Amurg
(#20970879)
Level 25 Imperial
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Energy: 0/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Light.
Male Imperial
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
31.91 m
Wingspan
16.83 m
Weight
7897.74 kg
Genetics
Obsidian
Vipera
Vipera
Obsidian
Stripes
Stripes
Platinum
Spines
Spines
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 25 Imperial
Max Level
STR
127
AGI
10
DEF
6
QCK
55
INT
8
VIT
8
MND
6
Lineage
Biography
A M U R G
Night Witch
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Midnight was hurried in by the chime of his grandfather clock, it startled him and made his tail whip erratically. In the centre of his chamber a dog-earred tome lay flat on a page - its lore detailed in a poem about the fabled Gyre of Twilight. "The uncaged lamplight - the ever burning - neither servant nor master..." He stepped forward and inhaled sharply before drawing his claw underneath the incantation that would summon this spirit. He spoke quickly, muttering so as the magical forces would be the only listener. From the page, thick smoke began to crawl before spreading across the table and pouring over the edge onto the floor, where it seeped over the chalk boundaries and palid incense designed to trap whatever spirit it encircled. The sigil was layered, tightly locked and locked again with over lapping paths, much like star maps that chart the orbit of the moons and meteors. The dragon continued to read breathlessly, his eyes fixed on the page and his mane bristling. The words of the poetry began to glow, colours of the tinged dusk wavered and melted in each stroke of the letters. The incantation was long and winding, but the dragon insisted on speaking them hastily. A figure poured upwards out of the paper, twisting and blooming in rich violet smoke. Tiny specks of glistening light and gleaming orbs materialised in the folds of its plumage, it opened its starry eyes and gazed upon its summoner. The dragon stopped and gasped, he let out a laugh of relief and admired his work. At precisely this moment the gyre took the oppertunity to score the ceiling with its wings as it made loops around the room. Small purple flames licked the shelves and clock, the edge of the page where it emerged became blackened and soon the whole book was disintegrated, destroying the incantation to bind it once more with it. The dragon began hurriedly choking the fires with his tail and paws, ignoring the enraged spirit as it cried and batted against the perimeter of the sigils. He would deal with it later, it was trapped for now.... Long ago, Amurg was told that only the true and destined master or mistress of a familiar could summon its own familiar spirit. And since the beginning of his journey on the path of a night witch, he took it to heart, making a quiet vow to himself to own the most powerful familiar he could imagine. As a night witch, his powers rise at dusk and die with the dawn, so he decided to find a familiar spirit who would aid his particular brand of magic; bending the darkness and taming the light. When he found amongst the shelves of a cavernous library in the Hewn City the tome of the Twilight Gyre, he knew he had found the perfect spirit to be a his side. He knew deep in his soul that his true servitor was the spirit who reflected his desires. The Twilight Gyre was a story told amongst the harpies, the spirit of a harpy prince who died in a forest fire begged the gods to live again. Some kindly god or another found a loophole in his tragedy in that he died just as the sun had a fraction left on the horizon before fully setting. Having died in twilight, the soul of the prince would forever live in limbo and rise at this liminal time, but never to return to the earthly plane. 
The spirit and Amurg are on shaky terms. The Twilight Gyre has a rebellious streak, yet knows he will far outlive this dragon in the other realms and so switches between periods of contemplation and patience in the service of Amurg and furious anarchy against him. It is not unusual for the ancient spirit to attack the dragon with bursts of other-worldly flame and his own cutting talons, though Amurg would never hurt his familiar, most others can sense a small flicker of delight in tormenting his captured servant. The residual feelings of glory and reward after all the years it took to enslave the spirit. Together they have charted star courses, negotiated with the fabric of the other realms and shaped the footsteps of time. A times they loathe each other, other times they share a gentle peace as the sun rises and they must both flee from the light of the day and the daylit world. "Free you?" The dragon snorted. The Gyre preened itself in an attempt to deprive his master of the satisfaction of eye contact. He knew full well the spirit did not need groom its feathers, perhaps it was an echo of the old avian god's nature, from the time of ancient legends swapped in age of Beasts. The dragon adjusted the scroll on his table and placed his magnifying glass down beside it, "Spirit, you will be freed on my death, then I shall be in your domain and perhaps," He said, lighting rich woody incense for them both to enjoy, "just perhaps, your servant, one day." The spirit ruffled its wings and with its pale eyes shining on his master came the familiar echo of the Gyre god's mind directed at his master, he did not open his beak or speak in words, only clear and piercing thoughts; "Better get dying." Bio by Snowbirb #124501 A dragon obsessed with shadow and his gyre Ironically born of light decent by Adrenaline  by PrincessNighthttp://i.imgur.com/9AlzrBl.jpgby PrincessRibbons |
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Exalting Amurg 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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