Mulligan
(#7863562)
Level 18 Tundra
Familiar
Cragbacked Bouldursa
Click or tap to view this dragon in Predict Morphology.
Energy: 0/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Wind.
Male Tundra
This dragon is on a Coliseum team.
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
3.49 m
Wingspan
2.6 m
Weight
423.82 kg
Genetics
Purple
Basic
Basic
Royal
Basic
Basic
Navy
Basic
Basic
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 18 Tundra
EXP: 76648 / 92435
STR
13
AGI
37
DEF
35
QCK
40
INT
51
VIT
46
MND
31
Biography
MUH-lih-guhn
The Outcast
The Outcast
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Mulligan is… peculiar. He is not incredibly sharp, even for a Tundra, and everything about him is clumsy, right down to his tongue. He doesn’t seem terribly fond of pronouns, and he has an interesting tendency to put himself and everyone else into third person. What he lacks in wit and grace, however, he more than makes up for in personality. Mulligan is simultaneously kind and gentle and wildly excitable, with a joy that bubbles up and sets him aquiver at the smallest of things. In fact, Mulligan has been described (with varying degrees of ire) as an oversized hatchling—a description he would probably agree with himself!—and while, he the naivete that he carries with him does occasionally causes some trouble, therein also dwells a peculiar sort of wisdom. Risk assessment may not be one of his strong suits, but he has a unique adeptness at seeing good in those dragons that most would deem unworthy of their time—the cantankerous, the standoffish, the overeager. Life would have been very different if only someone had seen such good in him. |
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Mulligan was forced from his birth-clan when his clumsiness was declared simply too much. One summer morning, on a scouting mission up the Reedcleft Ascent, scoping out potential places for a new den, Mulligan caused a what could rightly be considered a disaster. Inching and crawling their way up the cliffside was tough work, and Mulligan, already grown quite tired, was throwing all of his weight into pulling himself up to the next shelf. That’s when things went askew. Mulligan slammed his paw down onto the ledge above him, and the whole pillar trembled. He and the rest of the party went very wide eyed. Mulligan scrambled up onto the safety of the ledge and then the whole world fell into confusion. Everyone behind him screamed and scattered and covered their heads as the slope below him gave way. All the rest of them could do was watch. In a stroke of luck—or perhaps by the Windsinger’s blessing—no one died. One dragon did break his leg. Another two limped home with snapped tails, and there were more than a few bumps and bruises. Needless to say, the incident did not go over well. The clan elders didn’t even withdraw to discuss the his punishment—a shared look and a few nods seemed to suffice. Mulligan was declared a danger to the clan and subsequently exiled. Heartbroken, but too obedient to argue, Mulligan slinked off into the night with his tail between his legs. He spent the next few weeks alone, wandering the plateau and grazing on whatever he could find, sleeping wherever he might get a small break from the wind. He survived well enough this way… but it was terribly lonely. Mulligan missed the shelter of a den, but more than that he missed the warm smell of other dragons surrounding him. He missed the company and camaraderie, small though his portion was, and he missed having a place to call “home.” He was lying out on his back, staring up at the stars and pondering all these losses when a thought struck him. Mulligan was exiled. He could no longer have these things with his birth clan, true… but there was nothing to stop him making his own clan. He could dig out a den. He’d make it somewhere low, so he wouldn’t have to risk another accident—in fact, he could dig one right out of the ground! There was plenty of open space on the plateau. He could start his own family, carve out his own caves and caverns in a place he liked, and fill them with the things and dragons that he liked. Mulligan’s wriggled back and forth in excitement, a grin that split his whole face on his lips. He started digging the very next day. It wasn’t terribly long after that that Mulligan's first clan member stumbled on him—although neither one of them really knew that they were future clanmates when they met. Mulligan was in his den, taking a breather. He hadn’t any idea what time it was, or how long he’d been digging, only that it had been about two days since he’d started, and things were coming along nicely. But it wasn’t done yet, and so, taking one last deep breath, the Tundra heaved himself back to his feet and got back to digging. Then he heard a cry from outside. The tundra stopped, perking one ear, and scrambled to stick his head out of the den and find the source of the noise. Leading with his snout, the Tundra drew the winds deep into his nose. Dragon? Yes, dragon. Big dragon! Then he actually saw her. He tipped his head. A large, pale-green Guardian with slate-grey wings was sitting outside his den. She didn’t look hurt, although she was very dirty. She had her head tipped too. Mulligan grinned wide and bounded out to meet her, snuffling noisily as he did, stuffing the new smell into his brain. “Greetings, protector! What brings a protector to Mulligan’s home?” She blinked at him. Then she looked at his den. “Home?” He nodded vigorously. “Soon to be!” Then he paused, as something struck him. He looked up to the sky. The Windsinger had already painted beautiful colors across it. He turned his attention back to the Guardian who’d popped up on his doorstep. “It is getting late. Come! The protector can shelter here with Mulligan.” The Guardian took him up on the offer, though she struggled a to crawl in. Several times that evening she scraped her horns against the ceiling and showered them both with dirt. “Mulligan will make floor lower tomorrow,” he promised. Scraping the dirt out of her eyes a the Guardian replied, “That’s alright, Mulligan… I’m making the mess. I’ll help.” Mulligan smiled gratefully. Then he tipped his head again. “Who is I?” The Guardian blinked. “What? Oh! Sha’uri.” The Tundra wriggled as his tail started up. “Mulligan is pleased to meet Sha’uri.” She chuckled. He liked the way it bounced around the den. “Pleased to meet you too.” Sha’uri spent the next day helping Mulligan to expand the den, as promised. Then, much to his surprise, she told him she would stay to help the next day as well. This carried on for a while: each morning Mulligan would wake and expect it to be the last day with his visiting protector, and every evening she would declare that she’d better stay the next day too until finally, she seemed to just decide that there was no point in leaving after all. This suited Mulligan very well! After all, what was a clan without members? And besides, Mulligan had gotten quite used to her being there. There were two things that Mulligan, at length, came to realize. The first was that Sha’uri had taken him as her Charge, which just about made his heart burst once he put it together (Him! The exiled clumsy one! Him!). The second, which took a bit longer but had less strong an effect… was that he loved her. Then there was a third, which came a bit later after that. She loved him too. So far, this has worked out quite well! The pair of them have struck an almost perfect balance. Mulligan fawns over her, and she keeps him focused. She practical enough for the both of them, and he is one of the few people who can can make her laugh. She is his most important friendship, and he is her Charge, and were it not for running their new and growing clan, he could spend the rest of time simply curled up next to her. |
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Exalting Mulligan to the service of the Windsinger 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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