Servin
(#55268649)
Level 1 Imperial
Familiar
Raptorik Wanderer
Click or tap to view this dragon in Predict Morphology.
Energy: 0/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Nature.
Male Imperial
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
29.43 m
Wingspan
17.78 m
Weight
9329.33 kg
Genetics
Abyss
Starmap
Starmap
White
Bee
Bee
White
Glimmer
Glimmer
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 1 Imperial
EXP: 0 / 245
STR
6
AGI
6
DEF
6
QCK
5
INT
8
VIT
8
MND
6
Lineage
Parents
Offspring
Biography
________________
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» S E R V I N «
Of Blessed Wing Healer |
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S T R E N G T H
▬▬▬▬▬▬●▬▬▬▬ I N T E L L E C T ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬●▬▬ A G I L I T Y ▬▬▬▬▬▬●▬▬▬▬ W I L L P O W E R ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬●▬▬ M A G I C ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬●▬▬ |
» Biography
Servin is the trusted friend of Eidolon, the two once hailing from the same clan but parting ways when life tore them in different directions. While Eidolon focused on being a warrior, Servin saw a great need for more healers as the age-old feuds between dragon and beast clan, and, to his horror, dragon and dragon, became more prominent. Servin trained under some of the finest healers the Viridian Labyrinth had to offer, and often moved from clan-to-clan as and when he was needed - following the cries of wounded dragons and the clash of weapons across the landscape as the one before the reaper. As time went on, Servin began to take an interest in reading all he could on clans before him - an attempt to perhaps figure out a way to map out something of a pattern and prevent bloodshed before it happened again. In his studies, Servin had access to some scrolls that he really shouldn’t have; ones that spoke of a great tree within the Tangled Wood and the order that followed her will. This ‘shaded behemoth’ went through cycles, each perfecting on the last and experiencing something akin to rebirth. Never had Servin heard of anything like it - clans that died usually stayed that way - but this tree would see dragons falling under her banner time and time again, no matter how many cycles she went through. Servin began to focus on this clan in particular, reading over notes whenever the tide of bloodshed waned, and he could find a few moments of precious respite. When the time came for Servin to move on, it was a different sound he began to follow. The Tangled Wood was somewhere he knew of, but rarely found reason to venture even close to the lands of the Shadowbinder. Yet, perhaps prompted by his reading, Servin could hear something emanating from the perpetual darkness. It was a soft, subtle sound that he heard with his heart more than his ears; a gentle tugging that was as a song should be. It drew him in, guiding him forward, and it was away from his usual calling he turned in order to pursue it. Through the shadows he passed, stumbling over thorns and roots, often going around in circles, and running from horrific figures that echoed each of his footsteps. Still, the song kept going, growing in urgency whenever Servin made a wrong turn and urging him on when he found the right path again. Miraculously, the old imperial passed through the Tangled Wood relatively unscathed, and, just as his heart began to grow weary and he wondered if the song he could hear was one of the shadow’s tricks, Servin finally came to her. Shal’anir was even more beautiful than he could have ever imagined; purple-hued foliage illuminated with the local glow bugs of the region that flitted between her |
leaves, crown reaching up and beyond what he could possibly hope to see, and gargantuan trunk and roots twisting like filigree with silver running up and down the length. It was as a paradise - beautiful, ethereal. An ornate arc was cast at the base of the trunk, intricate designs carved into the bark and softly glowing with whatever magic sustained them. The two guards that stood at the arc, shadow of eye and noble of heart, were unfamiliar to him - of course they were. They seemed just as surprised as he was that he’d wandered into their domain without alerting anyone to his presence, and were ready to detain him, but it was then that another voice halted their steps and commanded the two to stand down. This voice was familiar, one he could never forget, and as Servin gazed upon the midnight imperial that had appeared between the two guards, the healer realised that this was exactly where he was supposed to be.
Although Servin doesn’t follow war around as the blessed healer before the reaper, he is still very much the same dragon he was before. Given the healer’s den, Servin takes care of any dragons who come to Shal’anir sick or injured. For many, he’s a serene presence welcome in any scenario, possessing a soft voice and endless patience, and seems to be a literal white flag during battles. None with any sense of honour would seek to attack the one who tends to the gravely wounded on either side. Those who do quickly find that Servin isn’t as kind to his enemies as he is his patients and very rarely fights alone - all denizens of Shal’anir seem to have the unspoken code that, should the healer find himself under attack, there will be no mercy.
The same can, of course, be said for his attitude towards dragons who test his patience within his den and haven’t received his explicit permission to be discharged - unruly guardians and fickle hatchlings all get dragged back the exact same. Kicking, screaming, or a mix of both, Servin will drag that dragon back regardless of how much of a fight they put up - one of the few times he can be seen to really put his foot down, and, for those who really push all the wrong buttons, Servin’s roaring voice echoes to every corner of Shal’anir. This, of course, is all in the patient’s best interest, but it does mean that, depending on who one may ask, opinions of Servin can vary from utter adoration to a selection of choice words not fit to be repeated.
Although Servin doesn’t follow war around as the blessed healer before the reaper, he is still very much the same dragon he was before. Given the healer’s den, Servin takes care of any dragons who come to Shal’anir sick or injured. For many, he’s a serene presence welcome in any scenario, possessing a soft voice and endless patience, and seems to be a literal white flag during battles. None with any sense of honour would seek to attack the one who tends to the gravely wounded on either side. Those who do quickly find that Servin isn’t as kind to his enemies as he is his patients and very rarely fights alone - all denizens of Shal’anir seem to have the unspoken code that, should the healer find himself under attack, there will be no mercy.
The same can, of course, be said for his attitude towards dragons who test his patience within his den and haven’t received his explicit permission to be discharged - unruly guardians and fickle hatchlings all get dragged back the exact same. Kicking, screaming, or a mix of both, Servin will drag that dragon back regardless of how much of a fight they put up - one of the few times he can be seen to really put his foot down, and, for those who really push all the wrong buttons, Servin’s roaring voice echoes to every corner of Shal’anir. This, of course, is all in the patient’s best interest, but it does mean that, depending on who one may ask, opinions of Servin can vary from utter adoration to a selection of choice words not fit to be repeated.
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 APPEARANCE Servin is an old dragon, as old as Eidolon, with a grey mane that is somehow still getting greyer, and eyes that speak volumes for what he's seen - and what he's been through. For such an old dragon, Servin is surprisingly fit, being more than capable of dragging stubborn patients back to the healer's den, from hatchlings all the way to guardians. |
TEMPERAMENT Like most healers, Servin is kind and patient, speaking in low, hushed tones that soothe those around him and put his patients at ease. However, even Servin has a switch about him - for those who test his patience (especially those who try to get out the healer's den before he says so), Servin is something else to behold. It's best to stay on his good side, especially in his den. |
KNOWLEDGE As a healer, Servin understands the importance of history, believing it can predict the future and provide invaluable hindsight for new occurrences. He knows all there is to know about old and new healing techniques, although he prefers the old-fashioned way instead of relying too much on magic, as he believes that to be a dangerous route. |
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Old Friends «
Servin sat before Eidolon, a delicate cup of his favoured herbal tea clutched in his paws and held close to his chest. His claws slightly tapped on the ceramic cup, clinking against the material in a soft, surprisingly pleasant sound. Years apart had seen Servin’s mane go from grey to greyer, while Eidolon still retained the rich midnight hue from his youth. Yet, the latter felt as tired as Servin often looked, and the two found quiet solace in one another’s company as they had when they were younger.
“I’ve missed a lot, haven’t I?” Servin eventually spoke up, tail curling at the end and a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You seem very much the same as you always were, old friend, but even you have changed. I can see it in your eyes.”
Eidolon shook his head with a small, almost unnoticeable, sigh. “We all do, dear Servin, some of us for the better, and some of us for the worst. I have missed your presence beside mine these last few years. You would do well to balance our more unruly residents.”
Servin raised his cup a little and lowered his head to meet it, taking a delicate sip and quietly savouring the taste and comfort it provided. “Surely you don’t mean your own children, Eidolon,” Servin scolded in a tone that was more friendly than it was anything else. “Those two warriors who greeted me at the doors were two wonderfully polite individuals indeed. They do look very much like their mother, too. The paler one is a spitting image of her.”
“That would be Karuk,” Eidolon said with a small nod. “Our queen wishes to perhaps make him a paragon of Shal’anir - one of her chosen. Same with his brother, Agnar.”
Servin tilted his head, humming. “A high honour indeed,” he agreed, smiling again as he took another sip of his tea and watched Eidolon over the rim of the cup. “You must be proud of your brood.”
“Of course,” Eidolon bowed his head, “Shal’anir has taken a shine to our brood in particular.”
Servin hummed again, tapping his claws on the cup in his paws again in thought, before giving a small ‘hm’ and falling quiet. He took a few more sips of his tea, eyes narrowing slightly as he seemed to go over something in his head. In typical Servin manner, he worked his jaw a couple times, being sure to taste the words before he spoke them. “And what of your queen?” He then asked. “She’s the pearlcatcher with antlers that came to greet me at the door before, isn’t she?”
Eidolon had lowered his head to take a sip of his own tea, but immediately looked back up at the question. Servin regarded him calmly, tail lightly swaying from side to side as he patiently waited for an answer. His expression was, as always, perpetually kind, so long as one wasn’t a particularly stubborn patient. “Yes, that would be our queen. Why?”
“Oh, I just wondered.” It was said merrily enough – perhaps too merrily. Servin reached out to take a piece of blue honeycomb from the silver platter Eidolon had previously laid out for them to enjoy as they had their tea, regarding it between two pristine claws before popping it into his mouth and chewing.
Eidolon narrowed his eyes, before chuckling softly and following Servin’s example in taking some honeycomb for himself. “She doesn’t have a mate, if that’s what you’re getting at.”
Servin scoffed, making a point of rolling his eyes, although his old friend might have noticed the way his ears pricked and chest puffed out at this revelation. “You jest, Eidolon. I’m too old for that sort of thing now.” Ivory claws hovered over the plate as he considered his next morsel. Eidolon watched closely, waiting until Servin made up his mind before swiping the bit of food he was after from just under his claws.
The healer gave an incredulous at the act, shooting a scowl at the midnight-scaled imperial, who seemed very pleased with himself. “Hey-!”
“Vesper’s just as old as you are, Servin,” Eidolon said pointedly with a sly wink, waving the piece of honeycomb at him as one would wave a claw at a misbehaving hatchling. “Don’t count yourself out quite yet.”
Servin huffed, picking up the other piece of honeycomb he’d been considering earlier in quiet retribution for Eidolon swiping the other piece, although his expression was far from disgruntled and his eyes instead twinkled with a familiar merry light. “Yeah, well, we’ll see about that, won’t we?”
Servin sat before Eidolon, a delicate cup of his favoured herbal tea clutched in his paws and held close to his chest. His claws slightly tapped on the ceramic cup, clinking against the material in a soft, surprisingly pleasant sound. Years apart had seen Servin’s mane go from grey to greyer, while Eidolon still retained the rich midnight hue from his youth. Yet, the latter felt as tired as Servin often looked, and the two found quiet solace in one another’s company as they had when they were younger.
“I’ve missed a lot, haven’t I?” Servin eventually spoke up, tail curling at the end and a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You seem very much the same as you always were, old friend, but even you have changed. I can see it in your eyes.”
Eidolon shook his head with a small, almost unnoticeable, sigh. “We all do, dear Servin, some of us for the better, and some of us for the worst. I have missed your presence beside mine these last few years. You would do well to balance our more unruly residents.”
Servin raised his cup a little and lowered his head to meet it, taking a delicate sip and quietly savouring the taste and comfort it provided. “Surely you don’t mean your own children, Eidolon,” Servin scolded in a tone that was more friendly than it was anything else. “Those two warriors who greeted me at the doors were two wonderfully polite individuals indeed. They do look very much like their mother, too. The paler one is a spitting image of her.”
“That would be Karuk,” Eidolon said with a small nod. “Our queen wishes to perhaps make him a paragon of Shal’anir - one of her chosen. Same with his brother, Agnar.”
Servin tilted his head, humming. “A high honour indeed,” he agreed, smiling again as he took another sip of his tea and watched Eidolon over the rim of the cup. “You must be proud of your brood.”
“Of course,” Eidolon bowed his head, “Shal’anir has taken a shine to our brood in particular.”
Servin hummed again, tapping his claws on the cup in his paws again in thought, before giving a small ‘hm’ and falling quiet. He took a few more sips of his tea, eyes narrowing slightly as he seemed to go over something in his head. In typical Servin manner, he worked his jaw a couple times, being sure to taste the words before he spoke them. “And what of your queen?” He then asked. “She’s the pearlcatcher with antlers that came to greet me at the door before, isn’t she?”
Eidolon had lowered his head to take a sip of his own tea, but immediately looked back up at the question. Servin regarded him calmly, tail lightly swaying from side to side as he patiently waited for an answer. His expression was, as always, perpetually kind, so long as one wasn’t a particularly stubborn patient. “Yes, that would be our queen. Why?”
“Oh, I just wondered.” It was said merrily enough – perhaps too merrily. Servin reached out to take a piece of blue honeycomb from the silver platter Eidolon had previously laid out for them to enjoy as they had their tea, regarding it between two pristine claws before popping it into his mouth and chewing.
Eidolon narrowed his eyes, before chuckling softly and following Servin’s example in taking some honeycomb for himself. “She doesn’t have a mate, if that’s what you’re getting at.”
Servin scoffed, making a point of rolling his eyes, although his old friend might have noticed the way his ears pricked and chest puffed out at this revelation. “You jest, Eidolon. I’m too old for that sort of thing now.” Ivory claws hovered over the plate as he considered his next morsel. Eidolon watched closely, waiting until Servin made up his mind before swiping the bit of food he was after from just under his claws.
The healer gave an incredulous at the act, shooting a scowl at the midnight-scaled imperial, who seemed very pleased with himself. “Hey-!”
“Vesper’s just as old as you are, Servin,” Eidolon said pointedly with a sly wink, waving the piece of honeycomb at him as one would wave a claw at a misbehaving hatchling. “Don’t count yourself out quite yet.”
Servin huffed, picking up the other piece of honeycomb he’d been considering earlier in quiet retribution for Eidolon swiping the other piece, although his expression was far from disgruntled and his eyes instead twinkled with a familiar merry light. “Yeah, well, we’ll see about that, won’t we?”
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» Art «
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Velochor
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» Notes «
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- Vesper thinks he's cute
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