Echleon [Trainee Rider]
Jul 30, 2012 13:45:25 GMT -5
Post by afroprince on Jul 30, 2012 13:45:25 GMT -5
Full Name: Echleon Archea
Other name(s): Vesper
Race: Elf
Side: Neutral
Birthplace: Rona Lake
Age: 9
Gender: Male
Birthday: January 23
Eyes: Crimson
Hair: Silver
Weight: 90 lbs.
Height: 4’7
Magic User: Yes
Preferred Weapon(s): Magic, Sword, Bow and Arrow
Appearance:
Beauty. The word doesn’t even begin to describe the characteristics of Echleon’s face. The young boy is a model of excellence and the paragon of perfection. His masculinity has yet to be defined, therefore a feline nature has beset the frame of his face. His skin tone is rather pale compared to that of the average elf, giving Echleon a ghastly appearance, though his morbid beauty radiates from every pore of his body. Though his ears are larger than that of the average human, his wiry silver hair covers the protrusions properly enough so they can’t be seen. The window’s to his soul reflects the color of passion, hatred, and fire; three concepts that Echleon knows so well. Cursed with a haunting beauty, many children flee at the site of him as his aura emanates a feeling of insecurity. The only blemish is the brand that stained his right hand many years ago. A brand that constantly reminds him of his past and resurrects feelings of loneliness whenever seen.
His body type is petit: small and thin. Though he’s tiny, his muscles are clearly visible due to the intensive training his body has undergone. Standing below five feet, Echleon intimidates no one but children as the average warrior is well over five feet tall. His demeanor is quiet as his thin gray lips rarely separate themselves from one another. Most who’ve heard of the young one forget that he’s still a little child.
Echleon generally wears a gray hooded-robe that engulfs his entire being. The robe has strips of crimson and golden cloth, and on the back he bears the insignia of his dragon’s clan. He’s not known for wearing armor as it’s hard to find a pair that’s comfortable yet versatile. While travelling, he generally puts up the hood, which encompasses his entire head, in order to conceal his presence. Beneath the robe, he wears clothing that resembles a jumpsuit. Constantly wearing gloves with finger holes, his palms are rarely ever seen.
Due to his demeanor and appearance, people of Ellesmera resorted to calling him Vesper, after the evening star. His silver hair illuminates his body as the only clothing he wears is as dark as night.
Personality:
Echleon is rather genuine and sweet in nature. Contrary to his demonic appearance, the tiny tike wants nothing more than to please others. Due to his young age, he’s still prone to acting like an idiotic barbarian. Filled with energy and a child’s joy, Echleon’s proven to be more than a handful for those whom he’s around. At the same time, his persona is mature and collected. The amount of bloodshed he’s since in his short life has really given him an appreciation for every breath he takes. His personality morphs with the situations he’s thrown in; when the time calls for it, he’s as hard as steel. But whenever he’s given the chance, Echleon thoroughly enjoys acting his age, attempting to live out his childhood for what it’s worth.
Though Echleon is an extremely amiable person, it’s very hard for him to make friends. No child wishes to spend time with him, as he appears barbaric and savage; and most adults shun him due to his petit form. Though this disturbs him greatly, Echleon is not one who enjoys confrontation; he prefers to avoid it whenever possible. Timid yet bold, childish yet mature, his very existence is a paradox, and he carry’s that badge proudly.
Likes:
Winning
Magic
Swordsmanship
Marksmanship
Dislikes:
Losing
Being Teased
Being Alone
His Tattoo
Strengths: Energetic, Size, Mental-Control, Perseverance
Weakness: Carelessness, Age, Complex Problems, Inability To Handle Intense Pain
Family:
Helena [Mother – Deceased]
Durst [Acting Father]
? [Father – Unknown]
Not-So-Brief History:
Rona Lake. The northernmost lake in all of Alagaesia, hidden behind the dense forests of Du Weldenvarden. Rona Lake. Also the birthplace of one of the nation’s best friends, a boy and his dragon. About nine years ago, a pregnant woman stumbled into the village surrounding the Lake. The civilians of Rona were far from pleased with their newest inhabitant. Immediately she was shunned, cast aside, and thrown to the outer edge of the city where she was left to fend for herself. The air was calm around the Lake, and it was easy to breathe. The woman made her way to the walls of the nearest structure and began to have her contraptions. Her breathing grew short as time rolled on; the cries of pain that she vomits startled most of the nearby residents, yet they all left her there. Not a single one raised a finger to help her. The elven woman said a silent prayer. Closing her eyes, she was lulled into an eternal sleep.
The following morning, Durst the blacksmith made his way outside his compost to see what all the hollering from the night before was about. As he saw the woman on the ground, his heart grew heavy. He remembered the fact that it wasn’t everyday an elven woman would conceive a child, but as protocol went, the village was impartial towards outsiders: even if they were pregnant. The citizens of Rona could care less about the preservation of the elves as long as their own village was left in peace. In order to make amends, Durst thought it’d be right to bury the woman properly. Not needing the consent of others, seeing as he lived alone and just outside of the village, he began to execute the ceremonial rights. Just as he was about to cremate her, he saw something in the bottom of her dress. A silver object caught his eye as it flickered back and forth. His curiosity overcame him. Durst bent over and began to examine the specimen. What he saw immediately captivated his attention. It was a baby, a baby boy. Durst removed the baby from his position, and then wrapped him in linen cloth before he completed the proper burial ceremony.
Overcome by a sense of helplessness, Durst knew not what to do with the boy. He decided that he’d temporarily take care of the boy until he found a mother who would take care of him and nurture him properly. As time went on, the boy, which he named after his grandfather, Echleon, grew older. By the age of five, Durst had already began training him in the art of war. Durst was quite aware of the upcoming times, and though he knew Echleon was a child, he figured the earlier the start, the better.He was rather perceptive for a child; his ability to read human beings was superb. Emotions were apparent to him as the sun is to the average being. Though, they’ve always said children are better at reading people than adults. Echleon was quite aware that all of this training wasn’t in vain and that there was some greater purpose, but Durst new better than to involve him in political matters. Though Echleon excelled for a boy his age, he was no where ready for war. With pressing times coming, Durst wasn’t sure that he’d be able to ready Echleon to help protect Rona from the approaching outsiders whom wished to collect their able bodied men to fight for the elves.
One day, Echleon found himself perusing the shop for materials on Durst’s command. Looking for an ebony colored rod, he grabbed an object comprised of ebony, but was more spherical in shape. As he grabbed the object, a strange energy flew from his fingertips through the vertebrae in his back, like a rush of energy from another sentient being. With childish impotence, he ignored the notion and brought the object to Durst. Chuckling at the boys stupidity, Durst turned him around and told him that the object he was looking for was much smaller, and longer in stature. Echleon returned to the house, and placed the object under his pillow before returning with the rod Durst needed. But while Durst forged a new practice sword for his child-figure, all Echleon could think about; the strange sensation he felt while possessing the ebony object.
Echleon didn’t sleep well that night. Possibly because the large object occupied the majority of his pillow, but also possibly because of all of the excitement. Durst had explained that everything found in the shop was found in nature, yet most natural objects didn’t give off such a radiant energy. What kind of sphere emanated an aura of a living being, yet could be found in such a commonplace area as the forests of Du Weldenvarden? His numerous inquiries plagued his mind, forcing his eyes awake; his curiosity overcame him and he sat up. Echleon removed the object from beneath the pillow and held it for a few moments. He gazed at its magnificence as rays of moonlight reflected elegantly off of its sleek exterior surface. The object was large, yet small.
“If I didn’t know better, I’d think this was the home to some kind of creature.”
As his mouth’s movement ceased, and silence waged war against noise, the object began to oscillate. Frightened, Echleon’s nerves compelled him to hold on to the egg. Fear overcame his being, though the sensation of life grew. The object began to crack in multiple places, fractures that created fault lines across the objects beautiful existence. A minute explosion erupted from the confines of this sphere, the explosion emitted a pulse of energy that surged through the room, encompassing Echleon’s entire form. A great blue aura consumed his presence, and when the storm settled, a small snake like creature danced around on his lap.
“Holy…”
Echleon was at a loss for words. The creature was ravishing. Astonishing. Mysterious. Awe-striking. Inspiring. Perfect.
“But Durst said I’m not allowed to have pets!” He exclaimed as he ran to the room of his surrogate father. Echleon knocked on the door ferociously, for what seemed like hours, until he heard footsteps from the opposite side of the corridor. As Echleon held the creature in his arms, he impatiently waited for Dust’s arrival. The door opened, and Durst’s jaw dropped. Immediately, he packed his things and locked the shop. Durst was babbling, speaking incoherently, and running away from the Lake. From all that was said, the only thing that Echleon truly understood was a single sentence:
“We’re leaving for Ellesmera. Get your robes and hide that creature! We must make haste!”
Obedient, Echleon did as he was told, grabbing his practice sword as well, and followed Durst through the woods to the capital of their nation. The journey was long, but for some reason as long as Echleon held the dragon, a sense of safety overcame him. A new bond had been forged, one that’d last centuries.
A few weeks later, they arrived safely in Ellesemera where they met with the Queen. Alarmed and joyous, the Queen welcomed the trio with open arms. They conversed with one another and came to terms that Echleon would stay with his companion to train under other skillful elves in order to become a champion of the arcane arts. Against his will, Durst left Ellesmera, leaving his “child” behind. The bond that they had was now coming to a halt, as Echleon was to be trained as a war machine. Their departure was all but joyful. They cried and held each other until Durst was forced to leave on the Queen’s order.
Together, Echleon and his dragon trained under sorcerers and warriors alike. Echleon watched his dragon grow from being the size of a small dog, to towering over most houses. Their friendship was golden, treasured not only by themselves, but by the Queen herself. She needed as many riders as possible to help aid her cause, and whenever a new one popped up, she desired to make them her own.
The boy and his dragon grew close incredibly quickly. By the second week, they’d never leave each other’s side out of love for one another rather than the need for each others familiar face. It wasn’t until the day she spoke to him that he decided to name her. Finding a name that suited her was almost impossible. Echleon sat there for hours, neglecting to practice with his mentors the day, all because he couldn’t figure out a suitable name for her. Suddenly, he realized that a name that suited her one would be one that came out of love.
“Privia, I shall name thee, Privia!” He exclaimed. His companion danced around giddily, as they finally came to decipher a name that suited her perfectly.
The years following her naming were grueling on the two of them. Privia not only learned how to fly, but also learned many maneuvers and strategies to take down enemies in many situations. While she was given lessons about flying by creatures who’ve been grounded for life, Echleon was taught much about magic in its most rudimentary form. Though his knowledge of magic isn’t extensive, his ability to use basic spells is incredible. His spell list may be short, but he’s creative, and almost at the point where he’s able to use the most basic spells, such as brisingr and jierda, without uttering their name in the ancient language. Echleon also became extremely attuned to fighting with the blade forged by Durst. Though it’s thin in nature, it’s ability to slice through materials is superb. It has been enforced with certain wards to help preserve its effectiveness, and though it’s not as great as a Rider’s sword, it was created out of love. Anything forged out of love has the power to break anything that was not.
Until last week, Echleon studied intensively under the Queen. Day in and day out, he was trained to be a hero of war. In a sense, he’d been reborn into this world alongside with his dragon. As most dragon and their riders, the two became inseparable, though for different reasons than most. Though dragons and their riders take on a very close relationship, Privia became Echleon’s mother figure. She may be younger than he, but she filled the void that was in his heart, assuming the position of his surrogate mother. The emotions they have for one another is nothing but undying affection in a filial-maternal manner.
Though Echleon is strong, he’s still a young boy, and could only handle so much. His lessons focused on weaving spells in with swordsplay and marksmanship. He’s adept at countering enemies, but he still has much to learn in the world of the arcane. Last week, he was sent on his first mission as a scout to help dispatch a number of insurgents. Insisting he could do it alone, he and Agape took the group out but never returned to Ellesmera. Tired of taking orders, he decided to take things in his own hands and make his fate his own. Understanding that he’ll never be able to learn as much unless he studies under another rider, Echleon patiently awaits the time he can be an apprentice by choice and not by force.
Dragon Bio[/u]
Name: Privia
Egg Size: About the size of a large watermelon.
Physical description:
Privia is a beautiful creature of serenity and grace. Her scale tone is an opaque shade of ebony, which glistens in the moonlight. Her physique is rather large, as like most dragons, she grew quickly. Now that she’s about four years old, she stands taller than most buildings, with a wingspan longer than her full body’s length. Her body is extremely serpentine, though her arms come directly off of her body and are not attached to her wings. Instead, they are a separate entity, giving her more room for physical combat, though hindering her when it comes to flying as it adds a few extra pounds. She accommodates for her extra weight with larger thicker wings. Though she’s no faster than the average dragon, she’s got a large amount of endurance, allowing her to sustain flight for extended periods of time.
Her head is sleek and slim, coming towards a point at the end of her snout. The two orbs that allow her to see give off a violet color. Her gaze is paralyzing for those who’ve never seen a dragon before, and haunting for those who have. Her mouth is small, and though not as ferocious as the average dragon, her bite is still just as devastating. Rather than exhaling spurts of flames, she spits out concentrated beams of fire. Her neck flows almost seamlessly into her body, giving off the appearance of a large flying snake rather than the traditional dragon, though she does have a body which supports her two hind legs. Her tail is long and thin, reciprocating her head, and ends in a point. Rather than crushing men with it, she’s able to cut them into pieces.
Personality:
Privia is an openly intelligent being. She’s somewhat cynical towards most outsiders, though she’s nothing but affectionate to her cub, Echleon. She guards him like a mother bear guards her cubs. Though cynical, she’s not much one for trusting outsiders. She prefers the comfort of Echleon and a few other close companions.
Privia is not quick to anger and generally remains calm and collected through most situations. Though everything is relative, and personality is purely situational, she’s quiet and controlled for the majority of the time.
Privia, much like Echleon, is keen on the emotional cues given off by other races. Both perceptive and keen, she generally doesn’t make much of humans, finding them to be trivial beings. Though she doesn’t prefer any other race, she finds them to be particular annoying and incredibly self centered.
Strengths: Combat, Aerial Maneuvers, Endurance
Weaknesses: Separation from Echleon, Flying Fast, Overprotective of Echleon (Rashness)
Origin of the Egg:
Though found in the wild by Durst many years prior to Echleon’s birth, it’s rumored to have been stolen from the Varden by empirical spies. Not much is known about the eggs origin, though everyone knows that the dragon belongs to none but Echleon.
Password: Witch of Teirm
Other name(s): Vesper
Race: Elf
Side: Neutral
Birthplace: Rona Lake
Age: 9
Gender: Male
Birthday: January 23
Eyes: Crimson
Hair: Silver
Weight: 90 lbs.
Height: 4’7
Magic User: Yes
Preferred Weapon(s): Magic, Sword, Bow and Arrow
Appearance:
Beauty. The word doesn’t even begin to describe the characteristics of Echleon’s face. The young boy is a model of excellence and the paragon of perfection. His masculinity has yet to be defined, therefore a feline nature has beset the frame of his face. His skin tone is rather pale compared to that of the average elf, giving Echleon a ghastly appearance, though his morbid beauty radiates from every pore of his body. Though his ears are larger than that of the average human, his wiry silver hair covers the protrusions properly enough so they can’t be seen. The window’s to his soul reflects the color of passion, hatred, and fire; three concepts that Echleon knows so well. Cursed with a haunting beauty, many children flee at the site of him as his aura emanates a feeling of insecurity. The only blemish is the brand that stained his right hand many years ago. A brand that constantly reminds him of his past and resurrects feelings of loneliness whenever seen.
His body type is petit: small and thin. Though he’s tiny, his muscles are clearly visible due to the intensive training his body has undergone. Standing below five feet, Echleon intimidates no one but children as the average warrior is well over five feet tall. His demeanor is quiet as his thin gray lips rarely separate themselves from one another. Most who’ve heard of the young one forget that he’s still a little child.
Echleon generally wears a gray hooded-robe that engulfs his entire being. The robe has strips of crimson and golden cloth, and on the back he bears the insignia of his dragon’s clan. He’s not known for wearing armor as it’s hard to find a pair that’s comfortable yet versatile. While travelling, he generally puts up the hood, which encompasses his entire head, in order to conceal his presence. Beneath the robe, he wears clothing that resembles a jumpsuit. Constantly wearing gloves with finger holes, his palms are rarely ever seen.
Due to his demeanor and appearance, people of Ellesmera resorted to calling him Vesper, after the evening star. His silver hair illuminates his body as the only clothing he wears is as dark as night.
Personality:
Echleon is rather genuine and sweet in nature. Contrary to his demonic appearance, the tiny tike wants nothing more than to please others. Due to his young age, he’s still prone to acting like an idiotic barbarian. Filled with energy and a child’s joy, Echleon’s proven to be more than a handful for those whom he’s around. At the same time, his persona is mature and collected. The amount of bloodshed he’s since in his short life has really given him an appreciation for every breath he takes. His personality morphs with the situations he’s thrown in; when the time calls for it, he’s as hard as steel. But whenever he’s given the chance, Echleon thoroughly enjoys acting his age, attempting to live out his childhood for what it’s worth.
Though Echleon is an extremely amiable person, it’s very hard for him to make friends. No child wishes to spend time with him, as he appears barbaric and savage; and most adults shun him due to his petit form. Though this disturbs him greatly, Echleon is not one who enjoys confrontation; he prefers to avoid it whenever possible. Timid yet bold, childish yet mature, his very existence is a paradox, and he carry’s that badge proudly.
Likes:
Winning
Magic
Swordsmanship
Marksmanship
Dislikes:
Losing
Being Teased
Being Alone
His Tattoo
Strengths: Energetic, Size, Mental-Control, Perseverance
Weakness: Carelessness, Age, Complex Problems, Inability To Handle Intense Pain
Family:
Helena [Mother – Deceased]
Durst [Acting Father]
? [Father – Unknown]
Not-So-Brief History:
Rona Lake. The northernmost lake in all of Alagaesia, hidden behind the dense forests of Du Weldenvarden. Rona Lake. Also the birthplace of one of the nation’s best friends, a boy and his dragon. About nine years ago, a pregnant woman stumbled into the village surrounding the Lake. The civilians of Rona were far from pleased with their newest inhabitant. Immediately she was shunned, cast aside, and thrown to the outer edge of the city where she was left to fend for herself. The air was calm around the Lake, and it was easy to breathe. The woman made her way to the walls of the nearest structure and began to have her contraptions. Her breathing grew short as time rolled on; the cries of pain that she vomits startled most of the nearby residents, yet they all left her there. Not a single one raised a finger to help her. The elven woman said a silent prayer. Closing her eyes, she was lulled into an eternal sleep.
The following morning, Durst the blacksmith made his way outside his compost to see what all the hollering from the night before was about. As he saw the woman on the ground, his heart grew heavy. He remembered the fact that it wasn’t everyday an elven woman would conceive a child, but as protocol went, the village was impartial towards outsiders: even if they were pregnant. The citizens of Rona could care less about the preservation of the elves as long as their own village was left in peace. In order to make amends, Durst thought it’d be right to bury the woman properly. Not needing the consent of others, seeing as he lived alone and just outside of the village, he began to execute the ceremonial rights. Just as he was about to cremate her, he saw something in the bottom of her dress. A silver object caught his eye as it flickered back and forth. His curiosity overcame him. Durst bent over and began to examine the specimen. What he saw immediately captivated his attention. It was a baby, a baby boy. Durst removed the baby from his position, and then wrapped him in linen cloth before he completed the proper burial ceremony.
Overcome by a sense of helplessness, Durst knew not what to do with the boy. He decided that he’d temporarily take care of the boy until he found a mother who would take care of him and nurture him properly. As time went on, the boy, which he named after his grandfather, Echleon, grew older. By the age of five, Durst had already began training him in the art of war. Durst was quite aware of the upcoming times, and though he knew Echleon was a child, he figured the earlier the start, the better.He was rather perceptive for a child; his ability to read human beings was superb. Emotions were apparent to him as the sun is to the average being. Though, they’ve always said children are better at reading people than adults. Echleon was quite aware that all of this training wasn’t in vain and that there was some greater purpose, but Durst new better than to involve him in political matters. Though Echleon excelled for a boy his age, he was no where ready for war. With pressing times coming, Durst wasn’t sure that he’d be able to ready Echleon to help protect Rona from the approaching outsiders whom wished to collect their able bodied men to fight for the elves.
One day, Echleon found himself perusing the shop for materials on Durst’s command. Looking for an ebony colored rod, he grabbed an object comprised of ebony, but was more spherical in shape. As he grabbed the object, a strange energy flew from his fingertips through the vertebrae in his back, like a rush of energy from another sentient being. With childish impotence, he ignored the notion and brought the object to Durst. Chuckling at the boys stupidity, Durst turned him around and told him that the object he was looking for was much smaller, and longer in stature. Echleon returned to the house, and placed the object under his pillow before returning with the rod Durst needed. But while Durst forged a new practice sword for his child-figure, all Echleon could think about; the strange sensation he felt while possessing the ebony object.
Echleon didn’t sleep well that night. Possibly because the large object occupied the majority of his pillow, but also possibly because of all of the excitement. Durst had explained that everything found in the shop was found in nature, yet most natural objects didn’t give off such a radiant energy. What kind of sphere emanated an aura of a living being, yet could be found in such a commonplace area as the forests of Du Weldenvarden? His numerous inquiries plagued his mind, forcing his eyes awake; his curiosity overcame him and he sat up. Echleon removed the object from beneath the pillow and held it for a few moments. He gazed at its magnificence as rays of moonlight reflected elegantly off of its sleek exterior surface. The object was large, yet small.
“If I didn’t know better, I’d think this was the home to some kind of creature.”
As his mouth’s movement ceased, and silence waged war against noise, the object began to oscillate. Frightened, Echleon’s nerves compelled him to hold on to the egg. Fear overcame his being, though the sensation of life grew. The object began to crack in multiple places, fractures that created fault lines across the objects beautiful existence. A minute explosion erupted from the confines of this sphere, the explosion emitted a pulse of energy that surged through the room, encompassing Echleon’s entire form. A great blue aura consumed his presence, and when the storm settled, a small snake like creature danced around on his lap.
“Holy…”
Echleon was at a loss for words. The creature was ravishing. Astonishing. Mysterious. Awe-striking. Inspiring. Perfect.
“But Durst said I’m not allowed to have pets!” He exclaimed as he ran to the room of his surrogate father. Echleon knocked on the door ferociously, for what seemed like hours, until he heard footsteps from the opposite side of the corridor. As Echleon held the creature in his arms, he impatiently waited for Dust’s arrival. The door opened, and Durst’s jaw dropped. Immediately, he packed his things and locked the shop. Durst was babbling, speaking incoherently, and running away from the Lake. From all that was said, the only thing that Echleon truly understood was a single sentence:
“We’re leaving for Ellesmera. Get your robes and hide that creature! We must make haste!”
Obedient, Echleon did as he was told, grabbing his practice sword as well, and followed Durst through the woods to the capital of their nation. The journey was long, but for some reason as long as Echleon held the dragon, a sense of safety overcame him. A new bond had been forged, one that’d last centuries.
A few weeks later, they arrived safely in Ellesemera where they met with the Queen. Alarmed and joyous, the Queen welcomed the trio with open arms. They conversed with one another and came to terms that Echleon would stay with his companion to train under other skillful elves in order to become a champion of the arcane arts. Against his will, Durst left Ellesmera, leaving his “child” behind. The bond that they had was now coming to a halt, as Echleon was to be trained as a war machine. Their departure was all but joyful. They cried and held each other until Durst was forced to leave on the Queen’s order.
Together, Echleon and his dragon trained under sorcerers and warriors alike. Echleon watched his dragon grow from being the size of a small dog, to towering over most houses. Their friendship was golden, treasured not only by themselves, but by the Queen herself. She needed as many riders as possible to help aid her cause, and whenever a new one popped up, she desired to make them her own.
The boy and his dragon grew close incredibly quickly. By the second week, they’d never leave each other’s side out of love for one another rather than the need for each others familiar face. It wasn’t until the day she spoke to him that he decided to name her. Finding a name that suited her was almost impossible. Echleon sat there for hours, neglecting to practice with his mentors the day, all because he couldn’t figure out a suitable name for her. Suddenly, he realized that a name that suited her one would be one that came out of love.
“Privia, I shall name thee, Privia!” He exclaimed. His companion danced around giddily, as they finally came to decipher a name that suited her perfectly.
The years following her naming were grueling on the two of them. Privia not only learned how to fly, but also learned many maneuvers and strategies to take down enemies in many situations. While she was given lessons about flying by creatures who’ve been grounded for life, Echleon was taught much about magic in its most rudimentary form. Though his knowledge of magic isn’t extensive, his ability to use basic spells is incredible. His spell list may be short, but he’s creative, and almost at the point where he’s able to use the most basic spells, such as brisingr and jierda, without uttering their name in the ancient language. Echleon also became extremely attuned to fighting with the blade forged by Durst. Though it’s thin in nature, it’s ability to slice through materials is superb. It has been enforced with certain wards to help preserve its effectiveness, and though it’s not as great as a Rider’s sword, it was created out of love. Anything forged out of love has the power to break anything that was not.
Until last week, Echleon studied intensively under the Queen. Day in and day out, he was trained to be a hero of war. In a sense, he’d been reborn into this world alongside with his dragon. As most dragon and their riders, the two became inseparable, though for different reasons than most. Though dragons and their riders take on a very close relationship, Privia became Echleon’s mother figure. She may be younger than he, but she filled the void that was in his heart, assuming the position of his surrogate mother. The emotions they have for one another is nothing but undying affection in a filial-maternal manner.
Though Echleon is strong, he’s still a young boy, and could only handle so much. His lessons focused on weaving spells in with swordsplay and marksmanship. He’s adept at countering enemies, but he still has much to learn in the world of the arcane. Last week, he was sent on his first mission as a scout to help dispatch a number of insurgents. Insisting he could do it alone, he and Agape took the group out but never returned to Ellesmera. Tired of taking orders, he decided to take things in his own hands and make his fate his own. Understanding that he’ll never be able to learn as much unless he studies under another rider, Echleon patiently awaits the time he can be an apprentice by choice and not by force.
Dragon Bio[/u]
Name: Privia
Egg Size: About the size of a large watermelon.
Physical description:
Privia is a beautiful creature of serenity and grace. Her scale tone is an opaque shade of ebony, which glistens in the moonlight. Her physique is rather large, as like most dragons, she grew quickly. Now that she’s about four years old, she stands taller than most buildings, with a wingspan longer than her full body’s length. Her body is extremely serpentine, though her arms come directly off of her body and are not attached to her wings. Instead, they are a separate entity, giving her more room for physical combat, though hindering her when it comes to flying as it adds a few extra pounds. She accommodates for her extra weight with larger thicker wings. Though she’s no faster than the average dragon, she’s got a large amount of endurance, allowing her to sustain flight for extended periods of time.
Her head is sleek and slim, coming towards a point at the end of her snout. The two orbs that allow her to see give off a violet color. Her gaze is paralyzing for those who’ve never seen a dragon before, and haunting for those who have. Her mouth is small, and though not as ferocious as the average dragon, her bite is still just as devastating. Rather than exhaling spurts of flames, she spits out concentrated beams of fire. Her neck flows almost seamlessly into her body, giving off the appearance of a large flying snake rather than the traditional dragon, though she does have a body which supports her two hind legs. Her tail is long and thin, reciprocating her head, and ends in a point. Rather than crushing men with it, she’s able to cut them into pieces.
Personality:
Privia is an openly intelligent being. She’s somewhat cynical towards most outsiders, though she’s nothing but affectionate to her cub, Echleon. She guards him like a mother bear guards her cubs. Though cynical, she’s not much one for trusting outsiders. She prefers the comfort of Echleon and a few other close companions.
Privia is not quick to anger and generally remains calm and collected through most situations. Though everything is relative, and personality is purely situational, she’s quiet and controlled for the majority of the time.
Privia, much like Echleon, is keen on the emotional cues given off by other races. Both perceptive and keen, she generally doesn’t make much of humans, finding them to be trivial beings. Though she doesn’t prefer any other race, she finds them to be particular annoying and incredibly self centered.
Strengths: Combat, Aerial Maneuvers, Endurance
Weaknesses: Separation from Echleon, Flying Fast, Overprotective of Echleon (Rashness)
Origin of the Egg:
Though found in the wild by Durst many years prior to Echleon’s birth, it’s rumored to have been stolen from the Varden by empirical spies. Not much is known about the eggs origin, though everyone knows that the dragon belongs to none but Echleon.
Password: Witch of Teirm
Accepted! I look forward to Rping with you at some point.
