Post by Bronzewing on Oct 18, 2021 22:40:03 GMT
NAME: Windshifter
Nicknames: Tastyboy
Gender : Male Age : 30 Rank : Wandering warrior Sexuality: Straight
Tribe(s): NightWing/IceWing
Appearance: {A white dragon with colored splotches of icy shades. He's covered in scars.}
The character's appearance;
Abilities: Frostbreath, like an IceWing. Serrated claws. His wings are a bit wider than normal. He smells- and tastes like- whatever somebody finds appetizing, and its different for each person. (If you like tomatoes the most, he smells and tastes like the best possible tomatoes.)
Personality:
{briefly; Harsh, loud, impulsive, guarded}
Detailed personality here; He's a loud guy. What's the meaning of "be quiet" or "don't talk so loud?" He's not sure... yet. He's not dangerous, just forceful, sometimes goes a bit too far on things... but he won't actually raise a claw against somebody and injure them! It's just not his style to actually commit harm against a person. He's a passionate protector, and when he loves something or somebody, while he may seem harsh, he really does care. He wants you to stay safe! And if smashing you into a wall and yelling at you is the way he sees to do it, then that's what he's gonna do! It takes him some time to warm up to other dragons, but once he does, he will let down his guard and tell you more things about himself.
History:
He's a warrior at heart, and that was why he left home at a young age to go traveling. The place they lived on the border between the desert and cold lands of the IceWings never interested him as a home, so despite his unusual look as a hybrid he went off to distant lands that would take days, even months, of flying to reach. On these trips is where he amassed the majority of his impressive scars.
He had gone home one day to see his younger siblings, hearing that his mother had laid another clutch of eggs- more than usual, he had heard. Impressed and interested, he decided to take a trip back to see how they all were doing. He was there for maybe half a year, maybe more, enjoying the slow life. Even when his brother Turmoil ran into his room in hysterics about a smashed egg, he didn't really pay much attention. However something did strike him as wrong about the egg, and so he went to check if the dragonet was right... and sure enough, one of the eggs had been in pieces, stains of it still across the floor. Something was wrong.
Everything was fine.
Until his mother snapped, throwing the broken bodies of newly-hatched dragonets around as if they were playthings, tearing her own children to pieces with nobody to watch but the others in the group that struggled away with their small understanding of the world. He didn't see it happen, but he heard it and came running just to see her slash her claws across the nose of his older brother, leaving what would become a lasting mark. Windpillar had seen many strikes, and he knew which ones would scar. This was one of those.
He led her outside, the IceWing feral at that point, and with his great skill he slayed her until she only laid twitching on the ground. He watched, he watched his own mother die by his own hand, and he stayed there for a while. He didn't check on Turmoil or the other younger siblings until he had dragged the mother away and buried her in the cold sands by the border, stayed there a moment, then returned.
The bodies of the siblings were gone, but Turmoil was fine. He didn't want to think about what may have happened to them.
Family:
parents
mother
?
father
?
siblings
sibling one: Turmoil
relations
friends: Maybe.
enemies: Also maybe.
Did you buy an item for this character? If so, what did you buy?: his tastiness > : )
