Calinor is an ancient beast, having lived longer than even the oldest of Avelorn’s Aelves. This Forest Dragon is from a time long forgotten; one of great freedom and unity, when all Alarielle’s children were woven together in harmony. His emerald eyes remember the Age of Myth in wondrous detail, sparkling rivers, budding valleys of greenery, nature in all its joyous abundance. Yet those who look closer see great sadness in his weary form, for remembering all is both a blessing and a curse. It is the tragic fate of Calinor to be the last of his kind, for no other Forest Dragon now exists, with none save Alarielle who might know of their mysterious origin. But such control over the celestial cosmos is not for mortals to understand, and the Goddess of Life’s relationship with Avelorn is tenuous, to say the least. Alas, Calinor’s existence of his kind is one he must see through alone.
There were once many Forest Dragons in the Realm of Life, each hues of ruby, emerald, and sapphire, each one powerful and wise beyond their years. They guarded Ghyran’s borders from atop majestic towers and spire nests, ever watchful of the Realm’s inhabitants and ever seeking for hidden danger. Yet in time they would all be doomed. Upon Nurgle’s invasion in the Age of Chaos, his diseased sorcerers siphoned each Dragon’s great life magic. As decay and death plagued the land, so too did the Dragon’s form, body and soul, wither and crack. In their weakened state, they were no match for the forces of the Plague God that pursued them, and they were destroyed utterly. Their towers fell, the great Leylines cracked, and countless eons of artistry were undone by spells of bitter hatred. Yet Calinor was spared this grim fate, for he was one of those in Avelorn at the time of Alarielle’s passing. The magic of the Great Tree sustained his form greater than ever before, and he wrought retributive carnage alongside his Aelven and Sylvaneth allies.
Upon the aftermath of the Age of Chaos, Calinor grew despondent and bitter. His heart filled with sorrow, for he was the last of his kind, and the truth yawned wide like a void no amount of life magic could ever fill. The great Dragon wept tears of jade. For he was truly alone. In reverence and respect, the Aelves of Avelorn treated him with the utmost care, and the Drake was built a large shrine at the bowels of the Tree of Ages to rest and slumber. The Aelves knew of the pain that tugged at his form, but try as they might, no matter how many words of comfort they gave, or how many trinkets and gifts they bestowed upon him; Calinor was too despaired to listen.
But hope was not lost. It wasn’t until many years later a young Aelf entered his chamber, a novice of the Spellweaver order. As was tradition, Spellweaver’s were the only ones to possess the arcane talents necessary to effectively communicate with Calinor’s kind, for Forest Dragons are fey creatures, and do not speak in the tongues of mere mortals. Before the mage even entered his chamber, Calinor knew her name, utilising his innate gift of foresight. In that, the two were similar indeed. The Mage’s name was Mara, and at once he knew she would be destined for a great purpose. Calinor found himself talking to the young Aelf more and more as years passed, the two became very close, linked not just through speech, but through soul and mind both. The two bonded amid quiet conversation and whispered prophecy, and the Drake, at last, did not feel so alone.
Now Calinor has finally roused upon the dawning of the Age of Sigmar, to aid Avelorn in any way he can. Having left his shrine for the first time in centuries, he seeks to bring monstrous wrath to any who would threaten those he calls kin. The tragedy that left him so morose has now become his greatest strength, taking righteous and bestial delight in smashing aside whole enemy battalions with a blast of fire or a crash of his tail. In combat, his is a sight to behold, to witness a Forest Dragon at war is to witness the stars themselves take savage form, claws twice the size of a Kurnoth Hunter rake ranks of the foe, as his titanic roar splits the earth and shakes the sky, many can only quake in fear before it is far too late. All the while Mara remains close by, for he is her divine protector, and sworn companion.
But there are other reasons Calinor protects her so. Reasons he has not shared with the young Aelf. In his prodigious wisdom, he sees into her future, further than even the oracle can see herself. Unlike Mara, his mind is not clouded by misdirection and doubt, through their soul-link, he sees her lifespan unraveled in its entirety. He knows that a day is coming soon when she will be needed most. That Avelorn’s ultimate fate will rest on her shoulders…and hers alone. To safeguard the city, the Tree, and the future of both Aelf and Sylvaneth alike; Calinor will do anything to ensure Mara’s survival.
