Decarabia
(#1263392)
Level 25 Wildclaw
Familiar
Plague Sprite
Click or tap to view this dragon in Predict Morphology.
Energy: 50/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Lightning.
Female Wildclaw
This dragon is hibernating.
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
6.46 m
Wingspan
7.67 m
Weight
382.75 kg
Genetics
Obsidian
Iridescent
Iridescent
Crimson
Shimmer
Shimmer
Rust
Basic
Basic
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 25 Wildclaw
Max Level
STR
128
AGI
10
DEF
8
QCK
51
INT
5
VIT
14
MND
6
Biography
"I will not stop fighting until the only thing left standing on the field of battle is me!"
   
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Decarabia is, in a word, dangerous. Dangerous in battle, dangerous to get in the way of, dangerous to know, dangerous to be around at all. She exemplifies the wildness that her breed is known for. She doesn't seem to feel any more affection for her clan than anyone else, since she's as willing to turn on them as she is any foe. Nor does she respect her clan leadership, challenging their orders and refusing to obey. She shows only the most marginal respect, or at least lack of open challenge, to those few who are able to beat her in combat. It sometimes seems that the only reason she even bothers to stay with the clan is the abundance of opportunities it brings her to practice her cruelty and bloodlust. However, some have noticed that she challenges the matriarch more and more openly lately... She has a particularly cruel streak, and is not the sort of dragon to leave unattended around hatchlings or small familiars. She enjoys causing pain, and when she is along on the clan hunting trips, someone usually has to put her chosen prey out of its misery before she's finished with it. In battle, she prefers to draw out a fight if she can, inflicting painful but nonlethal wounds on her opponent. She'll also try to humiliate them, by mocking them, easily avoiding their blows, knocking them into the mud, or pinning them down to watch them struggle. Only when she feels her victory is complete, and that she's had all her fun, does she dispatch her opponent. If she can't kill them, for whatever reason, she will try to maim them, clawing out an eye, tearing a wing, or mangling a limb so that no one walks away from her unscathed. Although she is vicious, Decarabia is far from stupid. She's as cunning as she is cruel, and can execute an ambush or a flanking maneuver flawlessly. Her skill at tracking prey, be they beast and dragon, is unmatched. She seems to have an uncanny ability to predict what they'll do and where they'll flee to. Likewise, her blatant disregard towards her clan members is just as calculated. She goes after those who are either in positions of authority she can undermine by her shows of disrespect, or those who are weaker and can be cowed into submission or obedience. She affords a measure of protection to those she accepts as her underlings, since if anyone but her tries to hurt them she's sure to go after their attacker. Some of them find it easier just to go along with her orders than to try to defy her. She carries out whatever she is doing as relentlessly as she tracks her prey. She never gives up anything, not a grudge, not a fight, whatever she has claimed for her own. Nothing ever escapes from Decarabia once she declares her hunt, and no insult to her is ever forgotten. She remembers every slight or challenge, real or imagined, that anyone perpetrates against her, and she makes sure to repay it all doubly. She is implacably vengeful, and she plans her revenge with all the cunning and remorselessness that she puts into anything else she does. On the battlefield, she refuses to give up even against seemingly overwhelming odds, welcoming every new wave of enemies with fresh determination. More than once, she has seized victory from the jaws of defeat through these tactics. ~by Mirrorstone |
“You know if you would just do as I say I wouldn't have to hurt you.”
Short Stories
1.
The high pitched giggling made the dragon flinch away from the tiny skull-creature. Lighting bristled off of the owner of the tiny demon, the large claws, bloody from battle, tapped the ground, impatient. Her torn webbing making her appear more terrifying in the dim light of the battleground. Her soldiers were making quick work of any that tried to oppose any further. It was a quick battle, with the attacker horribly outnumbered, so how did she win? Not a scratch was on her, nor her warriors. Perhaps she should have been born under the plagues, perhaps the Stormcatcher made a mistake, allowing her to be birthed in his lands. Perhaps... perhaps her prey should stop struggling. Her claws dug into the shoulder of the soon-to-be-former leader of the defeated army. Her growls echoing across the barren and stained land.
"Keep still," she hissed, looking around. No wounds? Pah, no. Plenty. She herself had her injuries. The trick was not letting it show. Even through torn legs and wings, none of her fighters dared to show how hurt they were. Good. They were learning.
"The sack, where is it?" she asked, digging her claws into the skull this time. The general hissed and growled, before giving up the information. His death was quick and painless. Decarabia wouldn't do the same to the soldiers she saw struggling for their lives. This missions... it was suicide. She was supposed to have died, so was her army, supposed to fail. But she was here for just that reason. No one tried to get rid of her so easily. Even if they paid the other side. The sack was right where the general said it was, hidden under the dirt close to the edge of the battle fields. It was filled with gold, gems, diamonds, and other fancy treasure. She slung it over the back of one of her soldiers and began to head home, darting through the trees, her own following her. They had to stop several times for rest, but only because the new ones couldn't hold their blood in longer. They tried to act tough under her gaze. It almost touched Decarabia's heart. Almost. She decided to let them rest, while she moved on. It was the least she could do. They did their job very well, and they won. Those that caused their injuries were gone anyway. Besides... she needed to do this one herself. The 'Matriarch' wouldn't get away with this. Even if it wasn't a plot against her, even if it was planned by their enemies, Decarabia would find who was responsible and deal with them herself. This was low. Lower than she would... well, almost as low as she would go. She would go lower, oh yes, she was always willing to.
The dragon with the sack had followed her, and they were nearing the grounds, weaving through the lava fields and rivers of hot water, finally coming to a halt. Oh? Decarabia noticed the shocked looks she got and she puffed herself up, walking a little slower to show off the fact she had survived. And, there... the object of her current rage.
"Oi!" she yelled, speeding up until she was right up to the Matriarch. "What's the big idea, paying those fools to take me out?"
The Mirror looked at her before turning back to her current job. "I did no such thing."
The dragon that followed Decarabia dumped the bag, the treasure pouring out. Not even a glance was sparred. It made the Wildclaw's blood boil.
"I didn't pay anyone," said the Matriarch, finally looking at Decarabia. "What would make you think I would betray my own?"
"The fact that the battle was suicide. You just don't like the fact I could beat you, and then take over."
The silence stretched between them, before the Mirror spoke once more. "I paid no one. Perhaps one of our allies asked for such a battle to take place, but I assure you, it was all in the name of business."
"You mean a gamble."
"Yet here you are. I would go back to your soldiers if I were you. Keep the treasure. We have no use for it."
The Matriarch rose and walked away, Decarabia growling and seething in rage. She had half a mind to charge but... no. Someone did pay the Matriarch to make that bet. Against her. Against Decarabia. "Come," she said to the dragon that was gathering up the treasure. "We have someone we have to find."
The dragon nodded and followed, still ignoring their own wounds. There was no rest for the wicked, as they said.
It took only a day of tracking to find the rat, her best sniffers going out to gather information to find their target, then it took her own skills to get close. Oh, this worm. She remembered now. This was the one that needed a battle to be fought, but to have a certain dragon caught alive. Decarabia hated being given orders, so she was sure the dragon came back in a body bag. This slimy fool must have thought he got his revenge. Oh, little did he know. She looked back at her private, little army, the dragons ready to go. Their wounds had scabbed over long ago, and who was to say they didn't want their own scars? The high pitched giggling from the Plague Sprite came again as it sat on Decarabia's horns, excited to see what played out. Then they charged, all of them at once, Decarabia leading the way. They took out the guards, silencing the revolt that came at them, quickly ending any that tried to fight back, chasing down the ones that ran, until one was left. She stepped in front of the cowering dragon, lighting bristling from her hide, her Sprite giggling madly.
"You're supposed to be dead!" screamed the dragon. So, he was guilty.
"Poor child," Decarabia said in a mocking tone, "if only it were that simple."
~by Dew
"Keep still," she hissed, looking around. No wounds? Pah, no. Plenty. She herself had her injuries. The trick was not letting it show. Even through torn legs and wings, none of her fighters dared to show how hurt they were. Good. They were learning.
"The sack, where is it?" she asked, digging her claws into the skull this time. The general hissed and growled, before giving up the information. His death was quick and painless. Decarabia wouldn't do the same to the soldiers she saw struggling for their lives. This missions... it was suicide. She was supposed to have died, so was her army, supposed to fail. But she was here for just that reason. No one tried to get rid of her so easily. Even if they paid the other side. The sack was right where the general said it was, hidden under the dirt close to the edge of the battle fields. It was filled with gold, gems, diamonds, and other fancy treasure. She slung it over the back of one of her soldiers and began to head home, darting through the trees, her own following her. They had to stop several times for rest, but only because the new ones couldn't hold their blood in longer. They tried to act tough under her gaze. It almost touched Decarabia's heart. Almost. She decided to let them rest, while she moved on. It was the least she could do. They did their job very well, and they won. Those that caused their injuries were gone anyway. Besides... she needed to do this one herself. The 'Matriarch' wouldn't get away with this. Even if it wasn't a plot against her, even if it was planned by their enemies, Decarabia would find who was responsible and deal with them herself. This was low. Lower than she would... well, almost as low as she would go. She would go lower, oh yes, she was always willing to.
The dragon with the sack had followed her, and they were nearing the grounds, weaving through the lava fields and rivers of hot water, finally coming to a halt. Oh? Decarabia noticed the shocked looks she got and she puffed herself up, walking a little slower to show off the fact she had survived. And, there... the object of her current rage.
"Oi!" she yelled, speeding up until she was right up to the Matriarch. "What's the big idea, paying those fools to take me out?"
The Mirror looked at her before turning back to her current job. "I did no such thing."
The dragon that followed Decarabia dumped the bag, the treasure pouring out. Not even a glance was sparred. It made the Wildclaw's blood boil.
"I didn't pay anyone," said the Matriarch, finally looking at Decarabia. "What would make you think I would betray my own?"
"The fact that the battle was suicide. You just don't like the fact I could beat you, and then take over."
The silence stretched between them, before the Mirror spoke once more. "I paid no one. Perhaps one of our allies asked for such a battle to take place, but I assure you, it was all in the name of business."
"You mean a gamble."
"Yet here you are. I would go back to your soldiers if I were you. Keep the treasure. We have no use for it."
The Matriarch rose and walked away, Decarabia growling and seething in rage. She had half a mind to charge but... no. Someone did pay the Matriarch to make that bet. Against her. Against Decarabia. "Come," she said to the dragon that was gathering up the treasure. "We have someone we have to find."
The dragon nodded and followed, still ignoring their own wounds. There was no rest for the wicked, as they said.
It took only a day of tracking to find the rat, her best sniffers going out to gather information to find their target, then it took her own skills to get close. Oh, this worm. She remembered now. This was the one that needed a battle to be fought, but to have a certain dragon caught alive. Decarabia hated being given orders, so she was sure the dragon came back in a body bag. This slimy fool must have thought he got his revenge. Oh, little did he know. She looked back at her private, little army, the dragons ready to go. Their wounds had scabbed over long ago, and who was to say they didn't want their own scars? The high pitched giggling from the Plague Sprite came again as it sat on Decarabia's horns, excited to see what played out. Then they charged, all of them at once, Decarabia leading the way. They took out the guards, silencing the revolt that came at them, quickly ending any that tried to fight back, chasing down the ones that ran, until one was left. She stepped in front of the cowering dragon, lighting bristling from her hide, her Sprite giggling madly.
"You're supposed to be dead!" screamed the dragon. So, he was guilty.
"Poor child," Decarabia said in a mocking tone, "if only it were that simple."
~by Dew
by ecie
by SolarRush
by EonShinato
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Exalting Decarabia to the service of the Flamecaller 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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