Mithra

(#13361494)
Level 16 Fae
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Energy: 50/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Shadow.
Male Fae
This dragon is hibernating.
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Personal Style

Apparel

Spellwrought Halo
Ebony Antlers
Silver Steampunk Tail Bauble
Poison Dart Frog Companion
Spellwrought Shardhide
Murkmirth Tailcoat

Skin

Accent: Ponderous Powers

Scene

Measurements

Length
0.99 m
Wingspan
1.63 m
Weight
1.54 kg

Genetics

Primary Gene
Black
Clown
Black
Clown
Secondary Gene
Mulberry
Eye Spots
Mulberry
Eye Spots
Tertiary Gene
Purple
Basic
Purple
Basic

Hatchday

Hatchday
May 21, 2015
(8 years)

Breed

Breed
Adult
Fae

Eye Type

Eye Type
Shadow
Common
Level 16 Fae
EXP: 5851 / 71966
Scratch
Contuse
STR
73
AGI
5
DEF
5
QCK
32
INT
9
VIT
10
MND
9

Biography

Art by ibook!
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Trouble Has To Sleep Sometimes- Art By StayingBehind!
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Quote: "Come into my parlour, said the spider to the fly..."

A beautiful boy from skyggewitch's lair, via Imagine A Dragon Hatchery!
(snippet of ideas)
Mithra- he lures evil-intentioned passersby or unwary travellers into the deadly marshes by casting marshlights/ will ‘o the wisps, swinging his tail-lantern and disorienting his prey with shadow magic.

He missed his Shadow home so much that he shaped the woods by the southern border into a deadly marshland, dark swamps with thick deep mud in which trespassers sink without a trace. He revels in his own domain at the fringes of the Oakheart clan, where he lures would-be invaders to their doom. He has an extensive knowledge of natural killers, animal vegetable and mineral, and while he does not seem to be a killer himself, he has some sort of ritualistic relationship with the swamp denizens and unquiet spirits.

He’s always making bone chimes and hanging them throughout his den, so he can tell where and how many are passing through his domain’s ‘sensors’ by the network of fine threads which connect each of the chimes.


Mithra is the perfect example of a Shadow dragon. He takes great pleasure in leading enemies of the clan astray into the deep jungles and dark mires of the swamps and the badlands, swinging his tail-lantern temptingly to pretend that a warm campfire is but yards away, rather than impossibly far.
Mithra is a hunter, and quite cold-bloodedly so, delighting in trapping his prey with his quick thinking and agile flight.
He misses his Tangled Woods home, and takes great care in planting, magically enhancing and shaping the woods around the southernmost edge of the Oakheart Clan's territories, to make it as treacherous and deadly as his heart craves.
It is perhaps for this reason that he spends much of his time while at home in the clan, talking to the pearl catcher Ambrosia, who seems more than half away with the fae at some times, but at others becomes more lucid and lyrical, speaking as if in prose. Mithra appreciates her, and her extreme- uncanny- expertise in the realm of natural poisons.
Mithra views emotional attachment in the same way as he views virulent diseases; potentially dangerous, probably contagious, and not desirable in the least. However, he does find himself thinking fondly of Ambrosia very often, and brings back fascinating toxic mushroom and poisoned frog specimens to delight her with whenever he returns from his long hunts. He likes the way she rambles with words, the beautiful way she can string them together, effortless- almost as if she moves through the world in a dream.
But, given the number of deathcap mushrooms she eats, he deduces that trying to kiss her might be a fatal mistake. He is working on increasing his resistance to poisoned dart frog venom, however, and hopes secretly one day that he might be able to safely hold her hand. Without dying.
Meeting Mirthra, a story by Arbokobra! wrote:
Your path through the forest has led you to a sort of wall. Behind you, lush green vegetation flourished. But in front of you, the light failed to pass through the gnarled trees, and shadows covered the deep purple of the plantlife. Briars and thorns grew from the ground, obscuring the forest floor except for one passage through the gloom. Just looking at it made your skin crawl, and you decide to turn back.
Out of the corner of your eye, you see something between the twisted trees. You turn to look, and floating on the path through the trees is a glowing orb. Among the lavender wisps, you can just barely see a tiny figure in the center. Entranced, you take a step towards the path. And another. And another. As you near the ethereal light, you can hear it calling to you, begging you to come closer. And in an instant, it disappears.
Confused and afraid, you whirl around, searching for that comforting light. Relief washes through you when you see the light pop up further down the road. Eager to feel that welcome warmth, to obey that soft command, you rush forward, but just as you near, the figure winks out again. You reach out to where it was only a moment before, but your claws only rake through empty air. You cry out in frustration, you need the light, you need its warmth and comfort.
The light drifts onto the path from some unseen brush, singing, whispering, calling to you, it wants you to follow. And you do so. In your hurry, you do not realize the path narrowing and you triumphantly reach for the shape, so close, closer than before.
Just as you are about to make contact, your hand drops. You drop. You tumble down the cliff, hitting almost every rock on the way down, before landing in a thick briar patch. You nearly cry out in pain at the thick thorns, but manage to hold your tongue. You try to move, but the briars are too close and too tangled in your limbs to let you free that easily. Panicked, you cry out desperately for help.
Your prayers are answered when you see that familiar purple glow. It floats daintily towards you, barely stirring a wing. Now so near, you can make out a delicate fae among the vapors. A lantern on its tail is the source of the light. He looks at you sadly, placing a hand on your face.
“You’re safe now, I’ll take care of you.” A pleasant feeling courses through you, and you smile, enjoying the presence of the little dragon. “I’ll free you from those brambles, from pain, from fear. I will free you of everything.”
Slightly perplexed you look into the fae’s deep purple eyes, and your own widen in surprise as you feel a sharp pain in your neck. He smiles down at you joyfully, tiny pinprick teeth arrayed before you. He laughs softly as you wheeze. It becomes harder to breath as your vision blurs around the edges. You struggle for breath and against the tough vines. He just watches your struggle with that terrifying grin. This was always his favorite part.


A Poem for Mithra, by Lightshadow101! wrote:

I am your worst nightmare.
You can die, for all I care.
When you look into my eyes, you're in my snare.
Tried to hurt me? Don't you dare.

I am the harbinger of blood.
Soon the dead will come in floods.
Around me, pain and suffering will bud.
I am serious, this isn't a dud.

I am the darkest night.
When you see me, I'll give you a fright.
If you challenge me, I'll be your plight.
Where I walk, there is no light

I am the inspiration of fear.
You better be scared when I am near.
I'll take this chance to make this clear.
This is not a joke, my dear.

I am suffering and pain.
When you die, your soul is my gain.
Killing you is no strain.
And I will gladly do it again.


Idea to incorporate into lore: Valemora's concept of Shadow Madness!!!

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Exalting Mithra to the service of the Gladekeeper 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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