Bloodbath

Bloodbath

Hunter • Bloodbath x Fallout • protective • rebellious

As you wind your way through the lair, Valentino stops and sniffs the air. "Bloodbath's home!" He cries. A dark red Guardian (whom you assume to be Bloodbath) swoops in from a large aerial entrance. He drops a load of bloodied corpses, which other dragons scurry to bring to the larder. "We have a visitor?!" The Guardian roars. He curls up into a corner, and tendrils of shadow amass around the dragon. "He's rather introverted, and a bit twisted, but he's serious about his work, and if you're lucky, he'll warm up to you," Valentino chirps encouragingly.

"Oh chiiiildreeeen! Time for supper!" The Mirror dragon's harsh, high voice calls out through the dim halls. Immediately, dragons writhe through the halls, scurrying toward a central chamber. "Come on!" Your companion calls. "You don't want go miss Hemo's chickadee-blood stew!" Yet again you are swept away into the strange lair...

Bloodbath was one of the lair's first hatchlings, having come from Moonshadow and Fossil's first nest. Therefore, his parents always had high hopes for him; they grew even more confident after he decided to help with the clan. Not that exaltation would have been a disappointment- he was practically hatched for it- but it helped to have another set of claws around the lair. His father taught him how to hunt and fight; he took to it well, often dragging home large kills for the clan to feast on. He was their golden boy- on the outside.

Bloodbath was always a quiet dragon. After seeing his siblings wander off to see the world and, eventually, join the Deities (some moving away from Shadowbinder, to their parent's chagrin), there was a good amount of time he had nobody his age to talk to. He didn't mind being quiet, though: It helped him keep secrets. Secrets like the fact that he missed his siblings, or he was scared of the stringent faith of his father, and bewildered by the magic-soaked wildness of his mother. Neither of them were bad parents, per se. At the very least, they could prepare a hatchling well enough for exaltation, and lead them on the first steps of their journey. He was just afraid of what he didn't know, where the future might take him if he left his home behind. He was afraid of leaving the few Clanmates he had at the time lonely.

When the impulse to find a Charge hit, it scared him. He weaned it off by hunting, but he could feel it ebbing at the back of his mind. Hunting was always a good distraction; the skill of seeking, the thrill of the chase, and the rewarding ending of a bloody kill. Since he was killing for meat, he felt no guilt for taking pleasure in it. It was good to know he was helping his clan.