Kai
(#20991712)
He/Him
Familiar
Sunset Buttersnake
Click or tap to view this dragon in Predict Morphology.
Energy: 48/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Arcane.
Male Skydancer
This dragon cannot breed until May 03, 2024 (9 days).
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Collapse the dragon details section.
Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
3.93 m
Wingspan
3.57 m
Weight
482.47 kg
Genetics
Splash
Clown
Clown
Blue
Hex
Hex
Denim
Capsule
Capsule
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 8 Skydancer
EXP: 662 / 16009
STR
5
AGI
5
DEF
5
QCK
13
INT
44
VIT
5
MND
5
Lineage
Parents
Offspring
Biography
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Kai
"Sea" |
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Far across the ocean...
On an island lost to both distance and time, there lived a family of Old Ones. They were the last remnants of a world that had been shattered, the many strange and wonderful creatures now reduced to shadows in the dark. The island was a shred of its former self, once a great continent on a far distant world. It had been Versanse, the "Ragged Cliffs" as the Maren called it, for they had once built up their mighty civilizations around it's shorelines. The cliffs ran long, planted deep in the ocean's silt with lines of magic flowing teal and gold in stone of green. The Maren lived beneath the surface, eking out their living in dens cut away into the minerals and tapping into the ancient magic that flowed inside. There were other creatures who lived above the water. The Oudene, the Old Ones, who were Indira's blessed had settled that continent long ago for it was believed that their patron goddess had been carved from the center of the land which she had risen from the sea and that the magic that flowed had once sustained her lifeblood.
It was a sacred place.
But that was all lost a long time ago, long before this story began. On that distant island, the shadow of the magnificent cliffs still hanging high and proud over the small spit of land, then there were only four. Of these four, three were old, older than most. They had held on, survived the destruction and the Joining and had fallen through the cracks of the realms and worlds and landed here. This new world, built from the shattered remnants of the two that had come before. They called it Tydestel, the "Reset Time." There they lived and there they remembered. Remembered the Old World. Remembered the Old Gods. Remembered Novicae.
And they told their stories to the fourth, the youngest of their lot, not yet even seen 11 years. His parents were old when they bore him to the world and he had known no other. The magic of Tydestel was strong and infectious. When he was hatched, it seeped deep into his skin, adapting a beast that was not meant for it to the strict forms of the elemental dragons. It didn't quite work, and what hatched was neither elemental nor Vandoukun -- of the old magic. This creature was new.
They named him Kai, a blessing name that meant "sea" for he was born on the sea and of it. The magic of the waters both elemental and old seeped into his scales, staining them blue and white. He was a blessing upon his family, the last of their line and the last to carry memories of Novicae, of the origin of them all. Already rumors stirred in the deep of the ones called Ancients, the ones who remembered Paxico, who still lived, carrying on the legacy of their world. But Novicae lay dying. Destroyed in space and with its memory lost to time.
Eventually they too died. They had been long-lived, even for their kind, desperately holding onto the last remnants of their lives. They lived without hope. There would be no going home, for home was lost and far away. They lived alone. The new age of dragon-kind lived far away on a continent they had never been to. They lived. They lived and they died and they held on to each other until only one remained.
Kai buried his family deep in the silt and sand beyond the shoreline, their bodies returning to the sea and to the magic of their beloved as was their custom. He stood over their graves for three days and three nights, the sun warming his back, his fur shining in silver moonlight. He glowed like an ethereal gargoyle, feeling the weight of his goddess mourn the loss of her chosen behind him. On the fourth day, in the pink glow of the rising sun, the first and last of a new breed took flight.
On an island lost to both distance and time, there lived a family of Old Ones. They were the last remnants of a world that had been shattered, the many strange and wonderful creatures now reduced to shadows in the dark. The island was a shred of its former self, once a great continent on a far distant world. It had been Versanse, the "Ragged Cliffs" as the Maren called it, for they had once built up their mighty civilizations around it's shorelines. The cliffs ran long, planted deep in the ocean's silt with lines of magic flowing teal and gold in stone of green. The Maren lived beneath the surface, eking out their living in dens cut away into the minerals and tapping into the ancient magic that flowed inside. There were other creatures who lived above the water. The Oudene, the Old Ones, who were Indira's blessed had settled that continent long ago for it was believed that their patron goddess had been carved from the center of the land which she had risen from the sea and that the magic that flowed had once sustained her lifeblood.
It was a sacred place.
But that was all lost a long time ago, long before this story began. On that distant island, the shadow of the magnificent cliffs still hanging high and proud over the small spit of land, then there were only four. Of these four, three were old, older than most. They had held on, survived the destruction and the Joining and had fallen through the cracks of the realms and worlds and landed here. This new world, built from the shattered remnants of the two that had come before. They called it Tydestel, the "Reset Time." There they lived and there they remembered. Remembered the Old World. Remembered the Old Gods. Remembered Novicae.
And they told their stories to the fourth, the youngest of their lot, not yet even seen 11 years. His parents were old when they bore him to the world and he had known no other. The magic of Tydestel was strong and infectious. When he was hatched, it seeped deep into his skin, adapting a beast that was not meant for it to the strict forms of the elemental dragons. It didn't quite work, and what hatched was neither elemental nor Vandoukun -- of the old magic. This creature was new.
They named him Kai, a blessing name that meant "sea" for he was born on the sea and of it. The magic of the waters both elemental and old seeped into his scales, staining them blue and white. He was a blessing upon his family, the last of their line and the last to carry memories of Novicae, of the origin of them all. Already rumors stirred in the deep of the ones called Ancients, the ones who remembered Paxico, who still lived, carrying on the legacy of their world. But Novicae lay dying. Destroyed in space and with its memory lost to time.
Eventually they too died. They had been long-lived, even for their kind, desperately holding onto the last remnants of their lives. They lived without hope. There would be no going home, for home was lost and far away. They lived alone. The new age of dragon-kind lived far away on a continent they had never been to. They lived. They lived and they died and they held on to each other until only one remained.
Kai buried his family deep in the silt and sand beyond the shoreline, their bodies returning to the sea and to the magic of their beloved as was their custom. He stood over their graves for three days and three nights, the sun warming his back, his fur shining in silver moonlight. He glowed like an ethereal gargoyle, feeling the weight of his goddess mourn the loss of her chosen behind him. On the fourth day, in the pink glow of the rising sun, the first and last of a new breed took flight.
xx
xx
He flew for many days, lost track of time between the endless ache of spread wings lifted only by good grace, a stubborn will, and the everflowing salt-winds kicked up over the waves and water. By the end, he had flown deep into a storm. He would later know it as the The Twisting Crescendo but for now it was just a storm. He had flown over ice floes before he reached it, but he had never seen ice before and he did not know if it was safe to land. So he kept flying. Through the storm, it took him three days. By the time he reached land, he had been battered and bruised. Blood pooled beneath him from debris that had struck him, kicked up by the storm. His scales were sandpaper, whethered and bitten by salt and wind. He crashed into the meadows, a horror to behold, nothing like they'd seen before. He was almost like them, but there was something that wasn't right. In the way he carried himself, in the way he moved his head, like he existed in a different world from the rest of them, never quite walking the same realm as the rest of them.
The clan that found him left him on the meadows he crashed on, too frightened to approach. A platoon of guards arrived, direct from the Aergate to investigate the disturbance, but even they could make neither heads nor tails of this strange visitor. They hauled him away in a large hammock, expertly navigating their own windy skies as the stranger could not.
He was barely awake this time, only losely staring out unseeing from under heavy-lidded pink eyes. His whole body ached and his sole was torn and bruised, like a great chasm had opened wide inside his chest and ripped itself apart with every mile further away he ran from the place he called home. All his life he had been sustained by the magic vandoukun and now he was here, surrounded by elemental magic which was strange and foreign to his heart.
He remained in their den for what could have been an eternity but what he had been told was only a little over a month before his body began to gain its strength once more. He would never fully recover himself to his former glory, weakened as he was by a realm he was never designed to exist in, but still he found himself with strength enough to stand under his own weight once more and practice his magics.
He learned about this strange new world, of strange creatures that called themselves dragons. He learned of tundras and mirrors, skydancers and spirals. He learned that his own self seemed strange to them, like someone had taken the parts of two dragons and molded them together like clay. He learned of their dieties, those they called The Eleven who ruled over their elemental magics. He learned of the beastclans who had come from his own home and he was grateful to know that at least some memory of his beloved Novicae might live on.
In turn, he told these strangers of his own stories, the tales passed down to him by his family. Yet it was the oddest thing. When he learned of their tales, he met them with curiosity and questions, eager to understand the world he did not know, but when they learned of his, he was met only with a small laughter and mild amusement, like a parent whose child was retelling the half remembered story book they saw the other day. Their reaction confused him. He couldn't understand why they did not believe him. Did they think he was lying? Delusioned? Confusion turned to anger. Anger led to violence. Although the elements were strong, his magic lay deep within the very fabric of the earth and land, pulled from the building blocks of life and mineral. There were no defenses against it. He left destruction in his wake, smoke trailing from his wings as he navigated the cloudy sky.
The clan that found him left him on the meadows he crashed on, too frightened to approach. A platoon of guards arrived, direct from the Aergate to investigate the disturbance, but even they could make neither heads nor tails of this strange visitor. They hauled him away in a large hammock, expertly navigating their own windy skies as the stranger could not.
He was barely awake this time, only losely staring out unseeing from under heavy-lidded pink eyes. His whole body ached and his sole was torn and bruised, like a great chasm had opened wide inside his chest and ripped itself apart with every mile further away he ran from the place he called home. All his life he had been sustained by the magic vandoukun and now he was here, surrounded by elemental magic which was strange and foreign to his heart.
He remained in their den for what could have been an eternity but what he had been told was only a little over a month before his body began to gain its strength once more. He would never fully recover himself to his former glory, weakened as he was by a realm he was never designed to exist in, but still he found himself with strength enough to stand under his own weight once more and practice his magics.
He learned about this strange new world, of strange creatures that called themselves dragons. He learned of tundras and mirrors, skydancers and spirals. He learned that his own self seemed strange to them, like someone had taken the parts of two dragons and molded them together like clay. He learned of their dieties, those they called The Eleven who ruled over their elemental magics. He learned of the beastclans who had come from his own home and he was grateful to know that at least some memory of his beloved Novicae might live on.
In turn, he told these strangers of his own stories, the tales passed down to him by his family. Yet it was the oddest thing. When he learned of their tales, he met them with curiosity and questions, eager to understand the world he did not know, but when they learned of his, he was met only with a small laughter and mild amusement, like a parent whose child was retelling the half remembered story book they saw the other day. Their reaction confused him. He couldn't understand why they did not believe him. Did they think he was lying? Delusioned? Confusion turned to anger. Anger led to violence. Although the elements were strong, his magic lay deep within the very fabric of the earth and land, pulled from the building blocks of life and mineral. There were no defenses against it. He left destruction in his wake, smoke trailing from his wings as he navigated the cloudy sky.
xx
xx
Again he flew for a long time. Minutes in to hours and hours into days. The flight was easier this time, his months spent over the Plateau had made him strong and trained his mind to navigate the elemental winds, the ever rising and falling currents in the sky. He wandered with no clear path, flying over darkened forests and barren plagueland. His path was curled and spiraled, turning back and over, searching for something that called to his soul but never quite finding it.
At last he soared over silver leaves, and something sang inside him. He was near. Arcing pink crystal dredged up from the sea bed and laced with magic both old and new sang to him. The forest whispered in tongues lost in the Joining. The eternal forest, the Liedwoud, the "singing forest" had been around since the beginning of time itself. It's roots reached deep into wells of magic left unharnessed. It was an altar and tomb for gods who had been erased from eternity.
On the edges of this place where the Old Gods thrived, the Reaches began, curling upwards towards the sky, bent inwards towards the altar of the Arcanist, though in the old days another altar had stood there. In the rock faces, there was a cave system, extensive and deep, carved out by ancient claws and repurposed by new dragons who worshiped the old ways.
The clan was small when Kai arrived, only it's Queen, her dark children of justice, and two others; one a Swarena blessed by Cortez, and the other a warrior from a far-off forest with anger and demands of vengeance lodged within her cold heart.
The clan grew in time. Others called them a Cult, they had no name for themselves. They were the Way. The ones who sought to do away with the elemental magics and restore the Mageós to their rightful place of power. Kai took on a mate, one with violence brewing equal in her soul to his. Together they carved through the world with claw and tongue, weaving a tapestry through time, the last of the Oudene and the Princess of the Claw.
At last he soared over silver leaves, and something sang inside him. He was near. Arcing pink crystal dredged up from the sea bed and laced with magic both old and new sang to him. The forest whispered in tongues lost in the Joining. The eternal forest, the Liedwoud, the "singing forest" had been around since the beginning of time itself. It's roots reached deep into wells of magic left unharnessed. It was an altar and tomb for gods who had been erased from eternity.
On the edges of this place where the Old Gods thrived, the Reaches began, curling upwards towards the sky, bent inwards towards the altar of the Arcanist, though in the old days another altar had stood there. In the rock faces, there was a cave system, extensive and deep, carved out by ancient claws and repurposed by new dragons who worshiped the old ways.
The clan was small when Kai arrived, only it's Queen, her dark children of justice, and two others; one a Swarena blessed by Cortez, and the other a warrior from a far-off forest with anger and demands of vengeance lodged within her cold heart.
The clan grew in time. Others called them a Cult, they had no name for themselves. They were the Way. The ones who sought to do away with the elemental magics and restore the Mageós to their rightful place of power. Kai took on a mate, one with violence brewing equal in her soul to his. Together they carved through the world with claw and tongue, weaving a tapestry through time, the last of the Oudene and the Princess of the Claw.
xx
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Description
Kai's parents were part of The Old Ones, creatures that were native to Novicae and were ill-suited to Sorneith's form of magic. When Kai was hatched, the elemental magic seeped into his egg and did it's best to transform him into a dragon that was expected to be found on this new world. It didn't quite work out.
Kai appears to most as a strange mix between a Skydancer and a Guardian. He has a thick snout with an underbite and well-muscled form that is longer than a Guardian's should be. He has two long sets of horns and where webs should be instead there is long thick blue fur. Feathers frame his face and his wings are both feathered and draconic. His claws are long but stubby. He is not one to fight with his claws, but he is especially powerful in magic. Though never properly trained, his natural abilities make him a force to be reckoned with when it comes to battle. That and his silver tongue never leave him in second place. His quiet and gentle demeanor mean others often assume a sense of benevolence and weakness, an assumption that many dragons pay for with their lives. |
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The last of a species now extinct, Kai lives outside of the restrictions of the elements, drawing his power from his worship of the Sea God, Indira. He allows his anger to rule, casting dark shadows wherever he treads. Many find him strange, though those brave few who are open about it rarely find themselves looking at him for long. |
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Icons and banners by Serpentra + Natron
Round Flight Icons from Limanya
Round Flight Icons from Limanya
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Exalting Kai to the service of the Arcanist will remove them from your lair forever. They will leave behind a small sum of riches that they have accumulated. This action is irreversible.
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