Nurzhan
(#83357327)
Level 1 Imperial
Familiar
Sorrowsnow Bulemoth
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Energy: 47/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Arcane.
Male Imperial
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
30.22 m
Wingspan
16.53 m
Weight
7319.71 kg
Genetics
Ice
Savannah
Savannah
Terracotta
Facet
Facet
Latte
Capsule
Capsule
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
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 N U R Z H A N 
BARGHEST LORE AND LINEAGE PROJECT
GENERATION III ANKH'S LINE NAOMI G5 | TALOS G5 
"Lantern light oft deceives the weary mind; what happens when it finally flickers out?"
Many an apprentice will toil away into the late hours of the night, determined to finish their work. As the lantern light flickers on, one may swear they see the light play tricks on them, mimicking the flash of a blade or the glint of fangs. If they ignore these flickering lights, these young minds find themselves growing ever wary, their hearts pounding as the darkness draws near. They chase that lantern light, afraid of the eyes in the dark, never aware they have become lost to all who saw that light flicker out one dreary night. This is the tale of the Barghest, Nurzhan. |
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The first moon of the year came on a cold night, the wind howling outside the partially renovated library Writ had begun to call home. Of course it was only a pale imitation of what he once knew, with students bustling about as they dove into their respective studies. The place seemed almost too quiet, the silence only broken by the turning of old parchment as he read. Well, that and the sound of the tarps held taut over the few gaps left in the roof. His reading is interrupted by a rather excited voice, one that was all too familiar to him. "There any cracks yet?" The imperial turns his shaggy head to peer at the somewhat dark spiral, quirking a brow at how she'd gone and wrapped herself around the nest of tarps and books well beyond repair. She may look like she didn't care, lightly tapping a talon against the scrying orb she'd gotten from one of her old lessons like she was trying to get a clear signal from a lightning flight device, but Writ knew better. She seemed to see a lot of little things in that orb, and while the others couldn't see what she did, she had made it clear she wasn't going to leave him alone with Ermine for their first nest. He still remembered how they'd bickered over whether the hatchlings would bear the curse he now bore or not, how certain she seemed in her assertion that they would indeed be "giant lanky cursed slinkies" when he hoped they wouldn't. He simply shook his head at her then, just as he was doing now to her inquiries. "I know you're excited to meet them, Samhain, but patience will pay off. Ermine said the full moon helps them." He was ready for her to try and argue that point. What sort of biological timer told a hatchling who didn't even know how to cry that they had to come out when a very specific light was on their shell? Temperature made sense, of course, but how would the light of the twin moons help? Wasn't that just reflected sunlight in the end? It was a roundabout they'd had before, one that Ermine herself had been forced to shut down the last time they really got into it. He should've known better than to assume with Samhain, though. "Why don't we help them ourselves?" He had to set his book down at that, giving the spiral his full attention. He could see how her eyes, dark as the night, practically lit up as she stared him down. He realized she must've had this idea for a while now, and had waited specifically for their hatching night to even bring it up. It was his silence that told her to continue. "You write, and things happen. I know some of these guys don't get the memo, right? They hatch late. They don't wind up how lil' miss spooky ghost stone wants them to be. Not like her. But you can write them into hatching tonight, right?" He's quiet for but a moment at that, looking over at his old note scroll. One note was all it took, right? "... Perhaps. But will it be too much? Or maybe it'll be interpreted the wrong way, and they come out off. Or maybe-" He was silenced by the spiral he loved darting up to coil around his muzzle, effectively silencing him. They sat like that for a bit, Writ's mind racing as he tried to work through it all. He knew this was Samhain's way of telling him to think, to work through his worries and see things as she did. It took some time, but finally he managed a weary sigh. He didn't even get the chance to speak his mind as his partner darted off, snatching his writing quill as he turned away from the nest. "There ya go! Just need to work it out in the end, y'know? Now, let's make sure these not-so-little noodle puppies hatch right, for both of you!" The second was written swiftly, though his hatching was still well documented. Writ was fighting the drafts that came through the few holes in his home, greedily snapping at the flickering candlelight he had to rely on for his work. His second child may have his origins written swiftly, but his father's talons were those with the knowledge of spinning tales for years. The wax may dribble in some places as he moves closer to the light, the oil of the lanterns spilling whenever he bumped them, but his hatching would not be stopped by that. Not on Writ's watch. He only became aware of the fear he felt deep down when a flame lit on the corner of the scroll, nearly eating into the very end of his work. As he tamped it down, he heard the cry of his second son, a cry of dismay as licks of flame lit his furred sides. For a moment, Writ worried, until he saw the fire never hurt his beloved Nurzhan. They almost seemed to be friends, in a way, though he took great offense to his father putting out his own lamplight. And so the second was written into the world, racing the fire he loves so dearly. Those who snuff it out pay dearly for their offense, as the vengeful pup truly only has one friend in his eyes. Someone needs to race him in their stead; who better than those who thought to outlast the very flame they made? Lore by ClockworkEclipse But what is flame without fuel? Without oxygen to burn? For as easily as the wind may snuff out a flame, it can turn a spark into an inferno, a blaze so potent and ferocious it can be nearly impossible to put out. It is this that happened the day Nurzhan met Vėjūnė, a windstorm in a draconic forum. He thought her an easy mark, a young dragoness, studying alone in a tent only lit by a few candles. But before he could even begin his games, he found himself snout to beak with the skydancer, who only gave him a smirk when he attempted to appear threatening, and forcing him from her accomodations with a gale of force he had never felt before. He was furious at being thwarted, but It was also then he knew, he had found someone interesting. They ran into each other, time and time again, always a week before the full moon. And each time he was forced away by the mighty winds at her beck and call, and each time he would come back. At first he told himself it was because he wanted revenge on her, but soon he admitted it was his fascination that drove him to seek her out. Eventually she finally elected to speak to him, tiring of throwing him out each time. It was then he learned why. Her family was cursed. She was a child of two dragons cursed to become ruby statues each night as thay slept, a burden she shared. So she'd stay awake, refusing to sleep. It was so dangerous after all, a dragon sized ruby was valuable… and that had been what she assumed he had been after. But that had indeed not been it, and she found humour in the confession he had wished to devour her at first, but had been so curious he wanted to learn more. And now he had, but he also saw the opportunity. So, Nurzhan proposed a deal. Should she help him hunt and help bring his offspring into the world, he would protect her while she slept and keep her company. And after so long in isolation… she couldn't help but agree. Of course, this would bind them together, trapping Nurzhan in her forum during the waking hours, but it was of little consequence. Her curse gave him free reign each night, and neither complained. As time wore on, they were the other's only companion, so it was no surprise the two formed a deep comradery, and, while perhaps not romantic in nature, love for one another. They work well together, as the wind and a wildfire fuel one another. As Nurzhan races the flames, starting the fires in his path, it is Vėjūnė that fans them, leaving naught but ashes and destruction in their shared wake.
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