Amun Noresta North _________________________________________ Gender: Male _________________________________________ Sexuality: Unknown _________________________________________ Clan: No Clan Affiliation _________________________________________ Status: Cursed _________________________________________ God: Icewarden _________________________________________ Mate: Cynthia _________________________________________ Relationships: None

"If you see the lone tundra with eyes as empty as a snow storm, do not follow him into the mists, child" Amun was a simple farmer who enjoyed simple pleasures. Living in the harsh world of the Southern Icefield was no easy feat, and for one with a gentle heart it was even more unforgiving. Still, he braved it with the love of his mate, Cynthia. Within their home, set into a cave which sheltered a small patch of land, they grew a multitude of polar plants and kept the fires burning should anyone lose their way in the everlasting blizzard outside. During this time, the pair dreamt of having hatchlings, a couple little ones to read stories by the fire to, or curl up to sleep with, or teach to navigate the ancient travel paths of the tundra. But, it seemed the Icewarden did not bless them and Cynthia's eggs never hatched. One particularly harsh winter, Cynthia fell ill. Unable to leave her side to get help, but unable to help himself, Amun was powerless to save her as she took her last breath in his arms, whispering "I love you". Amun mourned for days, weeks, months. By the time the sun peeked out from behind the clouds after the endless nights of winter, he was a shell of his former self. The garden seemed dead and dry without her, and the house was silent. He cursed the Icewarden for abandoning him. So he left, walked out in to the tundra intent on just walking for as long as he could. At the end of the day, as he collapsed on exhausted legs into the snow and fell asleep. As he slept, he dreamt of the Icewarden. The god apologized for abandoning him in his time of need and was giving him a gift now to continue to help people find their way even in the darkest of storms. Amun tried to protest. All he wanted now was to get away from this place to forget about his saddened memories, but the god would hear none of it.

When Amun awoke he was different. Dark grey fur now glittered like freshly fallen show and shackle-like runes ran across his arms and legs. He was still a dragon that much was for sure, claws cut his flesh, but fresh wounds healed right before his eyes. The Icewarden had given him immortality as part of his gift. Amun has an affinity for finding dragons in need of help. Often appearing like a will-o-the-wisp to lead them to safety. Most dragons assume he is a specter rather than a flesh and blood dragon tasked by the Icewarden and thus follow in silent bewilderment. Amun rarely strikes up conversations on his own and so the myth spread that he was a benevolent spirit helping those in need. Those who do talk to him are rarely believed and he likes it that way, allowing himself time with his own thoughts. While his position offers some fulfilment when families are reunited, he is never able to stop wandering and has spent centuries ageless as clans have risen and fallen around him. Over time, a rumor began that he was a malevolent specter who appeared by clans to steal their hatchlings away in the dead of night, luring them away from safety. Amun has never stolen a child, and never plans to, but hasn't made much effort to counter the rumor as he believes at this point he will outlive it anyway.

Art by me


“Just over this ridge and we’re home. Lucky we didn’t get turned around in that storm,” Olive’s mother chirped, strolling at a pace the hatchling’s smaller legs could keep up with.

The snow had stopped as suddenly as it had begun with sunlight quickly breaking through the clouds. The world around Olive and her mother was still, the layer of fresh, untouched snow dampening the motion around them. Even the trees had ceased swaying.

The tiniest movement to Olive’s left caught her attention and she turned, expecting to see an ermine knocking snow from a branch. Instead, a figure loomed in the trees. He looked like an old tundra, a little worn around the edges with silvery horns and a mane that glittered the way the snow did as the sun touched it. His eyes, however, looked like nothing she had seen before. They were empty, creased into a sad stare and seemingly carrying a great weight.

The tundra, upon meeting Olive’s gaze nodded his head as if to say, ‘go on’, smiling ever so slightly. The kind smile did nothing to alleviate the aura of sorrow he exuded.

“Mom wait! There’s--” she started as the tundra turned to wander away into the grove of trees. His methodical steps didn’t disturb a single branch around as he walked with an uncanny silence.

“Keep up Olive,” her mother said without glancing back, “I don’t want you getting lost.”

Her words were innocuous, but Olive could tell her pace had quickened.

The young mirror was left running to catch up, wondering who...or what...she had just seen.



Amun - Pre Transformation

North - Post Transformation