Adoptables
Create, adopt, or show off your adoptables.
TOPIC | Afamiliars: Breedable Familiar Adopts
@Myndris
I'm entering the contest!
Scry: https://www1.flightrising.com/scrying/predict?morph=900786
Outfit: https://www1.flightrising.com/dressing/outfit/1276174
Lore: The Blacksand Annex was hardly a place of abundant life. This never worried Hestian’s parents, nor did it worry their parents before them. They found their duty in the heat and fulfilling toil, spending their days in the boiling water, crafting art from the lava no landbound dragon could possibly mimic. But as a child, Hestian found himself drawn not to works of braided stone, but to the brave creatures which made their homes on the dark beaches. The weavers, carving homes of glass from molten flows. The brilliant blue duskflappers which sometimes ate them, and sometimes were eaten. Every little beast which saw the ashen sky, the toxic air, the ground which tomorrow may be gone. Every one seeing it all and throwing itself whole-heartedly into making this place its home.
His parents tried, for a while, to teach him their art, but they could see his heart was elsewhere. His charge, his Guardian Soul, was elsewhere. They bade their tearful farewells, and he took off on a vent of steam. He traveled, an ancient custom, taking shelter in inns and learning the stories of the dragons he met. But the story which told him the most came from an unlikely source-- A manticore, far from home. The home they once, perhaps, had shared without ever meeting.
She feared him at first, as any beastclan would be wise to do, but in his eyes she saw the same weary hope of a wanderer. They sat to talk. A Hydra had driven her from her home, wounded her. The Ashfall was not kind to the weak. Something stirred inside him, and he vowed to bring her home.
And for a dragon, a Hydra is hardly more than a nuisance. He turned to her as he lifted his claws from the beast’s body, excitement burning in his heart. Fulfillment. In her eyes, the hope he saw filled him with joy, and he was certain he had found his charge. But though it was strong, over the coming days he spent with her, the feeling faded. He became frustrated, pacing and wracking his brain for what he had done wrong. She was safe, happy, thriving. But he only grew more withdrawn. Eventually, without a word, he left.
A dozen more times, and a dozen more after that. He found creatures hurt, lost, or alone, and was compelled to help. Each time he found, with mounting anger, that he ceased to connect with his newfound friend, be they beastclan or animal. At last, weary of his travels, he came to a small town of dragons. The streets were abuzz with talk of a baby manticore, and for the sake of his own nostalgia he headed off to see.
One shop, a marketplace haphazardly strewn around it. It seemed to be an unexpected centerpiece of the little town. Outside, an old Bogsneak with the baby in his arms. Around him was not just the other dragons, come to see, but something stranger still. Animals, of all types. Animals who eagerly left with equally eager dragons.
It was then, he realized. His charge was not one creature, thing, or person. His charge was the weak, the wounded, and the lost. And here was the first time he saw a way to fulfill his calling.
And that poor Bogsneak was about to have a Guardian sprinting towards him.
I'm entering the contest!
Scry: https://www1.flightrising.com/scrying/predict?morph=900786
Outfit: https://www1.flightrising.com/dressing/outfit/1276174
Lore: The Blacksand Annex was hardly a place of abundant life. This never worried Hestian’s parents, nor did it worry their parents before them. They found their duty in the heat and fulfilling toil, spending their days in the boiling water, crafting art from the lava no landbound dragon could possibly mimic. But as a child, Hestian found himself drawn not to works of braided stone, but to the brave creatures which made their homes on the dark beaches. The weavers, carving homes of glass from molten flows. The brilliant blue duskflappers which sometimes ate them, and sometimes were eaten. Every little beast which saw the ashen sky, the toxic air, the ground which tomorrow may be gone. Every one seeing it all and throwing itself whole-heartedly into making this place its home.
His parents tried, for a while, to teach him their art, but they could see his heart was elsewhere. His charge, his Guardian Soul, was elsewhere. They bade their tearful farewells, and he took off on a vent of steam. He traveled, an ancient custom, taking shelter in inns and learning the stories of the dragons he met. But the story which told him the most came from an unlikely source-- A manticore, far from home. The home they once, perhaps, had shared without ever meeting.
She feared him at first, as any beastclan would be wise to do, but in his eyes she saw the same weary hope of a wanderer. They sat to talk. A Hydra had driven her from her home, wounded her. The Ashfall was not kind to the weak. Something stirred inside him, and he vowed to bring her home.
And for a dragon, a Hydra is hardly more than a nuisance. He turned to her as he lifted his claws from the beast’s body, excitement burning in his heart. Fulfillment. In her eyes, the hope he saw filled him with joy, and he was certain he had found his charge. But though it was strong, over the coming days he spent with her, the feeling faded. He became frustrated, pacing and wracking his brain for what he had done wrong. She was safe, happy, thriving. But he only grew more withdrawn. Eventually, without a word, he left.
A dozen more times, and a dozen more after that. He found creatures hurt, lost, or alone, and was compelled to help. Each time he found, with mounting anger, that he ceased to connect with his newfound friend, be they beastclan or animal. At last, weary of his travels, he came to a small town of dragons. The streets were abuzz with talk of a baby manticore, and for the sake of his own nostalgia he headed off to see.
One shop, a marketplace haphazardly strewn around it. It seemed to be an unexpected centerpiece of the little town. Outside, an old Bogsneak with the baby in his arms. Around him was not just the other dragons, come to see, but something stranger still. Animals, of all types. Animals who eagerly left with equally eager dragons.
It was then, he realized. His charge was not one creature, thing, or person. His charge was the weak, the wounded, and the lost. And here was the first time he saw a way to fulfill his calling.
And that poor Bogsneak was about to have a Guardian sprinting towards him.
@Myndris
I'm entering the contest!
Scry: https://www1.flightrising.com/scrying/predict?morph=900786
Outfit: https://www1.flightrising.com/dressing/outfit/1276174
Lore: The Blacksand Annex was hardly a place of abundant life. This never worried Hestian’s parents, nor did it worry their parents before them. They found their duty in the heat and fulfilling toil, spending their days in the boiling water, crafting art from the lava no landbound dragon could possibly mimic. But as a child, Hestian found himself drawn not to works of braided stone, but to the brave creatures which made their homes on the dark beaches. The weavers, carving homes of glass from molten flows. The brilliant blue duskflappers which sometimes ate them, and sometimes were eaten. Every little beast which saw the ashen sky, the toxic air, the ground which tomorrow may be gone. Every one seeing it all and throwing itself whole-heartedly into making this place its home.
His parents tried, for a while, to teach him their art, but they could see his heart was elsewhere. His charge, his Guardian Soul, was elsewhere. They bade their tearful farewells, and he took off on a vent of steam. He traveled, an ancient custom, taking shelter in inns and learning the stories of the dragons he met. But the story which told him the most came from an unlikely source-- A manticore, far from home. The home they once, perhaps, had shared without ever meeting.
She feared him at first, as any beastclan would be wise to do, but in his eyes she saw the same weary hope of a wanderer. They sat to talk. A Hydra had driven her from her home, wounded her. The Ashfall was not kind to the weak. Something stirred inside him, and he vowed to bring her home.
And for a dragon, a Hydra is hardly more than a nuisance. He turned to her as he lifted his claws from the beast’s body, excitement burning in his heart. Fulfillment. In her eyes, the hope he saw filled him with joy, and he was certain he had found his charge. But though it was strong, over the coming days he spent with her, the feeling faded. He became frustrated, pacing and wracking his brain for what he had done wrong. She was safe, happy, thriving. But he only grew more withdrawn. Eventually, without a word, he left.
A dozen more times, and a dozen more after that. He found creatures hurt, lost, or alone, and was compelled to help. Each time he found, with mounting anger, that he ceased to connect with his newfound friend, be they beastclan or animal. At last, weary of his travels, he came to a small town of dragons. The streets were abuzz with talk of a baby manticore, and for the sake of his own nostalgia he headed off to see.
One shop, a marketplace haphazardly strewn around it. It seemed to be an unexpected centerpiece of the little town. Outside, an old Bogsneak with the baby in his arms. Around him was not just the other dragons, come to see, but something stranger still. Animals, of all types. Animals who eagerly left with equally eager dragons.
It was then, he realized. His charge was not one creature, thing, or person. His charge was the weak, the wounded, and the lost. And here was the first time he saw a way to fulfill his calling.
And that poor Bogsneak was about to have a Guardian sprinting towards him.
I'm entering the contest!
Scry: https://www1.flightrising.com/scrying/predict?morph=900786
Outfit: https://www1.flightrising.com/dressing/outfit/1276174
Lore: The Blacksand Annex was hardly a place of abundant life. This never worried Hestian’s parents, nor did it worry their parents before them. They found their duty in the heat and fulfilling toil, spending their days in the boiling water, crafting art from the lava no landbound dragon could possibly mimic. But as a child, Hestian found himself drawn not to works of braided stone, but to the brave creatures which made their homes on the dark beaches. The weavers, carving homes of glass from molten flows. The brilliant blue duskflappers which sometimes ate them, and sometimes were eaten. Every little beast which saw the ashen sky, the toxic air, the ground which tomorrow may be gone. Every one seeing it all and throwing itself whole-heartedly into making this place its home.
His parents tried, for a while, to teach him their art, but they could see his heart was elsewhere. His charge, his Guardian Soul, was elsewhere. They bade their tearful farewells, and he took off on a vent of steam. He traveled, an ancient custom, taking shelter in inns and learning the stories of the dragons he met. But the story which told him the most came from an unlikely source-- A manticore, far from home. The home they once, perhaps, had shared without ever meeting.
She feared him at first, as any beastclan would be wise to do, but in his eyes she saw the same weary hope of a wanderer. They sat to talk. A Hydra had driven her from her home, wounded her. The Ashfall was not kind to the weak. Something stirred inside him, and he vowed to bring her home.
And for a dragon, a Hydra is hardly more than a nuisance. He turned to her as he lifted his claws from the beast’s body, excitement burning in his heart. Fulfillment. In her eyes, the hope he saw filled him with joy, and he was certain he had found his charge. But though it was strong, over the coming days he spent with her, the feeling faded. He became frustrated, pacing and wracking his brain for what he had done wrong. She was safe, happy, thriving. But he only grew more withdrawn. Eventually, without a word, he left.
A dozen more times, and a dozen more after that. He found creatures hurt, lost, or alone, and was compelled to help. Each time he found, with mounting anger, that he ceased to connect with his newfound friend, be they beastclan or animal. At last, weary of his travels, he came to a small town of dragons. The streets were abuzz with talk of a baby manticore, and for the sake of his own nostalgia he headed off to see.
One shop, a marketplace haphazardly strewn around it. It seemed to be an unexpected centerpiece of the little town. Outside, an old Bogsneak with the baby in his arms. Around him was not just the other dragons, come to see, but something stranger still. Animals, of all types. Animals who eagerly left with equally eager dragons.
It was then, he realized. His charge was not one creature, thing, or person. His charge was the weak, the wounded, and the lost. And here was the first time he saw a way to fulfill his calling.
And that poor Bogsneak was about to have a Guardian sprinting towards him.
@Myndris @BatCrooks
[b]Mira's Mysterious Mixtures[/b]
[b]Owner ID:[/b] KalicoKat #353403
[b]Afamiliar ID:[/b] 127
[b]3 Chosen Ingredients:[/b]
[item=Black Cat][item=Unearthly Onyx Grasp][item=Marshland Poodle Mith]
[b]Price:[/b] 500g
@Myndris @BatCrooks
Breeding Request Form
Owner ID: Myndris (327467) & @KalicoKat (353403)
Afamiliar IDs: #60 & #127
Afamiliar Species: Capricat
Payment: 300G
Special Note: KalicoKat agreed to a breeding before 127's MMM transformation
Breeding Request Form
Owner ID: Myndris (327467) & @KalicoKat (353403)
Afamiliar IDs: #60 & #127
Afamiliar Species: Capricat
Payment: 300G
Special Note: KalicoKat agreed to a breeding before 127's MMM transformation
@Myndris
I'm entering the contest!
Scry: https://www1.flightrising.com/scrying/predict?morph=899655
Outfit: https://www1.flightrising.com/dressing/outfit/1278174
Lore:
Tyron has been around familiars all his life. His mother is a wrangler for zoos, circuses, and arenas across Sornieth, handling even the most indomitable of beasts with ease. Rumour has it she can stop a rampaging Featherback in its tracks with nothing more than her ruby-red glare. Tyron spent many a day watching her work- from a safe distance, of course- and admiring the creatures she subdued. Not many dragons can say they've ridden a Thunderstomp, but under the guidance of his mother, Tyron has.
His father also worked with familiars, although he took a rather gentler role. Skilled in the healing arts, he taught Tyron to apply splints and plasters, showed him how to make remedies for many common ailments. Together they tended to many injured and sick creatures over the years of his youth, and the vast majority recovered with no further issues.
Tyron has been wandering for a few years now, unsure of what he wants to do with his life other than knowing he wants to be around familiars. He's taken many odd jobs as both a veterinarian and a wrangler, but none of them ever became permanent positions. When he saw Terry's flyer, it sounded like the perfect fit and he immediately traveled to apply for the job.
A quote from Tyron on his eligibility for the position:
"I've worked with familiars for as long as I can remember. I know how to handle the unruly ones, and I know how to help the injured ones. This whole thing you've got going on here is an amazing opportunity, and I would love to stick around and see where it goes."
I'm entering the contest!
Scry: https://www1.flightrising.com/scrying/predict?morph=899655
Outfit: https://www1.flightrising.com/dressing/outfit/1278174
Lore:
Tyron has been around familiars all his life. His mother is a wrangler for zoos, circuses, and arenas across Sornieth, handling even the most indomitable of beasts with ease. Rumour has it she can stop a rampaging Featherback in its tracks with nothing more than her ruby-red glare. Tyron spent many a day watching her work- from a safe distance, of course- and admiring the creatures she subdued. Not many dragons can say they've ridden a Thunderstomp, but under the guidance of his mother, Tyron has.
His father also worked with familiars, although he took a rather gentler role. Skilled in the healing arts, he taught Tyron to apply splints and plasters, showed him how to make remedies for many common ailments. Together they tended to many injured and sick creatures over the years of his youth, and the vast majority recovered with no further issues.
Tyron has been wandering for a few years now, unsure of what he wants to do with his life other than knowing he wants to be around familiars. He's taken many odd jobs as both a veterinarian and a wrangler, but none of them ever became permanent positions. When he saw Terry's flyer, it sounded like the perfect fit and he immediately traveled to apply for the job.
A quote from Tyron on his eligibility for the position:
"I've worked with familiars for as long as I can remember. I know how to handle the unruly ones, and I know how to help the injured ones. This whole thing you've got going on here is an amazing opportunity, and I would love to stick around and see where it goes."
@Myndris
I'm entering the contest!
Scry: https://www1.flightrising.com/scrying/predict?morph=899655
Outfit: https://www1.flightrising.com/dressing/outfit/1278174
Lore:
Tyron has been around familiars all his life. His mother is a wrangler for zoos, circuses, and arenas across Sornieth, handling even the most indomitable of beasts with ease. Rumour has it she can stop a rampaging Featherback in its tracks with nothing more than her ruby-red glare. Tyron spent many a day watching her work- from a safe distance, of course- and admiring the creatures she subdued. Not many dragons can say they've ridden a Thunderstomp, but under the guidance of his mother, Tyron has.
His father also worked with familiars, although he took a rather gentler role. Skilled in the healing arts, he taught Tyron to apply splints and plasters, showed him how to make remedies for many common ailments. Together they tended to many injured and sick creatures over the years of his youth, and the vast majority recovered with no further issues.
Tyron has been wandering for a few years now, unsure of what he wants to do with his life other than knowing he wants to be around familiars. He's taken many odd jobs as both a veterinarian and a wrangler, but none of them ever became permanent positions. When he saw Terry's flyer, it sounded like the perfect fit and he immediately traveled to apply for the job.
A quote from Tyron on his eligibility for the position:
"I've worked with familiars for as long as I can remember. I know how to handle the unruly ones, and I know how to help the injured ones. This whole thing you've got going on here is an amazing opportunity, and I would love to stick around and see where it goes."
I'm entering the contest!
Scry: https://www1.flightrising.com/scrying/predict?morph=899655
Outfit: https://www1.flightrising.com/dressing/outfit/1278174
Lore:
Tyron has been around familiars all his life. His mother is a wrangler for zoos, circuses, and arenas across Sornieth, handling even the most indomitable of beasts with ease. Rumour has it she can stop a rampaging Featherback in its tracks with nothing more than her ruby-red glare. Tyron spent many a day watching her work- from a safe distance, of course- and admiring the creatures she subdued. Not many dragons can say they've ridden a Thunderstomp, but under the guidance of his mother, Tyron has.
His father also worked with familiars, although he took a rather gentler role. Skilled in the healing arts, he taught Tyron to apply splints and plasters, showed him how to make remedies for many common ailments. Together they tended to many injured and sick creatures over the years of his youth, and the vast majority recovered with no further issues.
Tyron has been wandering for a few years now, unsure of what he wants to do with his life other than knowing he wants to be around familiars. He's taken many odd jobs as both a veterinarian and a wrangler, but none of them ever became permanent positions. When he saw Terry's flyer, it sounded like the perfect fit and he immediately traveled to apply for the job.
A quote from Tyron on his eligibility for the position:
"I've worked with familiars for as long as I can remember. I know how to handle the unruly ones, and I know how to help the injured ones. This whole thing you've got going on here is an amazing opportunity, and I would love to stick around and see where it goes."
@Myndris @BatCrooks
Breeding Request Form
Owner ID:35534 Gimeurcookie
Afamiliar IDs: 127 + 54
Afamiliar Species: Carpicat
Payment: 300000t
Breeding Request Form
Owner ID:35534 Gimeurcookie
Afamiliar IDs: 127 + 54
Afamiliar Species: Carpicat
Payment: 300000t
@Myndris @Bearded
[b]Mira's Mysterious Mixtures[/b]
[b]Owner ID:[/b] 312471
[b]Afamiliar ID:[/b] 31
[b]3 Chosen Ingredients:[/b]
[item=glowing pocket bauble]
[item=orchid cactus]
[item=jade peacock]
[b]Price:[/b] 210 gems
