DarkwingDove » Lair » Silas

Silas

(#29649602)

Level 1 Wildclaw

Copper

Scythe Kamaitachi

Energy: 0/50

Personal Style

Apparel

Skin

Scene

Physical Attributes

Battle Stats

Measurements

Length

6.25 m

Wingspan

5.52 m

Weight

609.59 kg

Genetics

Antique
Iridescent

Garnet
Facet

Garnet
Thylacine

Hatchday

Dec 28, 2016
(7 years)

Breed

Adult
Wildclaw

Eye Type

Ice
Common

Level 1 Wildclaw

EXP: 0 / 245

STR

AGI

DEF

QCK

INT

VIT

MND

Lineage

Parents

Ekko
Luna

Offspring

Biography

................

T H E M E
S I L A S

Please remember me, even if I can no longer see the world

╭~~- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -~~ LORE ~~--- -- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -~~╮

The Wildclaw didn’t want easy prey.

Summer — brief and chilly — had come to the Southern Icefields. The ice had melted on the lower parts of the mountains, giving way to fields of violets and daisies.
With the changing season came all sorts of small rodents for meat. Easy pickings, glutted and fattened by stored winter rations, they were waiting for him to lean over and snap them up.
But that didn’t provide any difficulty.
Instead, he spotted a small gang of centaurs grazing behind a hillock. He crouched down behind the earth and watched them.

The Beastclans’ fierce reputation wasn’t always deserved. He knew from the scrolls on these centaurs’ backs that they weren’t warriors, but scribes. Which would make his victory all the sweeter:
For years, they would speak of the demonic dragon that descended on them.
His ice-white eyes fixed on the smallest one: a hesitant, slim boy. He watched, waiting. Adrenaline, icy and harsh, filled him like a raging winter sea.

His mind’s eye filled with the conquest to come: spurting blood, a high shriek, the snapping of a neck. He felt the powerless body crumple and give way beneath him.
And this was just as sweet, too — the thought of victory to come.
Then something spooked the herd. They took off, galloped away like will o’ the wisps. Only the slightest impressions in the downy, thick tundra grass gave any indication they were there.
Silas whirled and looked into the eyes of a clanleader. He stood like a statue, glaring down, his displeasure evident in the carven lines of his face.

“What did I tell you, Silas?” The voice rumbled over the tundra and echoed from the opposite peak. There, in the distance, were fading brown spots: escaped prey.
Silas shuddered and fell to his knees. The clanleader’s sharp talons dug into his neck.
“I’ve warned you for the last time. No disturbing the Beastclan’s. We’ll not have a war of it.”
Nodding, quivering, Silas closed his eyes, and waited for the clanleader’s heavy fist to meet his cheek.

It wasn’t always like this.
Long ago, in a different life, Silas had been greatly admired and beloved, the head of a small family of his own.
Life among the frozen wastes was difficult. But with great heart, passion, and ingenuity, a small group could survive.
Silas was a skilled hunter of the small, non-sentient species that dotted the tundra. No one around him went hungry.

Sometimes he thinks back on those times, and it is like looking at a ghost of himself: a happy, laughing ghost. One who was capable of love.
Then, on a frosty moonlit night, he journeyed outside the bounds of his clan.
Hunting was easy in the moonlight. Big creatures like elk and moose stood out against the frozen silver backdrop. It took no more than an hour to bring two of the animals down, to field-dress them, to carve out the meat that would bring life to his beloved ones back home.
But when he returned, all was for naught.

His first clue was the darkness. The clan was rich enough to have fat-based torches that gleamed throughout the night. So his home should never be dark, but it was.
Silas slowly stepped inside the ruins, prey abandoned behind him.
The warm tents had been rent in two. The torches that burned eternally had been smothered to ash. All the valuables — what little there were — were taken. Gone.
Worst of all, his old clan was piled in the center of the maelstrom. Their bodies, still warm, gazed emptily up at the endless swath of stars overhead.
And all around them, their blood, spilled in sticky pools.
Silas does not remember what happened after that.

found him wearing skins made from their own, babbling about warmth
Warmth giving life in the tundra
Has to be beastclans, doesn’t it?

When he re-emerged from the dark seas of unconsciousness, he found himself looking up at twin nurses over his bed.
But something was different. Something in his eyes, about his vision.
He…could see.

He could see the life-giving blood pumping through their veins.
And he wanted nothing more than to let it out.
He reached up with one sharp claw and grazed the Skydancer’s breast. She gasped, and a thin spool of blood unraveled, landing on Silas’ nose.
He licked it up, and the nurses screamed.
The clanleader watched this impassively.
The Wildclaw would make a great addition to the defensive powers of this clan. But he needed help, first.

Despite the steady mentorship of several of the elders in the clan, Silas has not fully recovered. Sometimes moments of insanity and dark humor take him over, and leave him laughing loudly to himself for hours.
Above all, he remains obsessed with blood, and will do anything in his power to spill it.

~~- - - - -~~ MISC ~~- - - - -~~

NAMESAKE — n/a
KEYWORDS — dominant, sadistic, bloodlusty, violent

LIKES — gore, the color red, hunting
DISLIKES —

╰~~- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -~~╯
Biography written by Caelyn
Biography layout by Zarane

..............

by vamonkea

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Exalting Silas to the service of the Icewarden 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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