Abraham

Gold Ore Minerals & Ores Known to drive dragons to do very foolish things. 250 History obliterates every picture it paints. It paints me in all my mistakes. -The World was Wide Enough

ABRAHAM The Forgotten ABRAHAM THE MAGE Abraham was once a potent mage. The Mage. He was known through all of Sorneith as the master of The Craft. Any malady he could cure, any transmutation he could perform, any scrap of knowledge he could find. Abraham reveled in the power and influence his abilities granted him, allowed it to warp his mind and corrupt his thoughts. He began misusing his talent, achieving his own selfish ends, petty desires. However, the power didn't belong to him. It never did. And it did not like being controlled, being abused. So it retaliated. The Magic fought back. At first, Abraham didn't notice it. Sure, his muscles were tight. Maybe his fur was a bit lighter in hue, but that is easily attributed to wear and tear. He was several centuries old by now, he could be getting close to the end of his days. Abraham knew better than anyone the fickleness of the life force inside him, how it was apt to blow out with the slightest breath of wind. All the more reasons to live it up while he can, right? But Magic acts slowly. Magic is patient. Magic, like water, can wait. Magic has all the time in the world. THE MIGHTY HAVE FALLEN It took years for the majestic imperial to realize what was happening. It took still years more for it to finish its deadly course. But it did. It was bound to. Soon, his joints could not move, and even if they could have, they would not have been able to lift the cumbersome weight of his shining limbs. His barrel chest no longer expanded. His heavy lids no longer clinked shut. They remained wide, staring, his blue orbs the only speck of contrast against his golden hide. HIS STORY CONTINUES Now he remains, in the humid air of the Plaguelands, the last place he visited trying to cure his disease. Clans have come and gone with the decades, but now this one seems to have settled. The hatchlings play on the statue in the outskirts, faes dangling from his thick whiskers, spirals twirling around his neck. He has become something of landmark in the clan, the Nameless One, the Forgotten Treasure. Homemade tribute is hung from his frozen limbs, while he stands, unable to rest, unable to eat, unable to scream his frustration to the deities. Alone, his only joy the fledglings that sit and talk to him, confide their secrets to the statue, and a strange Wildclaw that seems to know Abraham is still conscious. Over the years, he has amassed quite the collection of stories, most of them true.

Abraham was watching the Pearlcatcher. What was his name, Codo? Yes, that was it. Abraham was lucky the foolish dragon had settled nearby, or else he wouldn't have been able to watch so easily. His stiff neck didn't comply to the demands of his brain anymore, except in the tiniest of ways, and even small movements took hours and sometimes days of constant exertion to make any difference. Fortunately, his shining hide didn't itch anymore. Action from across the square roused him from his musings. Codo was browsing the shelves of the open-air library for a new book. Abraham was constantly amazed by the swiftness the arrogant pearly could read with. Statues were far more ponderous, and everything the residents of this clan did were astonishingly fast for his taste. However, even Abraham noticed that Codo's movements were slowing down. He could recognize the symptoms, and so could the pearly, even if he could't diagnose his actual illness.

But Abraham could. How could he not, when it was the same disease that ailed his once-powerful body? Codo was turning to gold. How ironic, when his own experiments had focused on alchemical transformations. How fitting as well. Once upon a time, a proud young buck had shared his ambitions, his lust for power. Abraham wished he could call out, warn Codo, tell him to turn away from the selfish path he had taken. If he could have, Abraham would have snorted; like that thickheaded boar would listen to good advice! Well, on his own head be it! He still had use of his limbs, but soon, less than a year by Abraham's reckoning, Codo would be completely transformed. The patterns on his wings were already fading, and the shimmering black of his hide was only visible on his extremities. Even those he covered with gold, through armor and trinkets. Soon he would wish he had used those obedient talons while he could.






Bought for 7k on February 15

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Bought for ~4300

SHIVER
It is hard to know whether Shiver's name finds its origins in the feeling of cold or of fear. Both seem to shroud the skeletal fae, causing dragons to murmur and leave the room when she enters. Shiver doesn't mind. They are right, she is the pale shadow of Death itself, the biting cold that stabs between scales and cripples limbs, and the bleached bones of long-dead prey. Many are uncomfortable with the petite abnormality, and speculate on her orgins.

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UNNAMED
[Unnamed] adheres far more closely to the stereotypes of his species than his talkative older sister. He is reserved, quite even, often sticking close to large cliques, but almost never saying anything. When he does, however, [Unnamed] is quick witted and more than a little sarcastic. Others in the clan are constantly surprised when he lets his tongue off its leash, often having forgot he was there entirely. [Unnamed] doesn't mind, though. He likes staying on the sidelines, listening, waiting, and gathering information. He isn't sure what he will do with his acquired secrets, but his memory is impeccable.

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CALANTHIS
Calanthis seeks to become an Emperor, and feels Plague is the place to accomplish that goal.

Calanthis is a deeply disturbed dragon. From the time he hatched, his parents were concerned with his taste for the macabre. His mother used to tell him stories of huge emperors to keep him from wandering off, but he never seemed frightened in the least. In fact, he seemed...intrigued. Luna tried to shake the idea, but her son's twisted ideas could not be ignored. Especially when he left the clan.

He left without warning. One day, his clanmates woke up, and he was gone. No note as such, just–


PLAGUE

–scratched on the wall above the stone bowl worn into the ground he used as a bed. They knew as soon as they read it where he went, and why. With a disappointed sigh, Luna went back to her lair to take care of her other hatchlings.

Calanthis is now searching for a clan with at least 10 other imps. He knows his best shot for other emperor-eager imperials would be in the most survival obsessed clan. He hopes to find rogue dragons, who do not share Plaguebringer's hatred of the undead, who hold true to survival, no matter what it takes.

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UNNAMED
Despite her parents' antisocial ways, and the traditions of her species, [Unnamed] is surprisingly friendly. Perhaps a bit too, to be honest. She loves company, and goes out of her way to make new dragons feel welcome. Sometimes, her bubbly personality can be overwhelming, and most of the dragons in the clan can't spend more than an hour with her before getting completely tired out. [Unnamed] has dozens of friends throughout the clan, though none of them are close.

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RHUN

Rhun loves silence. Or rather, he loves the silence of waves crashing on the shore, the imperceptible tink of droplets hitting his scales, the subtle call of gulls. He loves the silence of the ocean. For years, he soared over its fickle waves, stopping only when rest or hunger forced him, sleeping on tiny isles, far away from the shore. When he finally decided to venture inland, his legs were unreliable when used for long amounts of time. The first clan he encountered discovered, to their dismay, that he could only communicate through chirps and caws, like the fowls which had been his only contact for the forming years of his life.

They eventually taught him the vulgar tongue. He displayed remarkable intelligence and tact for one so undereducated. Rhun rapidly became indistinguishable from earth-born dragons, and doesn't let on about his past. The only signs of his unusual hatchlinghood are his tendency scour the shore for curiosities to add to an ever-growing hoard that even Ridgebacks would envy, and his peculiar diet of seafood.

Little is known about how Rhun came to live on the open water, and even that is gleaned from slips of his tongue, or pure speculation. The most commonly accepted theory is that after he learned to fly, he fell from his parents' lair, and could not find it again, due to the remarkable camouflage for which Nocturnes are famous. The poor hatchling must have stumbled away, bleating for his mother and father, before coming to rest next to a bird, or birds. His mimicking instinct helped him adapt, by following what his surrogate family did. The rest of his story, though doubtless more complicated, was mainly hunting for food and using his enormous wings to their full capacity.

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NERVE

Nerve is always full of energy, constantly moving, twisting, and climbing. He has a tendency to wrap himself around branches, like a snake, though he will continue to move in some way; a twitching tail, and drumming talon, a flickering tongue.

To occupy this energy, Nerve climbs. He will frequently find the tallest tree he can and dare himself to reach the highest branch that will support his weight. Sometimes he gets his mate, Kubeia, to blindfold him, or bind his wings to make it more challenging.

Nerve's greatest fear is being imprisoned. He hates being confined, and will pace the cave where he 'lives' until Kubeia gets exasperated enough to tell him to just go outside already

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ERRER

Errer is a pleasant dragon, with a deep love of learning. Unfortunately, she was in an accident when she was just a hatchling, and was blinded in her eyes which perceive light, so she cannot read, and has never had the patience to learn any type of non-visual alphabet. Instead of reading, she began travelling. Originally born in the Plague territory, she hoped to one day journey to another, less harsh area, where she can pursue her passion for knowledge.

Her glistening wings have caused panics when she visits Water territories, since several dragons have mistaken them for spilled oil. Even more terrifing is when she visited a Fire clan, and hasn't gone back since. Because of the confusion, she has taken to wearing wing silks when she can.

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VERJAN

Ever since he was little, Verjan always had a bad memory. This would lead to his mother and father having to round him back up as he strayed too far from the cave. He never understood why he had to stay in the dark cave when there was so much outside to look at.

So he continued. Outside, pulled back in. Outside, pulled back in.

It was so boring in the cave, as there was nothing to do but stare at the older dragons. He was aware that he was an amnesiac at this point in his life, but that didn't mean he was helpless. He was determined to find out whats so bad out there that his parents didn't want him seeing. So at night, when all were asleep, Verjan snuck away from his nest. Through the gates, or well… Under… And continued on his way. Further and further through the plagued wasteland, tripping into puddles of slime as gems began to grow on him.

He powered on. He couldn't remember his life before this now.

Until he met another clan. The confused Imperial stayed with them, taking on some mates before hand. He couldn't remember some of his children's names, however much he tried.

Hes just a confused dragon, Wandering the world in search of his family.


Lore by TropicalPancakes

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SHADOW

Shadow is a very mysterious dragon. He keeps mostly to himself, and has developed a thirst for knowledge since he developed feelings for Jewels, as he calls her. Little is known about what island he comes from, and some speculate that he is actually from the mainland. If Juliette knows, she does not say. Shadow is quiet and stealthy, as his name suggests, and frequently patrols the border of the plot of land his adoptive clan has claimed. He has a scar on his wing, between the second a third fingers, which he claims he received from an attack on his previous clan. He has not told Juliette yet, but he is almost certain she is his charge.

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Thymos

Windstroked Silk Whitetail Organics The strands of hair from the tail of the Blue Tang Hippogriff are almost the softest organic material known. 45 Unicorn Dust Organics A pinch of unicorn dust and happy thoughts can allow a dragon to fly! It seems impossible, but it is true! 48 Impure Sacridite Minerals & Ores It is particularly strange in the fact that it grows based on the wishes of those around it. (KS-Sponsored by Darrin P.) 72

Thymos- outburst of rage Thymos and his mate Krauge are loud dragons. They are quick to anger, and enjoy a good fight. Because of this, they have more than their share of disagreements. Their one redeeming trait is that, though they had short tempers, their temper-tantrums are short, and they don't tend to hold grudges. Tattered Interloper Scrap Dragonmade The interloper may have run to fight another day, but this souvenir is yours to keep. 35 Fool's Gold Minerals & Ores Close enough. (Special thanks Ank.) 80 Reefsnail Egg Organics This unfertilized egg can be used in the production of an antidote for reefsnail poison. 37 Amber-trapped Fly Trinkets It hasn't bothered anyone for many, many years. 40 Stone Knife Trinkets A piece of history from the first beastclan conflicts. 78 Wispy Foxtail Organics The fluffy tail of a Trick-of-the-Light. It glows with a vibrant energy and is very soft to the touch. (KS-Sponsored by KravenFoxy) 30

Crystal Quartz Minerals & Ores This crystal catches the light and reflects it in a scattering of color. Octarine is not present. 70 Orthoclase Minerals & Ores A gem in the rough. Also the rough in the rough. Minerals are tricky. 85 Dried Lilium Petals Organics A preserved bit of beauty and fragrance that brightens up any lair. 27

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PSI

Psi is a thief. He has been, as long as he can remember, which isn't actually that long. Everything up until two years ago is shrouded in fog. He can recollect small things, like his favorite toy as a hatchling, sometimes even whole events, but nothing important, nothing to lead him home. At first, the hazy patches seemed random, just pockets of jumped time, or cloudy sounds at best, but he soon realized what he couldn't recall were faces; his mother, father, siblings, even clanmates were all systematically erased. He checked his pearl for the thousandth, hoping to find some clue, but the center had lost its glossy finish, and was now clear as glass. Nothing could be ascertained from the maddening orb, nothing up until he began adding new layers. Even then, his pearl felt no less empty, filled with heists and petty crimes. He could feel it, that tingle in the base of his skull, telling him he forgot something, he needed to find it, he had to find it. So Psi kept searching everywhere his talons could reach, though he didn't know what for. He drifted from clan to clan, creating friendships and then leaving them. The Guardians understood him best, the longing he felt, the constant restlessness, and Ridgebacks sympathized with his kleptomaniac tendencies, but even the patient support of friends was not enough to keep him tied down. HE would always uproot, and continue searching, searching, searching...