Once upon a time, there was a dragon.
He was a regal creature, as tall at the shoulder as a man is at the head. Gold fibers adorned his head and tail like hair, and when he moved they would shift against each other, hissing and whispering in song. It was a song of gold, of wealth, of easy power. Effortless nobility. And, in truth, that was what the dragon had -- for the gold ran through his body, emerging in his fur and feathers and horns. Even where gold was absent, his coat was of smooth cream and chocolate hues, the most full and beautiful of any seen in the land. Some say that it was the dragon's true skin, and that he was blessed with gold as reward for some childhood heroism. Others believe that he emerged into the world that way, a hatchling with threads of gold beneath its skin.
It didn't matter, really. The dragon did not know what was said, nor would he have cared if he did. He guarded his territory like a hardened soldier, driving out any who tried to cut into his land. Never did he act with violence, though; through intimation, patience and harmless force, he would corral intruders and send them off. No one knew how well he truly fought, for none had ever seen him do so. But there wasn't a creature willing to try, for this dragon moved with such speed and grace that he would surely be deadly in battle.
Though his existence was so fully solitary, he never longed for company. The beast was fully aware of its glory, its superiority, and could think of no worthy mate. He knew not his neighbors nor wanted to try; what cared he for them? He was a ruler. He was a king.
And he was a complete jerkface.
Let's try that again.
Once upon a time -- that time being now -- there was and is a Draik by the name of Qhief. He's a rare and magnificent creature. He knows this. He's powerful, mysterious, as graceful as you'd expect a dragon to be. He knows that too. His territory is vast and lush, his hoard of treasure is on par with that of any Western dragon in any storybook, and not only does he know these things but he'd be very happy to go on about them.
You can't really call him spoiled, because he does work for what he has. He just doesn't work very hard; he's never had to. The valley that he calls home is something of an oasis in a barren area, a patch of unexpectedly healthy forest in a mountain range with little to offer. Qhief is powerful (and flashy) enough to drive off other apex predators, but as a single individual he can't deplete the entire area's resources. The end result is that he has just enough to get by without majorly disturbing the ecosystem, and little competition when it comes to hunting.
Survival comes easy to him... in this one specific environment.
Adaptable is not a good word for Qhief, you see. He has his routine; he sticks to it; it works. That's all there is to it. Threats are few and far between, so he's never experienced serious illness or injury -- which means he doesn't really know anything of strategy or healing. Intruders from neighboring areas are rare, and not particularly varied in skill or species, so he doesn't know much about other races. And there's never been incentive to leave the little valley, so he knows nothing about the rest of the world. Not even through word of mouth; he doesn't converse with lesser beings.
He's not spoiled, but he's sheltered. And elitist.
But here's the thing about characters who are elitist, sheltered, and powerful only on their own turf and terms. Here's the thing about characters who aren't adaptable.
Sooner or later, they have to learn to be.
When it comes to Qhief, there's no horrible disaster that spurs his character development. His home doesn't burn down. His parents don't die in front of him. He doesn't discover a love interest, or a lifelong rival, or any massive conspiracy that might inspire a heroic journey. There's no epiphany in which he realizes that other people matter (or even that they exist), and there's no sudden inspiration to explore the rest of the world. In all honesty, he doesn't really care.
No, what happens is very simple: things change.
They don't change with a great and sudden upheaval, as they do in fairy tales or superhero movies. Rather, things change in small, subtle ways. It's like the slow slip into poverty that's no one's fault, the quiet ascent to adulthood that can't quite be tracked. Really, Qhief couldn't tell you where it begun.
Maybe one year there was a fire in part of the forest, and the ecosystem was slow to recover. Maybe one year too many insects died, or not enough of them did. Maybe the river was polluted somewhere upstream, and there weren't enough fish. Not enough fish means the predators starve, and the larger predators above them, and those above them. Then there's no one to keep the herbivore population in check, and they eat too many plants, produce too much waste, in which too many insects can breed... while other types suffer from the lack of vegetation, and the decreased numbers impact the things that that eat them, which impacts the things that eat them, on and on and on.
Nature always bounces back, see. It just doesn't bounce back quickly.
Not quickly enough to satisfy a very large Draik who isn't used to hunger, or to change. When resources start to dwindle and the prey begins to run dry, he does what seems sensible at the time; he moves. A pet as powerful and intelligent as him shouldn't have any problem claiming a new territory, right?
And that perfect life comes crashing down.
A • R O L E P L A Y • B I O
name : Qhief
gender : Male
age : Young adult; would translate to late teens or early twenties in human years.
species : Feathered Draik, exact breed unknown.
environment : Vagrant. Found mainly to the west, as he comes from the mountains not far from Altador, but this Draik can be found wandering far.
appearance : Build is strong, lean, with a powerful neck and tail. Huge wingspan, with wing shape somewhat resembling an eagle's; broad and bearing very distinct primary flights, built mainly for gliding to support his size and weight. The wings are fully gold if seen from the top, but bear patches of dark brown and white underneath. Much of body is dark brown, white or cream with gold bands and markings. Thin fibers of gold make up crests on head and tail; face, feet and the tips of the horns are also gold.
personality : Vain, arrogant, prideful, naïve. Very intelligent but not much of a fighter, and thoroughly clueless about the rest of the world. Doesn't know how to utilize a foreign environment or situation. Cannot cooperate well, but is trying to learn -- though skewed morals and an elitist streak mean it's slow going.
companions : A female Ukali. She has no set name; at some point in his journeys, the little white dragon started following Qhief to scavenge his leftovers, and in time they grew closer. It's gotten to the point where he won't continue traveling without knowing that the Ukali is just behind him. Though unacknowledged, this may mark his first step towards an increased sense of empathy and legitimate social skills.
