Opheliae » Lair » Mordan

Mordan

(#28075889)

Level 1 Coatl

Chompy

Jawlocker

Energy: 47/50

Personal Style

Apparel

Skin

Scene

Physical Attributes

Battle Stats

Measurements

Length

7.07 m

Wingspan

9.22 m

Weight

997.36 kg

Genetics

Peacock
Jupiter

Peacock
Saturn

Raspberry
Stained

Hatchday

Oct 28, 2016
(7 years)

Breed

Adult
Coatl

Eye Type

Wind
Common

Level 1 Coatl

EXP: 0 / 245

STR

AGI

DEF

QCK

INT

VIT

MND

Lineage

Parents

Neal
Prudhoe

Offspring

Biography

༻ M O R D A N ༺

S T R E N G T H
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I N T E L L I G E N C E
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A G I L I T Y
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C H A R I S M A
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W I L L P O W E R
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M A G I C
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_{A R T

by Echinoderma}
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{ click the image to see full size }

'I drink wine and I know things.'

⚔^{- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -}

There were times he thought he missed them. Their warm embraces, their soothing voices, their affection and love and just knowing that he was safe. But he never told anyone that. They already thought he was crazy, possessed, and who knows what else. Adding depressed, delusional, and wanting to the list wasn’t something he was interested in.

And it was all because he didn’t have parents. Because he was quieter than the others. Because he had some strange markings that made him different.

And different always equated to dangerous.

Evil, they called him. Cursed, others said.

He’d heard the rumors circulating around him. That he killed his parents and absorbed their powers. That he decimated his previous clan and bathed in their blood. That he made a pact with the Shade to destroy the world.

And it certainly hadn’t helped matters that he had a small amount of power. He tried to keep it a secret, but it was hard for him to tell thoughts from speech. And if his attention wavered, sometimes he’d answer, offhandedly, a question he wasn’t meant to hear.

It was surprising how quickly they cast him out after that. All it took were a few misplaced words, some strange markings splashed across his feathers, and they were so willing, so eager, to turn against him. Slamming the doors to society in his face, never to be opened again no matter how many times he knocked and cajoled.

Possessed, they whispered to each other behind his back, as if he couldn’t hear every word, every thought. Malevolent, they said.

Their whispers followed him wherever he went, staring and pointing as if he were some sort of freak.

… He supposed he was, in a sense. An orphan was uncommon in his clan, and magical powers even more so. He was an anomaly, an unwelcome one at that.

It didn’t take him long to come to the decision to leave. The others already hated him, and there was no reason to stay. He only waited long enough until he knew he could survive on his own, then he packed up his meager belongings and left.

He wasn’t sure where he’d go. Somewhere. Anywhere. Just as long as he was far away from his judgmental clan. He spent a few months wandering the countryside, enjoying the solitude and serenity of nature. It was surprisingly nice being away from the hustle and bustle of the clan, and he found himself glad to have left. But as time passed, Mordan started missing the companionship of other dragons. He longed to have a home to return to rather than moving camp every day, and he missed having a bed to crawl into.

But finding a new clan turned out harder than he thought it’d be.

There were few clans looking for new members, and the others were too wary of strangers for Mordan to even go within five feet of them. There had been word that a Fire clan had recently been obliterated by a Shade-touched dragon, and though the details of the incident became more and more outlandish with each retelling, there was one thing the clans agreed on.

No newcomers allowed until the Shade-touched dragon was caught or killed.

There were even some clans that thought Mordan had been the culprit, eyeing his markings with suspicion and threatening to harm him if he even thought of going near them.

It was insane. The amount of fear and tension that permeated the air, the watchful eyes and subdued attitude. The incident hadn’t even happened in Wind. Who was to say the dragon hadn’t gone to Lightning or Water, or even stayed in Fire?

But it seemed he was the only one with any sense. And as clan after clan turned him down, Mordan’s spirits began to fall. And soon, Mordan gave up the search entirely. He would’ve thought that by then, months after the Fire clan incident happened, at least some clans would’ve begun opening their doors again. But it seemed they were just as unwelcoming as ever.

And so, with few choices left, Mordan was forced to wander.

He didn’t know how long he was on his own. The days started running into each other. And the paths he travelled were not often used by others, so he often had to go without news of the outside world. He was on the verge of deciding to declare himself a recluse when he noticed a flickering glow from a nearby cavern.

Curious, he investigated.

Looking back, he wasn’t sure what made him stay. She did everything she could to get him to leave, throwing insults and threats, and when that didn’t work, she turned to ignoring him, resolutely staring at anything but him.

Most wouldn’t have spared the grieving Skydancer another glance. They’d chalk her off as yet another insane dragon. Their voices would lower, embarrassed and wary, “Oh, no. No, don’t go over there. Some crazy person lives there.”

And that’d be that. She’d be on her own, happy and content, never to have to see or deal with another dragon as long as she lived.

… Except Mordan didn’t think she was happy or content.

There was always a darkness that clung to her, an underlying emotion beneath all that anger and frustration and guilt…

And as he spent more and more time with her, as she began to tolerate his presence, he was able to catch snatches of her thoughts. Small snippets that made no sense on their own, but the snippets slowly built up to formed a picture. And he realized…

He could’ve turned out like her.

Ostracized and alone, shunned and rejected. But unlike him, she didn’t rise from it taller and stronger… she plummeted. She did everything she could to please the world, going as far as to killing and cursing just for another hint of praise. And in the end, it destroyed her.

_{P A R T N E R}
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Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit, sed do eiusmod tempor incididunt ut labore et dolore magna aliqua.

_{GRAND GRAND

D A U G H T E R

-

-}

Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit, sed do eiusmod tempor incididunt ut labore et dolore magna aliqua.

It was all so terribly sad and tragic…

… Pathetic.

She seemed content to wallow in her misery, to ignore the world around her as she wasted away. She was throwing her entire life down the drain… all because of a simple mistake. And maybe, at a different time, in a different place, maybe Mordan would have been the one in her shoes, wallowing in guilt and despair. But he wasn’t. And he wasn’t going to let her go down that path.

Months passed, years, and one by one her walls and defenses fell. And beneath all that anger and hurt, she was kind and gentle, sweet and compassionate. She began to smile and laugh and joke and tease.

And Mordan… found himself falling for her.

It seemed strange, certainly. She wasn’t much of a beauty, covered in chains and sores, her face hidden by a bone mask. She seemed more likely to be a monster out of a children’s tale than a princess.

But she was his princess.

Her eyes softened whenever he neared, lighting up when he talked and joked, and he found himself responding in kind. He wanted to be with her, to love her and cherish her for the rest of their lives.

… So they did.

Their relationship blossomed, flourishing beneath their tending care. They were happy and content and everything was perfect. And eventually, they came across a clan that was willing to take them in. Located on the border of Wind and Plague, on the outskirts of the Windswept Plateau… it was wonderful.

Mordan’s telepathy endeared himself to the other members, and somehow, before he even knew it, he became the clan’s negotiator and representative. He welcomed newcomers with open arms, or cast them off without a second glance. He was called on for important decisions, and he played a pivotal role when discussing treaties or alliances with other clans.

Everything was wonderful and perfect.

... But sometimes…

There were times he thought he missed it. When he got too far into the wine bottles, when the day was long and hard. He missed them. The long nights as they stayed up late, talking and laughing and joking. Crickets chirping, the wind rustling, and a soft glow of moonlight illuminating her face. When it was just him and her. No responsibilities. No expectations. Just them. Together.

But he never told anyone that. They thought he was strong and confident, patient and righteous. They thought he was perfect in every way.

… It’d be wrong of him to shatter their illusions.

B I O: Rosoidela

3'000 gems

more art (by me) - I don't like it that much tho

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