Isidore

Current Status: Healthy Current Age: 19 Years Time of Birth: Budding Moons

Mate: Feronia Relatives: MonarchsReign, Titania, Sunset Friends: Hayreddin, Belissama, Arianrhod, Dukla

Occupation: Messenger Likes: Stories, Flying, Traveling Dislikes: Tradition

Isidore likes a good story, and the best dragons to spin a yarn are the snapper dragons. They say snappers don't sleep, and he hasn't seen Feronia ever settle down to rest, unless the weather's too bad. Heck, he wonders how he can even keep up with her sometimes, and he's no lightweight when it comes to flying. He was born in the Mirrorlight Promenade and raised in the sun, his parents told him stories of gods and monsters, of war and peace. His life at home didn't live up to those fantastic stories, so he set out into the world, determined to make some stories of his own. His parents were disappointed with his choices, they wanted him to stay with them and continue their legacy of quiet studying and contemplation. They called him a no-good vagabond, and he supposes they're right. All he wants is to live a life worthy of a story, and something in him said that Feronia had that sort of life in store. So he followed her. Not in a creepy way, mind you! He introduced himself all nice and proper, and she seemed a little confused, but not overly bothered, so he just hung around. Oftentimes folks see his size and appearance and get all nervous like, but he can't help that he seems intimidating. It had been a couple months, and they'd exchanged maybe a few words since then, and he wasn't sure whether it was that she didn't like him, or maybe that's just how she was, when Feronia's sudden halt brought him out of his daydreams. She had stopped abruptly on the shores of the Ashfall Waste, and she had never stopped before this, so he flew on down to see what was up.

When he saw the tents he stopped too. Not cause of anything silly like thinking the tents were cool or unique, but because of the dragons all around the tents. There were massive guardians and petite fae, all scattered among verdant fields of green, in harsh contrast to the glow of lava all around them. Now this was worthy of a story. Feronia plodded over to the main tent, and Isidore dutifully followed. Now the snapper builds new tents and constructs fences and pens, while Isidore uses his size and flying ability to transport goods and messages all around Sornieth. He's heard many a story on the breeze, and whispers of a small clan among the ash that has brought life into the lava, and wouldn't'cha know, that Isidore the 'no good vagabond' is now part of that very story!

The Battle was too much for Isidore, he couldn't stand the stench of burning scales and rotting flesh, the once green fields reduced to ash and dust. So many had died in the attack, and many more captured and taken away in the aftermath. He was of no use here, so he departed the day after the attack to inform their allies of the attack and gather aid. He couldn't stomach being around the ruins of his home. He rarely spends much time at the tent colony anymore, instead taking off within hours of landing, never staying in one spot too long. He needs to spread the word. He needs to get help. He needs to run away. His mate is doing the same thing. Day and night, Feronia rebuilds tends and fixes fences, never resting or stopping. He thinks maybe he should try and stop her, but that would only make him a hypocrite. Instead he keeps traveling, trying to outrun the grief.