Adan
(#41255647)
Level 1 Nocturne
Click or tap to view this dragon in Predict Morphology.
Energy: 28/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Wind.
Male Nocturne
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
5.6 m
Wingspan
5.31 m
Weight
527.9 kg
Genetics
Jade
Savannah
Savannah
Obsidian
Safari
Safari
Obsidian
Ghost
Ghost
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 1 Nocturne
EXP: 0 / 245
STR
7
AGI
6
DEF
7
QCK
6
INT
6
VIT
6
MND
7
Biography
|
Adan ♠ The Dark Ranger ♠ »━━━━━━━━━« Witty • Mysterious • Grim 
. code by epher #101073 lore by theongreyjoy |
╭━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━╮
╰━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━╯
Hunter and Scout.
‹━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━«
An incredible hunter, Adan is an invaluable scount in the never-ending hunt for scarce food sources out in icy crags surrounding the Warden's fortress. He's got a Laissez-faire attitude on life. He's cunning, and witty, but laid back and a little grim and blunt with his humor. He loves bats, and his runic bat is his constant companion. He has a penchant for dark magic as well.
♠ Consciousness returns to Adan in bits and pieces: in jagged waves of pain ebbing and flowing, a relentless current pushing him closer and closer to lucidity. Memories flash and fade like smoke, and he opens his eyes to the harsh cold of ice beneath his body, unfamiliar walls surrounding the makeshift cot beneath his claws. Alarm spikes, sharp and familiar in his chest, and he jolts upward, wings twitching as if to spread — before the pain stops him in his tracks, heavy and overwhelming. He holds back a curse, gritting his fangs at the sudden flash of agony. Pale green eyes flicker down cautiously to study the dressings wrapped tight around his body, mottled with brown patches of dried blood. "So you're awake," a voice calls, echoing soft in the crystalline den. Adan turns towards its source, eyes narrowing at the sight of an approaching fae. "Where am I?" His voice is rough and raspy with disuse. It takes him a second to recognize it as his own. "What's your name?" The fae ignores his question, sliding closer with piercing eyes. "Who are you?" His sharp retort dies in his throat as the question registers, reply sitting heavy on his tongue. There's a sinking feeling in his stomach, as if he's forgotten something very important. If he concentrates, he can still taste iron. If he concentrates, he can still see flashes of blood, of too-sharp fangs, of flesh rending and tearing — "Adan," he says. It's as good of an answer as he has, fear beginning to prod at the edges of his senses as he tries to remember where he's come from, to no avail. It rests on the tip of his tongue, like a half-forgotten dream. "And — I'm not sure." - Adan learns that the fae's name is Leon, and that Leon, for all his small stature, is the founder of a clan: a fledgeling clan, still small in number. Small enough, he learns, to take in outsiders — but not yet small enough to depend on them. Every shred of trust he earns he seems to wrestle from their claws, with Leon's clansmen often as icy as the frozen wastes around them. As he heals, he learns — about himself as much as he does Leon's clan. Some things come naturally, whether he wants them to or not — shadows well up under his claws when the nightmares get too real, edging their way closer to reality as he startles awake in the night, dark magic swirling around his wings. He learns that early, the natural talent — the control, of course, comes much later, under the tutelage of one of Leon's clansmen. Some things he doesn't learn until later, when at the tail-end of his recovery, Leon's clan is hit with a shortage of food. He volunteers to scout for food, a thinly-veiled excuse to spread his wings after weeks grounded from his injuries. With a curt nod from Leon, he takes to the skies, reveling in the feel of the wind beneath his wings and open air around him. He's snapped out of his reverie when a tiny movement below catches his eye: the scampering of an arctic hare amidst the snow. With a careful eye and deft claws trained in long-forgotten muscle memory, he swoops — and hits his target flawlessly, an old satisfaction welling up in his chest. Adan returns to the clan lair with a scout's bag full of food, both hunted and foraged, proud — and even prouder, still, when he finds that his spoils are by far the most bountiful of the clan's hunters. Quickly, he rises to the top of the clan's ranks, respect for the outsider's hunting prowess superseding his suspicious past. On the ice floes, survival matters, first and foremost — and surviving, it seems, has always been Adan's forte. But — questions still burn at the forefront of his mind, urgent and angry, voices whispering just at the edge of his hearing taunting him, memories as elusive as smoke disappearing under his grasp every time he reaches for them. "Who are you?" He's not sure, sometimes, if he wants to know. |
♠ by Acrid
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Exalting Adan 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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