Zeranoss

## Physical Appearance

Zeranoss stands a tall, towering dragon of grey-white scales. He takes up a good deal of space wherever he stands, appearing very clearly to be muscled, and wide-built.

Fins run along his back, and his body is mottled with specs of white that render him resemble a walking blizzardscape; though featuring a rippling underside of oily black, aswell as his muzzle and all four of his talons, up to the fore-arms, being shrouded - offset by a smoggish black hue.

A Large, thick horn sprouts upright at the far end of his nose-bridge, and two more adorn the far back-side of his head - sprouted linear at first, till they detour upright and reach their end with a sharp point skyward. Two more, still, almost small enough to be spikes adorn the rear-end of his jowls, and a fierce duo of teeth perpetually gleam upright from the farthest rear end of his muzzle, in kind.

His sclera are black, and so too are his pupils - his sclera's anthracite shade torn through by even darker pupils.

## Personality

Interpersonally, he's calm and reticent, though generally curious and observant of those around him - even though the former might make him come accross as aloof. A People-watcher. Inside of himself, he's always quietly eager to work people out to their exact, whoever they are. Despite being ascended a Lunus dragon, this tends to mean he seems apparently accepting even of bipedal races, to a point - even if possibly to turn out to be just out of a desire to entertain his curiosity of the workings of their 'lesser' minds.

Furthermore, he has a marked dislike of heated environments, his ventures into Dralk ironically tending to be begrudging ones. Masochistically, he insists on staying bound to it's shrine - one way to goad himself out of repetetive failures or taking short-days.

He ensures on mantaining his stalwart physique - and in the absense of anything else to occupy him, will surely be out in the wilds - hunting simple beasts that his honed frame is more than capable of dispatching without issue.

**Likes & Dislikes**

LIKES: People in general - furthermore the opportunity to study them, cold environments, water bathing - over lava bathing

DISLIKES: Deadlands, hot environments, failure - in all it's forms

**Strengths & Weaknesses**

Strengths

- Quite capable of throwing melee strikes with the force of a truck

- Often calm and collected interpersonally, taking most interactions in his stride

- Is a Gifted

- Have you seen him? He's practically a wall! Even for another dragon, to try to push him down through physical force alone is more than likely to end up with them merely pushing themself off of him

Weaknesses

- Has a rooted fear of blighted lands and the majority of abomination within, proximity of which sure to slowly break him down

- Not at all subtle - often vividly vocalizes his exertion

- A Reckless and sadistic self-taught fighter

- Feels the need for penance from his shortcomings

## Story

**Biography**

Zeranoss was born 3 B.R., into a secretive family who lived far out north in the vast, snowy expanse of the island of Trandalar. As a hatchling, he was watched over by a stern mother who would never permit him knowledge of why they insisted on staying so far from civilization. His father came and went, occasionally dropping off food for he and his mother, which they, as a family, would silently 'enjoy' together - truly enchanting entrée's of heavily breath-charred beetles. His days spent in the snow were hardly entertaining ones, his mother consistently watching him like a hawk - becoming angry with him if he'd dare venture far from their chilly, ice-logged cave.

Unnerving winter winds howled out around their remote shelter day and night, and the only way he could manage the strain his living conditions put on him was by repetively digging through the snow in make-belief that there would be something valuable or exciting underneathe, and even though it never materialized - this kickstarted the development of his now imposing body, however unbeknownst to him.

One day, when he was but still young - no older than 3 years, thereabouts, he woke up to the feel of water shallowly flooding his cave - pooling puddles rippling as they circled his body. The water felt warm like a natural spring, the heated vapour steaming from it slowly turning the cave muggier and muggier - he needed to leave before it got choking... And doing so would reveal that he was alone. Outside, nothing much had changed - but the once endless sound of winds were silent.

He looked back to see that the water was slowly but surely following him, gradually thawing out the snow in a thin line leading directly to him - he flew into a panic, and urged himself to flee, but right then his body would fail him. He felt sick, and the world began to spin - spin untill it knocked him off his feet, and there he'd lay, unconscious...

What followed is a mystery even to him, but he would awaken in the clutches of a dragoness who introduced herself to him as Daesyves, on an island he'd never seen before. She would go on to explain that she found him washed up on the shore of the island, which she referred to as Skalkaar, unharmed. His first question was a predictable one, he began to plead to know where his mother was. Though some-time mid-query, the realization hit him, and he fell silent - he didn't even really know where he'd been born in the first place.

He spent several more years under the come-and-go care of the residents of Skalkaar, even branching out into dutifully fetching them requested items from beyond, in the town of New Trismus - a catalyst for his growing wanderlust. Someday soon, he knew he'd need to press his way beyond this bubble - a luxury he might never have been afforded by whomever his parents were...