Aeros
(#13668217)
Level 1 Skydancer
Familiar
Yellow-Throated Sparrowmouse
Click or tap to view this dragon in Predict Morphology.
Energy: 0
out of
50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Plague.
Male Skydancer
Expand the dragon details section.
Collapse the dragon details section.
Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
4.9 m
Wingspan
6.86 m
Weight
907.97 kg
Genetics
Obsidian
Tiger
Tiger
Maroon
Facet
Facet
White
Underbelly
Underbelly
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 1 Skydancer
EXP: 0 / 245
STR
7
AGI
6
DEF
7
QCK
6
INT
6
VIT
6
MND
7
Biography
Aeros
Strong|Peaceful|Loving
Mate
By Starphrax
By Kyrrah
I.
The Plague beat strongly within him, fighting to consume his bone and marrow. His veins were liquid fire, his wings wet agony.
Each gust of northerly wind sent a wave of chilly pain through his body. Still, he flew on, with only fever-doubled stars to guide him.
No one knows why the Plague turns on some dragons but not others. Those who the Plague destroys are often thought of as weak or foolish. And, though Aeros—a former General—was neither of these, he still fled his old home in shame.
But finally, his body began to give. As the shimmering pink peaks of the Arcane-lands reared beneath him, he slowly lost altitude. He sank—too quickly.
There was nothing he could do.
He struck the earth and gasped. Something crucial had broken within him. His mind was a white wall of misery; he was almost blind.
He kicked hard and rolled onto his back like a weak beetle. When he looked up into the heavens, a lovely Skydancer was waiting there, peering down at him. Her exotic markings gave her the look of some ethereal creature, some otherworldly being.
She pressed a gentle paw to his forehead and whispered, “Rest now.”
So he did.
II.
Sometimes love is slow in coming. Sometimes it is swift, coursing, like a river. It was the latter for Aeros.
The Plague that had turned tail on him to eat him—it had damaged his mind and memory. Thoughts came and went like feverish masqueraders. His fever ebbed and flowed like an ocean of fire.
In the middle of this heady battle, this heated conflict, only Treori was the constant. Her dark form loomed over him like a healing angel from the stars, and his fever-vision wreathed her in radiance, like a luminous spirit. She became more than a nurse to him: she was salvation. So he lay and writhed in pain and waited for hours to glimpse her again.
Treori never told him, but there were many moments she anticipated his death. She feared it, of course. She had felt a strange tug toward him the instant she saw him lying in a broken heap. But she was a strong, pragmatic realist, and expected it nonetheless.
However, they say love conquers all—and here, it did. Slowly the sickness broke; slowly Aeros came back to himself.
He was no longer the prideful, quick Plague General he had once been. He was now gentler, softer, and quieter, wiling to appreciate the beauty in flowers and good food.
III.
But the Plague remained in one way.
It was hard for him to express emotions.
Some of the clan believed Aeros had some sort of mental disorder, or that the Plague had burned away some of his brain. Treori knew that wasn’t it. Plague dragons are infamous for being non-expressive and hard to approach. The Plague had cleaned out Aeros’ soul in some ways, but this tendency remained.
It hurt Aeros more than any lingering part of the Plague. He wanted so badly to express his love for his healing angel. Now that he wasn’t cloaked in fever, he realized it was a bit ridiculous to fixate on her like this.
And yet…
The feeling remained.
Treori doesn’t mind. She knows better. Aeros’ little gifts, his light laughter, his weak attempts at “fighting”—all of these are more than tokens of his appreciation. They’re expressions of love from his tender, fever-burned heart.
Bio by Caelyn
Strong|Peaceful|Loving
Mate
By Starphrax
By Kyrrah
I.
The Plague beat strongly within him, fighting to consume his bone and marrow. His veins were liquid fire, his wings wet agony.
Each gust of northerly wind sent a wave of chilly pain through his body. Still, he flew on, with only fever-doubled stars to guide him.
No one knows why the Plague turns on some dragons but not others. Those who the Plague destroys are often thought of as weak or foolish. And, though Aeros—a former General—was neither of these, he still fled his old home in shame.
But finally, his body began to give. As the shimmering pink peaks of the Arcane-lands reared beneath him, he slowly lost altitude. He sank—too quickly.
There was nothing he could do.
He struck the earth and gasped. Something crucial had broken within him. His mind was a white wall of misery; he was almost blind.
He kicked hard and rolled onto his back like a weak beetle. When he looked up into the heavens, a lovely Skydancer was waiting there, peering down at him. Her exotic markings gave her the look of some ethereal creature, some otherworldly being.
She pressed a gentle paw to his forehead and whispered, “Rest now.”
So he did.
II.
Sometimes love is slow in coming. Sometimes it is swift, coursing, like a river. It was the latter for Aeros.
The Plague that had turned tail on him to eat him—it had damaged his mind and memory. Thoughts came and went like feverish masqueraders. His fever ebbed and flowed like an ocean of fire.
In the middle of this heady battle, this heated conflict, only Treori was the constant. Her dark form loomed over him like a healing angel from the stars, and his fever-vision wreathed her in radiance, like a luminous spirit. She became more than a nurse to him: she was salvation. So he lay and writhed in pain and waited for hours to glimpse her again.
Treori never told him, but there were many moments she anticipated his death. She feared it, of course. She had felt a strange tug toward him the instant she saw him lying in a broken heap. But she was a strong, pragmatic realist, and expected it nonetheless.
However, they say love conquers all—and here, it did. Slowly the sickness broke; slowly Aeros came back to himself.
He was no longer the prideful, quick Plague General he had once been. He was now gentler, softer, and quieter, wiling to appreciate the beauty in flowers and good food.
III.
But the Plague remained in one way.
It was hard for him to express emotions.
Some of the clan believed Aeros had some sort of mental disorder, or that the Plague had burned away some of his brain. Treori knew that wasn’t it. Plague dragons are infamous for being non-expressive and hard to approach. The Plague had cleaned out Aeros’ soul in some ways, but this tendency remained.
It hurt Aeros more than any lingering part of the Plague. He wanted so badly to express his love for his healing angel. Now that he wasn’t cloaked in fever, he realized it was a bit ridiculous to fixate on her like this.
And yet…
The feeling remained.
Treori doesn’t mind. She knows better. Aeros’ little gifts, his light laughter, his weak attempts at “fighting”—all of these are more than tokens of his appreciation. They’re expressions of love from his tender, fever-burned heart.
Bio by Caelyn
Click or tap a food type to individually feed this dragon only. The other dragons in your lair will not have their energy replenished.
Feed this dragon Insects.
This dragon doesn't eat Meat.
This dragon doesn't eat Seafood.
Feed this dragon Plants.
You can share this dragon on the forums by either copying the browser URL manually, or using bbcode!
Exalting Aeros to the service of the Arcanist will remove them from your lair forever. They will leave behind a small sum of riches that they have accumulated. This action is irreversible.
Do you wish to continue?
- Names must be longer than 2 characters.
- Names must be no longer than 16 characters.
- Names can only contain letters.
- Names must be no longer than 16 characters.
- Names can only contain letters.