Demetria

He was once a part of an elite taskforce. The group took out dangerous threats to dragonkind; Emperors and other such monstrosities. But team left him behind after he received a grievous injury.

Alone and unattended, he soon succumbed to the wrath of nature... but he would not rest long. The self-proclaimed blood mage, Chimera, came across the decaying body of the skydancer and brought it back to her home with her, quickly setting to work. With blood and bone and magic she carefully crafted. After three moons of tireless toil, the Corpsecrafter was finished. She chanted the last few words of the spell... and the once-dead skydancer took its first breath.

Sitting up, it looked to the plague witch and asked her, "Who are you?"

Stunned momentarily at her success, Chimera hesitated before replying with a sharp-toothed grin. "I am your creator. And you... are but my first success."

Tales, such as only when the sun is at its highest will the Noonwraith appear.

A shimmer of the light as something streaks past out of the corner of your eye, so fast you're not even sure if you saw it, save for the faintest wisp of strange, black smoke left behind that soon after dissipates into nothing. The rustling of bushes behind you, revealing eerie red eyes that glow beneath the darkness of the dense jungle canopy. You try not to close your eyes, not to look away from the unwavering stare. None have outmatched it in such a challenge yet; the briefest blink and it's gone, leaving you to wonder once more if what you saw was even real. The clattering of bones from amongst the trees, sounds of a macabre nature warning you to run, quickly, now, before its too late.

There are no stories about those who didn't run, because they never returned from where they ventured.

. .Nile \Nīl\ [JOB] Mate: - A • B • C • D NAME 1 NAME 2 NAME 3 NAME 4 NAME 5 NAME 6 NAME 7 NAME 8 NAME 9 NAME 10 NAME 11 NAME 12 NAME 13 NAME 14 LOOK AT HIM! HE'S GLORIOUS! Art by: CuQuoise Plague/Water Coatl/Snapper, Born in the Month of the Warden

During the day, she sleeps, alone in her cavern. It is when the bright orb of the sun finally sets below the horizon that Nyctasha awakens. She takes in the approaching darkness with large, beady eyes, unfolding herself from her perch. In the fading shadows of dusk she scurries forth with spindly limbs. Her movements are quiet, save the occasional clacking of her skull-adorned attire and the scratching of her talons on the trees. Digging her long and sharp claws into sturdy branches she leaves deep scars and gashes in their bark. Although her wings are tattered and torn, she glides between the trees when she can climb no more. The sounds of crickets and other creatures scuttling about in the night are absent in her wake; none dare to approach her.

It is with determined purpose that she darts between the shadows created by the slowly rising the crescent moon. The nightmares. She can sense them. Dozens of dragons deep in their sleep, tossing and turning and dreaming. Nyctasha grows closer, and as she nears, so too does she grow more relentless. Inflitrating the hushed lair is an easy feat with her small, dark form. Without a second thought about the guards nearby, she scuttles from tree to stone, crawling on the ceiling with ease. Closer, closer. The nightmares call to her. Although has yet to memorize the twists and turns of this lair, the pull of the darkened dreams she seeks lead the way.

At last, her first meal of the night. As she soundlessly enters the lair of one dragon, she drops to the ground, creeping closer far more carefully now. Her bleak, sunken eyes take in the scene of the nightmare before her. A great flood is washing many dragons away, and the dreamer is frozen in place. The fear and grief of the dreamer before her is but a delicious scene for Nyctasha to devour. With a crooked grin, the eerie fae tugs at the nightmare with her magic, pulling it from the restless dragon's mind. The nightmare emerges, a deep purple bubble frozen in place. Oh, the terror coming from it is enough to drive Nyctasha mad with need for more. More. MORE! She hastily grabs at the ghastly bubble, opening her mouth to reveal sharp, crooked teeth. The fae swallows the nightmare whole, relishing its flavor as it goes down. Fear always tastes the best to her.

A small gurgle escapes her mouth, followed by a fit of gleeful giggles that are barely stifled as the dragon before her turns on its other side. Oh, this was but the tip of the iceberg. Once again, Nyctasha had a feast laid out before her tonight. As it was less than a fortnight ago. And the fortnight before that. Her stores had slowly run out, and Nyctasha was forced to hunt yet again, but it was often the hunting of such gruesome nightmares as these that were the most rewarding. Since this clan had come to her island home, the fae had been head deep in all the nightmares she could possibly want, and waiting to take them only made them taste so much better.

She exits the quarters of her first victim, darting to and fro. Each time she stops, she grabs a nightmare even better than the last. And with each nightmare she devours, she grows more and more frenzied, muttering and cackling to herself as he works. Eventually, the fae has her fill, but she is not finished yet. Those she cannot eat, she puts into her crudely-sewn satchels. Storing a nightmare for later was a trick she had learned long ago, but a handy one at that. It is near the end of her trip, but a few hours before dawn, that Nyctasha reaches the quarters of the clan leaders. These are the ones she favors the most, for the fears and duties of a ruler are often the most repressed, only showing their true face when one is asleep. She creeps up to her victim, cackling madly as she does. Already, she can see the tantalizing nightmare before her, pent up inside the guardian's head. As she reaches forward to pull it lose from its prison, Nyctasha is blinded by a startling bright light.

"WhO Is ThERe?!" she screeches, squinting out in the direction the light comes from.

VoidLoop, 190
Ridgeback, Savannah, Spinner, Stained

(cherperub fae)
Ice/Wind Fae/2



Long had he sat in the dark depths of the Leviathan Trench. In a place where not even sunlight dare stray he watched... searched... patiently awaiting the day when his charge would finally appear before him as he foresaw. As he waited, days turned to weeks. Weeks turned to months. Months turned to years. Yet, Ethreain remained. The deep-sea creatures around him lived and died, the scape of the land twisted and pulled apart and reformed as the deities and dragons above battled for dominance. Yet Ethreain remained. He waited listlessly in the depths, unblinking, unmoving. His glimmering scales grew dull, his leathery wings became torn and ragged. Yet Ethreain remained.

After centuries of waiting, TBC


•waits for centuries
•Lovina appears before him (his charge)
•she's shocked as another guardian emerges from under sand and silt near where she's swimming
•he immediately recognizes her as his charge
•she can't understand him because he's speaking an ancient dialect of draconic
•she's spooked and swims off, he follows the trail slowly, eventually making it back to the sunken ruins
•once the abyssal dragons figure out that he's no threat, they agree he can stay
•Lovina tasked with showing him around/keeping an eye on him/teaching him more modern ways

W I S H L I S T Food Materials Accents & Apparel Familiars Specialty Miscellaneous Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Fusce dignissim, nunc eu aliquam dapibus, enim erat dictum leo, eu dapibus tellus orci et eros. Cras rhoncus sed neque vel dignissim. Mauris tristique mollis dolor vel cursus. Nulla sodales, ante non tincidunt mattis, enim nunc interdum velit, vel porta elit quam blandit arcu. Nunc cursus magna et tristique facilisis. Mauris cursus dui sed sem rutrum, bibendum vestibulum dolor elementum. Maecenas velit purus, aliquet at molestie ac, vulputate vel augue. Ut ac tincidunt nibh, in tempus massa. Sed velit leo, iaculis id vulputate id, elementum sed dui. Sed tempor egestas orci at aliquam. Etiam pretium nibh sit amet quam gravida dictum. Mauris faucibus, erat et efficitur hendrerit, felis arcu fringilla enim, nec pellentesque orci ante eget enim. 150k Arcane/2 Imperial/2 (40 & 41), G2

[Druid] Mate: -; Charge: Nature Wise • Sectretive • Enigmatic • Calm NAME 1 NAME 2 NAME 3 NAME 4 NAME 5 NAME 6 NAME 7 NAME 8 NAME 9 NAME 10 NAME 11 NAME 12 NAME 13 NAME 14 "I am here to protect the natural world. What it gives to me, I aim to return. Long have I sought answers, long have the trees whispered their secrets and fresh blooms told their tales. Each one I know is like my own kin, and I will stop at nothing to protect that." Silvanus has always sought to understand nature's mysteries. In the archives of his birth clan he would search for answers. He would spend weeks alone in the forest that divides the Sunbeam Ruins and the Tangled Woods, looking for insight. He would ask tall pines what secrets they held, ask the night blooming flowers what it was they saw in the dark. The other dragons deemed him crazy, and perhaps he was, but there was a tie that Silvanus felt towards the natural world, one that he wanted to understand. After many decades of this, he did, wandering the wilds as he searched for his charge. He followed the wind, as it whispered for him to follow, follow, follow to the west, past the great sea, through lands of fire and lightning, down steep cliffs, and into a hidden cavern by the sea. His worries of finding his charge dissipated there as he realized: he had known it all along. Silvanus searches for the truth within all living things, protecting the wilderness around the clan's territory. In his time spent amongst nature, he has learned how to communicate with the plants and trees, listening to their whispered secrets and what they have seen over time. His dream is to one day visit the Behemoth in the Viridian Labyrith so that he might get even a glimpse of the great tree's knowledge. Caliptrae, they'd named him. But no, it never felt right to him. He'd refused any name until one day he heard the whispers of the trees surrounding him. "Silvanus," the great oaks called out softly, bidding him forward. And it just seemed so right as he stood in place, testing the new name out on his tongue. "Silvanus." Shadow/Wind Spiral/Guardian, Born in the Month of the Wanderer/quote]