It was the same old hell, when the ceiling to Argus’ home collapsed in a wall of fire. Argus was used to this feeling; of strangled gnarled tree roots of a strong oak tree groaning, crashing on the bare of her back. Striking her form in fire. Once it would have left her at the mercy to the elements. Once it would have left her grounded and the threat of that was enough to shake Argus free: the colossal dragon breaking free from her own crumbling home to watch the sky fall apart in such an awe evoking display that brought the familiar terror of her home falling apart to a standstill. But of course, it was only momentary.
.
It had been less than a month since Argus had found this place by one of the leader’s many recruitment attempts. Argus had scant of her belongings, leaving the desert the assurance of her youngest' fate. Such a young generation needed more than ever guidance, but Argus was lost at the sight of their new leader, of who she would follow, something like sly bemusement at Stryker’s haste.
Argus was used to seeing the faces of ghosts. She could sense deep in her bones the spirits that called to her. In the time since she had last been known to any clan she was small, frail in comparison. Ten feet tall the dragon was a wash in simple colors of brown, black and flashes of green.
Their leader’s voice cut into the silence, and argus’ unblinking mask looked towards the Kingpin, wanders was such a lovely way of saying outcasts. With a flick of their furred tail, they paid no mind to the deep scars along their back, their wings as they made their way deeper inland towards the meeting place.
The sound of the typhoon, if it made argus feel anything akin to remorse, or sorrow: did not show on their features. Argus was an exile from her past home, she had made no attempts of hiding it, but she was not the only exile, not the only outcast here.
// argus could make a guru if chaz needs training, or an Usurper
.
It had been less than a month since Argus had found this place by one of the leader’s many recruitment attempts. Argus had scant of her belongings, leaving the desert the assurance of her youngest' fate. Such a young generation needed more than ever guidance, but Argus was lost at the sight of their new leader, of who she would follow, something like sly bemusement at Stryker’s haste.
Argus was used to seeing the faces of ghosts. She could sense deep in her bones the spirits that called to her. In the time since she had last been known to any clan she was small, frail in comparison. Ten feet tall the dragon was a wash in simple colors of brown, black and flashes of green.
Their leader’s voice cut into the silence, and argus’ unblinking mask looked towards the Kingpin, wanders was such a lovely way of saying outcasts. With a flick of their furred tail, they paid no mind to the deep scars along their back, their wings as they made their way deeper inland towards the meeting place.
The sound of the typhoon, if it made argus feel anything akin to remorse, or sorrow: did not show on their features. Argus was an exile from her past home, she had made no attempts of hiding it, but she was not the only exile, not the only outcast here.
// argus could make a guru if chaz needs training, or an Usurper