Hyperrectangle » Lair » Zeno

Zeno

(#57120038)

Level 25 Wildclaw

Familiar

Plainstrider Bard

Energy: 0/50

Personal Style

Apparel

Skin

Scene

Physical Attributes

Battle Stats

Measurements

Length

5.43 m

Wingspan

4.67 m

Weight

662.26 kg

Genetics

Turquoise
Python

Crocodile
Morph

Copper
Stained

Hatchday

Nov 29, 2019
(4 years)

Breed

Adult
Wildclaw

Eye Type

Ice
Uncommon

Level 25 Wildclaw

Max Level

STR

120

AGI

DEF

QCK

INT

VIT

MND

Lineage

Parents

Offspring

none

Biography

"Ye say apparel? Pah! That is for wimps"

Gwelle
He Who's Always On The Road
~

vigilant • calm • distant

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Call Sign: Zeno
Archer
Bodyguard

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^VIT
_{▓▓▓░░░░░░}
^STR
_{▓▓▓▓░░░░░}
^INT
_{▓▓▓▓░░░░░}

^DEX
_{▓▓▓▓▓▓░░░}
^CHA
_{▓▓░░░░░░░}
^LUC
_{▓▓▓▓░░░░░}

♪ ~ Teho Teardo & Blixa Bargeld - The Beast

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Gwelle was homesick - in the most literal sense of the term. Snowsquall Tundra, his beloved birthplace, his precious motherland, was rooted deeply in his entrails, absorbed into his bones and mind like a terrible disease. Just one tiny seed, one small yet intrusive idea - and he was lost. Stunned by the tundra's murmurs, Gwelle became its host, a symbiote - and since then he never had dreams.

It all began in Cloudscrape Crags where his homeclan lay. Surrounded by dense tundra, neither small nor large, and full of secret shelters, it was every child's dream place. Gwelle's father was a hunter, and frankly, so was almost every local man, yet the child mostly inherited his mother's jolly nature. While his siblings were mastering the art of archery, he preferred to skip practice and run away to explore frozen thickets. He never invited other kids to join his little forays. However, one day he didn't come back alone. Something ancient had crawled under his skin - a translucent seed, not like any known species. Gwelle never noticed this pest, and the seed showed no signs of life either. For the time being.

As Gwelle grew older, he managed to become a pilgrim. At first, everything went great. Following his lifelong dream, he travelled from region to region, met different cultures and guided the dragons who were headed to the Southern Icefield for the first time. The hunt for other clans let him stay afloat, and he would've carried on like this for certain, if not for the odd, growing anxiety that settled in his mind. "Come home. You must come home." An obsessive thought, clearly foreign to the pilgrim, and yet it left him sleepless. Gwelle tried to resist, but the world around him faded into the background as the seed's whispers grew louder. Searching for a solution, he kept on wandering and even returned to the Southern Icefield - but no place felt like home anymore. Sornieth became his cage. In despair, Gwelle completely distanced himself from dragonkind - and then the seed finally took him over.

"Poor child, you are lost - but let me show you the home you've made yourself."

With the passage of time, word got out among drifters and adventurers. A strange rumor about a Wandering Tundra which moved and crawled freely across Sornieth, leaving a trail of seedlings. Partially covered by permafrost, silent, totally lifless - except for a mysterious Archer. Someone said the Archer always was a part of this cursed terrain, and yet several witnesses stated he appeared only when the Tundra fell asleep. As additional details of the myth emerged, it drew the attention of monster slayers. Kimon was no exception - and she was the first to solve the secret of Wandering Tundra. A glorious warior, she came for prey and stayed for the dragon whose body was shared with the permafrost. Her knowledge and connections brought them to Hyperrectangle, where Gwelle received help and treatment - though it couldn't heal him completely. By learning how to coexist with the tundra, he discovered a range of unique hunting techniques and tricks no one else could ever use. And though he has found new joy and new purpose, sometimes he still misses his home - the place that never existed.

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code by hypperrectangle • purchased from paintedbear

• The Seed (according to Plato's Coins deck - the Sower) is a rare parasite which takes the form of the location it grew in. Once trapped inside the carrier's blood, it can stay in incubation for years. It reacts to climate change and begins to develop if the carrier changes location. Then it causes the strong desire to wander so it can infect more terrain. Leaving trails of seedlings is the main way for this parasite to reproduce. The infected dragons don't sleep but transform due to the Sower's form.
• As a member of the expedition, Gwelle's goal is to defend the crew and hunt for marine beasts, whether they be animals or spirits. In his free time he practices archery and, together with other hunters and sometimes even strangers, explores the Mire.
• He's rather gentle and soft-spoken, but has a terrifying Icefield accent.
• Kind of a moodsetter - his very presence seems to calm others down.

Seen from a distance, Vagrant Tundra resembled a glittering marble sheltered by tall, rusty barley. Shaded with snow and softly shimmering, the grass rose and fell in waves like a tireless sea, exposing the earthy brushstrokes of red clay. At first sight, it was beautiful, and yet something seemed off. Nestled in the palms of Blooming Grove, the tundra was brimming with flora you normally never found in these lands. Kimon took a deep breath. The scent of young, fragile greenery, tinged with a frosty chill, was left on her tongue.
Striding through the frigid stalks, the Coatl kept her eyes open for any movement. Her hunt lasted for days, maybe even weeks. Kimon couldn't be sure of the time she'd spent in Vagrant Tundra, wandering from dawn to dusk until its keeper awoke. She knew these meadows like the back of her hand, and still something slipped away from her sight. Something strange, ethereal, drifting deep in darkness underneath the soft tundra cover. If only Gwelle would let her see. She let out a thready sigh.
The evening sun crested the horizon, reflected in the ice and blinding Kimon with brilliant shards of light, when a sudden snowstorm rose in an instant. Curling around shrubs, it shimmered like a lost constellation. The sunlight was so bright upon the coatl's face that she had to step backwards and shut her eyes tightly. Wind rushed past, tugging fiercely at her feathers - and then swiftly faded, turned into a hazy drift of cotton. When the glow had smoothly melted over snowdrifts, she could hear a new sound, elusive like an old forgotten chant. The tundra had fallen asleep.

It slept serenely and dreamt it was a dragon. A ghostly one - but Kimon knew where to find him. Following the tundra's voice, she slipped through dense thickets, scaling the dried roots and bushes until she reached a round, bleached clearing. And there he sat, surrounded by silence and frigid grass, almost invisible among its frozen shoots. Gwelle's shoulders looked sore, and he let them slump lower, but his impassive eyes held an odd strength. He heard Kimon's soft steps and bowed his head in greeting, and Kimon jokingly repeated the gesture. With her wings folded, she sat down next to the archer and then stretched to her own delight.
"It's always snowing here, you know that?" the coatl chuckled, trying to keep her voice from shaking. "Not the best way to treat Blooming Grove in the midst of spring."
"It shall hurt neither thee nor herbages," he replied softly, and Kimon could hear the tinkling rustle of frosty fescues in his voice. She smiled and rested her head on the archer's shouder.
"Consider me convinced."

As the sky turned purple, Wandering Tundra's breath became so vivid Kimon could feel the earth swinging underneath her feet. Gwelle spoke rarely, but he was a good listener. Telling war stories over cold oak-matured mead, the coatl brought him much joy - and she was excited for an opportunity to speak with him. Her tales were farfetched and ridiculous, and sometimes they both were dying of laughter, unable to stop. It was a pitch-black night when the air suddenly became tight and viscous. Still talking, Kimon looked around and her gaze went to something standing next to the wildclaw, absorbing the moonlight like a living abyss. Strange and unnatural, narrow eyes that didn't blink - were those even eyes? It stared into her face, it saw through her, and its numerous slender limbs swung slightly in the wind. Kimon's reaction was instant. In the twinkling of an eye, she jumped to her feet and grasped her sword hilt, ready to attack - but another snowstorm's flow sheltered the creature from her sight. When the wind died down, Gwelle was sitting alone. It seemed as though he hadn't noticed anything at all.
"You hid it!" Kimon gasped. "Why on earth do you share a body with such a dangerous beast?"
Gwelle remained silent, and she wearily shook her head.
"How do you not see? You've lost your home, your sleep, even your face. That spirit, that's the source of your disease." She frowned darkly and then dropped her voice to a whisper. "Let me slay it for you."
The words hung in the air, empty and meaningless. Gwelle turned to her with glassy eyes and stared, oddly puzzled, as if he'd only just remembered how to speak.
"Oh, that spirit, the Seed. I saw thou hast hunted for him." Doleful stillness followed his words, and Kimon froze up. If those words were true, Gwelle could see everything that was happening upon the tundra. "Perhaps it was a pest once - but I fear there won't be much of me left if thou slayest it. He's not an enemy but a part of Wandering Tundra - just like myself."
"I'm starting to think your only enemy is your exhausted mind," Kimon muttered. She took his hand. "Look, my clanmates once told me of a scientific expedition not far from the Icefield. They said there is no spirit that scholars can't get rid of."
"Thou art such a stubborn lightling, forsooth..." Gwelle gave her a forced smile, but she interrupted him.
"If we can find them, they'll free you from the Seed's control. And perhaps they'll find a way to let your precious spirit live. Just leave it to me - and I'll guide you through the whole of Sornieth. What do you say?"
The archer hesitated for a moment, thinking through something or simply avoiding eye contact. Finally he glanced up and nodded slightly.
"We shall see."

The moonlight was still dancing over Blooming Grove when the new turn of an otherworldly chant sounded. It heralded the beginning of another journey - and before Kimon could realize it, she awoke in the middle of a snow field. Her translucent wings twitched, shaking off the frost. "Hopefully someday he will learn to warn me before another shutdown." The coatl kicked an unfortunate snowdrift and then burst out laughing. What an unusual spirit she'd found.
When Wandering Tundra had moved far away enough, Kimon hid in her shelter and carefully took her armpiece off. Her arm was covered with flowers. Fragile white petals trembled in the wind, exuding the fragrance of frozen nectar. Her mind became so quiet she could feel her heart mourning - for one elusive, distant place she had never been to.
"So that's how it feels to be you, Gwelle." Kimon tilted her head with a wistful smile. If she could reach that mysterious submarine, reach Plato, it would save them both from further contamination. Perhaps Gwelle would follow her. Perhaps they would even succeed. "Fear not, Wandering Tundra," Kimon closed her eyes and grinned.

"I'll give you a place to stay."

proofread by amazing disillusionist • the banners were made by vertigris

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