Ruin

Ruin “Anubis” Darkpelt

Male // He/Him // Asexual Bane-romantic

Radioactive Slime

Familiar

Spawned in The Wyrmwound, this slime has taken on a life of its own. It envelops everything in its path, leaving bones and bare rock in its wake.

2400

Dire Vulture

Familiar

Often misunderstood due to its name, the presence of Dire Vultures often means there is plenty of food nearby.

2300

"Ruined"

The thunderous noise of paws hitting the stone floor echoed across the empty landscape. It was a wasteland indeed, abandoned stretches of dried lava which made up most of the barren landscape. What little life existed was charred and virtually inedible. The types of dragons that were fit to survive there could be described as some of the toughest, most vicious dragons you could ever meet. With teeth worn down from chewing on charcoal and bitter magma, ready to defend its territory with its last breath. Hardened by the conditions, and with an impenetrable hard shell that gave them an uncaring demeanor.

The hatchling was not one of those dragons.

They bounded across the dead wasteland, breathing heavily and with tears staining their eyes. Their fur was covered in soot and ash, and it weighed them down horribly, but they couldn’t stop running even for a second. Not if they wanted to keep their life. They hadn’t meant to get lost, they had only wanted to explore. But soon they stumbled upon a hill, and tumbled down into unconsciousness. When they awoke, they were staring into the eyes of a furious Imperial.

How could they ever hope to survive? Imperials were massive in size and temper. This one seemed a bit blinded by the smoke which constantly twisted above the land, but the little Gaoler could not evade its pursuer for long. The end had to come eventually. It was only a matter of time--

A trip. A stumble. And that was all it took. The little Gaoler went sprawling across the walk. They were too weak, too afraid to even get up again. They let out a sob as violent tremors wracked their body. They flattened their ears as the malicious laugh of the Imperial boomed through the air, tried to shrink back from the horrible, warm stench of the beast’s breath. They counted the seconds, awaiting their end.

Another roar this time, but much different. It was a challenging roar, and the Imperial responded with a hiss of his own. The hatchling quaked in darkness as the earth shook and cracked apart. The two opposing forces clawed and bit, released spouts of flame from their maws, shoved the other down on to the ground to get the upper hand. The hatchling thought it would last an eternity, but only a minute later and the Imperial had let out a whimper of defeat.

One of the dragons fled, and the smell of blood and burned fur hung in the air. One of the creatures remained, panting and victorious. The hatchling was in shock, they didn’t even think that they had the strength to move. They were frozen in darkness, completely still. Vulnerable.

The hatchling felt something warm and fluffy curl around them. With a jolt, a memory forced itself into their consciousness. The vision was hazy and blurry. Beside them squirmed the fluffy lumps of fur that the hatchling had come to know as its siblings. They rested against a large figure-- their mother. The hatchling tentatively sniffed the air. They were surrounded by the scent of a Gaoler. A welcoming scent. A kind scent.

Going against every instinct in their body, the hatchling opened its eyes.

The larger Gaoler seemed calm, despite there being deep wounds gouged into his side. His fur was white and gray and black, with long stripes running down his flank. Pale flowers sprouted from his coat and flowing mane. There was a rumbling in his chest that he hatchling soon identified as humming. When the larger Gaoler caught the hatchling gawking at him, he smiled kindly.

“You’re quite young to be meandering out and about,” the large Gaoler mused. Although he had tried his best to make his voice soft and comforting, the hatchling still flinched. The larger Gaoler tipped his head to the side apologetically.

“Who— Who are you?” the hatchling asked once it could speak. The larger Gaoler smiled. “I am Fortis,” he said with a slight bow of his head. “Now, do you remember where your parents are? I bet they are quite worried about you.” The hatchling shook its head, to the surprise of Fortis. “N-no, d-don’t worry about that. A-all hatchlings leave the nest one day, I’m sure they won’t notice much if I’m g-gone.”

While Fortis would have usually questioned the dedication of the parents, there was no mistaking the shine of awe and complete wonder in the hatchling’s eyes. Fortis almost laughed at the hatchling’s attempt at being sly. The hatchling wanted to come with him!

“Wellll,” the Gaoler continued, drawing out his words as the hatchling waited in anticipation. “I may or may not be a leader of a small pack of Gaolers. We don’t have too many hatchlings with us at the moment, but we could always use more recruits!” The hatchling practically leaped in joy, bounding around and wagging his tail so hard it looked like it might fall off. “Yes yes yes please!” they exclaimed, smile looking like it might reach their ears.

Fortis laughed and lowered his head to the ground. “Well then, climb on!” he chuckled. The hatchling wasted no time in scrambling on to the scruff of the older Gaoler, and soon the two were on their way back to where the rest of Fortis’s pack were staying. It didn’t take long, for while Fortis was graceful he could also be very fast. Eventually, they came to a clearing where a multitude of carts and caravans stood, surrounded by Gaolers and various larger familiars that could pull them. Most of the Gaolers turned their head to observe Fortis as he returned, staring curiously at the hatchling currently riding on his neck.

Fortis landed, lowering his neck to the ground so that the hatchling could climb off. With a huff, he shook his coat and then looked down at the hatchling. “Wait here,” he smiled. “I am going to speak to someone about arranging you a nest in one of the caravans. You’ll be staying with the younger dragons, such as Soren and Maleficent’s son. I’m sure you all will get along just fine.” The hatchhling nodded silently, suddenly self-conscious as other dragons took notice of him.

As Fortis padded away, Ruin was left alone in the clearing. He shuffled his paws a bit, staring down at the ground. There was a flapping sound behind him, and the hatchling turned, confused and a little nervous. There was a dragon he had never seen before, a hatchling like him. She wasn’t as long as him, but her wings were much bigger, and the Gaoler inadvertently felt jealous. The other hatchling’s scales and wings were of plain colors, but her Earth eyes sparkled with enough curiosity and excitement to make up for her monotone colors.

“Who are you?” she asked, flapping her wings and doing a small bounce. The Gaoler hatchling cocked his head to the side, jaw dropping open. The creature laughed. “Let me guess, haven’t seen one of me before, huh?” she grinned, sticking out his tongue and chittering. “I’m a Banescale! We’re the Flamecaller’s dragons. Mather gave us these huuuuge wings to fly around with!” The Gaoler nodded, dumbfounded. The Banescale cocked her head as well, mimicking him. “My name’s Tsarae, what about you?”

It took the small Gaoler a few seconds to recover from his shock. Eventually, he shook his head and hummed in uncertain thought. What was his name? He couldn’t remember getting one from his parents, though that might have been because he had hit his head at some point during his rapid run for his life. Did that mean he could choose his own name? Surely it did. He was a new dragon now, in an exciting new place. His adventure was just beginning.

“My name is Ruin.”