Nabonidus
(#1471137)
Level 19 Imperial
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Energy: 49
out of
50
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
21.27 m
Wingspan
23.08 m
Weight
6245.47 kg
Genetics
Obsidian
Falcon
Falcon
Charcoal
Toxin
Toxin
Jade
Runes
Runes
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 19 Imperial
EXP: 17533 / 104563
STR
50
AGI
6
DEF
6
QCK
14
INT
8
VIT
15
MND
6
Biography
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Nabonidus
The Warlord
"QUOTE" In the Scarred Wasteland, Nabonidus was a rarity: a warlord in deep attunement with his plague magic. His rise to power surprised his clan only in its absoluteness. It was almost expected for the firstborn son of the lair's enforcer to be self-centered, pushy and arrogant. His father gloated over his son's natural prowess when he began coliseum training while his mother, a captive from the Icefields, curled quietly in the back. As he reached maturity, he began dueling with other powerful heirs and fighters his age, making a name for himself with powerful displays of battlefield technique and any of his clanmates could have charted his path years before. This was Plague, after all. Only the strongest survive and from a young age, it was clear Nabonidus would become a force to be reckoned with. What no one expected was how deviously clever and sensible he could be. It would have been simple for him to bully his nestmates out of the clan but he treated them as equals, ensuring there wasn't any rivalry or resentment even before they left for lands unknown. Though those he considered beneath felt the full weight of his pride, he held it in check amongst the adults or agemates he respected. The biggest surprise was when a wizen plague Witch, an ancient Bogsneak who had no qualms using cutting wit and nasty toxins to deal with minor nuisances, accepted him as apprentice. As if he hadn't been terrifying enough before. But the natural talent she saw and fostered quickly became what set him apart. Plague has plenty of deadly melee combatants, but few that could generate different debilitating or even deadly toxins in each clawtip, or whose body reacted fast enough to produce neutralizing toxins to protect itself from similar assaults. Nabonidus quickly replaced his father as head enforcer and not long after took the clanseat from the previous leader with only a show of a scuffle. Rumors that he'd been responsible for the mysterious disappearances of his two younger brothers had already been circulating for months. Nabonidus ruled with an iron paw that his clanmates even occasionally appreciated and that his enemies feared. Border fights were common but savagely swift. Their borders grew, within reason but always grew, never shrank. So long as you didn't challenge or disagree with him, Nabonidus ensured life went on as usual. A few rare dragons would challenge him and prove their point effectively, through smarts or brawn, and the Warlord kept them as advisors or aides. The imperial took a mirror mate in honor of his homeland, then a captured light imperial as a sign of his conquests. His children were all trained as warriors and sent to the Plaguebringer. When he decided to take a third mate, it was time to truly flex his claws. He'd head towards the birthplace of Imperials to find one suitable and bring her back home. This is where his arrogance caught up to him. He took the trip alone, reasoning no one else was necessary or deserved the credit. He thought his cunning and prowess could overcome the elemental mismatch, and he could lure and trap a suitable mate to carry home with him. He confided this to his guide through Shadow territory, thinking a hired guide from the Wood of all places would appreciate his plan. Himura did not. He awoke abandoned the next morning, wrapped in thorns and feeling weak. It was a feeling totally alien to him: no toxin, no sickness had ever taken ahold of him like this. He tore himself free of the vines after a long struggle, leaving gashes in his skin that wouldn't close like normal. He roared for his guide to show himself and face the consequences of his treachery, but the mushroom woods were empty and silent. Panting harder than after even his most brutal fight, Nabonidus scowled and began dragging himself in what he thought lead toward the Ruins. Plague survived. Whatever that underhanded Shadow scoundrel had done, he would make it through. The days blurred with exhaustion. He slept more than he used to, ate mostly plants because he could not catch anything that moved too quickly, and dragged his heavy body towards the rising sun. He never saw another dragon until he dragged himself up the Stairs into the Sunbeam Ruins, where a little white nocturne clucked at his state in disappointment and remarked, "Couldn't handle the Woods, tough guy?" Lyra was infuriating. And competent. She tells him he's been cursed and, after a few days of his attitude, that he deserved it. He's too weak to do anything more than bluster at her rudeness, earning a retort that she only pays him back in kind. She treats his wounds that won't close while working on a ritual that will clear his curse, but she says it's quite a good one. "That guide of yours was a master. There's three conditional layers of binding on this. I can dispel the one keeping your natural healing from working, but you're going to need to express genuine thanks to get rid of the weakness. And there's another layer of bad luck that can only be cleared by... what's this attached to...Your will? Something to do with your will and fate? I think this is action based. You'd know better what this is for than me." He does. His plan for his third mate. Has to be. How can he return now, empty handed? (But it's not just that plan. Himura made it so he has to fix himself.) What does it mean to be warlord? Regional power ruled with iron grip. What's the morality? Here to recover from his personality defects? (Dire Hyena/Raging Tiger Foo) |
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Exalting Nabonidus to the service of the Lightweaver 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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