Myth
(#69791798)
Level 1 Imperial
Familiar
Ruby Webwing
Click or tap to view this dragon in Predict Morphology.
Energy: 32/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Wind.
Male Imperial
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
23.09 m
Wingspan
21.18 m
Weight
7803.54 kg
Genetics
Blood
Iridescent
Iridescent
Blood
Shimmer
Shimmer
Carrot
Basic
Basic
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 1 Imperial
EXP: 0 / 245
STR
6
AGI
6
DEF
6
QCK
5
INT
8
VIT
8
MND
6
Biography
Myth
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____Myth Inger____
Role/quote
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Myth stopped, he breathing slowing. There was someone following him, he was sure of it. A snap of a twig spun him round, but there was no one and nothing there. Not even the leaves rustled in the dead still air. Maybe it was some kind of animal. Or his imagination. It could even be just a dry twig snapping of its own accord. The blade at his throat told him otherwise. 'Don't make a sound,' a soft voice murmured. Rough hands gripped his arm, holding him tight. He knew, even from this one action, his captor was too strong for him to fight alone. 'You'll do nicely...' Myth kicked back at knee height, but the person simply sidestepped and spun him round. 'Now, don't do that, boy. You don't want me angry.' The person was shorter than what Myth had been expecting. He had long, dark hair that had an odd bluish tinge to it, his eyes were as yellow as a wolf's and his face was almost pointed. The shirt he wore could only have been some kind of chainmail, though it looked more like scales. Leather breeches, leather boots and a many strapped red jacket completed his appearance, along with a sheathed sword. He would have been quite a scary sight if it hadn't been for the acne speckled across his face. Though from this close Myth could see something shifting beneath the surface of his pockmarked skin. 'Clear?' Myth gave a single nod. 'Right then. Don't cause any trouble and no harm will come of you.' He flipped the knife in his hand and returned it to his belt. 'Don't even think of making a break for it. I've got archers trained on you as we speak.' 'I would question that.' Myth glanced to the new voice and a faint smile lit his face. Leaning on a tree, a crossbow in one hand, was his father, Endre. There weren't many times that he was glad to see him, but this was one of those rare moments. His captor spun to face Endre and an exasperated sigh left his lips. 'You again.' 'Yes, me again, Soggy.' Another exasperated sigh, somehow even more exasperated than the last one. 'Sogra. For the last time, Endre, it's Sogra.' 'Whatever you say, Soggy.' Sogra growled. 'So, hand me over your catch, please.' Endre nodded to Myth. The shorter man snorted. 'And why would I do that?' 'Because.' Endre came forwards, towering over Sogra. 'I will kill you. Lay even a hair on my son or daughters and I will make you sorry you were ever born.' Sogra spluttered back a laugh.'This is your son?! My gosh, Endre, haven't you gone up in the world?' Endre growled. A deep, guttural growl. Myth took an involuntary step back, having had experience with what came next. There was no massive white dragon this time, but wings like a tent sprouted from Endre's back and cracked branches above. Sweeping horns burst through his short white hair to add to the dramatic effect. 'You know how dangerous I can be. Vow to me that you will never do anything more than look at my family, and I will leave you alone.' Sogra stood tall... ish, and met the pale blue-grey eyes with his own. 'You know I cannot keep such a promise.' Crossbow came up and aimed directly at his forehead. 'I'm not afraid of death, Endre. No death threat can make me vow.' 'It's worse than death, my friend.' The crossbow lowered to point as Sogra's neck and a whistle later the man was on the ground, curled into a ball. The dart in his neck wobbled from the pained trembles coursing through his body. 'Vow?' Endre asked him. Sogra could barely get the word out. 'N...o!' Endre pulled the dart from the other man's neck, threw it aside and loaded another dart onto his crossbow, taking longer than he usually would. 'Ah, you sure?' Myth edged around the prone body of Sogra to stand beside his father. He did not like what was happening to his captor, he felt almost... Pity? It was an odd feeling, not one he'd experienced before. When no reply was forthcoming, the crossbow was readied again. 'Father,' Myth murmured. 'Another would kill him.' 'I know,' Endre stated. 'But...' But what? Did it matter if Sogra died? Myth shook his head as if to clear those thoughts away. No, it didn't matter. He was as dead as everyone else walking the planet anyway. Click. Safety catch off, aimed and ready. 'No...' Sogra rasped. 'I... Vow.' 'Hmmm?' 'I... VOW!' 'Alright. Then I'll leave you to it.' Endre clicked the safety catch back on and turned away, guiding Myth with him. Myth couldn't help but glance back at the poor, shaking man they were leaving behind. 'What was that?' He asked his father quietly. 'Bullet ant venom. Picked it up before we came here.' Myth glanced up at him. He'd read about bullet ants. As far as he could remember their effects lasted for a day. 'But he...' 'Shhh, he'll be fine,' Endre said. 'He's endured worse.'  |
   
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'Ah, Myth!' Myth looked up from the sword he was sharpening, catching Dewi's eye as he came into the armoury. ‘Hoped I'd find you here. I'd like to introduce you to someone.’ He laid the sword down on the bench and placed the sharpening stone beside it, subconsciously lining them up neatly. Since he'd taken on the job to keep the armoury in order, everything had become so tidy that half the time things couldn't be found. ‘So!’ Dewi announced. ‘Xenon, this is Myth. Myth, meet Xenon!’ Myth nodded with a small smile to the girl who'd just walked into the room. She was dressed in peasant clothes, but she held herself like a warrior. Alert, steady, ready to fight at a moment's notice. Her long, dirty blonde hair fell over her left eye. The one that he could see was a deep bluish green. It slid to him and widened in what he could only describe as fear. The pupil slitted, just like Dewi's did when he was about to shift to dragon form. Xenon scrambled back with a ferocious snarl, her teeth bared and gaze fixed on Myth. Myth took an involuntary step back and bumped into the bench, knocking the sword to the floor. The loud clang must have been too much for her because she growled again and darted out of the door. ‘Xenon!’ Dewi called after her. He turned to Myth and gave his friend a dark look. ‘What the Hell did you do?!’ ‘Nothing!’ Myth told him honestly. He had no idea why she had reacted like that to him. He had never seen her before, let alone done anything. ‘Myth,’ Dewi growled. ‘Nothing. Honestly, nothing.’ ‘Then why did she react like that!' The Prince all but yelled. ‘You must have done something. Don't lie to me. What was it?’ Myth shrugged helplessly. What could be say? Nothing. He hadn't done aything! ‘I'll talk to you later,’ Dewi promised, then stormed from the room like a mini hurricane. Myth stared after him. What in the world had he done? Why was Xenon so afraid of him? He picked up the fallen sword and continued sharpening it, his brow furrowed. |
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