Antaxis

Antaxis was born into a usual hunting pack of Mirrors. Social only in killing, reserved everywhere else. He would go weeks without saying a single word. Everyone would.

He had the advantage of being large, which brought him respect among his peers and those younger than him.

His piebaldism was a mutation. Not one that warranted subjugation or bullying—but rather one that earned him recognition among his hatchmates. No one would fight him over it really—he was big and intimidating enough to ward off challenge in his young years. It’s not that he did anything malicious or particularly violent, he just knew how to hold himself.

He learned very quickly that weakness is assumed before it is proven. If he wavered in confidence one moment, it would be seized by the next hunter he met.

Luckily for him, Antaxis was sure of himself. He didn’t have to appear strong because he was strong. He held his own in ambushes, he had an inescapable bite. But if there was anything he had trouble with, it was his bleeding heart.

Even while it against the pack’s best interest to weed out the weak, he’d cover for the runts and the hungry. While his markings distinguished him as a formidable killer to those in the pack, they also became symbols of warmth to those who were left behind.

He realized eventually that it was never the hunt he desired. While he was good at it, it never brought him joy beyond sustenance. Being able to bring something home to hatchlings and the injured made him feel alive.

He eventually parted with the pack in honor, and preserved his mystery to avoid being looked for. Shortly after he left, he met Viudremesh, a hardened, calculating type whom he allied with to survive the Wandering Contagion. They became fast friends, and spent their first few years together exploring the wastes, then slowly building a home for not just himself, but for anyone.

The first two dragons to take shelter at their den are the only ones for years: an Obelisk and a Skydancer, looking for somewhere safe to settle down and have their hatchlings.

Antaxis doesn’t get infections often due to his lineage’s hardening to the Wasteland’s strains. Any diseases are deftly fought off or hardly a nuisance, though he keeps care to avoid the more vulnerable members when he does catch the odd bug here and there, knowing that an infection would manifest itself many times stronger on a hatchling or unacclimated foreigner.

While Antaxis can quarantine mindfully towards himself and others, Desastre is occasionally there to accompany him through it. The Imperial is Iceborn, but has lived in Plague since he could walk and can sufficiently stand the elements (but not as well as the Mirror).

Aside from that, Antaxis occasionally experiences aches and fatigue. Some days, his muscles feel tender from disuse, for which Desastre takes him on walks around their den—a familiar path that’s quiet and easy. At the far end of the red forest behind their home, a dusty cliff face guides a constant breeze up from the barren gorge below. Here, they stretch their wings together.

Deep inside the gorge where the vultures roost, the nests can be found with downy black feathers woven into them.