Beartrap the Sand Wraith

[Full Name] Beartrap
[Nicknames] Bear, Trappy, Ironteeth
[Age] 42 years
[Gender/Pronouns] He/him
[Class] Tidal
[Species] Sand Wraith
[Alignment] Chaotic Neutral


[Personality]
Beartrap is the staple of old Sand Wraiths. He's incredibly aggressive, territorial, and has scars from too many battles to remember. He places his trust in nobody but himself, and avoids contact with all other creatures when possible. Empathy and kindness were traits that never got him far in the harsh world, and so he became reserved and gruff. He'll fight for what he wants until his very last breath.

This, of course, means it's hard to get remotely close to him before getting your face blasted off and gnawed to pieces. The only potential way to even get him to consider not attacking would be to help him in some way. Thankfully, while he's territorial, he's not particularly prideful, and sees no harm in accepting whatever help the world throws his way - but he won't try to reciprocate it. There's no place in this world for the weak, and if you can't take care of yourself, then all that's happening is a cleansing of the gene pool.

He holds no respect for those older or more scarred than him, nor does he respect those who have defeated him in battle. If anything, mercy is a weakness. You allow your opponent to escape to see another day? What kind of mad thought is that?

[Backstory]
Beartrap was cast out into the elements the moment he hatched. Sand Wraiths are not particularly kind parents, and his were no different. He spent his many years flitting from beach to beach, ripping out the throats of those who opposed him. In recent years, he has begun to approach Titan Wing stage, and has sprouted strange, crystalline growths all over his body. They make camouflage difficult, to say the least, but they also made taking blows from opponents much easier.

Unfortunately, fate was not on his side. Prey would see the glittering black spines jutting out of the sand and make a run for the hills. When he moved to rockier terrain, his lightly-colored underbelly was just visible enough to prevent things from moving too close to him, and so he was forced to adapt to a new hunting style. Instead of burying himself in the sand, as he'd done so many times before, he would perch on high-up ledges and swoop down on prey lying below. This has made him grow a new fondness for mountainous terrain.

The more active hunting style has taken its toll on him, however. No longer are the days where he can lie in wait, perfectly still, for days at a time without having his stomach rumble. He quickly depletes the prey population wherever he goes, forcing him to put himself in the pathway of hunters, Vikings, and rival dragons as he hops from island to island.

Recently, it seems that he's set his sights on the isle of Berk...