Avaron

When not on hunting expeditions or in the coliseum Avaron can always be found at Tyrians heels. A gentle giant when at home, Avaron is all loyalty and kind words. When the nobles words hurt another he comes to comfort those below him, offering to do right whatever Tyrian has wronged. Protecting Tyrian as he rests and guarding him during the day, Avaron's loyalty has never been broken. Regardless of Tyrian's harsh words he will follow the noble as guardian and friend for as long as he lives.


bio by DraconicDemon








Despite his kind heart, Avaron is every bit the fierce warrior he appears. His glimmering hide is a beacon which draws all attention to him, a trait he has grown accustomed to and learned to use. He does not waste energy with subterfuge or trickery in combat, but instead anticipates having the full focus of his opponents. Being strong enough to battle in this way has garnered him great fear and respect though that was never his intention.

Avaron is accustomed to having all eyes in him, and he strives to set an example with his every action. He takes the role he has created for himself seriously despite the pressures it places on him, especially when trying to fulfill his master, Tyrian's, commands. He strives to embody the principles he holds highest: justice, honesty, and compassion. Friends and enemies often refer to him as a "white knight" in reverent and scathing tones respectively.


bio by Delamire



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The earliest memories he has are of his home clan. They were a small, close-knit group of travelers, an extended family made up of members from every flight. Both of his parents were from the ice flight and quite distant towards outsiders, but incredibly warm to each other and their only son. When he looks back, he can hardly remember their faces anymore. That life ended for him before he had grown to adulthood. A group of about five bandits caught them while venturing through the Ashfall Waste. Theirs was not a clan used to war. None among their ranks were accustomed to battle. And so, for the thieves, the battle was quick and fruitful. Avaron’s entire young life was ripped out from beneath him.

Another clan stumbled upon him about two days later. He was surrounded by carnage, starving and wounded and deep within a state of shock. The clan that had found him tried to nurse him back to some semblance of health, but even once his wounds were healed, his eyes were empty. None of them could get any response from him at all. Eventually, they called him a lost cause and dropped him off at the Auction House. It was a loud, bawdy place, where dragons not only displayed items and familiars but themselves, trying to find a place for each. Avaron was far too exhausted to try to sell himself. He felt hollow. He passed the days alone, watching the other dragons pursue the wares, unable to summon the strength even to desire revenge—until he saw a familiar face. A ragged old mirror, covered in scars, was meandering through the aisles of younger, cheaper dragons. He was one of the thieves that had taken Avaron’s family from him. For the first time in months, Avaron felt energy surge through his bones and he rose shakily to his feet. When the mirror left, he followed.

He kept himself a safe distance behind so as not to be detected. What he planned on doing once he saw the others, he didn’t know, but he knew that he couldn’t let this opportunity slip from him. It was a short flight from the Auction House to the thieves’ current base. After about an hour, they had arrived. Avaron touched down a ways behind the mirror and hid behind a tree to silently observe. Tents were set up in a small forest clearing and dragons flowed in and out, chattering peacefully to one another. Avaron paused. For a moment, he thought that he must have the wrong place. It seemed so… normal here, so calm. He couldn’t imagine that these were the dragons behind the slaughter he witnessed. However, other dragons soon ran up to greet the mirror, and they definitely looked like the ones that he had seen that night. Perhaps the group had acted separately from the others?

Avaron slipped into the crowd of dragons and walked confidently forward. He hoped that if he walked with purpose, he wouldn’t be noticed. Something in the back of his mind told him it was wishful thinking. He was a full-grown ridgeback now, no longer a slight hatchling, and his brilliant pure coloration always caught the attention of others. Just this once, he willed it not to, but there was no chance of that. Soon, he caught another dragon staring at him, stopped in the rush of the crowd.

“You there! Have I seen you before?” she called over the noise. He gave her one wide-eyed look and fled. “Hey, hey! Stop! Someone catch him!”

In his panic, he wondered why she was trying to stop him. After all, one dragon venturing into a camp wasn’t too big of a deal, especially since it was so obvious that he hadn’t stolen anything due to his lack of clothing. He glanced over his shoulder to see the group of thieves looking around for someone; he thought he knew who. Avaron ducked into the nearest tent to avoid their gaze and suddenly felt his eyes begin to water. Then the smell hit him like a ton of bricks. Sickness and decay. He looked around. The tent was full of emaciated, closely-packed dragons, ranging from young to old. They were all in chains. Avaron looked at them with a bewildered expression, and they stared back. Some of them looked good enough to fight, he thought. “We’re going to get out of here,” he said hoarsely, “but we have to work together.” The chained dragons perked up visibly and watched him more intently. Avaron coughed to clear his throat. “First, help get everyone out of the chains. Then, those who can fight, fight.”

The keys were on a post by the door. Avaron undid the adult’s chains first, and was halfway through freeing the hatchlings when the mirror from earlier burst into the tent and looked around wildly. When he spotted Avaron, he snarled. “In here!” he yelled behind him, then turned back and pounced in a single movement.

He was taken down mid-air by one of the freed adults; a striped skydancer. “Go,” she told him, “finish up there.” Avaron nodded to her and sped up his work. The adults charged out of the tent. He could hear a battle raging from the outside. Even once the hatchlings were freed, they huddled together in the furthest corner of the tent.

“Stay here, and be ready to make a hasty exit,” he told them, then ran out of the tent himself. The battle was just as bad as it sounded. The ground was dyed red with blood, and there wasn’t a peaceful place to be seen. Still, he had to clear a path for the hatchlings. He scrambled around to the other side of the tent and saw a relatively peaceful scene. There were a few bodies spattered about, but for the most part, there was less conflict. He ripped a hole in the side of the tent and watched as the hatchlings came scrambling through. They ran through the messy scene, and Avaron kept his eyes on the forest, which is why he didn’t notice the mirror dragon until his claws were latched onto Avaron’s sides. He drew back with a roar and clawed at the mirror’s neck. The mirror let go and leapt back, breathing heavily. There was a large scrape down his side, and his mouth was dribbling blood. Avaron stared at his enemy with amazement. “Why… are you still here? You’re nothing but a thief, and you’ll die if you stay. Why not flee like the coward we both know you are?” he spat. The mirror let out a low chuckle that degenerated into a coughing fit.

“You really know nothing of the world,” he wheezed. “We all have something we want to protect. We just have different ways of doing it. This,” and he gestured at the hatchlings huddled behind Avaron, “is nothing out of the ordinary. We could be far more cruel if we wanted to.” Avaron felt a hatchling shudder as the mirror closed in.

“Not one more step,” Avaron said. “I’m warning you.”

“Oh, whatever. I’m just going to die staying here, anyway,” the mirror mocked.
Why does it matter? As you said, I’m nothing but a—” Avaron slashed at the mirror’s throat. He fell with a sickening thud, and a few of the hatchlings gasped. Avaron felt a chill as he looked down at the mirror, the first dragon he had ever killed, and then pulled the hatchlings away.

He never heard from any of the adults again, but brought the hatchlings to the Auction House safely. All eyes turned on Avaron and the horde of hatchlings that followed him as he entered. He cleared his throat. “I’d like to register these hatchlings for sale,” he said to the secretary sitting at the front desk.

The secretary stared over the rims of his glasses for a moment, gave a little cough, and said, “yes, I’ll get straight to it, sir.” Avaron nodded and turned around, facing all those that gawked. Most of the crowd shifted under his gaze and at last looked away, but one stayed, staring at him with a self-assured smirk.

“Quite the entourage you had there,” he said. It was skydancer with regal purple feathers and a pretentious expression to match. “I assume you rescued them from some sort of dying clans or crooks or something of the sort. Are you a regular occupant of the Auction House?” Avaron nodded, and the skydancer tutted. “Well, this sort of place won’t do for a dragon of your strength, now will it? You deserve a house of a higher status. I can offer you that.” He paused, studying Avaron’s expression for a reaction. Avaron stared back blankly, in shock. “I come from a greatly esteemed nobleman’s family. My name is Tyrian. You are…?”

“Will you really let me come with you?” The words tumbled out of Avaron’s mouth. He bit back his tongue and stood up straighter. “I mean—my name is Avaron. It would be my pleasure to join you.”

Tyrian snickered softly at his comment. “Perfect. I’ve been in need of a new servant after the last one…took his leave. I’ve got plenty of things to keep you busy, Avaron…”

He had never imagined himself being a servant, even during the darkest days in the Auction House, but as it turned out, he fit the task quite well. He could remember every order with astounding accuracy, and was the most loyal of any in Tyrian’s house. It wasn’t that he was blind to the dragon’s flaws. He was well aware of his arrogance and his greed. It was more that Avaron understood Tyrian’s problems, and forgave them. There was a light and a dark side to every dragon, he thought. It was what side you displayed most often that counted. As Tyrian’s servant, or more accurately, his friend, he took it upon himself to help Tyrian show more of his lighter side than his dark. When that didn’t work, he tried to fix the damage that the darker side had caused.

After a while under Tyrian’s rule, however, he found someone in which he could see no light. They met at Tyrian’s home while Avaron was on guard. It around midday when another servant announced that there a dragon outside that requested an audience. “Tell him I’m about to eat,” Tyrian commanded, “and maybe he’ll leave.”

“Right away, sir,” the servant said, and slipped away. There was silence for a moment, and then a shriek and death gurgle from behind the door. Avaron’s eyes widened.

“What a pity,” Tyrian sighed from beside him. “I quite liked that one. She knew just how to arrange the furniture. Ah, well, we must keep moving forward. Avaron, could you go deal with that savage out there for me?”

Avaron nodded and ran down the stairs. As soon as he reached the large doors connecting the room they were in to the outside, however, they swung open from an outside force and someone stepped through. Avaron stared. The dragon in front of him bore nauseating physical similarities to himself, though his skin was a dark obsidian spattered with spots where Avaron was shimmering white. The gems grown into the intruder’s skin were the same color as the blood at the end of his claws. He bared his teeth to Avaron in a sickening grin.

“You must be the protector I heard so much about,” he said in a deep rumble. “I’ve been looking for your lord, you know.” Out of the corner of his eye, Avaron saw Tyrian shift into a more comfortable position in his seat, as if watching a particularly interesting play reach climax. He turned his gaze back on the intruder.

“You will not touch him.” Avaron’s voice was clear and firm compared to the other dragon’s dark, smooth growl. “You obviously didn’t hear enough of me if you have still decided to fight.” And then he struck. The first blow was a balanced swipe straight to his opponent’s jugular. It was a weak attack, aimed to test the intruder’s speed. As expected, he dodged easily and gave Avaron a low chuckle.

“Is that the best you have for me, protector?” he asked. Avaron stepped back as he lunged forward, dodging his teeth by a hair’s breadth. He obviously thought that Avaron was simply inept, but in reality, he was observing. Avaron noticed how clumsy his opponent’s footing was, how he put too much of his weight into every attack. Although the other dragon was obviously very passionate and confident in battle, he had little skill to match up with his strength. It was unlikely that he’d ever faced a truly strong opponent before.

Avaron moved more quickly now. Another quick test swipe, this one grazing the intruder’s cheek, began the real fight. Avaron began a vicious offensive. He stepped forward, slashed near the feet, used his weakness to gain more ground. His opponent’s assertive grin slipped away, replaced by a bitter and angry grimace. Avaron continued to deal blow after blow, but his opponent still fought. Would he fight until he was dead? Why, Avaron thought, when he fought for nothing? Why continue?

The thoughts swimming through his head distracted him for but a moment, but it was enough. The intruder took the opportunity and slammed himself into Avaron’s shoulder. Avaron drew back with a low growl and watched the intruder with an indignant expression. Maybe, he thought, this one fought for nothing. He opened his jaws in a savage roar and clamped down on the intruder’s neck, biting down hard before letting go and stepping back. The intruder stumbled and fell to his knees. He was breathing heavily and painfully. Avaron felt a stab of sympathy, just as he always did, but kept it quiet.

“Bravo!” Tyrian called from behind him. He stood up and began to walk down the steps to where Avaron and the defeated intruder lay. “Very nice display, Avaron! I’m as proud as ever of your skill. I really do have the best of almost everything, don’t I?” The intruder made a low, grumbling sound and stared at the ground. Tyrian looked at him curiously. “You, there! Yes, you, who else? You said you wanted to see me, before attacking two of my servants and killing one. What did you want?”

“I… wanted to serve you… of course,” the intruder rasped out through labored breaths. He dipped his head further, and his stance changed from one of defeat to one of respect. “What else? I’ve….heard of you, my lord, from far away. My name… is Morgoth, and I would…love to serve… under you, if you would allow it.” Tyrian watched him with curious eyes before turning around and heading back to his seat, yet he said nothing. Avaron looked from the intruder to his lord and then back again.

“What should I do with him?” he asked. Tyrian didn’t turn to look at him.

“He was an awfully good warrior, wasn’t he?” Tyrian mused. “Probably one of the best I’ve seen you fight. And if he wants to serve me…” Avaron blinked. He wasn’t going to—really, he wouldn’t— “Call one of our doctors, Avaron. Get him some treatment.”

“Sir!” Avaron said immediately, stepping forward. This time, Tyrian did wheel around to face him.

“Avaron, I believe I’m made myself quite clear. Do you misunderstand, or… do you mean to disobey?” He asked sharply. Avaron ground his teeth in shame and frustration.
“As you wish, my lord,” he said after a moment, slinking away to follow Tyrian’s command.

It was weeks before the intruder-turned-newcomer, Morgoth, was seen again. He approached while Avaron was at Tyrian’s side and slipped in to step on the opposite side of his lord. Avaron glared. It didn’t seem right to him, for Tyrian to walk next to this intruder. Tyran, of course, didn’t stay with them at all times. He nodded once at them to show that he would be leaving for a moment and walked off, leaving Avaron alone with his new college.

“Listen,” he said in a low tone, coming in close, “I don’t trust you.”

“Nobody really does,” Morgoth interrupted. Avaron cut him off with a glare before continuing.

“I spared you only on Tyrian’s word. If you ever try to touch him again, I swear on the names of every deity you can hiss out with your last breath, I will kill you.” Avaron’s voice was as clear and steady as always, even as he uttered such a threat. Morgoth stared back at him confidently.

“Well then,” he drawled, “I’ll have to put it off until I’m able to fight you.” Then he stepped back and out of Avaron’s space. Avaron found that, for a moment, he couldn’t move, frozen from the intensity of the conversation. Tyrian returned at looked at him curiously.

“Are you alright, Avaron? You look a bit…dazed,” he said. Avaron opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out for a moment, and by then Tyrian was already moving, Morgoth still smirking at his side.

It hasn’t happened yet, but he fears the day it does. Tyrian is as healthy as ever. Morgoth is taunting him, he knows it, but with every warrior that returns mysteriously worse for wear or every young dragon that flinches at the sight of the obsidian maniac, he feels that, in some way, he has failed them. Especially in the presence of Morgoth, he works as hard as ever to reach the full potential of his title; the Guardian, Loyal Servant, and Protector in the house of Tyrian.



amazin story by resplendentChaos