Post by Rilkar Olden & Sindyr on Apr 19, 2015 22:18:07 GMT 1
NAME: Sindyr
AGE: 53
GENDER: Female
SPECIES: Mountain Tyrant
LIKES:
- Being in control
- Having her own Freedom
- Being a part of things, even if they don't necessarily concern her.
- Feeling that someone or something actually cares about her existence.
- Being that special kind of aggressive where she makes people on edge
DISLIKES:
- When people assume to command her
- Running out of food
- Hunters. They put her on edge that they might find/turn on her.
- Bringing up her brother.
STRENGTHS:
- Passionate in her own way.
- Rather intimidating
- Not afraid to get nasty should the situation need it.
- Aggressive but intelligent about it. Nearly too witty for her own good.
WEAKNESSES:
- Possessive, overly so.
- Big. Just.... Big.
- Aggressiveness makes it hard to fit in
- Suggestive on purpose, specifically to spark conflict.
AMBITIONS:
- Maintain something that resembles a family structure after the loss of her brother.
- Revenge against the RR cultists.
FEARS:
- Being captured and turned.
- Losing her freedoms or ability to fly or be free.
APPEARANCE:
One of the Fearsome Mountain Tyrants of the Mountains located in Heirah's Westernly approach, Sindyr sports naturally darker colors with a slightly lighter underbody. Her darker colors are a midnight blue-ish primary with a rust red blotch stripe pattern that continues down her back from her wings. Standing full height at around 11 feet tall, her body stretches outwards of almost triple that length with tail fully extended. Her tail consists of a hard spaded tip instead of the clublike end that is most common within her species. Spade tails are used in the hierarchy of dragons as a working class dragon by her species. When swung this can be used as a weapon quite efficiently, or it can be used to shield someone. This wide and long spaded tip compared to her body is a dark shale grey that ends almost as abruptly as it begins. She sports large talons on her feet and a clawlike growth on the midsection of her wing. (see the Mountain Tyrant portrait in the book of dragons) Her crest is very much like the photo in the book of dragons and the facial features nearly identical. The scales of her underbelly are also a slate grey, similar to the tail's spade. Her frills are a bit wider than the usual Tyrant, as is normal for females.
PERSONALITY: She's prideful, very much full of herself. Though years of living in the mountains after her brother's death have left her rather starved for attention. She's aggressive rather on purpose, as is natural for her species and isn't afraid to voice her opinions or snap at vikings who so much as look at her in a way that doesn't please her. She loves to be treated with respect and if you don't really end up on her bad side, or with teeth in your knickers, she loves a good scratch behind the frills to calm her down. She'll learn though. With the right kind of attention she'll learn to not be quite the Psycho Angry Astrid.
HISTORY: Thinking back to the last days of Heirah's existence, the frontlines were full of battle weary soldiers in open combat with a force that had them outnumbered and out matched by the strength of various dragons forced into the service of the Cult armies. Leading this, was a mighty dragon, ridden by the masked leader of the Cult. The mighty dragon swept into combat, spreading chaos and dismay into the ranks of Heirah's troops. Sindyr watched from the mountains as her brother committed acts that their code as Tyrant dragons forbid. Their continuing prosperity was in danger. Ever since their parents had finally deceased, as they were quite old, even for dragons, her brother was all she had left. She was but a lowly worker female who fished and caught game to bring back and feed her family, she was responsible for expanding her den too afterall. Ever since that human filth spoke deals into her brother's ear, she knew it would be bad. Now, in the last dregs of the battle, she watched as her brother swept into a group, better armed and armoured than the rest of the footsoldiers he had gotten used to fighting. What she thought were crossbows fired from the center of their formation, and it seemed that no matter how much fire he breathed, the tower shields of the front ranks, gave the archers enough cover from the licking flames to reload. Angered, he charged into the group of knights, swinging his neck and tail, and crushing the knights beneath his talons. She frowned to herself as she watched as a few of the dismayed knights had gathered resolve and began to attack his legs. She knew he would be finished if he didn't pull back. For some reason she would never find out, he kept fighting, stomping and gnashing until one knight remained standing. Though others were simply incapacitated, the knight stood his ground, his pose trembling with his lance in hand. He stood no chance alone. Her brother swept in, jaws open for one final attack to finish the remaining knight off. That's when it happened. The knight was sent sprawling into the bodies of his companions, not before he somehow managed to pierce her brother's upper jaw with his lance. He staggered forwards, spattering the ground with the thick blood that he was now coughing. The knight struggled to regain his footing and instead, scrambled backwards as the body of what was once her brother, slammed to the ground. Soon after, the largest sound of cracking rock and roaring sea's she'd ever heard echoed through the mountains. The city, which had been compromised by hundreds of Whispering Death tunnels by now, had finally taken the last hit from the Trebuchets at sea that it could take, and the shelf collapsed into the sea.
Though she had already accepted her brother's fate, like many dragons over the past weeks, her brother was dead. She mourned every night for months. She'd never find a mate, and her only family left was left dead on the battlefield. She couldn't even face him for the atrocities he'd committed. He had attributed to the total destruction of an entire human city, and for that she couldn't forgive him, as much as his death had pained her. Each night thereafter, her den was filled with the agony crusted roars of a wounded dragon. The other Tyrants in the mountains had already moved away from her, finding positions and crevasses to dig into far away from her, and shunned her each time she tried to reach out to find them. Her life was in shambles, ever since birth, things never quite went her way, things often spiraled out of her control and she became more aggressive because of it, often damning these things to oblivion of whatever gods she could think of. Afraid of any human interaction, she eventually found it to be more sensical to her own life if she stayed hidden. She sruggled to maintain her own existence. Without her family or the assistance of the other dragons, it was difficult to find food that wasn't already picked through. She fished well enough, but often came back with an empty stomach as the other dragons scared off the schools of fish near her home. Her life was hard and solitary.
And now, five years later, nearly six, the sound of boots echoed into her den. She scowled as the familiar armor he wore stepped into her cave. She could smell the blood of her brother, it was still thick, even through the more than likely thousands of washes it had endured. This petty man would be no match for her. She rose to strike, but much to her surprise, the man simply dropped his weapon, and began taking off his armour. She lowered herself to his level and stalked forwards. The man held his arms outwards from his sides to show he had no weapons and stood his ground.
"Why do you come here human? Why does one who smells of my brother's death intrude upon my den?" She growled fiercely as she stalked ever closer until she was nearly within bites reach. It was only then that he finally spoke.
KEYWORD: **************
CBOX NAME: TrueMoon
AGE: 53
GENDER: Female
SPECIES: Mountain Tyrant
LIKES:
- Being in control
- Having her own Freedom
- Being a part of things, even if they don't necessarily concern her.
- Feeling that someone or something actually cares about her existence.
- Being that special kind of aggressive where she makes people on edge
DISLIKES:
- When people assume to command her
- Running out of food
- Hunters. They put her on edge that they might find/turn on her.
- Bringing up her brother.
STRENGTHS:
- Passionate in her own way.
- Rather intimidating
- Not afraid to get nasty should the situation need it.
- Aggressive but intelligent about it. Nearly too witty for her own good.
WEAKNESSES:
- Possessive, overly so.
- Big. Just.... Big.
- Aggressiveness makes it hard to fit in
- Suggestive on purpose, specifically to spark conflict.
AMBITIONS:
- Maintain something that resembles a family structure after the loss of her brother.
- Revenge against the RR cultists.
FEARS:
- Being captured and turned.
- Losing her freedoms or ability to fly or be free.
APPEARANCE:
One of the Fearsome Mountain Tyrants of the Mountains located in Heirah's Westernly approach, Sindyr sports naturally darker colors with a slightly lighter underbody. Her darker colors are a midnight blue-ish primary with a rust red blotch stripe pattern that continues down her back from her wings. Standing full height at around 11 feet tall, her body stretches outwards of almost triple that length with tail fully extended. Her tail consists of a hard spaded tip instead of the clublike end that is most common within her species. Spade tails are used in the hierarchy of dragons as a working class dragon by her species. When swung this can be used as a weapon quite efficiently, or it can be used to shield someone. This wide and long spaded tip compared to her body is a dark shale grey that ends almost as abruptly as it begins. She sports large talons on her feet and a clawlike growth on the midsection of her wing. (see the Mountain Tyrant portrait in the book of dragons) Her crest is very much like the photo in the book of dragons and the facial features nearly identical. The scales of her underbelly are also a slate grey, similar to the tail's spade. Her frills are a bit wider than the usual Tyrant, as is normal for females.
PERSONALITY: She's prideful, very much full of herself. Though years of living in the mountains after her brother's death have left her rather starved for attention. She's aggressive rather on purpose, as is natural for her species and isn't afraid to voice her opinions or snap at vikings who so much as look at her in a way that doesn't please her. She loves to be treated with respect and if you don't really end up on her bad side, or with teeth in your knickers, she loves a good scratch behind the frills to calm her down. She'll learn though. With the right kind of attention she'll learn to not be quite the Psycho Angry Astrid.
HISTORY: Thinking back to the last days of Heirah's existence, the frontlines were full of battle weary soldiers in open combat with a force that had them outnumbered and out matched by the strength of various dragons forced into the service of the Cult armies. Leading this, was a mighty dragon, ridden by the masked leader of the Cult. The mighty dragon swept into combat, spreading chaos and dismay into the ranks of Heirah's troops. Sindyr watched from the mountains as her brother committed acts that their code as Tyrant dragons forbid. Their continuing prosperity was in danger. Ever since their parents had finally deceased, as they were quite old, even for dragons, her brother was all she had left. She was but a lowly worker female who fished and caught game to bring back and feed her family, she was responsible for expanding her den too afterall. Ever since that human filth spoke deals into her brother's ear, she knew it would be bad. Now, in the last dregs of the battle, she watched as her brother swept into a group, better armed and armoured than the rest of the footsoldiers he had gotten used to fighting. What she thought were crossbows fired from the center of their formation, and it seemed that no matter how much fire he breathed, the tower shields of the front ranks, gave the archers enough cover from the licking flames to reload. Angered, he charged into the group of knights, swinging his neck and tail, and crushing the knights beneath his talons. She frowned to herself as she watched as a few of the dismayed knights had gathered resolve and began to attack his legs. She knew he would be finished if he didn't pull back. For some reason she would never find out, he kept fighting, stomping and gnashing until one knight remained standing. Though others were simply incapacitated, the knight stood his ground, his pose trembling with his lance in hand. He stood no chance alone. Her brother swept in, jaws open for one final attack to finish the remaining knight off. That's when it happened. The knight was sent sprawling into the bodies of his companions, not before he somehow managed to pierce her brother's upper jaw with his lance. He staggered forwards, spattering the ground with the thick blood that he was now coughing. The knight struggled to regain his footing and instead, scrambled backwards as the body of what was once her brother, slammed to the ground. Soon after, the largest sound of cracking rock and roaring sea's she'd ever heard echoed through the mountains. The city, which had been compromised by hundreds of Whispering Death tunnels by now, had finally taken the last hit from the Trebuchets at sea that it could take, and the shelf collapsed into the sea.
Though she had already accepted her brother's fate, like many dragons over the past weeks, her brother was dead. She mourned every night for months. She'd never find a mate, and her only family left was left dead on the battlefield. She couldn't even face him for the atrocities he'd committed. He had attributed to the total destruction of an entire human city, and for that she couldn't forgive him, as much as his death had pained her. Each night thereafter, her den was filled with the agony crusted roars of a wounded dragon. The other Tyrants in the mountains had already moved away from her, finding positions and crevasses to dig into far away from her, and shunned her each time she tried to reach out to find them. Her life was in shambles, ever since birth, things never quite went her way, things often spiraled out of her control and she became more aggressive because of it, often damning these things to oblivion of whatever gods she could think of. Afraid of any human interaction, she eventually found it to be more sensical to her own life if she stayed hidden. She sruggled to maintain her own existence. Without her family or the assistance of the other dragons, it was difficult to find food that wasn't already picked through. She fished well enough, but often came back with an empty stomach as the other dragons scared off the schools of fish near her home. Her life was hard and solitary.
And now, five years later, nearly six, the sound of boots echoed into her den. She scowled as the familiar armor he wore stepped into her cave. She could smell the blood of her brother, it was still thick, even through the more than likely thousands of washes it had endured. This petty man would be no match for her. She rose to strike, but much to her surprise, the man simply dropped his weapon, and began taking off his armour. She lowered herself to his level and stalked forwards. The man held his arms outwards from his sides to show he had no weapons and stood his ground.
"Why do you come here human? Why does one who smells of my brother's death intrude upon my den?" She growled fiercely as she stalked ever closer until she was nearly within bites reach. It was only then that he finally spoke.
KEYWORD: **************
CBOX NAME: TrueMoon
