Whispers

(#37325831)
Level 25 Guardian
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Familiar

Entrapping Shackles
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Energy: 50/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Shadow.
Male Guardian
This dragon cannot breed until May 05, 2024 (12 days).
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Personal Style

Apparel

Veteran's Leg Scars
Veteran's Eye Scar
Wondrous Sweater
Vibrant Rogue Tail Binding
Vibrant Rogue Gloves

Skin

Accent: Progressive Rot M

Scene

Measurements

Length
15.66 m
Wingspan
19.33 m
Weight
12374.75 kg

Genetics

Primary Gene
Charcoal
Python
Charcoal
Python
Secondary Gene
Grey
Morph
Grey
Morph
Tertiary Gene
Maroon
Veined
Maroon
Veined

Hatchday

Hatchday
Nov 13, 2017
(6 years)

Breed

Breed
Adult
Guardian

Eye Type

Eye Type
Shadow
Rare
Level 25 Guardian
Max Level
Scratch
Reflect
Eliminate
Rally
Sap
Berserker
Berserker
Berserker
Ambush
Ambush
STR
108
AGI
8
DEF
15
QCK
75
INT
5
VIT
38
MND
5

Lineage

Parents

  • none

Offspring


Biography

WHISPERS
He/Him | Clan Protector
Mysterious - Kind - Strong-Willed
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A dragon made from the night, whispers surrounding his dark colors. A true survivor gifted unto the clan. Before long, he was named a clan guardian, patrolling the borders late at night.


One such patrol, he found himself face to face with a Tundra female, her colors vaguely resembling the night sky. Soon, they were infatuated, and their lust gave them a nest of two. A guardian girl, colors like her fathers, was chosen by the clan masters to remain, while the tundra child was given away.


Anger soon overtook his tundra gal and she devised a plot against him. Her plan failed and they bore another nest, three guardians more. Keeping only the son, the clan gave away the two girls, off to serve other masters. Night left the clan to serve the Plaguebringer in an attempt to redeem herself after conspiring against the chosen one.

In the northern lands of Sornieth there is a wide swath of land that is always bathed in shadow, where the chill grasp of night never weakens and the wind whispers through the gnarled, twisted trees. There the land is strange and dragons lost there return as mere shadows, and the silent dragons who live there simply call it the Tangled Wood, and they also call it home. It is said in the depths of the Wood, past where the Shadowcaster holds court in her shaded circle, there is a place where even the dragons of the Shadow flight dare not go. There, it is said, the darkness itself takes shape and prowls under shadow of the crooked branches, vanishing suddenly when seen by living eyes.

It was out of these shadows that a dragon named Whispers emerged, his hide so dark and mottled that it appeared to have been forged out of the night itself. Through the maze-like depths of the wood he walked utterly alone, and the darkness that had claimed many a wayward dragon seemed to give way for him. Dragons beheld his terrible gaze and fled before him, and so it came to be that Whispers spent many long years alone. So it was until one cold night, when Whispers was out walking under the silent stars, when he came across a small clan of dragons who beheld him and showed no fear.

It was Whispers who had no fear of the endless dark, Whispers who taught the other dragons how to best weather the long night. It was then that the elders of the clan convened under the pale light of the distant moon and made him their guardian. And so it was that Whispers found himself walking the maze-like depths of the wood once more, though not alone, for he always held his clan in his heart. And it was then that he came across a female Tundra, her long fur as dark as midnight.

And so it was that Whispers met the dragon named Night, and they stole away to parts unknown to return with two hatchlings, with scales as pitch-black as shadow. The clan received them warmly at first, but life in the Tangled Wood is such that the good times flee like the dark flees before the moonlight. The time came, as it always does, when food ran short and the dragons of the clan spent long weary hours searching for prey closer and closer to the treacherous heart of the Wood, where they dared not go even as hunger gnawed at their heels. And thus the time also came for the clan to, as they always did, send hatchlings away to where they might be fed. One by one the hatchlings left until the elders came upon Whispers and Night's nest of two, and they choose the female guardian to stay, and sent the tundra female into the unknown.

Though the food returned in the end and the clan ate well, a different sort of hunger gnawed at Night afterwards. Years and years passed, and Night and Whispers brought many strong hatchlings into the world, but always when the prey ran sparse and the nights grew long, the elders would choose which hatchlings to send away, and always the tundra daughters of Night would leave, and always the guardian daughters of Whispers would stay.

Eventually the loss of her daughters drove Night to desperation, then to anger, then to ruin. It was then that treacherous whispers came to the ears of every dragon, rumors of Whispers' true nature, cold and callous. But by then the dragons of the clan had passed countless nights and winters with Whispers and knew this not to be true, though it troubled them to think of it. And though it troubled Whispers, he said nothing of it, nor did he ever suspect that the root of the trouble lay at his side, plotting.

One night Whispers was out alone, patrolling the outskirts of the clan's land, when the darkness around him shifted and sprang into shape, though they were not the living shadows of legend, but strange dragons he had not seen. And as they rushed around him and clawed at his scales and snapped at his wings, he saw in the dark, watching—Night, whose warm presence beside him made the endless dark bearable, watching with a gleam in her eyes like the madness that overtakes the dragons who venture too far into the Shadowbinder's court, a gleam that pierced him more deeply than any claw.

The dragons did not kill Whispers. He was too strong, too cunning, a master of fighting in the dark. When he chased them all off and returned to the clan he found them all gathered round, eyes glowing with anger and coiled to spring. And in the center–Night, who in a moment of weakness he thought he would never lose.

Many long talks went on that night, and many a tale could be told of what was said between the two. But it came to pass that Night was gone the next moonrise. Where she left to, no dragon but Whispers knew.

And so it was again, that Whispers must walk through the long dark alone, under the pale light of the silent moon.
~~Get Yours at the Myth Shop: http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/art/2509881
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