Aneirin
(#39739353)
Level 1 Wildclaw
Familiar
Spirit of Shadow
Click or tap to view this dragon in Predict Morphology.
Energy: 50/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Arcane.
Male Wildclaw
This dragon is hibernating.
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
5.84 m
Wingspan
9.13 m
Weight
529.19 kg
Genetics
Smoke
Piebald
Piebald
Flint
Toxin
Toxin
Ice
Spines
Spines
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 1 Wildclaw
EXP: 0 / 245
STR
8
AGI
9
DEF
6
QCK
5
INT
5
VIT
6
MND
6
Biography
He feels his family's ancestry keenly, but he finds the weight of it comforting rather than stifling. The preservation of the past is important to him, and it was with that in mind that he pursued his training as a Hunter - so that he could keep ancient places cleared of spirits and the undead, safe for the present and fortified for the future. He felt called to Dragonhome at an early age, both because it is the home of his maternal grandmothers and because of the memories preserved in its stone.
Though he is adept at all methods employed by Hunters, his most powerful weapon is his voice. He is capable of more volume than his small stature indicates, and his tone is both melodious and forceful. Song enables him to exorcise evil and retell the glories of the past, but he has a few, more lighthearted ballads in his repertoire: he's a secret and somewhat awkward romantic.
big wip
As I listen in the dark, something stirs in the stone.
I am no longer alone.
- Earthshaker
They were lost. He was sure they were lost. He crept forward, one hand on the crumbling wall, the other held tight by Taliesin, a tiny anchor in the blackness of the tunnels. Probably not for the last time, he found himself wishing hard that he’d turn, or blink, or jolt awake, and find himself back home in Prufrock. Beside him, and lagging a bit behind, he could hear the faint sound of Taliesin’s wavering breaths. “It’ll be fine. Not much further now, I’m sure,” he assured the coatl. His voice felt huge, in so much quiet.
“Neirin…” Taliesin’s voice was edged with fear. “How can you say that? We don’t even know where they are! And they don’t even know we’re coming! I heard nobody’s been able to reach them in ages. How do we know that they didn’t rot down here in the tombs like we’re about to?” the coatl hissed, and Aneirin fought back a wave of panic. Did it have to be so dark?
He sighed softly, trying to think of something reassuring to say. His thoughts went a thousand different ways before he finally settled on, “They wouldn’t have died, Talie. They've made it everything else.” He’d wanted to reassure the coatl, but it felt like he was reassuring them both. “And we’ll find them. There’s bound to be someone who’d remember seeing an entire clan of dragons, right?” There he went again, trying to convince himself.
Taliesin gripped his hand tighter but said nothing, and they continued on in silence for a while, until the sounds of dripping water and faint echoes seemed to drown out even the sounds of their own footsteps. Then, Aneirin suggested they sing. “We can do it in rounds, one we both know,” he suggested, and Taliesin let out a warm laugh at the absurdity of it and then took up his favorite song.
000
Yahaloma heard them before she saw them, but that was no surprise. She was deep in the tunnels, somewhere she’d gone before, but this was the first time she’d been interrupted. “Scavengers,” she hissed in frustration, snuffing her lantern and pressing against the wall in the sudden darkness. The runes marked on her scales glowed faintly, just enough to let her see the pair of fools when at last they appeared in the distance, eyes tightly closed against the darkness, a wildclaw leading the charge with one hand out to feel the tunnel wall. Her interest was piqued.
“Alright, how about this one... Oooh,” wheedled the one behind.
“Row, row, row your boat,” the coatl continued, and the wildclaw let out a raucous laugh that echoed down the tunnels. “Don’t you dare!” he chuckled, shuffling slowly forward.
Yahaloma stiffened. The tunnels here were not often dangerous, but they were deep. There were creatures lurking who had no desire to be disturbed, and she had no desire to fight them today. Did these fools have no sense of self-preservation? No, she thought, clearly not. Who else but fools travel blindly through Cairnestone Rest? She stepped forward, waiting for them to get close, and then, as the coatl drew a breath to begin the next line, she hissed, “Did you come here to die?”
Two sets of eyes snapped open in the near darkness, and the coatl let loose a strangled screech that set her teeth on edge. “Stop that at once!” she shouted, then realized her own mistake and stamped a foot in frustration. The wildclaw gripped the coatl tightly and ran forward, trying to dodge around her. “No!” she whispered, as loudly as she could, then moved to block their path again. The wildclaw glared up at her.
She glared back. “What kind of scavengers are you? No lamps? Walking around with your eyes closed, screeching in a tomb!” she whispered at them. She could hear the stirrings of an unknown something from the tunnels behind them, and she cursed them silently. Whatever it was sounded large. “There, now, you’ve wasted hours of my research time!” She grabbed up her lantern and the small scattering of tools she’d been using, tucking them away quickly. Then she looked back at the pathetic pair, contemplating only for a moment.
“Alright,” she sighed, “Come quickly, follow me. We’ve got to get out of here. You’ve woken something.” Somehow, the glare on the wildclaw managed to intensify. “Look- I don’t have time to convince you,” she said. The rumbling from the tunnels was growing louder. “You want to stay and fight it? Fine. I’m going up.”
With that, she turned, moving rapidly through the tunnels, a path she knew by heart. She didn’t have time to see if the fools followed her. She was no novice; she’d grown up here. There was a roar in the darkness behind them, closer than she was comfortable with. Once again, she cursed the strange pair who’d interrupted her work. The stone tunnels shook as the creature roared again, and for once, Yahaloma was frightened even when she made it up the steep incline to the surface. She turned in panic and grabbed the coatl, yanking quickly to get them to the surface. The wildclaw was out of reach.
The coatl pulled from her grasp and ran towards the opening to the tunnels, screaming in fear, "Rin! Rin, come up! RIN!"
Yahaloma rushed forward, pulling them away from the tunnel opening. “I’m sorry,” she shouted to be heard over the echoing roars, “There isn’t time!”
000
Aneirin watched as Taliesin and the ridgeback disappeared over the lip of the tunnel opening. The beast moved in the darkness behind him, and the earth shook beneath his feet. He needed only a moment to know he couldn’t scale the incline. There wasn’t even proper room to fly. He turned, then, to see what would end him, ashamed that he hadn’t really even started his journey and he’d already failed. The creature was massive, a literal shadow, but he could see through it as if it were a cloud of smoke. He knew a spirit when he saw one, but this one was… Different. It was loud, it moved the earth, but it seemed… Tenuous. He looked for a face and found only a blank darkness, closing around him quickly.
He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, scrambled for words as an overwhelming pain set in. The roar multiplied in his ears, a scream like a howling wind, amplified. He’d practiced driving out spirits before, but it was… Nothing like this. Nothing like seconds to go before the beast is upon you. All he could do was pluck words out of his fear: “stop,” and “return,” and “quiet,” and “rest!” all twisting out of him in a stuttering chant, not at all like the songs he usually tried. Not incantations, not words of power in their usual sense. But there was power in them, nonetheless, and in this small tunnel opening, his voice was a magnified wave of that power.
He could feel the cold touch of this wall of spirit, dragging over his wings and his scales and his eyes, burning him, making him feel drained. The air smelled faintly of dust and smoke, and he could hear a sound like rain beginning to fall. But he kept saying words: “back,” and “out,” and “please, please, please,” and the pain grew lesser, and the roaring that had filled his ears for what seemed like eternity faded until it was nothing, and then there really was nothing save the darkness of the tunnels and the moon shining down from the opening above. Aneirin drew a shaky breath and stepped forward, and everything faded to black.
+++
Yahaloma listened intently, somehow desperate to hear anything from the suddenly silent tunnels. She could hear the coatl keening behind her, but she had no experience in providing comfort, and no time for it besides. "Whatever it was, you can be assured that it was not the last," she muttered, peering down into the darkness. There was no sign of life below, but she knew better than to leave without checking. Things had a habit of hanging on in Dragonhome, clinging to life when they had no right to it.
"I will check for your friend. Even if he is gone, it would be wrong to leave his body without a burial." She drew her lantern forward and lit it, then anchored it with a length of rope and let it drop slowly into the mouth of the tunnel. She looked at the coatl for a moment, taking in their sniveling face and the way they worried their feathers with shaking hands, then handed the rope over. "Your job is to keep the light. It is very important. If your friend is below, I won't be able to carry him and the lantern. You will do it," she murmured, and the coatl nodded once, gripping the rope tightly.
With a weary sigh, the ridgeback began the climb down.
+++
"You are far from home," a group of voices whispered tenuously in the darkness. "But... So are we."
Aneirin was cold. Colder than he'd ever been, colder almost than he could stand. There was a pressure behind his eyes, and something else- the voices, whispering so quietly he could scarcely make out the words. "Please... Please... Please..." they murmured, his own words repeated back to him. "You are on a journey? We will come along?"
He opened his eyes, but there was only darkness. "Who are you, that quiets us?" the voices whispered behind his eyes. He could hear something now, outside of the voices- something moving towards him in the blackness.
"I am Aneirin," he mumbled, and whatever was coming towards him paused. After a moment, he felt himself being lifted up. His body was useless to him, weak from whatever was inside of his mind. "Have I died?" he mused, asking the darkness, or perhaps what he assumed were the spirits lifting his body. The presence behind his eyes shifted.
"You have not died yet, young fool," a familiar voice murmured in the darkness. "Though I truly do not know how."
He felt himself drifting away again.
Though he is adept at all methods employed by Hunters, his most powerful weapon is his voice. He is capable of more volume than his small stature indicates, and his tone is both melodious and forceful. Song enables him to exorcise evil and retell the glories of the past, but he has a few, more lighthearted ballads in his repertoire: he's a secret and somewhat awkward romantic.
big wip
As I listen in the dark, something stirs in the stone.
I am no longer alone.
- Earthshaker
They were lost. He was sure they were lost. He crept forward, one hand on the crumbling wall, the other held tight by Taliesin, a tiny anchor in the blackness of the tunnels. Probably not for the last time, he found himself wishing hard that he’d turn, or blink, or jolt awake, and find himself back home in Prufrock. Beside him, and lagging a bit behind, he could hear the faint sound of Taliesin’s wavering breaths. “It’ll be fine. Not much further now, I’m sure,” he assured the coatl. His voice felt huge, in so much quiet.
“Neirin…” Taliesin’s voice was edged with fear. “How can you say that? We don’t even know where they are! And they don’t even know we’re coming! I heard nobody’s been able to reach them in ages. How do we know that they didn’t rot down here in the tombs like we’re about to?” the coatl hissed, and Aneirin fought back a wave of panic. Did it have to be so dark?
He sighed softly, trying to think of something reassuring to say. His thoughts went a thousand different ways before he finally settled on, “They wouldn’t have died, Talie. They've made it everything else.” He’d wanted to reassure the coatl, but it felt like he was reassuring them both. “And we’ll find them. There’s bound to be someone who’d remember seeing an entire clan of dragons, right?” There he went again, trying to convince himself.
Taliesin gripped his hand tighter but said nothing, and they continued on in silence for a while, until the sounds of dripping water and faint echoes seemed to drown out even the sounds of their own footsteps. Then, Aneirin suggested they sing. “We can do it in rounds, one we both know,” he suggested, and Taliesin let out a warm laugh at the absurdity of it and then took up his favorite song.
000
Yahaloma heard them before she saw them, but that was no surprise. She was deep in the tunnels, somewhere she’d gone before, but this was the first time she’d been interrupted. “Scavengers,” she hissed in frustration, snuffing her lantern and pressing against the wall in the sudden darkness. The runes marked on her scales glowed faintly, just enough to let her see the pair of fools when at last they appeared in the distance, eyes tightly closed against the darkness, a wildclaw leading the charge with one hand out to feel the tunnel wall. Her interest was piqued.
“Alright, how about this one... Oooh,” wheedled the one behind.
“Row, row, row your boat,” the coatl continued, and the wildclaw let out a raucous laugh that echoed down the tunnels. “Don’t you dare!” he chuckled, shuffling slowly forward.
Yahaloma stiffened. The tunnels here were not often dangerous, but they were deep. There were creatures lurking who had no desire to be disturbed, and she had no desire to fight them today. Did these fools have no sense of self-preservation? No, she thought, clearly not. Who else but fools travel blindly through Cairnestone Rest? She stepped forward, waiting for them to get close, and then, as the coatl drew a breath to begin the next line, she hissed, “Did you come here to die?”
Two sets of eyes snapped open in the near darkness, and the coatl let loose a strangled screech that set her teeth on edge. “Stop that at once!” she shouted, then realized her own mistake and stamped a foot in frustration. The wildclaw gripped the coatl tightly and ran forward, trying to dodge around her. “No!” she whispered, as loudly as she could, then moved to block their path again. The wildclaw glared up at her.
She glared back. “What kind of scavengers are you? No lamps? Walking around with your eyes closed, screeching in a tomb!” she whispered at them. She could hear the stirrings of an unknown something from the tunnels behind them, and she cursed them silently. Whatever it was sounded large. “There, now, you’ve wasted hours of my research time!” She grabbed up her lantern and the small scattering of tools she’d been using, tucking them away quickly. Then she looked back at the pathetic pair, contemplating only for a moment.
“Alright,” she sighed, “Come quickly, follow me. We’ve got to get out of here. You’ve woken something.” Somehow, the glare on the wildclaw managed to intensify. “Look- I don’t have time to convince you,” she said. The rumbling from the tunnels was growing louder. “You want to stay and fight it? Fine. I’m going up.”
With that, she turned, moving rapidly through the tunnels, a path she knew by heart. She didn’t have time to see if the fools followed her. She was no novice; she’d grown up here. There was a roar in the darkness behind them, closer than she was comfortable with. Once again, she cursed the strange pair who’d interrupted her work. The stone tunnels shook as the creature roared again, and for once, Yahaloma was frightened even when she made it up the steep incline to the surface. She turned in panic and grabbed the coatl, yanking quickly to get them to the surface. The wildclaw was out of reach.
The coatl pulled from her grasp and ran towards the opening to the tunnels, screaming in fear, "Rin! Rin, come up! RIN!"
Yahaloma rushed forward, pulling them away from the tunnel opening. “I’m sorry,” she shouted to be heard over the echoing roars, “There isn’t time!”
000
Aneirin watched as Taliesin and the ridgeback disappeared over the lip of the tunnel opening. The beast moved in the darkness behind him, and the earth shook beneath his feet. He needed only a moment to know he couldn’t scale the incline. There wasn’t even proper room to fly. He turned, then, to see what would end him, ashamed that he hadn’t really even started his journey and he’d already failed. The creature was massive, a literal shadow, but he could see through it as if it were a cloud of smoke. He knew a spirit when he saw one, but this one was… Different. It was loud, it moved the earth, but it seemed… Tenuous. He looked for a face and found only a blank darkness, closing around him quickly.
He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, scrambled for words as an overwhelming pain set in. The roar multiplied in his ears, a scream like a howling wind, amplified. He’d practiced driving out spirits before, but it was… Nothing like this. Nothing like seconds to go before the beast is upon you. All he could do was pluck words out of his fear: “stop,” and “return,” and “quiet,” and “rest!” all twisting out of him in a stuttering chant, not at all like the songs he usually tried. Not incantations, not words of power in their usual sense. But there was power in them, nonetheless, and in this small tunnel opening, his voice was a magnified wave of that power.
He could feel the cold touch of this wall of spirit, dragging over his wings and his scales and his eyes, burning him, making him feel drained. The air smelled faintly of dust and smoke, and he could hear a sound like rain beginning to fall. But he kept saying words: “back,” and “out,” and “please, please, please,” and the pain grew lesser, and the roaring that had filled his ears for what seemed like eternity faded until it was nothing, and then there really was nothing save the darkness of the tunnels and the moon shining down from the opening above. Aneirin drew a shaky breath and stepped forward, and everything faded to black.
+++
Yahaloma listened intently, somehow desperate to hear anything from the suddenly silent tunnels. She could hear the coatl keening behind her, but she had no experience in providing comfort, and no time for it besides. "Whatever it was, you can be assured that it was not the last," she muttered, peering down into the darkness. There was no sign of life below, but she knew better than to leave without checking. Things had a habit of hanging on in Dragonhome, clinging to life when they had no right to it.
"I will check for your friend. Even if he is gone, it would be wrong to leave his body without a burial." She drew her lantern forward and lit it, then anchored it with a length of rope and let it drop slowly into the mouth of the tunnel. She looked at the coatl for a moment, taking in their sniveling face and the way they worried their feathers with shaking hands, then handed the rope over. "Your job is to keep the light. It is very important. If your friend is below, I won't be able to carry him and the lantern. You will do it," she murmured, and the coatl nodded once, gripping the rope tightly.
With a weary sigh, the ridgeback began the climb down.
+++
"You are far from home," a group of voices whispered tenuously in the darkness. "But... So are we."
Aneirin was cold. Colder than he'd ever been, colder almost than he could stand. There was a pressure behind his eyes, and something else- the voices, whispering so quietly he could scarcely make out the words. "Please... Please... Please..." they murmured, his own words repeated back to him. "You are on a journey? We will come along?"
He opened his eyes, but there was only darkness. "Who are you, that quiets us?" the voices whispered behind his eyes. He could hear something now, outside of the voices- something moving towards him in the blackness.
"I am Aneirin," he mumbled, and whatever was coming towards him paused. After a moment, he felt himself being lifted up. His body was useless to him, weak from whatever was inside of his mind. "Have I died?" he mused, asking the darkness, or perhaps what he assumed were the spirits lifting his body. The presence behind his eyes shifted.
"You have not died yet, young fool," a familiar voice murmured in the darkness. "Though I truly do not know how."
He felt himself drifting away again.
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