Blaine

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Three longneck mages died when the herd brewed his egg, sapped dry of their magic and then of their very souls. Three of the herd's best and brightest, snuffed out because his fetal soul was so hungry for magic and the Longneck brew was so lacking compared to a draconic one. The herd never, ever, ever let Blaine forget this.

He was raised in a cage, poked and prodded at by their scholars and healers. The hungry baby was never, ever left alone. His every move was documented. More than once, he endured hideous experimentation, as their healers attempted to discern the source of his magic. Blaine, in time, picked up the Longneck tongue. In a little more time, he picked up the Common Beastclan tongue. The little Longneck boy in charge of feeding him talked to him fairly often. Though constant company chafed on Blaine's every nerve, he found he liked the boy. Things were less painful when young Asmodeus Habb was around, and that was reason enough for Blaine to like him.

Blaine knew he was different than the longnecks around him, but did not know what he was. He called himself the "weird Longneck" or occasionally the "hated Longneck." In time, he grew to want to be part of the herd. He became more and more desperately compliant, swearing allegiance to Talona, and begging for the pain to stop. There was some anger there, yes... but mostly desperation. To fit in. To belong. To leave the small cage where he'd spent his entire life, and join the herd proper.

The closest he got was when he had to leave his baby cage to transition to his adult cage. He was absolutely petrified to leave the only place he'd ever known, and accidentally killed two of the longneck soldiers assigned to escort him. They took it out on his hide for years after that.

Years later? Decades? Blaine had no sense of time in the dungeon. They lured him into a fortified crate with food, then shut him in. No matter how he thrashed, he could not get out. Word had gotten out that this particular Longneck herd had a captive dragon. In exchange for some prisoners that Clan AXQU had taken, the dragons wanted Blaine.

Blaine woke up petrified, with these strange creatures staring down at him. He didn't know their language, nor what they wanted from him, nor what they would put him through. He lashed out. They restrained him. He lashed out more. They restrained him more. Eventually, once he figured out they weren't going to hurt him, he was escorted to his own room. One called Rayzeel who spoke the Tongue came in to address him. She explained that Blaine was a dragon, and so was she, and that this clan of dragons would be taking care of him.

This crushed Blaine's heart. Him? A dragon? One of the Oppressors? That couldn't be right at all... but it did explain why the herd hated him so much. He felt he deserved it, knowing that he was actually a dragon.

He spent his free time carving little Beastclan symbols, hoping and praying that if he just showed enough devotion, maybe the herd would finally accept him. Now that he knew what he was, perhaps he could begin to atone for it in some way. The lure of companionship and camaraderie among the dragons was so, so tempting... but no. He couldn't allow himself to give in to the will of the Oppressors. Maybe if he was good enough, Asmodeus would come back for him and give him a proper Shearing Ceremony. Mark him as a fully fledged adult member of the herd.

Lately, Blaine's desperate hope has slowly given way to raw despair. He somehow knows, in the pit of his heart, that Asmodeus isn't coming for him. He's learned enough draconic to know that some of the Oppressors are using his treatment at the hands of the herd to rally others to their cause.

He's in less pain here, but his heart hurts so much more.

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Blaine has been allowed one beastclan to speak with, a small mercy in this place, but Blaine had never had much contact with harpies. The harpy prince went by the name of Rodolfo, and he wasn't much help to Blaine. Rodolfo had no interest in working against the Oppressors. Rodolfo had no interest in anything other than his own indolent pleasure-- wine, fine jewelry too small to be of use to dragons, exotic perfumes, frequent access to lots of harpy women, and a life completely free of responsibility. It turned out that certain harpy flocks would do any number of horrible, dangerous tasks for the chance to fill their nests with royal chicks. Rodolfo had gleefully sold out his own people to live in the lap of luxury. Blaine couldn't relate even a little.