Onyx sky, violet heavens, green suns and gossamer starlight are the threads from which this wyrm was spun, weaving an unusual dragon from the stuff of twilight. Not at all imposing in size, about the size of a wolf perhaps, it isn't his build that is remarkable, but rather an odd sort of other-worldliness about him. Subtle, in small details like the illuminating green glow of his eyes in deep darkness, or the faint purple etchings on his jet scales, but together with his diminutive size they insure he won't likely be mistaken for a common swamp dragon.

Two and a half feet to the shoulder, and five feet from snout to rump puts him above the size of most canines. Indeed, while he isn't very large at all, his size is rather deceptive to most bipeds who often take him for even smaller than he actually is, simply by his low-to-the-ground four-legged stature. This length doesn't include his pride, however - four feet of inky-black tail, nimble and almost never sitting still. Altogether, the dragon as a whole must weigh somewhere around a hundred-thirty pounds given his scaly armor, though skinny as he is perhaps a little less.

While his tail may be his pride, his wings are his shame, the purple-leather pinions battered and broken from old, deliberate injuries. Even a casual glance shows he did not lose the gift of flight by mere chance; he was brutally robbed of it. Now they are smaller than they ought, atrophied muscles and dried leather. Nor are they the only sign of ill-use, as even his somewhat celestial nature seems to be brought down to earth by a network of scars and signs of a limited diet. Neither does he have the intimidating bearing of many dragons, though there is still some pride left in the way he carries himself.

One of those marks is different from the others though, neither ragged nor random. It looks as if his scales have been etched and dyed with purple, as there is a delicate pattern upon his body. It starts up at his head, a thin web of violet that surrounds a green eye, offsetting the large frayed scar around the eye opposite. It continues down his neck in narrow lattice, until it once more spreads out into a second web on his chest. Perching on the web is a stylized spider. Despite the organic symbolism, there is something very precise, very mathematical about every sharp angle, every straight line, in the understated etchings.

The drake's eyes are friendly and deep, a whirl of tiny dots of light inside, little stars swimming in a sea of green. A bang of glimmery, reflective-white mane shadows one of those windows, running between purple-leather, horselike ears and down his neck in a cascade of light-catching glitter. It ends above the remnants of his wings, and seems to defy any attempts to tame its rogueish curls. Like the playful twitching of his tail, his mane seems to be trying to express a gentle mischief that makes the dragon's favored kind expressions.