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Zabel, the Young Dragon

"I will find my father, and cut down anyone in my way".

0 · 449 views · located in The World of Atmora

a character in “Before the Legends....”, as played by Mr. Baneling Squishy

Description

Image

Clan Name: EloranGiven Name: Zabel (Zay-Bul)
Nicknames: The Young Dragon, Kid, Shortie

Draconic Meaning: Young DragonThe Forest Clan
Age: Appears Ten, Is actually much older due to Dragon life longevity.

Race: Dragon/Half Dragon. Was originally human until he was given The Mark of the Dragon, which effectively makes him a full blooded Dragon in terms of technicalities.

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Appearance:

Image
Image
Armor: Wears Custom Made Light Armor from
Dragonskin and Dragon Scales shed by old Dragons.

Eye Color: Draconic Amber

Hair Color: Brown

Skin Type: Caucasian

Markings: He has several Draconic Markings.

-The Mark of the Dragon on his right arm, part of
it is usually clearly visible.
-The Mark of the Sun above his right eye,
indicating his Draconic teachings.
-A Circle inside a triangle on his back, with a line
running down his back and right leg, ending with
a square at the end, to indicate the region he
was raised in. Hidden unless naked.
-The Eloran Crest on the outside of his left hand,
indicating his clan.
-The Mark of Prestige on his chest, indicating he
is considered to be of high status for his age.
-The Mark of the Dracomagi, indicating he is a
powerful magic wielder as well.

These marks are protected by ancient magics,
and cannot be changed by anyone except for
an Elder or a Priest.

Height: 4'9. But he hates being called short,
so don't point it out to him.

Weight: 84 Lbs.


Clothing: Under his armor, he wears either a white sleeveless undershirt, some shorts, and some boxers, or the more traditional cloth clothing made in the smaller villages and towns. He carries some boots and shoes in his pack, but human Dragons tend to prefer to go barefoot, as it allows them to feel the vibrations in the ground as well as being able to tell other things, allowing them to hunt better and percieve more. Plus, they are tough enough so that it does not bother them even in the most rough of terrains.

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Persohistory: The combination of Personality and History since the two are highly connected and should be one section


General History and how it affected him: Zabel's first memories was of his adoptive father, Vrax, who found him alone wandering the forest one day. No one seems to know where Zabel originated from, or what his actual name even was. But Vrax and the other dragons knew he needed a home, and so Vrax took him in and raised him. At first, they looked for where he might have come from, but they had on purposefully built their home away from any human settlements nearby to avoid conflict, and there was no way he could have wandered that far on his own. Additionally, no one reported a missing child, and Dragons were often notified due to this instinctual need to help and save Children.

Eventually, they stopped looking, partially because they had no leads, and partially because the more he was around, the more Vrax saw him as his own son. Vrax once had a wife, a long time ago, but she had died during her first childbirth, which was a stillborn. To be honest, Vrax before meeting Zabel had been depressed, and even considering suicide (A rare occurrence among Dragons). The clan could see what Zabel was doing to him. It gave Vrax a purpose, it gave him the family he had been deprived of, and it gave him something to love and live for. Zabel saved Vrax as much as Vrax saved Zabel, even if he was never told it.

It did not take too long, or much convincing, to gift Zabel with the Mark of the Dragon, making him one of them. Besides, the boy seemed to show a natural ability for their teachings, or at least a natural ability to learn. Zabel became one of them, although he was considered one of them in truth long before that. The Mark gave Zabel all the abilities a dragon could do, including powerful Draconic Magic. For the next two decades, he learned a lot about magic and sword fighting, and anything else Vrax could teach him. The two were always close, and with the Mark of the Dragon, Zabel did not age twenty years like a normal human, but only a small fraction of that. Dragons age (and often mature) slower then any other species, with the exception of the immortals.

He was quick to earn the title of Honored Warrior and Hunter, an honor that on average is only awarded to one or two dragons a year. For his age, it was a great achievement to earn it so quickly. Unfortunately, the celebration was short lived. A group of powerful magic users known as The Triad of Ancient (Dark) Arts attacked them, stealing many relics and killing anyone in their way with an army of golems and mercenaries. During the fight, Vrax sacrificed himself to save Zabel, and the boy watched as his father disappeared in the chaos. However, Zabel refuses to believe his father is dead, in part because no body was ever found, and Dragons are sometimes enslaved and kept as pets, or used to supply Wizard Rituals with fresh Dragon Blood and teeth, the dragon being kept alive but in a cramp inside area suffering. All dragons, both beast and human, prefer to be outdoors and free as much as possible.

Zabel was quick to ask their villages council to be allowed to search for this group, rescue his father if possible, and allow them to counter attack for all the lives they took and all their relics they stole that held great significance for the village. They did not hesitate to approve his request, sending him and many others out on this quest. But Zabel was sure, he would be the one to find and free his father. He was sure of it, he would rescue his father, and he knew he was alive.

And thus, led him on this path to becoming a Legend.

Weapons: A shortsword made just for him in the Draconic Forges of Armoni, and a large Draconic dagger as a backup.

Other: He carries around an old picture of him and Vrax taken on the day he received his Mark of the Dragon. He also a small beast dragon Squiring under him named Pipap, which means Light Heart in Draconic.

Story Excerpt/Writing Sample: Zabel was roaming the city of Duraal to see the sites. He had heard that Duraal had some of the greatest culture, and the Young Dragon wanted to see it all. You see, Zabel was born human, but he has no memory of his parents. When he was two years old, his first memory was one of being found by the great Dragon Vrax. Vrax is Draconic for Tough One. Vrax took in the young boy, teaching him to speak, walk, talk, and fight. He gave him the name Zabel, which in Draconic means Young Dragon. He even bestowed upon him the Mark of the Dragon, granting him a vastly increased longevity to his life as well as great power, a gift not granted so casually as it makes someone a Dragon in essence. Only a handful of these people exist in the world. In fact, Vrax granted it to him because he saw Zabel as a son, teaching him Dragon Style Magic as well as granting him the natural skill of Dragon Sword Style. How or why Dragons invented a special type of sword style remains unknown, but it requires special Dragon reflexes, Dragon senses, and Dragon strength.

However, only a few years ago, three mysterious Dark Wizards came and attacks them. Vrax sacrificed himself to save Zabel, and Zabel believes to this day the Dark Wizards trapped Vrax and have him imprisoned somewhere, in part because of what his name meant. While he might look and act like he is ten, Zabel is actually much older. His Dragon Lifespan just makes him age at an incredibly slow rate. He maintains a human appearance, but at any moment he can summon Dragon Wings, a Dragon Tail, and Dragon claws on his body, or even transform into a Dragon for a period of time, depending on his stamina and mana levels.

And right now, he was chasing down a lead. Litterally, the guy ran as soon as he saw Zabel. Zabel could sense that he had Detection Magic set up to alert him of a threat to him. The bad news for him was that Zabel did not know what he looked like until now. And so, he chased after him. "Dragon Fire Wall!" he yelled, as a wall of blue fire erupted in front of him. The man turned around.

"That magic...this is Dragon Magic! You are a Dragon! You are the Young Dragon!" the man exclaimed, as he took out his sword. "I thought you were taller and older!"

"WHO ARE YOU CALLING SHORT?!?!?!" Zabel shouted, losing it. He hated it when people called him short. It did not help he was short. Blue dragon fire surrounded his whole body, before unleashing a large attack on him. "Dragon's Rage!"

After nearly charring the guy, Zabel picked them up, slammed him against a wall, then the stone ground, then a wall again, and then back into the stone ground. By the time we was finished, the man was barely awake...and alive. "Well damnit, I lost my temper again. Oh well, maybe he wont try to run or hold back information next time".

So begins...

Zabel, the Young Dragon's Story

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Character Portrait: Zabel, the Young Dragon
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(Not my best intro post, but I am sick and need to focus on finals so this was the best I could do)

Zabel was so happy today. Normally, he would work the whole time, but Vrax would tan his hide if he did not celebrate and have fun every so often. And the Festival of Crowning was one of the greatest festivals of all times. Still, Zabel should probably keep an eye out. After all, more then a few people had put a bounty on his head, and many people would likely want to collect it. Well, people who believed they actually had a chance of success. Many mercs and bounty hunters were smart enough not to come after him, but stupid people could still be dangerous.

Pipap flew onto his head. "You know, I gotta say its pretty ironic, calling you the young Dragon when you are actually older then most humans. How old are you again, like sixty?"

Pipap was a young beast dragon he had been chosen to squire. He was a crafty fun loving sort, but his heart was in the right place and his magic strong. Also a bit pestering at times, but he was young. He would learn. Dragons age slowly, but they also mature slowly. Which is probably why Dragons learn to be so patient. How else could they put up with their young?

"Yeah yeah. Well, that is still pretty young for dragons" Zabel mentioned. A Dragon's total lifespan is hard to predict, but some believe they can live well over one thousand years old. Zabel took some food, and continued enjoying the music and dancing. "Unfortunately, it seems like we may be interrupted".

"So you noticed then the assassin tailing us?" Pipap replied. "For a moment I thought you were getting soft".

Zabel scoffed. "Keep dreaming, hatchling".

"So what are we going to do about it?"

"I say, let the festival keep going! And deal with him when he finally decides to strike" Zabel told him, as they continued to enjoy the music. Of course they had no idea just what they were about to get into today.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Zabel, the Young Dragon Character Portrait: Elysabeth and Simon
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"He's a child."
"Looks can be deceiving."
"I've killed children before."
"He's not a child."
"He looks like a child."
"Well, not all things that quack are ducks."
"I don't have time for your riddles, Simon. If I wanted your apothegms I'd bloody ask for them."
"...it wasn't really an apothegm."
"You're an ideograph."
"...I'm not sure you're using that word correctly. It's a malapropism."
Elysabeth narrowed her eyes. She leaned over the little wooden table, pointed elbow stuck between slats with enough force to make it groan, letting Simon know it wasn't sufficient cover. Not much was, when dealing with an elf-woman scorned. Regardless, he sat, passive and not paying attention. His eyes were over her shoulder, and his mind far from the festival. "You're staring at the hassassin."
"I'm not convinced he's a hassassin, Elysabeth."
"He has a garrote in his sleeve and a ceremonial knife on his belt. I've killed many of his kind, before and after entering your employment." Elysabeth lowered herself back into her seat and crossed her arms. "And I recognize his accent."
"...doesn't look terribly much like a hassassin."
"What did you say about ducks and quacking?"
"That's different. I was talking about the dragon-boy."
"He doesn't look like a dragon."
"Yes, Elysabeth. You've made that very clear."
Simon finally turned his eyes to her. She had her hair pulled into a tight ponytail, the only effeminate feature on her body. Mud coated her boots and shins, and there were still a few specks of bled on her stomach and fists. He, on the other hand, wore a simple wrap-shirt tucked into coarse pants sinched by a leather belt. He wore animal-hide shoes and a careful haircut. He'd even shaved. First impressions were important.
The arcanist smiled and scratched his bare chin. The faintest twinge of sadness was felt with the loss of his beloved facial hair. She narrowed her eyes again and bared her teeth. "I don't like when you stare at me."
"I can go back to looking at the hassassin."
"No you can't. He crossed the street and entered that bakery." She gestured with a twitch of her eyes. He nonchalantly twisted and turned to look. "I just said you can't. No window."
"...what's behind the bakery?"
"An alley. I think it's one-way. There's... a..." She looked for the name, failed, and settled: "Building. At the end. One exit."
"I think we should go introduce ourselves."
"You said no more fighting today." Elysabeth tried to sound disappointed, but she was out of her seat and halfway there before he could reply.

It was a simple, if risky, play: Simon entered through the front door, stood a safe distance from the suspected hassassin, and made some accusatory remarks. The hassassin, not wanting to draw attention to himself before killing his target, would try to escape through the back door. Elysabeth would be waiting on the other side of that door to punch him into a hospital bed, if need be.
Fortunately, need was not be; she caught him in the temple with her elbow and knocked him to the cobblestone ground. She pinned him with a metal boot-heel to his shoulder and pointed her sword at his face. Simon came around, clicking his tongue and berating the hassassin for running instead of feigning evidence. "I'm quite the gullible man, Mr. Hassassin. You could have said 'Sorry, you have me mistaken,' and we wouldn't be having this conversation."
Simon rifled through pockets, sleeves, and trousers. There was, as Elysabeth said, a cord garrote tucked into the folds of his left shirt-sleeve, and a dagger that appeared to be incredibly fragile because of its chipped design, which was intentionally hammered in to cause more jagged wounds and hold poison.
"No, no, stop struggling. Seriously. She just has to lean forward, and you have a hundred-and-ten pounds precisely placed to separate your pectoral girdle." He stole the man's shoes. "See, I'm a physician. I once took an oath, saying I'd never use my knowledge to harm my common man. I taught her everything I know about how to break a body, and the only oath she's ever taken is to do exactly that to anyone who would otherwise threaten me. So stop struggling and answer some questions, or she'll demonstrate how easy it is to detach your radius from your ulna." Simon reached out and grabbed the man around the wrist, then touched the bones in turn.

Unfortunately, the hassassin didn't speak the same language Simon did, and while he easily could have repeated his message in a dialect a few steps removed from sharing the same tongue, it was easier to let Elysabeth break his maxilla after a sufficiently incriminating writ was found in his pocket. "...so he was a hassassin."
"I told you." Elysabeth stuck the garrote in her pouch. She turned the knife over, removed it from its sheathe, shrugged, and tossed it aside. "I've seen sharper rocks."
"I think we should go see the dragon boy."
"Only if I get to fight something bigger than..." She gestured to the unconscious hassassin, whose body was in a race to see whether it would die of blood loss or asphyxiation first, like it sufficiently made her point. Then she decided better, appending a fitting expletive title. "So, are we going?"
"Yes." Simon stood, dusted himself off, and started walking. Elysabeth fell in step beside him. "Now we just have to find him again."
"He's right over there." Her ability to spot a child in a crowd never ceased to amaze Simon. He looked carefully to see what she was pointing at, then asked that she lower her arm and stop being so suspicious. "Maybe we should wait a minute. He looks like he's having fun."
"I'm not paid to stand around."
"No, I suppose you aren't. Still, it's a big crowd." Simon had to stop her from drawing a sword. "No no, I wasn't asking for you to make it smaller."