Psittacidae » Lair » Elan

Elan

(#46489490)

Ambassador of Nature

Familiar

Warped Gryphon

Energy: 0/50

Personal Style

Apparel

Skin

Scene

Physical Attributes

Battle Stats

Measurements

Length

5.95 m

Wingspan

6.58 m

Weight

381.44 kg

Genetics

Tarnish
Metallic

Tarnish
Alloy

Mantis
Runes

Hatchday

Oct 31, 2018
(5 years)

Breed

Adult
Mirror

Eye Type

Nature
Rare

Level 25 Mirror

Max Level

STR

115

AGI

DEF

QCK

INT

VIT

MND

Lineage

Parents

Druid
Turaco

Offspring

none

Biography

ELAN
The Hidden Hand

"I am on the side of life. Life is beautiful. Death is black and white, but life is a thousand shades of colour. Look deep enough into anyone and you will find something shining within."

Fustian says:
"Elan wants to be a hero, but when push comes to shove, you never know what path you'd take until you get to that crossroads. Plenty of people are monstrous, and plenty of monsters know how to play at being people. Heroes do not always swoop in to rescue. They make questionable calls. They kill, sometimes, to save. There are no good men in this game."

Hemlock says:
"So these days, it seems I have become a gardener. I dig foundations in the earth. I sow rows of saplings. I plan and plant. I watch the skies for rain and ruin. I cannot help but think that you would be better at this, but circumstance has put both of us in our own odd place. You are forced to be a hammer in the world, and my ungentle hands are learning how to tend a plot of land."

If You Could Only See

Ambassator

I was born during the Riot of Rot, the height of Plague Flight's dominance. From birth, I had seen the antagonism between Nature and Plague, how my birth clan refused to celebrate the Plague festival and would spit vitriol against Plague doctrine.

Though I was a mirror, my nature-born heritage and my woodland magic promised a loyalty that none could deny. Even so, my clanmates were especially careful to instil in me the ideals of civilised dragon clans, baulking at any early notions I had of hunting or killing.

I had thought it unfortunate to be born a mirror, but I soon realised I had the greatest chance of slotting in unnoticed amongst the Plaguebringer's spawn and to be accepted into the Filthy One's domain, both by its inhabitants and by its pathogens.

Nature welcomes all manner of life, always giving, growing. But, the war against Plague is neverending. Life against death, a tale as old as time. I was not content to just sit on the sidelines of this historic conflict. I was to be an agent, an enlightened soldier for the Gladekeeper. I would fight on the side of life.

When I came of age, my mother bid me a tearful farewell as she pressed her forehead against mine and hugged me firmly. She had spied for Gladekeeper herself, back in the day. Her work had been instrumental in many a dominance battle for the Nature flight. Since youth, she had drilled in me the importance of discretion, how to avoid illness, and most of all, an unerring loyalty to the flight of my birth.

"Never forget your roots," she told me. "Remember it and love it. Wherever you are, keep the beauty and strength of the deep forests in your heart. It is your compass, it will lead you back home, always."

It became like a mantra to me. Whenever the lure of the hunt, the ache of homesickness, or the horrors of plague threatened to overwhelm me, I would hear her voice in my ear and smell the sweet wildflower blossoms in the air. Never forget your roots.

When I first arrived at the Abiding Boneyard, I was taken aback by my surroundings. Endless dunes and hills of bone-dry sand, littered with the scattered remains of lost travellers. Before my arrival here, I knew only lush green forests and crystal waters. I could not believe dragons survived in this place, that this is where mirrors came from.

I steeled my resolve. I was here for a reason, to carry out the Gladekeeper's vision. It would be better for everyone if this land of putrid death was transformed into rich, verdant growth.

The air was somehow heavier here, choked full of miasma and dust. I made much slower progress than I expected, having to stop often to catch my breath. My goal was at the centre of Plague territory, to infiltrate clans of the highest calibre, and I would not fail.

I was intercepted by a group of dragons just as I approached the outskirts of the Wyrmwound. The trek has left me rattled, and I stumbled through some shaky explanation for my presence. Pilgrimage, I said.

"I want somewhere I can belong," I told them, as if I did not already know the direction of home, the direction of mother and father, in the thriving Wilds.

As I was speaking, I took in the dragons of this Wyrmwound clan. Some of their appearances were appalling; they had gaping wounds and festering scars, many of them covered in blood and grime. I itched to usher them into a healer's grove, to show them herbs and ointments.

On the outside, I kept a poker face, and gave no indication of the turbulent thoughts in my mind. The group cajoled around, seemingly unbothered by injury, indulgently welcoming a nature-born mirror. They had been training, and they hounded me to join in, their many eyes gleaming with curiosity and malice.

When I declined to participate, using exhaustion as an excuse, they allowed me to observe and resumed the fight I had interrupted. I watched in horror, all my instincts screaming, as they continued their barbaric brawl.

A bloodied and scarred mirror threw wicked strikes with claws fully extended on a youngster barely a few seasons old, and bit hard enough to draw blood. The others just jeered from the sidelines in vicious glee, even as the smaller mirror was pinned and starting squeaking in pain.

Though I had been warned, I was shocked at this open brutality. This was sport to them. They found amusement in suffering.

After the fight, the larger mirror approached me and introduced himself as Eupatrid.

"No matter how much the forest-crawlers corrupted you, you belong here with your true kin." He told me solemnly. "Your body remembers even if your mind does not. Your instincts will never be lost. Can you imagine a mirror, forgetting how to survive?"

It was then that I learned. The Nature Flight has always been wary of mirrors. I thought it unfair until now, having finally seen them for what they are. Mirrors are brutal, ferocious dragons, and can only ever be feared. What does that make me?

I was not born here in the Plaguelands, where I would've had to fight and bully for every scrap. To my greatest relief, I learned good morals and respect for life, I learned how to live and live well, not just to survive and kill. My parents had migrated to greener pastures, and we tempered our savage ways with the incipient hand of the Green.

It is for my brethren now that I live this dual life, but my true loyalties will never be in question. I am and always will be a conduit for the element of nature.

No matter how much I learn the Plague ways, what acquaintances I make, whose's hatchlings I rear, who I comfort or console, their secrets are not mine to keep. I've woven an intricate web of lies. My duty means I must betray them all, for Nature, for life, for a family I had long ago. One that I remember always in the scent of flowers. A scent growing gradually fainter in this land of death and decay.

But in my mind's eye, I still see the running streams and forest fields as clearly as I've always had, and the birds flying by each season still sing of home. And every year, at the end of May, the melancholy flowers take their chance to bloom, and I perform those secret druidic rituals taught to me way back when, full of longing and hope and heartache. A reminder of my family, half a world away. And the promise that one day, when my job is done and the war is won, I will return home.

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Exalting Elan to the service of the Plaguebringer 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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