice dragon.

Valkour, fostered by Queen Noc when the clan was still young, has always been a solitary figure. A lordling reared from youth for politics, he considers himself a cut above the rural chaff that call the city home. Yet there is a lifelong bond between him and this country- an arrangement nearly as old as the clan itself. The fledgling Light clans were not the only ones to see their share of hardship. In the early days, before dragonkind had conquered the beasts and laid claim to the best lands, there was strife. For Val-ar-Aion, that strife was war, but for Valkour's young clan, it was famine, and a cruel and terrible famine indeed did stalk the Winter Country. Like a plague it spread, felling weaker clans like wheat before the scythe. In the depths of bleak starvation, the first of the Starveling were born.

Valkour, stripling heir, was thus charged with a desperate quest: curry aide from the other flights, and deliver his homeland from this calamity. In the Ashfall Waste and in the Shifting Expanse, he was turned away- they scarcely had enough for themselves, and the fire clans were still bitter. In the Windswept Plateau, he was blown off course- north, to the Scarred Wasteland. The dragons there were hungry and lean. He did not stop here. He flew until his wings ached, until the frost in his lungs was replaced with fire, and the sun glared down like a merciless eye. He quenched his thirst at a white river, and beheld a green land. As green as the mountain meadow in spring.

He met the Brighthammer and her troop in the midst of battle. Impressed by the Imperial's long journey, the deal she would offer was thus: Val-ar-Aion's lands were bountiful, but their fields were held by the enemy horde. The City of Lamps would open its larders to the suffering ice clans, and in return Valkour and his company would rally with them and destroy their rival.

"Until the end of summer, Valkour, your fealty will be mine."

"Until the end of summer, then."

So it was sworn. Through this allegiance, a bloody swathe was cut across the banks of the river Faín- neither the first nor last time its waters would run red- and before the day of equinox their victory was sealed. The Queen had kept her promise- word from the south spoke of the miraculous painted barques laden with produce from the north. Yet Valkour sensed he had been deceived.

"My proud company and I have fought these long months, through blistering heat and scorched winds, but the weather does not turn, and the light does not change. Is this a trick?"

"You swore to serve my company until the summer's end," said the Matriarch, gesturing to the verdant hills, "but alas, young lord, I did deceive you. The summer of Val-ar-Aion does not end. This season is the first and last this land will ever know. Ah! What a hateful expression! You needn't conjure such a terrible storm. I did not intend to hold you to your word. Return to your winter country, Lord Frost. You have served us well."

The Matriarch bowed, and the frenzied wind and snow that had suddenly lashed about the young lord subsided.

"I was well deceived," he conceded, bowing in turn. "You have been a worthy general, but my clan needs its prince. Though the famine has been quelled, the Starveling scourge still roams. Presently, I will return to the south. Your summers may be eternal, but ours will soon be ending, and the snows will descend once more. Therefore, while the subject of allegiance still lingers, the proposal I offer is thus."

"In Winter, I will be your emissary, and attend to your interests in the south. I will be a shield to my people and keep the Starveling at bay. In Summer, I will answer your clarion and serve at your side. All that I ask in return is that you keep your larders open to the South in times of need."

Valkour did not often bow, but he did so again. Noc raised him with a gesture.

"A princely offer indeed. I suspect we shall have need of your service in the wars to come, Valkour. The south will have our grain and wine so long as we can spare it. Let us then toast, to the long allegiance of summer and winter! Eadh hel ú eiden!"
-

Tempest: Jerk
Valkour: Blocked
Tempest: Wait unblock me I need to tell you something
Valkour: Unblocked
Tempest:
Tempest: Jerk

-repping the ice flight everywhere, the man's never smiled in his life
-the most luxurious mane you've ever seen. what's his secret? he'll never tell. ~~it's horse shampoo~~
-ironically, he has no chill
-HONORRRRRR
-"starveling" - was wendigo originally so honestly just picture a wendigo, whatever that looks like for you i need to rewrite this rofl
-may have been Elanthe's previous Royalty Obsession before he managed to foist him on Noc's unsuspecting bloodline
-"here this guy's insane and would die for me but he sucks he's your problem now"
-noc: sweet, free sycophant :)

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