Post by ElliBleu on Aug 21, 2008 12:49:25 GMT -6
Name: Gwenaeste
Age: 167
Gender: Male
Scale Color: Blue
Personality: Gwen is calm, level-headed, and patient to the point of saintliness (one has no need to rush things with a lifespan as long as his kind.) Polite, kind, and naturally inclined to help others. He knows no selfishness (except hereditary draconic possessiveness of precious metals) and would gladly take any amount of pain for another. He is highly intelligent and exceedingly clever, but understands little of the ways of humans despite his past dealings with them. Exceedingly friendly and happy to have company, Gwen will happily speak about most anything. He loves to speak, is exceedingly chatty, and will easily engage in prolonged conversation of most any topic. The dragon is also a good listener and thinker, able of processing and analyzing vast amounts of information rather quickly. Calculating and clever, very fond of puzzles, riddles, and music. More of a sage than a warrior, but no stranger to battle. He will defend his honor, or that of a close friend, when needed, but would never let pride dictate hasty actions. Has a fondness for singing and dancing, fascinated by hominid musical instruments and their vast variety of sounds. Loves to swim. Tends to try and utilize all his senses in his endeavors for learning, giving him an unusual habit for tasting most anything- edible or not- at least once.
Appearance:Brilliant sapphire scales with lighter undersides and slightly darker appendages and a ridge of short spined scales along his back. Slimmer than most male dragons and slightly smaller, but with an impressive wingspan. More horns than a newly fledged dragon sprout from his crest, but fewer than battle-scarred Dragon Lords and an armored fin on either side of his head that are used to protect his ears and throat pulse-points in combat. Strong rear legs with three true-toes and a fighting spur, and front legs with more elegantly formed digits with an adapted spur that serves as an opposable ‘thumb’. Stands about eight feet at the shoulder, with an elegant, serpentine neck and tail. Approximately 40 feet long, with a wingspan nearly double that.
History:
Third of a clutch of seven hatchlings by his parents Au'Mer and Zeharra in an expansive, remote cave-system. He grew through the slow childhood of his kind, wrestling with his brothers, arranging small tokens of Father’s horde into patterns with his sisters, and exploring water trickles and crevices further and further from the safety of the egg-shelf and Mother.
Many years, little time to a dragon, passed and the draklings grew. Father came and went, his proudly crested head always eliciting joyous hums from Mother as it rounded the familiar bend into the home-cavern. His massive ebony wings ranged far, but never failed to retrieve ample sustenance and coin to help growing hatchlings and keep Mother’s emerald scales shining.
As their wings grew in, one by one the draklings left the home cave to seek new territories and add verses to their life. Gwen was no exception, and thirst for knowledge drove him to men, dwarf, and elf. The hominids were clever creatures, and had much to teach for the simple novelty of meeting a curious dragon. Time matters little to a dragon, and Gwen often lingered in one place until a particularly liked teacher or friend met the end of his short human life or the area‘s game could no longer sustain a predator of his size and appetite. Then his wings and the Winds would take him some place new, learning more
A favorite teacher was a rather eccentric old man, tenacious despite his lifespan that was mildly impressive even to a dragon. The wily elder had much to teach the unexpected and welcomely talented student. His ideas and theories of the soul and stars meant little to one so earthly as a dragon, but Gwen listened with half an ear and unwavering patience.
Eventually, he spread his wings once again, never content to be in one place too long. His dulling scales needed metals, and his hungry senses new vistas and smells.
Currently resides in a small band of mountains bordered on three sides by a tight loop or a river, near a human settlement he visits frequently. Has made a fast friend in a half-elf artist/bard woman named Levina, and his vanity is just enough that he loves sitting still for hours so she can paint him.
Strengths: Incredibly able physically and mentally. Well-versed in both speaking and reading a variety of languages, though writing is difficult and he prefers to dictate to a scribe ratehr than write himself. Capable of flight and and fire-breathing. Highly resistant to fire and heat. Naturally armored. High endurance, and can maintain an impressive run for an extended amount of time. Is a fast learner, and can pick up on an unfamiliar language in a matter of days. Well-camouflaged in water, strong swimmer, and can hold his breath for an extended period of time,
Weaknesses: Chivalrous and honorable, so highly susceptible to underhanded tactics. Soft areas of the wings, joints, and underside unprotected. Loathe to kill. Needs to ingest precious metals to maintain healthy scales, and can be possessed of a rabid, maddening need to obtain and protect such items. Fares very poorly when contained within man-made walls. Sluggish and sleepy in cold climates.
Please provide an RP sample:
Mother was calling him. Her sweet, musical voice echoed through the homecave but Gwen ignored it for the moment. He had followed an old scent trail of Father's while exploring, and stumbled across a long disused, overgrown and partially collapsed exit.
He had wound his thin, sinewy body around a stalactite, a blue streak of glimmering scale against rough gray stone. Cool, clean air drifted though the sizeable rift in the ceiling, playing a chorus of unfamiliar scents across his nostrils. But most interesting was the swathe of utter dark overhead, marred in chaotic randomness by glittering sparks of white dragonfire.
His eyes were wide and bright with the reflected lights, feeling some vague memory Mother had shared with him as an eggdream before he had hatched and all the world was dark and warm. She called him again, this time reaching out with her mind to touch his. Come, Gwenaeste. It is time for sleep, and your brothers and sister want you here to share the dreamstory.
A moment, Mother...
A deep, heavy hum came from below, sending rhythmic vibrations through the protrusion of rock. Gwen squeaked in fright, fans fluttering down from his barely-there crest. Father's massive ebony head rose to to greet him, the iridescence of his scales the only thing making him distinguishable form the dark of the cave. Thinking he was in for a scolding, Gwen loosened his tail to start sliding down the rock.
"Stars, Gwenaeste."
The drakling stopped, turning to look over at Father who now stared up through the hole in the cave above. "Stars?" he repeated, once again turning his attention to the miniscule lights overhead.
"A dragon is never lost if he knows his star, little champion. When you have your wings, you will find yours and it will never lead you astray."
Gwen stayed silent, gaping silently at the beauty and taking Father's words to heart. "Some dragons, some humans even, can read the stars to divine things. Some also believe one's birthstar dictates personality and parts of their life."
The ebony dragon snorted, letting out a laugh that hissed and bubbled like water on heated rocks. "I've no head for such things, though. Maybe sometime your mother can take you all aboveground, show you your birthstar and read you it's promises. She always enjoyed non-terrestrial things like that." Another hum of fondness for his mate rumbled in his throat, moving his snout to lightly nudge his son. "But for now your Mother requires all hatchlings to be a-nest. Bid goodnight to the stars, Gwenaeste, and take comfort knowing you and all dragons have something even more eternal watching over."
The little blue spared one more revering glance for the heavens before dropping from the stalactite to land on Father's wide brow. After such talk the little blue couldn't help feeling so very small, and took immense comfort from the warmth of Father's scales and the drifting notes of mother's nightly dreamsong. The gentle sway of Father's mighty horned head soon lulled him into a peaceful sleep, dreaming of wings trailing stardust through a wide, welcoming expanse of night.
Age: 167
Gender: Male
Scale Color: Blue
Personality: Gwen is calm, level-headed, and patient to the point of saintliness (one has no need to rush things with a lifespan as long as his kind.) Polite, kind, and naturally inclined to help others. He knows no selfishness (except hereditary draconic possessiveness of precious metals) and would gladly take any amount of pain for another. He is highly intelligent and exceedingly clever, but understands little of the ways of humans despite his past dealings with them. Exceedingly friendly and happy to have company, Gwen will happily speak about most anything. He loves to speak, is exceedingly chatty, and will easily engage in prolonged conversation of most any topic. The dragon is also a good listener and thinker, able of processing and analyzing vast amounts of information rather quickly. Calculating and clever, very fond of puzzles, riddles, and music. More of a sage than a warrior, but no stranger to battle. He will defend his honor, or that of a close friend, when needed, but would never let pride dictate hasty actions. Has a fondness for singing and dancing, fascinated by hominid musical instruments and their vast variety of sounds. Loves to swim. Tends to try and utilize all his senses in his endeavors for learning, giving him an unusual habit for tasting most anything- edible or not- at least once.
Appearance:Brilliant sapphire scales with lighter undersides and slightly darker appendages and a ridge of short spined scales along his back. Slimmer than most male dragons and slightly smaller, but with an impressive wingspan. More horns than a newly fledged dragon sprout from his crest, but fewer than battle-scarred Dragon Lords and an armored fin on either side of his head that are used to protect his ears and throat pulse-points in combat. Strong rear legs with three true-toes and a fighting spur, and front legs with more elegantly formed digits with an adapted spur that serves as an opposable ‘thumb’. Stands about eight feet at the shoulder, with an elegant, serpentine neck and tail. Approximately 40 feet long, with a wingspan nearly double that.
History:
Third of a clutch of seven hatchlings by his parents Au'Mer and Zeharra in an expansive, remote cave-system. He grew through the slow childhood of his kind, wrestling with his brothers, arranging small tokens of Father’s horde into patterns with his sisters, and exploring water trickles and crevices further and further from the safety of the egg-shelf and Mother.
Many years, little time to a dragon, passed and the draklings grew. Father came and went, his proudly crested head always eliciting joyous hums from Mother as it rounded the familiar bend into the home-cavern. His massive ebony wings ranged far, but never failed to retrieve ample sustenance and coin to help growing hatchlings and keep Mother’s emerald scales shining.
As their wings grew in, one by one the draklings left the home cave to seek new territories and add verses to their life. Gwen was no exception, and thirst for knowledge drove him to men, dwarf, and elf. The hominids were clever creatures, and had much to teach for the simple novelty of meeting a curious dragon. Time matters little to a dragon, and Gwen often lingered in one place until a particularly liked teacher or friend met the end of his short human life or the area‘s game could no longer sustain a predator of his size and appetite. Then his wings and the Winds would take him some place new, learning more
A favorite teacher was a rather eccentric old man, tenacious despite his lifespan that was mildly impressive even to a dragon. The wily elder had much to teach the unexpected and welcomely talented student. His ideas and theories of the soul and stars meant little to one so earthly as a dragon, but Gwen listened with half an ear and unwavering patience.
Eventually, he spread his wings once again, never content to be in one place too long. His dulling scales needed metals, and his hungry senses new vistas and smells.
Currently resides in a small band of mountains bordered on three sides by a tight loop or a river, near a human settlement he visits frequently. Has made a fast friend in a half-elf artist/bard woman named Levina, and his vanity is just enough that he loves sitting still for hours so she can paint him.
Strengths: Incredibly able physically and mentally. Well-versed in both speaking and reading a variety of languages, though writing is difficult and he prefers to dictate to a scribe ratehr than write himself. Capable of flight and and fire-breathing. Highly resistant to fire and heat. Naturally armored. High endurance, and can maintain an impressive run for an extended amount of time. Is a fast learner, and can pick up on an unfamiliar language in a matter of days. Well-camouflaged in water, strong swimmer, and can hold his breath for an extended period of time,
Weaknesses: Chivalrous and honorable, so highly susceptible to underhanded tactics. Soft areas of the wings, joints, and underside unprotected. Loathe to kill. Needs to ingest precious metals to maintain healthy scales, and can be possessed of a rabid, maddening need to obtain and protect such items. Fares very poorly when contained within man-made walls. Sluggish and sleepy in cold climates.
Please provide an RP sample:
Mother was calling him. Her sweet, musical voice echoed through the homecave but Gwen ignored it for the moment. He had followed an old scent trail of Father's while exploring, and stumbled across a long disused, overgrown and partially collapsed exit.
He had wound his thin, sinewy body around a stalactite, a blue streak of glimmering scale against rough gray stone. Cool, clean air drifted though the sizeable rift in the ceiling, playing a chorus of unfamiliar scents across his nostrils. But most interesting was the swathe of utter dark overhead, marred in chaotic randomness by glittering sparks of white dragonfire.
His eyes were wide and bright with the reflected lights, feeling some vague memory Mother had shared with him as an eggdream before he had hatched and all the world was dark and warm. She called him again, this time reaching out with her mind to touch his. Come, Gwenaeste. It is time for sleep, and your brothers and sister want you here to share the dreamstory.
A moment, Mother...
A deep, heavy hum came from below, sending rhythmic vibrations through the protrusion of rock. Gwen squeaked in fright, fans fluttering down from his barely-there crest. Father's massive ebony head rose to to greet him, the iridescence of his scales the only thing making him distinguishable form the dark of the cave. Thinking he was in for a scolding, Gwen loosened his tail to start sliding down the rock.
"Stars, Gwenaeste."
The drakling stopped, turning to look over at Father who now stared up through the hole in the cave above. "Stars?" he repeated, once again turning his attention to the miniscule lights overhead.
"A dragon is never lost if he knows his star, little champion. When you have your wings, you will find yours and it will never lead you astray."
Gwen stayed silent, gaping silently at the beauty and taking Father's words to heart. "Some dragons, some humans even, can read the stars to divine things. Some also believe one's birthstar dictates personality and parts of their life."
The ebony dragon snorted, letting out a laugh that hissed and bubbled like water on heated rocks. "I've no head for such things, though. Maybe sometime your mother can take you all aboveground, show you your birthstar and read you it's promises. She always enjoyed non-terrestrial things like that." Another hum of fondness for his mate rumbled in his throat, moving his snout to lightly nudge his son. "But for now your Mother requires all hatchlings to be a-nest. Bid goodnight to the stars, Gwenaeste, and take comfort knowing you and all dragons have something even more eternal watching over."
The little blue spared one more revering glance for the heavens before dropping from the stalactite to land on Father's wide brow. After such talk the little blue couldn't help feeling so very small, and took immense comfort from the warmth of Father's scales and the drifting notes of mother's nightly dreamsong. The gentle sway of Father's mighty horned head soon lulled him into a peaceful sleep, dreaming of wings trailing stardust through a wide, welcoming expanse of night.