Isak
(#9675810)
He/Him
Familiar
Flying Figurine
Click or tap to view this dragon in Predict Morphology.
Energy: 50/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Wind.
Male Fae
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
1.23 m
Wingspan
1.26 m
Weight
0.92 kg
Genetics
Ice
Iridescent
Iridescent
Ice
Shimmer
Shimmer
Ice
Gembond
Gembond
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 25 Fae
Max Level
STR
5
AGI
9
DEF
5
QCK
40
INT
129
VIT
29
MND
5
Biography
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xx ISAK HISTORIAN • POET WISE | DISORGANIZED | OLD |
I am old now, older than I ever envisioned myself in my youth, long outgrown many of the peers I was raised with and lived with all my life. I have outgrown them all, watched the years come and go as the world around me rises and falls and rises again.
This forest never changes. It whispers the same songs it always has, of ancient magics, hidden treasures, and of memories that drive good men mad with longing, greed, and desire.
The world moves on. The families of dragons I once called friends lived and died, had their children and watched them grow. They lived every day to their fullest, collecting stories and doing what they could to be happy and full of cheer. They lived in this world as a part of it, making the wheel turn with songs of laughter and joy as I watched on from afar.
Yet it is so easy to ignore that here, in a forest that never changes. A forest that is older than the world itself, made from magics much older than you or I, from a world we have never known, and will never again.
There was great tragedy here. You can hear the forest sing of it, the sadness swaying in their branches. Even the great Strand grows heavy with the weight of sorrow and loss sometimes. A war that never should have been fought, a lineage that should have ended, and the gods in all their uncaring might.
I think back on my youth and remember the days awake at night in a battle camp hastily erected in some swampland or field far from myself. I was born of Wind and I recall staring up at the stars and dreaming of a day where I could run far away from the sounds of battle and war. A day where the world would stretch on and on, the endless horizon mine to explore and discover. I felt a kinship to the Windsinger, the god of the land of my birth. I could imagine myself following in his flight, living as my fellow green-eyed folk did, wherever the wind did fly me.
When the war did end, when I was at last set loose upon the world, it wasn't at all like the one I imagined in my dreamless youth. It was torn, ravaged by the War and leeching energy like an open wound. And there was no place for me in it. I was raised on orders and commands, a perfect little mage and a perfect little soldier. I did not know how to live in peacetime.
But I did my best. Went to school and learned how to read and study sciences and mathematics. I found myself entranced by the written word and my studies eventually led me to a land of magic. Here it was the Arcanist who ruled, his thrill of magic and discovery, I could have followed him too.
They all failed us in the end. Our gods and theirs. The old and the new. The end and the beginnings. I have discovered that no god cares very much for us common dragons. We are to be left to fend for ourselves in all our misery and failures. Age has brought back my cynicism, a trait I thought had long since been lost to me. I do not welcome it. I wish to be the wide eyed young man I once was, holed up in my den in this strange forest, surrounded by wild magics and friendly faces.
My own tale will end soon, I can smell it in the air. But I cannot die, not yet. I have one last story to tell. I have spent my life collecting the stories of others, letting them speak through me. Perhaps that is the one skill I never did learn: How to have a voice of my own. It's too late now. But I don't mind. Not really. Their stories are worth sharing, and I can have a hand in telling them, I will die content. I will not allow myself to pass on without ensuring that the memory of my friends, their sacrifices and their love, will live on forever.
There is power in the written word. In all the documents follow, know that I imbue the words with all the power left remaining in me.
Read, my friends. And remember.
Signed,
Isak
Graduate of Tourmaline University, College of Liberal Arts
Recorded: 0786:82:21:32
RELATIONSHIPS
| Apprentice Isak loved to learn ever since the opportunity first presented itself to him. After he had been graduated for several years, the Tourmaline University asked him to return as a professor, to teach the next batch of aspiring young historians. He's had many students over they years, each one more driven and passionate than the last. And those with promise, he takes on as apprentices for a term, to help hone their skills and get real-world experience. |
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Friend The University was well-versed in the history of Paxico, the world they said they all came from, but after any time spent in the real world, it became clear that there was something missing, a lost history from both Paxico and somewhere else. Isak met Precursor in his search for answers. The elusive Undertide's extensive underwater collection of lost knowledge is a secret to most, but the two have a great professional respect and personal fondness for each other.
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DESCRIPTION
Historian, poet, and part-time romantic comedy enjoyer, Isak is a writer of many talents.He has traveled the extensive world of Sorneith, learning its histories both secret and shared and the many bookshelves in his den contain the collection of his inexhaustible sum of knowledge. He's a detailed and thorough note-taker, always diligently scribbling away at any spare piece of parchment, stone tablet, or bare scrap of scale he can get his claws on. The feather on his hat is a quill, specially enchanted to always have ink, so he can always write whatever he needs too whenever he feels the need to do it. Most nights he stays up late, scribbling away at his tomes under the light of a tallow candle until the morning sun begins to rise and he finally rests with his cheeks still buried in his latest scroll. Or he can be found staring at the star, something he has been doing since his youth, days spend dreaming under tent flaps, imagining what the world outside of his own would look like, what it would feel like, what it could be. Isak's den is best described as organized chaos. Rolled up scrolls and neatly folded pieces of parchment are tucked into every nook and cranny. Scraps of paper with drying and wet ink stains scatter the floor like the aftermath of a windstorm. Dried up ink bottles and old feather pens are strewn across every desk, counter, and shelf. Books are tucked neatly into ancient looking bookshelves that stretch from the ceiling to the floor, carved from silver bark and shining pink crystal. They're about the only things in the room that seem remotely organized, though a closer inspection would reveal that many of the books are half-filled with scraps of writing in barely legible scripts and in multiple different languages, some that aren't even recognizable. Drawings and diagrams litter the pages, drawn by the shaky hand of someone who's not that great at drawing but is doing their very best about it and should be given due praise for their effort. The fae himself can often be seen flitting about muttering quietly to himself as his mind races faster than he can process the words, or running about his den, soaring up and down the shelves for some note or reference written half a decade ago and buried in the back under a partially-written cookbook centered around the viability of termites in local cuisine |
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A child born into war, Isak dreamed of a day where he could explore the world. When peace came, he made himself gentle and kind and a historian, someone who would tell the tales of the world in hopes of ensuring that the horrors of it never happened again. |
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ART
By DragonJade
By DragonJade
By kibeth
Icons and banners by Serpentra + Natron
Dividers by Banyan
Dividers by Banyan
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Exalting Isak to the service of the Arcanist 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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