Maynard
(#66799340)
Level 1 Skydancer
Click or tap to view this dragon in Predict Morphology.
Energy: 50
out of
50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Plague.
Male Skydancer
This dragon is hibernating.
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Effect
Scene
Measurements
Length
3.9 m
Wingspan
5.33 m
Weight
907.29 kg
Genetics
Obsidian
Wasp
Wasp
Sunshine
Bee
Bee
Sunshine
Filigree
Filigree
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 1 Skydancer
EXP: 0 / 245
STR
4
AGI
5
DEF
4
QCK
9
INT
9
VIT
4
MND
9
Biography
He dare not lift his mask and reveal the deep scars that scatter across his face. How would anyone be able to stand the sight of him?
He didn't always look this way... He was beautiful, once, and his stoic nature captivated even the most vain.
The average wouldn't even be able to stomach the story behind his deformities of mutilation.
Being sold on the black market some time ago, the gold that inlay his incredible markings were mined and cut and melted directly from his flesh...
In the shadows of an unforgiving world, Maynard, an obsidian Skydancer, bore the scars of a life marred by cruelty and torment—once a creature of breathtaking beauty, now a shattered soul defaced by unspeakable torment.
Maynard's origins were veiled in obscurity. Born of Lightning and Fire, his parents fates sealed by the elements—his mother succumbing to the ocean tides, and his Fire-born father disappearing in a reckless pursuit of Arcane magic. From his earliest memories, Maynard found himself adrift, ignorant of his origins, and devoid of familial warmth, left to wander through the tumultuous currents of his existence.
During his wandering, Maynard unwittingly stumbled upon a clandestine gathering of shadowy figures, practitioners of forbidden arts. Drawn by his exceptional filigree markings, they ensnared him in a malevolent ritual, stripping him of his freedom. Bound by dark magic, he became a prized possession, a living canvas for their perverse desires. Once he no longer served their purposes, he became a victim of the black market's merciless machinations, a commodity to be traded in the grim marketplace and of suffering.
It didn't take long for Maynard to be bought and transported to the accursed Quarantine Zone #128 in the Scarred Wasteland, his once-glorious filigree—a testament to his beauty, became a curse.
In this vile prison, the gold that adorned his scales was violently extracted, cut, mined, and melted directly from his flesh. The intricate markings, a symbol of celestial artistry, were turned into a grotesque testament to the inhumanity he endured. Deep scars, both physical and emotional, bore witness to the agonies he faced.
Yet, in an astonishing feat of resilience, a true testament to his indomitable will, Maynard managed to break free from the chains that bound him. During a chaotic night of arcane disturbances, the guards were heavily distracted. Seizing this moment, Maynard, fueled by a surge of primal strength, shattered his restraints. His glorious sun kissed wings, once broken, unfurled with newfound power. Evading the distorted shadows and navigating the labyrinthine passages, he slipped away, leaving the hellish prison behind. His escape, aided by the very chaos that ensnared him, became a miraculous liberation. Alone in the Scarred Wasteland, Maynard forged a path to a distant land, seeking refuge far from the horrors that had claimed him.
Alone and haunted by the specters of torment, he wandered aimlessly, a creature stripped of innocence and grace. His once captivating stoicism now cloaked a harsh and distant demeanor, a defense mechanism against a world that had betrayed him.
Maynard dared not lift his mask, a veil that concealed the horror etched upon his face. The scars, a map of past atrocities, were a grotesque tapestry that only he could bear to witness. How could anyone endure the sight of such profound suffering?
Destined to be a wanderer, Maynard flew above the lands, not knowing what he was searching for, he had never known. Eventually, Maynard begins to see the Southern Bogs begin to unfold before him like a dark, mystical tapestry. Murky waters, tinted with the eerie glow of bioluminescent flora, were woven through the tangled roots of willow trees. Wisps of spectral mist danced above the surface, veiling the secrets that lie beneath. The air was thick with the chorus of nocturnal creatures, their haunting calls echoing through the twisted branches. Lush moss carpeted the land, and the skeletal remains of long-forgotten trees create an otherworldly silhouette against the dim light. Amidst this spectral landscape, Maynard found an unlikely haven, where shadows whispered tales of survival and the undying spirit of those who sought refuge in the haunted embrace of the Southern Bogs.
It was here—an unexpected refuge that offered a pretense of solace. In this murky sanctuary, Maynard sought to rebuild a semblance of a life, haunted by the echoes of a past that had robbed him of his beauty and left him with the heavy burden of scars that told a tale of unimaginable pain.
~Lore By: LavenderHoney
Maynard's origins were veiled in obscurity. Born of Lightning and Fire, his parents fates sealed by the elements—his mother succumbing to the ocean tides, and his Fire-born father disappearing in a reckless pursuit of Arcane magic. From his earliest memories, Maynard found himself adrift, ignorant of his origins, and devoid of familial warmth, left to wander through the tumultuous currents of his existence.
During his wandering, Maynard unwittingly stumbled upon a clandestine gathering of shadowy figures, practitioners of forbidden arts. Drawn by his exceptional filigree markings, they ensnared him in a malevolent ritual, stripping him of his freedom. Bound by dark magic, he became a prized possession, a living canvas for their perverse desires. Once he no longer served their purposes, he became a victim of the black market's merciless machinations, a commodity to be traded in the grim marketplace and of suffering.
It didn't take long for Maynard to be bought and transported to the accursed Quarantine Zone #128 in the Scarred Wasteland, his once-glorious filigree—a testament to his beauty, became a curse.
In this vile prison, the gold that adorned his scales was violently extracted, cut, mined, and melted directly from his flesh. The intricate markings, a symbol of celestial artistry, were turned into a grotesque testament to the inhumanity he endured. Deep scars, both physical and emotional, bore witness to the agonies he faced.
Yet, in an astonishing feat of resilience, a true testament to his indomitable will, Maynard managed to break free from the chains that bound him. During a chaotic night of arcane disturbances, the guards were heavily distracted. Seizing this moment, Maynard, fueled by a surge of primal strength, shattered his restraints. His glorious sun kissed wings, once broken, unfurled with newfound power. Evading the distorted shadows and navigating the labyrinthine passages, he slipped away, leaving the hellish prison behind. His escape, aided by the very chaos that ensnared him, became a miraculous liberation. Alone in the Scarred Wasteland, Maynard forged a path to a distant land, seeking refuge far from the horrors that had claimed him.
Alone and haunted by the specters of torment, he wandered aimlessly, a creature stripped of innocence and grace. His once captivating stoicism now cloaked a harsh and distant demeanor, a defense mechanism against a world that had betrayed him.
Maynard dared not lift his mask, a veil that concealed the horror etched upon his face. The scars, a map of past atrocities, were a grotesque tapestry that only he could bear to witness. How could anyone endure the sight of such profound suffering?
Destined to be a wanderer, Maynard flew above the lands, not knowing what he was searching for, he had never known. Eventually, Maynard begins to see the Southern Bogs begin to unfold before him like a dark, mystical tapestry. Murky waters, tinted with the eerie glow of bioluminescent flora, were woven through the tangled roots of willow trees. Wisps of spectral mist danced above the surface, veiling the secrets that lie beneath. The air was thick with the chorus of nocturnal creatures, their haunting calls echoing through the twisted branches. Lush moss carpeted the land, and the skeletal remains of long-forgotten trees create an otherworldly silhouette against the dim light. Amidst this spectral landscape, Maynard found an unlikely haven, where shadows whispered tales of survival and the undying spirit of those who sought refuge in the haunted embrace of the Southern Bogs.
It was here—an unexpected refuge that offered a pretense of solace. In this murky sanctuary, Maynard sought to rebuild a semblance of a life, haunted by the echoes of a past that had robbed him of his beauty and left him with the heavy burden of scars that told a tale of unimaginable pain.
~Lore By: LavenderHoney
Awakened
 
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Exalting Maynard to the service of the Lightweaver 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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