dreamlogic » Hibernal Den » Baron

Baron

(#63686736)

he/him

Familiar

Golden Roc

Energy: 50/50

Personal Style

Skin

Scene

Physical Attributes

Battle Stats

Measurements

Length

7.35 m

Wingspan

5.87 m

Weight

584.19 kg

Genetics

Hatchday

Sep 04, 2020
(3 years)

Breed

Adult
Banescale

Eye Type

Wind
Primal

Level 10 Banescale

EXP: 972 / 27676

STR

AGI

DEF

QCK

INT

VIT

MND

Lineage

Parents

Sorell
Sands

Offspring

none

Biography

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BARON
dream beast | nightmare hunter | he/him

ABOUT

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▾ When the last banescale brood was unearthed and the species began to spread once more across the land, it was a chaotic affair. In some clans, the banescales were welcomed gladly and offered asylum while they rebuilt their species. In others, the fear of change and the terrifying legends about the Flamecaller's first children caused them to be run out on sight. Somewhere in this upheaval, Baron's egg was separated from the rest of his nest. It tumbled down canyons and was tossed through narrow raging rapids before finally lodging itself between two boulders in the Reedcleft ascent, where the energies of the hatchling within eventually aligned themselves with wind magic.

▾ The egg matured, and was nearing its hatchdate when a mother roc, out hunting for dinner for her own brood, spotted a glint of green between the rocks. She plucked the egg up in her talons and carried it back to her nest. She was an older roc, and nearing the end of her breeding age, so this was to be her last nest. Of the three eggs she'd laid in a woven bed of branches on a sheltered cliff face, one had hatched prematurely, stillborn, one had been cannibalized by another nearby roc, and the third was expected to hatch at any moment. The hopeful mother waited, occasionally nudging the egg with her beak to encourage the chick within to stir and push its way out into the world. She waited, and waited. The dragon egg she'd discovered waited with her, and she was hungry, but would not eat what she had intended to be her child's first meal.

▾ At last, a stir from the nest: the dragon egg. It trembled and buckled, the hatchling within struggling to free itself from the soft, rubbery casing. Its egg tooth sliced through, a tiny dark snout pushing out to take its first breath of air. This was followed by a ridge of sharp spines, paper thin leathery wings larger than the creature could support with its newborn muscles. An infant banescale flopped out of the egg, screeching at the top of its little lungs for its parents. Its eyes were still glued shut with mucus, it had no idea the peril it was in.

▾ But the roc had never seen a dragon like this in all her years: one with only two legs, and large wings like one of her own kind. At this point she was beginning to accept what she'd suspected for a while now: that her own nest was a failure, and her final egg would never hatch. But she had lined this nest with down from her own breast, carefully prepared for months to raise her young. And looking at this fragile, spined creature gnashing its needle sharp teeth at her feet, she felt protective of it, like she owed it her best attempt at parenting after plucking it from the rocks. With her hooked beak, she cracked the shell on her last egg, revealing the undeveloped embryo within. She dabbed some of the yolk on the hatchling's nose, which it lapped up eagerly. Even if she had been unable to rear her own chicks, she could certainly care for one lost strange drake.

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▾ As Baron grew, he knew no other life than that of a fledgeling roc. He spent his first days scratching around the sheltered nest his mother maintained in the leeward face of a steep, mossy cliff. She brought him scraps of meat and nestled him into her wing feathers to sleep when the temperature dropped at night. When he was strong enough to fully extend his wings and flap them in her face, she began nudging him closer and closer to the edge of the nest. But even after his first and subsequent flights, having taken to the air like he was born there, she still welcomed him back to the nest to roost at night. The pair were inseparable: they hunted together, played together, slept together.

▾ It wasn't until after he'd reached adulthood that Baron had any inkling that he was anything other than a strange, featherless roc. It was a clear, breezy day, and he ventured further than he ever had from the nest, caught on a warm thermal and enjoying the air beneath his wings. Around a bend in a ravine, he nearly flew straight into a whole community of dragons of all species, including his own. He was stunned and delighted by the sight- a whole world of creatures like him that he never knew existed before today! Unaware of the intricate politics between draconic clans, he flew right up and perched in their midst, screeching a piercing greeting just like his mother had taught him.

▾ That evening, he returned home with scratched hide and torn wing, having been viciously chased away from the clan. They'd jeered at him, snapping at his tail as he fled, mocking his inability to speak their tongue. Imposter, intruder, feral monster... His mother, who had known this would happen eventually, said nothing, just tucked her child under her wing, even though he was nearly as large as she by now. The next day, she woke him early, and together they flew south, in the direction of a different dragon clan: one who was known for their friendly attitude towards the beastclans and Sorineth's other non-draconic inhabitants.

▾ Baron was shy and defensive, but he was greeted not with malice, but with curiosity and persistent kindness. How had he survived so long by himself? they wanted to know. He didn't have the words in their language to respond, but he gestured to the dark shape circling high overhead: his mother keeping watch over him. As best as could be managed with the language barrier, they offered him a place among their ranks, or at least their friendship if he ever needed the company of his own kind. Baron thought of how cramped his mother's nest had become, how she had to huddle with her claws dug into an exposed root teetering on the corner of the ledge to make room for his growing bulk. He loved her, he loved their life together, but he knew it was time to branch out on his own. So long as they stayed close to each other, he was ready to learn how to be a dragon.

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▾ It didn't take long, living among his own species, for Baron to realize he had an unusual gift. Living with the roc, he had never dreamed, not once. He still did not experience dreams that came from his own imagination, but the closer he was to other dragons, his sleep became restless and strange. Though his body slumbered, his mind would stir restlessly through the night, and eventually take flight- right into the dreams of his clanmates. An infinite number of impossible worlds lived in their imaginations while they slept, and Baron could soar through them as easily as he could soar through the waking world.

▾ Most of his clanmates didn't notice, but others, especially lucid dreamers and those with strong magical ties, confronted him about it. They weren't angry, just confused by this rare talent, one that Baron had never tried to hone, or even been aware of, yet one that he could practice effortlessly. He spoke with many spiritual leaders and mystics in their ranks, but no conclusions could be drawn from it. A blessing from the Windsinger himself? A fluke of development due to his unusual upbringing? Or just a particular vein of Sorineth's magic that flowed through him in his sleep with singular potency.

▾ It never occurred to Baron to use this gift for mischief or personal gain, he just thought it interesting, the things others dreamed of. He drifted from dreamer to dreamer, simply observing, never interfering. Nonetheless, he was warned never to let his power get to his head, and they impressed very strongly on him the importance of consent and privacy. Certain clanmates who were uncomfortable with their dreams being visible asked Baron to pass them by on his nightly adventures, and he respected their wishes. Still, he wondered if there was some purpose to this talent, some use he could put it to in order to benefit those who had so graciously welcomed him into their ranks.

▾ The answer came to him the first time Baron encountered a nightmare. He'd entered bad dreams before, and always left them very quickly, but this was different. This was as if a tiny shard of Shade itself had wormed its way into his clanmate's dreams and was destroying everything from the inside out. Without thinking about any of the warnings from his elders, Baron dove at the nightmare with a furious shriek: talons rending, spines bristling. He ripped the thing to shreds, clawing every last trace of it from the dream. As he attacked it, it squirmed and thrashed and when wounded enough, dissolved into putrid smoke with a sigh. When the smoke cleared, the dream was grey and dead, but as Baron watched, it began to mend itself: color and movement returning with each breath. He stayed in the dream as long as he could, keeping guard, until the dreamer woke up and he returned to his own body.

▾ Dawn crept through the entrance to Baron's den, illuminating scales that showed no evidence of the injuries he'd sustained while fighting the nightmare. For the first time, Baron felt sure of his actions, confident in his place among dragonkind, and filled with purpose. He was a hunter, a bird of prey, a dream walker. He could resist the Shade, choking out its questing tendrils before they had a chance to latch onto the minds of his clanmates. Baron stretched his wings, called out a high, joyful note, and set off to find his mother and tell her all about his victory.

LINKS & NOTES

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ART

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▾ I. adopt by Echinoderma

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