Dabi
(#64059513)
Set it on fire | he/him
Familiar
Sparksylph
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
3.75 m
Wingspan
7.12 m
Weight
434.17 kg
Genetics
Shadow
Python
Python
Shadow
Morph
Morph
Cornflower
Firefly
Firefly
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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". . ." ╰━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━╯ Being ordinary had never been a blessing for Dabi. In fact, it had very nearly killed him. He had always been a drab, quiet child. The clan often overlooked him, favoring instead the louder, the brighter, the more noticeable. He had been largely left to fend for himself, and spent much of his childhood roaming the scrublands outside the lair. That was how the miners caught him. They simply swooped down on him, dropping a net upon him as though he were an animal. Though he screamed and thrashed, begging to be released, it was no use. The miners gathered him up and flew away, laughing derisively all the while. “C’mon, get moving! Before someone sees us.” “Naw, I’ve been here a few times; they always let their kids run wild in the desert.” Another harsh laugh. “Gonna be a while before someone even notices this tyke’s gone, and we’ll be leagues away by then.” Those words hit harder than the laughter. Desperately, Dabi twisted around in the net, looking back towards the lair. It was a dim glow in the distance by then—and the dunes, scrolling steadily below him, were empty of other dragons. His captors were right. No one would come looking for him. And no one ever did. He was brought to a mine deep within the desert, forced to toil alongside scores of other younglings. Many of the younger ones had stories similar to his: They’d been plucked from their homes by the miners, the slavers, and imprisoned in this lair. There were older children here too. They did not speak of their pasts, but they didn’t need to. Their scarred hides, their dull and hopeless eyes, told him more than he wanted to know. Again the slavers’ voices rang in Dabi’s mind: “No one will notice he’s gone...” He did not plunge completely into despair, however. Instead, the harsh treatment he received, the hours of backbreaking toil, built a smoldering rage within him. So what if he was an orphan? So what if he was dull and uninteresting to look at? So what if he was not dazzlingly intelligent, athletic, or artistic? Did that make him worth any less? Did it mean that he deserved to be treated like garbage? He did not cause trouble, for in these oppressive conditions, inviting any sort of attention could lead to death. But he was always on the lookout for escape opportunities. His eyes darted about, probing the cracks and crannies of the lair.... The mine was powered by a huge electrical reactor, similar to the Source. It was a dangerous machine: Parts sometimes burst apart, injuring or even killing nearby unfortunates. No wonder the miners needed to abduct the dragons needed to maintain it. Who in their right mind would willingly approach it? Dabi soon lost track of the times he had to report for emergency “clean-ups”. He thought at first having to cart away a dead body was bad. He soon learned that there was something much worse: having to cart away a dead body that was in pieces. “As long as it isn’t mine,” he thought to himself. Another day, another disaster; and the young Wildclaw stumbled through the tunnels. He pushed a wheelbarrow, steadfastly ignoring its forlorn cargo and the squeak of its rusty wheels. “Someday, I’ll get away from here!” He stopped beside a huge pit, tipped the wheelbarrow. The corpse fell into the darkness, and Dabi’s stoic facade trembled ever so slightly. “Someday, I’ll escape...but not that way.” His vow was nearly in vain. Some months later, part of the reactor burst, unleashing a blast of Lightning magic. It surged against everything in its path, leaving jagged scorch marks that looked like thunderbolts. Dabi was at the very edge of the explosion, but the force ripped through him like a gale. Suddenly the world was flooded with brilliant light. It was burning into his eyes, burning into his soul. He screamed—but he couldn’t hear himself. His voice was lost in the thunderous howl of so much energy... And suddenly he was lying flat on the ground. He couldn’t move; pain weighed upon him like a crushing, scorching vise. Sound was all around him: the groan of machinery, cries for help or mercy, the drum of running feet. And the smell. Scorched flesh... “...get moving...” The voices vibrated like drumbeats. Each indistinct syllable sent a throb of pain through Dabi. “...gather...and then...the...” A sharp, high noise cut through the rumbling. Even through the haze of pain, Dabi recognized it: the squeak of badly greased wheels. The wheelbarrow. “That’s it, then, he realized numbly. He felt hands picking him up, and though his entire body once again burned with pain, there was a part of him that remained coldly, clinically detached. It stated calmly, “I’m dead.” And then he, too, fell into darkness. ———————————————- Dabi did not expect there would be anything after that. But to his surprise, there was. He felt the air vibrating again. The rumble and whine of machinery...He could’ve wept; the disappointment was crushing. “Was it a dream, after all? I’m still in the mine? I’d better get up before the overseers—” He stopped in the act of sitting up, staring in surprise around himself. He was not in the mine anymore. There were bits of pieces of junk around him, but he was instead in some kind of vehicle, almost like a sled with high, latticed sides. A tarp had been stretched above him. It thrummed in the chill breeze, and that was what he’d heard—not the sounds of machinery, for the craft had none. It instead seemed to be powered by glowing runes carved into its ivory framework. There was a furtive creature crouched at the front of the vehicle. Dabi must have made some noise, because the figure turned to look at him. Feathers and strings of pearls swathed the pilot’s head, and Dabi was glad about that, for what he could glimpse of the face beneath didn’t seem entirely wholesome. “Good, you’re awake,” the pilot hissed. “Feeling better, yes? Of course he is, Exie. We fixed him right up, didn’t we?” “Who’s ‘we’?” Dabi wanted to ask, since he could see only one...well, he supposed this person was a Wildclaw. More questions arose in his mind: What was this vehicle? Where were they? And where was he going? But again, he was silenced by what he saw. As he approached the pilot, he saw that beyond, there was— Everything. It stretched away before them, behind them, above and below...all around! Wide, open space! No tunnel walls choked with thick smoke, no debris pattering from a low stone ceiling. Just the endless expanse of the desert dunes— And the stars, the endless stars! Dabi had forgotten how beautiful they were, so cold and distant...yet so dazzling. Tears actually sprang to his eyes as he looked up at the night sky, drinking in the clear air. The glider sailed over a dune. It came down with a soft thump, and the impact knocked Dabi off his feet. He fell hard onto the deck, groaning piteously. “Awk! Don’t slip away, boy! We should eat him...just be done with it. But no! We pulled him out of the darkness. Can’t let him sink again. Or she’ll be cross with us. So cross...” “W...Who...?” “There she be.” Exie uncrooked a finger. As Dabi squinted, he saw a dim glow. The glider was approaching...some kind of town? He could see huge carts, campfires, figures moving about them... The figures approached the glider as it sputtered to a halt. Dabi was surrounded by them, and through the haze of pain, he was aware of hands reaching out to him, eyes peering down at him. They glittered through masks...or at least he thought they were masks. Their features were so gnarled, so grotesque... But the hands that lifted him out were careful, and he soon felt himself being carried away on a stretcher. Voices washed over him like breaking waves. “Out in the dunes, you say?”— “My word, his skin...!” — “It’ll be a miracle if he pulls through.” “But that’s what we do, don’t we? Miracles.” That last voice was firmer, more confident. At those words, Dabi felt something he hadn’t dared to accept in a long time: a glimmer of hope. ———————————————- That was how Dabi came to the Night Circus. It was a storied place, one that freely roamed the desert, welcoming all who wished to partake of its wonders. Most people left once the shows ended, but the Night Circus had a mind—and heart—of her own, and she was known to gather strays beneath her wings. Had she heard the thunder of the exploding reactor? Had she heard Dabi’s cries? For it was her will that had moved Exie to pick up the young Wildclaw and carry him to safety. And now, here he was. Dabi’s road to recovery was not always smooth. The Night Circus was, by virtue of being a circus, full of surprises, and some of these were nearly too much for the weakened Wildclaw to handle. To begin with, while there were many dragons in the Circus, it was predominantly run by goblins. Dabi recalled the moment he fully grasped that the grotesque masks weren’t masks at all. He shrank back, wide-eyed and tense, fully expecting the goblins to start talking about eating him. The goblins, for their part, looked back at him with placid understanding. They’d seen that look before, for Dabi wasn’t the first orphan they’d welcomed among their ranks. He would get used to this new situation eventually. “I blame Exie, personally. He was the first goblin I saw, too, and his personality doesn’t always inspire confidence,” the ringmaster, Ichabod, dryly admitted. It was some weeks after Dabi had arrived, and the young Wildclaw was well out of danger by then. Soon he would be well enough to run, walk...and work. And that was why Ichabod was speaking with him. Sensing that Dabi was now somewhat at ease, he said, “The Night Circus is a busy place, my boy, and we’ve no room for layabouts. You’ll be well enough to lend us a hand soon. What can you do?” “I—” Dabi broke off. Suddenly he was staring into space. He saw oppressively tight tunnels filled with clouds of dark smoke, the shadows of brutal overseers hovering just beyond. Heard the squeak of a badly greased wheelbarrow as it trundled over the stone. The weight of a dead body, throwing it off-balance. The electricity coursing through his veins... Ichabod placed a hand on his shoulder, and he drew in a deep, shuddering breath. “I...don’t...know,” he choked out. He tried to keep himself under control so that the tears wouldn’t spill out, but the words sounded like sobs anyway. Ichabod didn’t bat an eyelid. He said, with rather more cheerfulness than they both felt, “Capital! You’re a blank slate ready to be written on! You’ll learn a lot in no time. Feel free to watch any of our performers. Ask questions...If any act strikes your fancy, give it a shot.” His furrowed face split into a grin. “Who knows what magic is waiting within you?” His words were couched as friendly suggestions, but Dabi found himself following them strictly, as though he’d been ordered by a bellowing overseer. It became normal for him to drift around the circus, watching the performers as they practiced their acts. Trapeze artists, magicians, clowns...Even their earliest practice runs were entertaining. He paused beneath a banner that advertised The Illustrious Houdini, Mistress of Illusion! The illusionist was practicing on a low stage, cheered on by other circus folks. She chatted freely with them even as she spun shapes of light, sending them drifting over her audience’s heads. More illusions followed: dancing flowers; leaping fish; and even a foo, so realistic that Dabi could almost feel the softness of its fur. It bounded around, tail lashing, before suddenly swelling to an enormous size. Before Dabi could blink twice, it scooped up the illusionist and swallowed her whole. He couldn’t help letting out a horrified gasp. The foo popped apart into a shower of confetti. The goblins clapped as the illusionist reappeared, beaming and unharmed. “Not bad, but what d’you all think?” Her pale eyes swept the group, and then she focused on Dabi. “A bit too scary, hey?” He scowled back, embarrassed at having been caught out. The goblins politely concealed their grins. The illusionist’s face softened. “Hey, I’m not here to scare people! Can’t have my audience keeling over in dead faints. Come on—what did you think?” “Well, it was...” Dabi slowly straightened up. “Just surprising, that’s all. I mean, before that, the foo seemed so playful. The change was...sudden.” The other goblins murmured in agreement. Now it was Houdini’s turn to look a bit abashed. “I ramped it up too quickly, I guess.” “But it looked really cool.” Dabi smiled hesitantly. “I think it might actually be a good finale; it just needs more work.” “You’ve got good eyes. Dabi, isn’t it? I knew I’d seen you around before. All right, let me have another go. Let’s see if I can do better this time!” ———————————————- In his birth clan, Dabi had often watched groups of siblings gamboling together and had longed for the same warmth. In the Night Circus, he found it—Houdini soon became the older sister he’d never had, and his first true friend. He became curious about her illusions and asked how she created them. She explained that creating illusions was something many dragons could do. “But,” she said, winking cheekily, “it’s quality that matters, not quantity! Being able to take something from ordinary to extraordinary.” She gently took Dabi’s hand and turned it, palm upwards. “Give it a shot. Even just a few puffs of light will be a good start.” Dabi concentrated. Like most dragons, he had magic lurking within him, and now he nudged it slowly outwards. He did so hesitantly—magic had been discouraged in the mines, and he hadn’t practiced in years. He was expecting a few sparks... “Whoa!” He and Houdini jerked backwards as fire blasted from his palm. It roiled upwards, flickering intensely blue against the sky. Some sparks showered against a nearby tarp, and several goblins cried out in alarm. They rushed over with buckets of water and quickly extinguished the blaze. Nobody was hurt, but Ichabod firmly ordered that Dabi get evaluated by the physicians, just in case. They’d met him before, of course, but now they examined him more closely. In particular, they paid attention to the forked scars across his scales. Dabi hardly even noticed those scars anymore. They’d been left behind by the explosion from the mine reactor. But as it turned out, that wasn’t all they’d left: The physicians told him that the magical blast had affected his innate Lightning magic as well. “It is Lightning,” they told him, “but it manifests in an unusual way. You produce what looks like flames instead of bolts...” “Is it dangerous?” Houdini asked. She had a wing draped protectively around Dabi, and he peered suspiciously from beneath it at the goblin healers. They shrugged, unconcerned. “It’s unusual, that’s all. Magic takes many forms—this is simply a different manifestation of it.” Dabi breathed a sigh of relief. So it wasn’t dangerous after all. He wasn’t dangerous. He’d been worried that the circus would expel him. That he would be left to fend for himself again... “Penny for your thoughts,” Houdini said, and he blinked back to reality. She grinned down at him. “You know, that fire looked pretty interesting! I bet you could create some really cool acts with that.” “Oh?” Once again, Dabi had to force himself to relax. Had to force himself to accept hope again, to believe that maybe brighter things lay ahead... “OK, Houdini. What’d you have in mind?” ———————————————- In his earlier years, Dabi had had several adjectives applied to him. Words like drab, dull, and dreary paired well with his name, especially in the mines, where the slavers had always been on the lookout for trouble. But with the discovery of his new talents, he was no longer Dingy, Dismal Dabi. Now, he was— Dashing! Daring! Dazzling! Houdini had been glad to help him choose new words. “And indeed,” she chuckled, fondly patting his shoulder, “what better way to describe a fire dancer?” That was what Dabi, under the Night Circus’ care, eventually became. It took him a long time to master his magic, and longer still to employ it in ways that would wow the crowds. The Night Circus had standards, and despite his cool, aloof mien, he remained eager to please it. It had, after all, given him a home—and a life!—when no one else would. Was it perfect? Certainly not. What place ever was? But at least here, Dabi was fed and clothed, and he was cared for and comforted when he was ill at ease. He wasn’t just some number on an attendance sheet. He was somebody. “Come one, come all!” Ichabod’s voice rang out, heralding the approach of a crowd. Dabi couldn’t see them yet, but he felt their approach, the electricity of their excitement. His own magic resonated within him, sending sparks flickering across his scales. He let it flow out, spinning it into shapes that lit the night sky. A leaping foo, a blazing phoenix, a dragon leaping towards the stars... He had no audience right now. But he knew there would be one soon. People would notice the flames, and they’d inevitably draw near. They would stop and stare, and they would applaud in amazement. “And hey, why wouldn’t they?” Dabi thought, sending another sheet of flame soaring skywards. As the first waves of applause reached his ears, he grinned to himself. “After all, I’m extraordinary.” ~ written by Disillusionist (254672) all edits by other users
Layout by Kintsy
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I N V E N T O R Y
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