

Sycora
(#102114446)
Oracle of the Deadfall, curse-blessed apothecary of Nadir
Click or tap to view this dragon in Predict Morphology.
Energy: 48
out of
50

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Personal Style
Apparel




Skin
Effect
Scene

Measurements
Length
16.55 m
Wingspan
14.26 m
Weight
5077.33 kg
Genetics
Obsidian
Basic
Basic
Slate
Bee
Bee
Taupe
Capsule
Capsule
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 1 Imperial
EXP: 0 / 245


STR
6
AGI
6
DEF
6
QCK
5
INT
8
VIT
8
MND
6
Biography

Investigating the Dead Drake's Barter
It's been nearly three weeks now. The Barrens are too inhospitable to sleep in the wilds, what with the constant risk from the ground itself, so I've found room at an inn some half-day's flight past where the signs have led me.
I can't say I'm fond of this place, even in the safety of the inn. There's a constant thrum of electricity under the wastes that makes my scales stand on end, to say nothing of the static and my mane. I'm hardly bothered by deadlands as a role, given that those of home have always been a comfort, but this...
Mithridates have mercy.
Locals refuse to speak of what haunts the shadows, save to warn me off the search. That's firm evidence they do think there's something out there, though; they're deathly serious about the matter, certain that the shadows of the cliff's edge (Nadir, they call it in hushed whispers—the lowest place, regardless of the canyon yawning like a beast's bone-toothed maw not far to the west) shelter something far worse than petty mortality.
Sycora came of age in the shadow of Kryshnall's bones, raised from birth to be both oracle and apothecary. Hailing from a bloodline steeped in secrets the expectations placed upon her were weighty, yet she exceeded them all with grace and a natural gift for the sacred tinctures of death and disease.

It's been nearly three weeks now. The Barrens are too inhospitable to sleep in the wilds, what with the constant risk from the ground itself, so I've found room at an inn some half-day's flight past where the signs have led me.
I can't say I'm fond of this place, even in the safety of the inn. There's a constant thrum of electricity under the wastes that makes my scales stand on end, to say nothing of the static and my mane. I'm hardly bothered by deadlands as a role, given that those of home have always been a comfort, but this...
Mithridates have mercy.
Locals refuse to speak of what haunts the shadows, save to warn me off the search. That's firm evidence they do think there's something out there, though; they're deathly serious about the matter, certain that the shadows of the cliff's edge (Nadir, they call it in hushed whispers—the lowest place, regardless of the canyon yawning like a beast's bone-toothed maw not far to the west) shelter something far worse than petty mortality.

Sycora came of age in the shadow of Kryshnall's bones, raised from birth to be both oracle and apothecary. Hailing from a bloodline steeped in secrets the expectations placed upon her were weighty, yet she exceeded them all with grace and a natural gift for the sacred tinctures of death and disease.

G3 Talos Descendant
Talos > Calypso > Me
G5 Naomi Descendant
Naomi > Willow > Hematite >Diamond > Me
Talos > Calypso > Me
G5 Naomi Descendant
Naomi > Willow > Hematite >Diamond > Me

4/8/25 for 500g
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Exalting Sycora to the service of the Stormcatcher will remove them from your lair forever. They will leave behind a small sum of riches that they have accumulated. This action is irreversible.
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