Dragon Share

@kmrikkari Oh my goodness she's stunning! I actually love her apparel, especially the sanguine plumage with the infectionist's emblem! I never realized how cool a combination that was. But yes, her whole outfit is really classy while still embracing the plague aesthetic. I've added her to the registry and made a breeding card for her and Locke. Would you like to submit Remy to the Spotlight pool? (I hope so! If you're worried about developing lore for her you could always say, 'yes but not for a month' or something like that)

@Hmm I've added you to the general breeding pinglist! Thanks for your interest, hopefully we can get you a nice Necro soon :)

@Kava Yay! I'm so glad you bought the spiral girl. Are you planning on turning her into a ghoul or just using her to breed for them? If you do add Saturn let me know so I can register her (and add her into the spotlight pool(??)) Also would you like to register any of your breeding pairs (and if so which ones?)

@3idolon Yay, I’m glad you like her outfit! I’ll definitely submit her to the spotlight pool, but maybe not for a week or two. I just want to finish up her and Locke’s trials at the very least.

@Kava Thank you so much! I was worried Striation wasn’t the right secondary for her but it’s really grown on me and I’m glad others like it too!

@Kava Ok! I've made a note to make a breeding card for Netsu and your spiral girl once she's grown. They'll make gorgeous ghoul babies <3 Just let me know if/when you want to register the second pair and I'll add them as well :)

Necromancer General Interest Pinglist: [size=1]@TheCell @Mnkn10 @Hexingisfun @Lukas1997 @Kava @Shadari @Moonseed @Halua @khimera @Agonist @Minona @SashaFiredrake @knockoutbd @Pebz @kmrikkari @Balam @StDuke @Bara2684 @reotheleo @VuittonVampire @foxghosts @EssayOfThoughts[/size] [center][img]https://image.ibb.co/fDUWkd/Spotlight.png[/img][/center] [center][url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?p=lair&tab=userpage&id=37990][size=6][color=maroon]StDuke[/url][size=6][color=maroon]'s Cassadaga[/color][/size][/center] [center][url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=36297980] [img]http://flightrising.com/rendern/350/362980/36297980_350.png[/img] [/url][/center] [color=maroon]“My son is sick.” He’d heard several variations of those words over the long course of his life from dragons who wished for him to cure their kin, and every time he heard them he reacted to them the same way: with indifference. A long, drawn out sigh passed between his teeth as he bowed his head and offered up his apologies to the Ridgeback who’d sought him out. It must have been a particularly bad strain of plague if she’d come to him specifically for aid, for he knew the clan had other healers. To ask a Necromancer like this was a last resort. “I’m sorry to hear that,” Cassadaga murmured, speaking low as he continued to polish the new bones his familiar had scavenged for him, ridding them of any lingering carrion that clung to them. Occasionally, he would allow the small rat spirit to nibble off sections of rotted flesh that he couldn’t access. He didn’t look up to see who he was addressing, but he could recognize the clan matriarch’s imposing voice. She spoke with authority, and although he respected her power a great deal, he would not accept the request he knew she was going to ask of him. If her son truly was sick, then they were going to have to wait it out the old-fashioned way. It was the will of the Plaguebringer to infect him, and he was not going to earn her disfavour by cleansing him of her gift. “My son is sick,” the Ridgeback repeated, her voice stern and surprisingly void of emotion. Trauriges squinted her already narrow eyes at him and stepped forward, pressing one of her feet into the small pile of bones he’d amassed. Cassadaga frowned as they broke beneath her claws, and finally looked up to meet her gaze. “My son is sick,” she said once more, baring her lips back into a cruel snarl that displayed her savage teeth. “He is sick, and it is because of that heathen you call your equal.” Cassadaga furrowed his brow and turned his attention back to his collection of now broken bones, watching as the little plague spirit scurried around Trauriges’ toes, emitting a high pitched whine as it helplessly tried to pull them out from under her. “I don’t understand what you mean,” he finally said after a moment of watching his familiar struggle. “Then come and see for yourself what I mean,” Trauriges all but spat, taking her foot off of the ruined bone pile. The little spirit squealed angrily at her retreating claws as Cassadaga heaved another sigh. He’d had plans for those bones; beneficial ones that were going to aid this new clan he’d found himself a part of. A headache born of annoyance began to form in the back of his skull as he stood up and swept the ruined fragments away with his tail into the dirt. “Find some more,” he ordered gently, sparing the rodent a look of sympathy before it skittered away to do his bidding. Trauriges led him out of the open and towards the underground system of caves that served as the clan’s living space. The insides were detailed with intricate markings to allow for easy navigation, though it was still easy to get lost. Cassadaga had not lived here long, but he’d already been made aware of the stories. He found himself thinking about the lost souls of the dragons who had come before him, sacrificed in the deep and musky gloom to the deity they had pledged their devotions too. Trauriges expertly guided him into one of the deeper hollows she and her mate had claimed as their own, and Cassadaga followed willingly. The air inside the grotto was soothingly cool, but reeked of mold and of whatever plague was agonizing Trauriges’ son. Standing in the mouth of the cavern, Cassadaga could hear the wheezing, dying breaths of the beautiful Skydancer as he struggled to draw air into his diseased lungs. He could feel the moisture in the air settle into his mane, and he couldn’t help but shiver uncomfortably at the sensation. “She did this to him.” Trauriges spoke with a hiss as she gestured to Padraic, who was lain out on his side across the stone flooring. His once vibrant, beautifully coloured fur had fallen out in clumps and laid about him in a morbid halo. The skin that shown through the bald patches had taken on a sickly grey hue, but what surprised Cassadaga the most was the fact that the skin wasn’t blistering up into large pustules. Usually when the Plaguebringer wrought sickness upon a dragon, she tended to fallback onto that trademark fairly often. Padraic was sick, certainly, but it was with a disease that went beyond Cassadaga’s knowledge of sickness. “Who did?” he asked, blinking slowly as he circled the Skydancer. “[i]Queezle[/i].” Trauriges spoke the other Necromancer’s name through grit teeth and a clenched jaw, not even bothering trying to mask the disdain she harbored towards the Mirror. “Did she?” Surprise overtook Cassadaga’s features, turning from Padraic to Trauriges to express his shock. Trauriges didn’t bother to repeat herself; instead, she gestured towards the limp body of her son and said, “Cure him.” She looked him dead in the eyes as she spoke, demanding him to draw forth upon his wellspring of power and reverse the disease, but as he looked back to Padraic, limp and struggling for breath, he slowly began to wonder if he actually could. The disease had been crafted not by the Plaguebringer, but of another who bore the title of Necromancer. His power was born of The Mother, but so was Queezle’s; was his will stronger than hers? Would it be enough to revoke the disease that had been hand-crafted by someone else who drew their power from the same fount? And then with sudden clarity, he realized what this was: a test. Queezle was judging him, trying to determine just how strong he was in relation to herself. It would have been easy to say no, and turn his back on Queezle’s demented way of trying to gauge his strength, but there was a part of him that sympathized with Padraic. He was a victim to her cruelty, and because of his direct relation to the clan’s leaders, Queezle had known that Cassadaga wouldn’t be in a position to refuse. Underneath that thin veil of sympathy, though, there was yet another part of him that wanted to know if he actually could; the part of him that had become a Necromancer demanded that he try. “I’ll see what I can do,” he whispered. Trauriges stepped aside as Cassadaga knelt down by Padraic’s side. An emotion he hadn’t felt since he’d completed the trials surged through him as he gazed upon his withered body, and he was humored to realize that it was excitement. A real chance to prove his talents, like in the days before he’d become a Necromancer when his reputation had been built upon word of mouth traveling throughout multiple realms that boasted about his skills in divination. This was not only a chance to prove he was worthy of the title he had struggled so hard to attain, but a chance as well to relive what he now thought of as his glory days. He pressed his paw to the barren, diseased shoulder of the ailing Skydancer and pulled, but he was dismayed to find that the disease resisted. The contagion was stubborn, mimicking the personality of its creator. Cassadaga furrowed his brow, and pulled harder, digging his talons into Padraic’s skin ever so slightly. The sick dragon didn’t seem to notice, lying unflinching in the pool of his shed fur. The humidity of the cave drove Cassadaga into a sweat, but even as the sickness remained, he would not relent. His claws bore deeper into the flesh, pulling harder, his jaw tensing as he focused. Closing his eyes for added concentration, he could feel his teeth grinding and called upon the Plaguebringer’s blessing. The feeling of that psychic wellspring opening wide had him gasping for breath as he all but ripped Queezle’s home-brewed sickness out of Padraic’s feeble frame and brought it, surging, into himself. The results were almost instant: Padraic heaved in an unhindered breath and coughed up the last of the phlegm that had built up in his throat, groaning as he turned over. For a moment Cassadaga was paralyzed, frozen in place with his claws still digging into Padraic’s shoulder. Overwhelmed with the amount of energy he’d had to expend in order to cure him, he stiffly pulled his hand away and flexed his fingers, trying to ease the tension that had built up in his muscles. “You’ve done it,” Trauriges said, speaking in a hushed voice that now betrayed the worry she’d harbored when she’d wondered if her son was going to die. She brushed past him and knelt to the floor, running her claws through what remained of her child’s mane. With his heart pounding in his chest, Cassadaga could feel his body naturally killing off the disease he’d infected himself with. He closed his eyes for a moment, regaining his composure before he nodded in affirmation. “Yes, I’ve done it.” Of course he had, he thought to himself, allowing for a moment to feel prideful of his actions; after all, he was a Necromancer. By StDuke[/color] [center][size=4][color=maroon]Appearing in this story:[/color][/size][/center] [center][url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=1124712]Trauriges[/url] | [url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=1465500]Padraic[/url] | [url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=40819362]Queezle[/url][/center]

@Kava

Ty! I'm glad you enjoyed it; he's quickly become my favorite dragon in my lair :')