Osmon
(#58824913)
Level 1 Wildclaw
Click or tap to view this dragon in Predict Morphology.
Energy: 50/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Lightning.
Male Wildclaw
This dragon is hibernating.
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
5.94 m
Wingspan
5.44 m
Weight
664.22 kg
Genetics
Garnet
Skink
Skink
Garnet
Spinner
Spinner
Saffron
Runes
Runes
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 1 Wildclaw
EXP: 0 / 245
STR
8
AGI
9
DEF
6
QCK
5
INT
5
VIT
6
MND
6
Biography
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Osmon
Jackdaw
Official Effluvial Crow
Subspecies Dragon |
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SUBSPECIES LORE
Jackdaws, also abbreviated as simply “Jacks” or even “Daws,” are often descendants of the Crow family in one manner or another. Their mixed bloodlines have carried some of the Crow’s more defining genetic traits all the way through to contemporary Sornieth.
They are often smaller in size compared to Crows, thus earning them their affectionate--but no less dangerous--namesake. Some of the more deadly characteristics of the Crow line have been known to persist through the generations, or even mutate beyond recognition. This is true in the erratic nature of the Crow’s viral strain, which has been known to adapt or develop in spontaneous and unexpected ways. It had even become the source of much interest and experimentation among certain clans seeking to weaponize them for their own gain.
Depending on how far removed the bloodline has become, they may no longer carry the trademark “eye” on the each of their wings, or the utilise the potent magic that is stored within them. This does not necessarily work against the Jackdaw’s favor, as it most certainly makes them harder to identify in the face of persecution. Like the Crows, they are both clever and clannish.
As with all things in Crow society, the ones with vibrant red feathers hold higher rank. Their plumage is considered both beautiful and far more beautiful than other colors. Red is in their blood, both literally and figuratively; and this saying encompasses all of of the corvids whether some care to openly admit it or not.
Those who are aware of their ancestry carry with it great pride and are known to venerate the true blooded. With their fervent dedication to their ancestral pride, the rift between Effluvial Crows and Lesser Crows grows larger than ever with each passing generation, as does their impact on Sornieth in dividing the clans that seek to house them both. Only the strong and the wise can hope to keep the seams from splitting.
However, there are always those who wish to break away from the shadow of the bloodline and earn recognition for based on their own merits. Thus, some of these descendants are known to rail against their ancestry and attempt to distinguish themselves as being more--and perhaps even stronger than the pure. These Jackdaws tend to have the most hidden agendas… Beware.
They are often smaller in size compared to Crows, thus earning them their affectionate--but no less dangerous--namesake. Some of the more deadly characteristics of the Crow line have been known to persist through the generations, or even mutate beyond recognition. This is true in the erratic nature of the Crow’s viral strain, which has been known to adapt or develop in spontaneous and unexpected ways. It had even become the source of much interest and experimentation among certain clans seeking to weaponize them for their own gain.
Depending on how far removed the bloodline has become, they may no longer carry the trademark “eye” on the each of their wings, or the utilise the potent magic that is stored within them. This does not necessarily work against the Jackdaw’s favor, as it most certainly makes them harder to identify in the face of persecution. Like the Crows, they are both clever and clannish.
As with all things in Crow society, the ones with vibrant red feathers hold higher rank. Their plumage is considered both beautiful and far more beautiful than other colors. Red is in their blood, both literally and figuratively; and this saying encompasses all of of the corvids whether some care to openly admit it or not.
Those who are aware of their ancestry carry with it great pride and are known to venerate the true blooded. With their fervent dedication to their ancestral pride, the rift between Effluvial Crows and Lesser Crows grows larger than ever with each passing generation, as does their impact on Sornieth in dividing the clans that seek to house them both. Only the strong and the wise can hope to keep the seams from splitting.
However, there are always those who wish to break away from the shadow of the bloodline and earn recognition for based on their own merits. Thus, some of these descendants are known to rail against their ancestry and attempt to distinguish themselves as being more--and perhaps even stronger than the pure. These Jackdaws tend to have the most hidden agendas… Beware.
PERSONAL LORE
WIP
A dragon staggered across a desert under the baleful gaze of the sun.
Sun.
The sun—it was everywhere, in the sky, in the ground heating the sands, blinding him in his eyes. His fur, his wings, they felt hot, too hot, they were burning, burning him alive.
He stumbled in the sand, gasping, and his eyes alighted on a rocky outcropping that cast a long shadow. Shadow—shelter—he had to get away from the sun. From the flames. He had to—
His foot buckled beneath him, and he slipped, and collapsed onto the scorching sand. No, not here, he couldn’t rest here, he had to get up now but his limbs wouldn’t move—they wouldn’t obey him. He howled, an animal’s cry that stretched across the barren, uncaring landscape.
Pathetic, a voice hissed in his delirious mind. You can’t even move your limbs? Weak. I expected no less.
He grasped for words with which to retort, perhaps to defend himself with, but they eluded him, as if he was grasping for leaves in the wind as they whipped past him.
A dragon staggered across a desert under the baleful gaze of the sun.
Sun.
The sun—it was everywhere, in the sky, in the ground heating the sands, blinding him in his eyes. His fur, his wings, they felt hot, too hot, they were burning, burning him alive.
He stumbled in the sand, gasping, and his eyes alighted on a rocky outcropping that cast a long shadow. Shadow—shelter—he had to get away from the sun. From the flames. He had to—
His foot buckled beneath him, and he slipped, and collapsed onto the scorching sand. No, not here, he couldn’t rest here, he had to get up now but his limbs wouldn’t move—they wouldn’t obey him. He howled, an animal’s cry that stretched across the barren, uncaring landscape.
Pathetic, a voice hissed in his delirious mind. You can’t even move your limbs? Weak. I expected no less.
He grasped for words with which to retort, perhaps to defend himself with, but they eluded him, as if he was grasping for leaves in the wind as they whipped past him.
ABILITIES
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ABOUT
AESTHETICS
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ART AND MISCELLANEOUS
Click or tap a food type to individually feed this dragon only. The other dragons in your lair will not have their energy replenished.
This dragon doesn't eat Insects.
Feed this dragon Meat.
This dragon doesn't eat Seafood.
This dragon doesn't eat Plants.
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Exalting Osmon to the service of the Stormcatcher will remove them from your lair forever. They will leave behind a small sum of riches that they have accumulated. This action is irreversible.
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