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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
4.62 m
Wingspan
6.04 m
Weight
713.62 kg
Genetics
Cerulean
Skink
Skink
Storm
Noxtide
Noxtide
Banana
Contour
Contour
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 25 Skydancer
Max Level
STR
4
AGI
5
DEF
4
QCK
9
INT
9
VIT
4
MND
9
Biography
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EDIT WARNING Clan Thunder Hollow's story is in the process of being updated! This dragon's lore reflects an earlier version of the clan lore. Information contained within this biography is not inherently inaccurate to the current canon, but it is outdated and missing updated information. Proceed with caution! |
Quote:
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EDIT WARNING This dragon's lore is currently canonically inaccurate for the following reasons: I am currently in the process of rewriting this dragon's narrative to better align with the revision of beastclan-dragon interactions throughout Sornieth's history. Please proceed with caution and understand that the following lore was written with the previous version of Sornieth's history in mind! |
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WORK-IN-PROGRESS This bio is currently a work in progress. The information contained herein is not finalized and may change, though it is not likely to do so. The format is also more relaxed and will be tidied considerably for the final work! |
fenris.
the guardsdrake-in-training | conflicted • eager • curious
Quote:
text text
i. history
ii. relations
i. history
ii. relations
- text
- text
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. . » FENRIS • the warrior-in-training |
▾ STATISTICS
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GENDER: ALIGNMENT: RELATIVE AGE: |
female neutral good 19 |
FLIGHT: BREED: ANIMA: |
shadow skydancer wolf |
TRAITS: AESTHETIC: THEME: |
conflicted, eager, curious n/a n/a |
▾ CHARACTER
- Fenris is of the wary sort, having been conditioned into a mindset of survivalism from an early age.
- She acts more often than she speaks, her draconic rusty at best. She can understand draconic fluently but cannot speak it half as well, having been raised by Talonok.
- She is a social creature by nature but is hesitant outside the company of those she trusts. She desperately wants to flourish in social spaces but cannot quite trust herself to do so. She avoids large crowds and is most comfortable with small groups of one to four.
- The relative acceptance and safety of Thunder Hollow have allowed her to begin embracing her dual nature to the furthest extent she ever has; it has become her primary focus in life. She seeks out scholarly members of Thunder Hollow for answers to her questions on occasion.
- Life in the Hollow constantly surprises her, from the modern nature of the clan’s Public Sector to the accepting demeanor of many dragons. She is cautiously curious and is slowly discovering the wonders of electric lighting, radio, and weekly poker games.
▾ HISTORY
- Fenris’ egg was cursed before she hatched by a group of Longneck who wanted to strike back at the dragons for overtaking the Ghostlight Ruins. They imbued her with a second soul, an animal soul, that would meld her between beast and dragon; this curse, called Beasttouch colloquially, led her parents to reject her once the second soul made its appearance.
- She was abandoned into the Driftwood Drag and fully expected to perish. However, a pair of Corven brothers, Suvroc and Nevar, found her and, knowing the nature of the curse she suffered, decided to take her in.
- It was initially their intent to help her embrace the curse and “tame” that second animal soul so that it would not be able to emerge of its own volition—after that, they intended to reintroduce her into draconic society. The curse, however, is based around emotional expression—strong emotions cause the traits of the animal soul to emerge from a cursed dragon’s body. As a skydancer, Fenris was constantly exposed to strong emotion even if it wasn’t hers, so entirely repressing the curse became an impossibility. The two Corven decided to adopt her permanently.
- They lived a solitary lifestyle, the Coven brothers being deserters of Talona’s order but not allies to dragonkind.
- Occasionally, Fenris would be sent out to local settlements to barter for goods. On one such trip, she encountered a pair of traders (Toivo and his apprentice Barker) with whom she attempted to do business. However, in the middle of their discussion, an increasing degree of eagerness led to her curse making itself apparent. The two traders did not react with fear or disgust, however, and the conversation eventually turned toward a place where Fenris’ condition would be welcomed: Thunder Hollow.
- Despite the reservations of Fenris and her adoptive parents, they decided to ask around. Another group of deserter beastkin seemed to confirm the notions and Fenris’ family decided to make an initial trip. They were rather impressed by the place and opted to settle alone in the woods after gaining citizenship.
▾ CURRENT
- Fenris is slowly integrating into Thunder Hollow life alongside Suvroc and Nevar.
- Her solid skills in woodcraft and her unique capability to shapeshift has seen her accept an apprenticeship with the clan’s guard program. Though the structure of the lifestyle acts in direct opposition to her historically independent and freewheeling nature, she is adapting fairly well and hopes to graduate into a mixed martial arts fighter with some training.
- She absolutely adores learning about the clan’s various traditions and eagerly partakes in as many of them as she can.
▾ FAMILIAR(S)
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SUVROC The elder of the two Corven who found and raised her, Fenris and Suvroc have a good relationship. The old crow initially didn’t like her much, not quite convinced of her usefulness or the reason he ought to take care of her; however, he’s made an almost complete turnaround over the many years it took to rear Fenris into the happy young lady she is today. |
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NEVAR The younger of the two Corven who found and raised her, Nevar has always been Fenris’ champion. He was the one to initially take her in and has been an excellent parent all things considered. Fenris absolutely adores him and their personalities mesh well together—they often get up to the same sorts of mischief, much to Suvroc’s dismay. |
▾ RELATIONSHIPS
- TALA [Friend, Mentor] » One of the only other shapechangers in the Hollow, Tala has done her best to coach Fenris in the ways of not-quite-dragons despite the major differences between their afflictions. Of all the dragons in the Hollow, Tala is the one that Fenris would consider a friend.
- NIMBUS [Acquaintance] » Nimbus has revealed a marked interested in getting to know Fenris, largely due to the nature of her curse. They don't know each other well but Fenris is not opposed to the idea of learning more about him.
- SKYE [Guide, Acquaintance] » Skye has been instrumental in showing Fenris around the Hollow; Fenris herself is very appreciative of the help. Though they aren't all that close, Fenris has quickly released her reservations when it comes to asking Skye questions--the kindly skydancer has put all her worries at ease.
▾ APPEARANCE
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Fenris
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▾ MISC
Quote:
« Beasttouched »
2462 words
Her first and last memory of her parents was of an argument. She was just a tiny hatchling, then, but she could feel their anger searing in her bones, seeming to split her skull in two for how intense it was.
“Do you think I WANTED THIS?!!” Mother screamed, her voice high and shrill, sharp.
“Well SOMEONE did, and it sure wasn’t ME!!” Father screamed right back, feathers all fluffed.
She didn’t know what to feel, didn’t know how to feel anything that wasn’t their anger, their hatred. She looked down at her claws, but they weren’t right. Her fur was paling, growing long and coarse. Her digits shrunk, slowly, the claws receding and becoming dull.
The last she remembered, they had become paws. For just a moment, she could drown the emotions she felt and just look at them, curious. She didn’t understand.
*
Her next memory was of the cold. It wrapped around her, digging in its icy fangs and chilling her to the core. Fog obscured everything beyond the hollow log where she lay, shivering in the damp semidarkness. She was alone, and she felt that fact in her very soul; it hurt, being so small and so empty, all at once. So she whimpered and sniffled, but didn’t cry out. Even she, scarcely a few months old, knew how dangerous such a thing would be.
But even her muted whines caught the attention of something. She froze when she heard its cautious steps, stilling instinctually as it crept ever closer. It wasn’t enough, and a shadow fell, slanting, over the entrance of the log. She caught a glimpse of sharp, beady eyes and couldn’t stop the screech that bubbled up in her throat.
“See, I told you there was something in here!”
She shut her mouth with a confused squawk. She heard the words and understood them, but they were wrong. Mother- and Father’s had been rounder, in a way, soft even though they were spoken harshly. These words were clacks and clatters, sharp and coarse.
Another voice came from off to the side, a second pair of eyes glaring in, “Sure, I’ll grant that, but it’s just a little dragon whelp who’s wandered off from home. What I’m looking for is dinner, thanks.”
She could see this one better, her eyes tracing the contour of his head and settling firmly on a pointed beak. It was no dragon—it was a Talonok. She was too little to know that she ought to be afraid.
“I’m not so certain it’s ‘just a little dragon whelp’. Look, it’s got pointy ears like a marsh fox!”
“Now that you mention, it does look a bit strange. You don’t think…?”
There was a brief silence, and she discerned a wave of gathering horror rolling off from the pair of birdfolk in waves. She recoiled at it, beginning to feel rather scared herself.
“I’m afraid- look! Yes, that confirms it, I do believe. And here I thought those cranky old llamas had finally decided to stop antagonizing the Shadowbinder’s children.”
The horror began to settle into a more mellow form of disgust.
“Bah! The Ghostlight Ruins will never again belong to the beastkin; why can’t they see that? Cursing a few hatchlings out of spite won’t change a thing.”
There was a pause, a beat wherein only the marsh creatures spoke. And then one of the Talonok piped back up.
“Well, we can’t just leave it here, can we?”
“I don’t see why we couldn’t.”
“Don’t you feel anything for it? It’ll die out here if we don’t take it, now.”
“I’m no dragonfriend, Suvroc. I don’t see why I should care.”
“It’s beasttouched! It’s closer to us than it is to the dragons. We could at least train it to hunt for itself.”
“We didn’t curse it, did we? It’s not our responsibility.”
“Well, I’m going to take it, and I’m going to raise it, and if you don’t like that you can go and stick your head in the swamp.”
“You always were emotional, Nevar. And stubborn.”
“Is that a yes, then?”
“It’s a ‘fine, but you’ll get no help from me’.”
“Excellent! Now, why don’t you go and rustle up some dinner and I’ll take it back to camp. Try and look for something a dragon would eat, mind!”
“Hmph.”
*
From that time on, her life was odd—not bad, but simply odd. The Talonok who’d found her were loners, long split off from the Tangled Wood’s scattered groups. They were neutral, as far as beastclans went, neither placed among Talona’s brood or amicable to the dragons who stomped about on the other end of the scale. It was funny enough, that, for she fit rather neutrally on the spectrum, too.
Her malady was an odd one, known far and wide but rather rare in truth. Colloquially, it was called the Beasttouch, a vindictive curse spread among dragonkind by vengeful beastfolk. It seeped into their eggs and twisted up the hatchlings inside, filling them with a second self, an aberrant soul called an ‘anima’ by some. At first glance, the child would appear normal, and would act as such. But such normalcy was a ruse, for inside that second soul waited patiently to rear. All it would take was a strong emotion—fear or anger, joy or sorrow—and the anima would make itself known, morphing the poor and witless child into a beast. Few dragons knew what to do with such unnatural young, and the hatchlings often found themselves discarded into the wilds to live or die by the will of the gods.
The Beasttouch was no stranger to those two Talonok. In fact, it was painfully common. She was not the first they had heard of, but she was the first they had seen of their own right. And, though they wanted nothing to do with dragonkind, they could not find it in their hearts to abandon her to a sure and painful death in the Driftwood Drag.
They called her Fenris, after old legends passed down among the beastfolk. True to name, her anima was wolfish, a sleek and silvery thing that came out when she raged or wept or laughed. Sometimes it was just a touch: a sharpening of the snout, a frosting of the fur. But often it was more severe, too severe to ignore, in any society, beast or drake.
Suvroc and Nevar did their best to teach her, to help her embrace her own duality rather than to fear it. Over the years, she began to learn. She looked at the anima, not as an enemy, but as a friend and an ally. She treated it with respect, giving it time to be full and free if it would allow her to remain her true, dragon self.
The Talonok hoped, one day, that she might rejoin draconic society. But even on her best days, the curse would not flee in entirety. It was still there, simmering just beneath the surface. She might be able to approach a dragon on occasion to trade or to talk, but her secret peeked out the longer she tried to blend in. They knew deep within themselves that she would never belong amongst her kin, as much as it pained her—pained even them, the grumpy old crows.
It was by chance they discovered that not all of dragonkind would hate her.
It had been a good week, a good month, really. Fenris felt free, freer than she ever had. She wanted to go down by one of the local clans, catch the news and perhaps barter some interesting trinkets for Nevar, who was always eager for new shinies to display in his queer little hut. The two Talonok let her go, optimistic for once.
She found the road at the marsh’s edge and began to follow it. Lanternyard, a tiny little settlement by the seaside, lay at its end. The place was secluded in some ways, closed off from its fellows that lay deeper in the Woods, but the traders who came by the docks always had new tales to share.
By some strange chance, she met two dragons on the way. They traveled together, laughing and chattering as they tugged a heavy cart along. One was a tundra, with icy fur; the other seemed like a tundra, too, but Fenris could tell it wasn’t. Its stocky frame was buried under a voluminous pelt and its sharp head was shadowed by a pair of immense horns, like those she saw on the peryton who made the marsh their home.
She could have easily passed them by, but she knew without knowing that they could provide her anything the town could, perhaps more. As traders, they would know the news, and they would also have plenty of odd wares to sell. She hailed them gently, keeping herself calm and focused, and did her best to express a kind greeting with her fragmented draconic.
“Good evening, fine lady!” the tundra chimed, halting a moment before his hulking friend and stumbling forward a bit as the cart slammed him from behind, “Might you be keen on some trinkets, or do you seek some other service?”
“Trinkets and news!” she responded, trying to keep her eyes from lingering too long on the strange, furry dragon who stared at her curiously with green eyes while the tundra pulled open the flaps of the cart.
“Splendid! Have a look about for anything that takes your fancy, and I’ll tell the news.”
He began to ramble on, speaking of strange elemental surges and the appearance of peculiar, ancient dragons. Fenris pawed through the trinkets laid out in the cart eagerly, her excitement building at the foreign wares and the shocking news.
She didn’t quite notice that her anima was seeping slowly between the cracks, smudging her appearance and pulling out the wolfish traits she would much rather keep hidden. At first, the traders didn’t notice, either, keeping up with her barter and paying little attention to the subtle changes.
But then the tundra looked up, snapping out some witty line about priceless treasures. He stopped flat, engrossed as he watched her face slowly shifting, and she realized what was happening with a start. Her first instinct was to flee, to run away before the realization truly set in. But the tundra’s expression stopped her; there was no fear in it, no horror. Just curiosity, kind curiosity.
“My, that wouldn’t happen to be Beasttouch, would it? It has been right ages since I’ve seen something like that! A very fascinating phenomenon, if my zoologically-minded friends are any authority.”
His words gave her pause. He knew what she was? And it did not concern him, one bit?
The tundra prattled on, “Twin souls, right? Very interesting, indeed! If it’s not too bold of me, was yours a curse or a gift? I’ve known a few folk who got adopted by wandering beastclans and got gifted an animal soul to better connect ‘em together.”
A gift?! How…
“A-a curse,” she managed to mutter, not quite believing what she was hearing.
The tundra’s brow crinkled, “A right shame, that. I’ve only ever heard of folks with curses; usually, their parents dump ‘em the moment they know, which is just awful! I supposed you’ve managed to come alright, though; your parents are a bit more tolerant than most, eh?”
“No,” she said, resolutely, anger suddenly boiling to the surface. She felt the change abruptly, shivering along her body. She had to get herself under control, had to-
“Oh! I’m quite sorry. Quite the blessing you’ve managed to do so well, though!”
He paused, noticing her conflicted expression. His face shifted from optimistic to remorseful in a matter of seconds.
“I’m afraid I managed to tread a nerve—please forgive me! I tend to blather on, not even realizing what I’m saying. Is there anything you need? I’ll get enough business down at Lanternyard, and I’m sure life’s been real rough for-“
“Why?” she asked the question sharply, interrupting his apologetic monologue.
“Pardon?”
“Why aren’t you afraid? Why aren’t you angry?”
“Why should I be?” he retorted, “I know this might be a surprise, but not every dragon is as close-minded about these things as I’m sure you assume.”
“Really?”
“To be sure! I’m from a whole clan of such folk. It’s almost like we collect those the world rejects,” he joked, smiling.
She was speechless, unable to process that fact. Suvroc and Nevar had related so many stories, of hateful dragons shunning the Beasttouched. They had encouraged her to seek a normalcy; perhaps, they hadn’t considered the fact that some might embrace her true self, Beasttouched and all.
“Beastfolk, magical aberrants, refugees…we collect ‘em all down at Thunder Hollow!” the tundra chuckled, breaking her out of her thoughts.
“Say, if ever you’re looking for a bit of company, the folks at Thunder Hollow’d be glad to know you. Most travel boats know the name; you could pop by without too much trouble!”
It was too good to possibly be true. She didn’t say a word.
“Now, can I get you anything? No charge; take what you need, friend.”
This finally got some reaction from the strange dragon who accompanied the vociferous tundra: an eyeroll.
“No. Thank you.” she rushed the words out and turned back on the road, letting the wind snatch away the trader’s reply.
The run back home was full of conflicting voices, two sides of an argument raging inside Fenris’ head. Part of her wanted to believe the tundra; he seemed sincere, for all his eccentricities. But her other, more logical side, couldn’t grasp the fact that someone aside from the beastfolk might sympathize with her plight.
She returned to Suvroc and Nevar breathless, a peculiar fusion of wolf and dragon. They looked at her, surprised, and she began her story from the beginning. They listened, awed, to her words, as confused and conflicted as she was.
They had nothing to say, nothing to add to her internal argument. Until Nevar piped up, surprisingly convicted.
“We could at least give it a try. These old bones could use a break from the swamp, I’m sure. What say you?”
“I say you’re crazy,” spat Suvroc, but his eyes glittered with mischief rather than malice, “But, sometimes, a little crazy can be a good thing, huh? We might as well ask around. Last time you got this crazy, it turned out alright, didn’t it?” he looked Fenris right in the eye and smiled, as much as his beak would allow
She smiled right back, her mind settled. If these cautious old crows could be convinced to throw caution to the wind, so could she.
And, perhaps, it would turn out just fine.
▾ FUTURE BIO CODE
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