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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
23.13 m
Wingspan
24.62 m
Weight
5789.9 kg
Genetics
Gold
Poison
Poison
Gold
Toxin
Toxin
Midnight
Glimmer
Glimmer
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 25 Imperial
Max Level
STR
129
AGI
9
DEF
6
QCK
50
INT
8
VIT
9
MND
6
Biography
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N E B U Title / Role Brutal • Self-absorbed • Greedy |
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I A H Familiar
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 RELATIONSHIPS  L U R K E R Foster Mother  L Y S Mate  C A I N Son
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Despite her sinister-sounding name, Lurker commanded great respect. She was a matronly Guardian who was loved for her warm and caring ways; she was also respected for her ability to foretell dragons’ fates. This latter characteristic made her mostly unflappable, for a dragon who can tell the future can also prepare for it. So why did this hatchling make her so uneasy? “Perhaps I’m tired,” she scolded herself. The clan had faced hard times recently, and it had been difficult for her to keep everyone together. And now it looked like there was another mouth to feed.... The hunters hadn’t brought back any food, but they had found her. “Abandoned by her clan, methinks,” the lead hunter declared. The hatchling had been scratching around his feet, and when she heard these words, her face contorted into a pitiful wail. Still Lurker said nothing. “She is blind,” the hunter continued. “Perhaps that’s why they left her. It’s been a hard winter; it’s been difficult to scrounge up enough to eat. We’ve been having a tough time of it, too.” He looked expectantly at Lurker. “Why am I hesitating?” the old dragon thought even as she rose to her feet. Aloud, she said, “It is not our way to let hatchlings starve, and this one’s as deserving of life as our own children are. Thank you for bringing her to me. I will see to her now.” The hunter bowed, and he went away, his claws click-clicking on the floor. It was a strangely hollow sound. Lurker ignored it as she looked down at the hatchling. “What is your name, dear?” she asked. Although she knew the child couldn’t see her, she automatically drew back her hood to show her face. The Imperial hiccuped a few times before answering, “Nebu.” It could have been her full name or short for something else....Lurker decided not to ask. “We are sorry that we found you alone, Nebu. But we are glad you came to our lair. I am Lurker, the founder of this clan.” Nebu must’ve learned some manners, for she turned her blind gaze towards Lurker and mumbled a greeting. Lurker took the time to study her. Despite being obviously underfed, Nebu wasn’t sickly. She was boldly patterned in gold and black; her milky eyes stood out against her face. She would recover. Lurker summoned a servant, asked her to give the Imperial something to eat. Once she was satisfied that Nebu would be cared for, the matron walked away, heading to the darkness of her den. Hours later, Lurker’s unease had grown. As was her practice whenever a new dragon joined the clan, she had cast the bones to read Nebu’s fate. There was darkness ahead of Nebu, a great and terrible darkness....The signs danced before Lurker, traced by the bones. The crook and flail, the lash, the mirror. And a total eclipse blotting out even the sun. Could she change this young one’s fate? Lurker had been told many times that such a thing was impossible. The future could only be perceived and experienced, not changed. But she was determined to try. ~ ~ ~ Lurker herself took charge of the young Imperial. The rest of the clan was quite surprised by this: “Any of us could care for that child just as easily.” — “She must be training Nebu as a successor. I’ve heard of blind drakes who were gifted with the Sight....Perhaps this child will become a haruspex as well.” Spring came along with an abundance of food. The clan stabilized again, and the dragons fell back into their routines of doing their work and giving lessons to their children. Nebu stayed with Lurker, though. The Guardian had to say that Nebu was a less than willing student. Her initial meekness had left with the winter, and now she was idle and tended to get surly when she was prodded to work. She did not care to listen to Lurker’s teachings, and she did not attempt to play with the other children. She preferred to sit by herself, grooming her black-and-gold mane and winding flowers into it. “She shows every sign of turning into a delinquent,” Lurker’s clanmates muttered. The Guardian couldn’t help bristling at this. “You’re implying that I cannot control my student?” she challenged them. The clan members backed down out of respect for her, but the whispers about Nebu continued. They showed no sign of abating as the seasons passed, for Nebu did not become any easier to deal with. She took to rambling about unsupervised, a habit that gave Lurker much grief, as the Guardian would then have to search for her. She slipped out of the lair again on a cold winter night—a hard, cruel winter like the one that’d brought her to the clan. Lurker was fully aware of this as she left the lair to search for her. A light dusting of snow was falling through the trees, but not enough to make the search straightforward. She soon stopped calling Nebu’s name—in a season where food was scarce, it was best not to draw attention to oneself. Hours passed before she heard Nebu’s voice—light and sweet, with the occasional chuckle. She was talking to someone. Lurker’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. She folded her fins and slunk forward, following the sound of Nebu’s voice. There she was, coiled up in a forest glade, her antlers almost tangling in the branches. Lurker still didn’t know whom she was addressing. And then they—it—moved. It was sprawled on a rock in front of Nebu, and it raised its head suddenly and glared at Lurker with eyes as sharp and cold as razors. A Hati. Lurker had earned her name well, for she could move as subtly as a spiderweb floating on the breeze. Yet the Hati had seen her. And Nebu turned, too. She did not speak, but instead stared into the darkness, a look of mild irritation on her face. Lurker straightened up, mustered her authority. “Nebu, I’ve been searching for you for hours. What possessed you to go into the woods like this?” “There’s nothing to worry about, Lurker,” Nebu replied, tilting her head. Her face was now all innocence. “‘Nothing to worry about’—you don’t even know that for certain!” Lurker’s voice was low with anger. “It’s been a hard winter; there are plenty of creatures that are desperate enough to try making a meal out of you.” “Make a meal out of me?” Nebu’s lip curled in disgust. “Hah. They wouldn’t dare!” But she rose and came towards Lurker. The Guardian was relieved at first—until she saw the Hati slink after her. “What is this?” “Oh. This is my Hati, Iah.” “Your Hati?” The Hati bared its teeth at Lurker. It made no noise, but such was its ferocity that Lurker actually took a step back. Nebu, on the other hand, remained unmoved. “It is my familiar, Lurker,” she explained, speaking as if to a dim-witted child. “Certain of us dragons are chosen by them. Iah is quite helpful to me.” She reached out, stroked Iah’s fur with a gentle paw. The Hati relaxed, but didn’t remove its glare from Lurker. “I know what a familiar is,” Lurker could only say. She was feeling offended. Nebu gave her a fleeting smile. “Then why did you bother asking?” she asked in saccharine tones. Then off she went, back to the lair, with Iah at her side and Lurker staring after them in frustration. It was not only Lurker who was made uneasy by Iah. The rest of the clan regarded the Hati with suspicion, and other familiars either averted their gazes or refused to speak openly of him. “A bad omen,” the more intelligent ones muttered, but they would not elaborate when pressed. Lurker returned to her den. She cast the bones for Iah, but a reading was impossible for one not of dragonkind. So she cast for Nebu again: crook and flail, lash, mirror, eclipse obscuring the sun. Nothing had changed. ~ ~ ~ More seasons passed. Nebu was now a young Imperial in the flush of adulthood, but still unattached. From time to time Lurker heard her lamenting to Iah about how she had no suitors, ostensibly because she was blind. “No one will have me, not with these hideous eyes!” she despaired. Lurker rolled her own eyes. “If she can’t see, how does she know her own eyes are hideous?” Deep inside, however, Lurker thought the real reason Nebu had no suitors was because she was so intimidating. She was lovely—but her face was always clouded by the faintest sneer, and her blind eyes held only contempt. Often she did not even deign to speak to Lurker, who had raised her practically since birth. She ignored all other dragons—the only being she spoke freely to was Iah, and though the Hati was never heard to reply, Lurker couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that they could communicate with each other somehow. There were occasional visitors to the lair, allies or travelers. One was a group of merchants familiar to Lurker’s clan. In recent years, Lurker had begun feeling her age. Governance of the clan was now distributed among certain clanmates, but the Guardian still commanded respect, so at the end of their visit, the merchants sat down to exchange pleasantries with her. “We are pleased to have had the opportunity to do business with you again, Clan Founder. With your permission, we will leave now.” Lurker gave them permission, but there was another stumbling block: one of their party was unaccounted for. “A thousand apologies, leaders,” the merchants’ accountant cried. “That airheaded assistant of mine has blundered off again. Lys...Lys! Where are you, boy?” “I’ve not heard that name before,” Lurker noted. The lead merchant spread his claws. “He joined us only recently. He’s a bright lad and has great faculty with numbers, but he can be a bit...distant at times. Well, as they say, sometimes the brighter ones aren’t really all there.” He seemed embarrassed now. “Indeed?” Lurker murmured. Ignoring the merchant’s confused look, she strode back into the lair. It wasn’t long before she heard what she’d been listening for: Nebu’s voice. This time, though, she was answered by soft words, the voice of a young male Imperial. “Am I, really?” Nebu asked him, twining her claws into her overlong mane. She lowered her face bashfully, but Lurker could see the triumphant smile upon the young dragoness’ face. The other Imperial answered, “Yes, quite the most beautiful lady I have ever seen.” His voice was hushed, almost reverent. He looked at her with eyes that shone with intelligence—though they were frighteningly devoid of thought at that moment. “Lys!” The two Imperials turned suddenly. Lurker did, too—and the merchants’ accountant strode forward. He growled, “Well, Lys, ready to strike out on your own, are you? This job’s too tedious for you, is it? You’ll excuse me, Miss. My assistant has engagements elsewhere.” These last words were said to Nebu, and then the accountant turned and strode away. Lys said nothing. He only looked back at Nebu, a gaze of profound yearning, and then padded after his supervisor. Lurker watched them go. She turned to address Nebu, but the Imperial gave her a look of such venomous fury that the Guardian was actually stunned into silence. And then Nebu was gone, storming back to her den in a huff. Iah wasn’t visible, but Lurker had no doubt he was close by. Later, as she passed by Nebu’s den, she heard those words — “He called me beautiful, Iah. Did you hear him? He said I was the loveliest dragon in the world!” Lurker was not surprised when Lys returned to the lair only a few moons later. It was she who put up the most resistance to his joining their clan: “Are you not employed elsewhere? Don’t your fellow merchants need your help?” “They no longer need me,” Lys answered distantly. He turned away from her and continued discussing living arrangements with the other elders. A dreadful suspicion gnawed at Lurker’s mind, and she had to push it away lest she blurt out unfounded accusations. The clan treasurer took Lys on as an assistant. It wasn’t long before the old dragon retired, leaving Lys in charge of the finances. He did his work scrupulously and seemed quite detached from the world around him. Almost lifeless...but he came alive like a fire when Nebu was nearby. He was clearly besotted with her. When he was not working, he spent all his time with her. She chattered to him about all manner of things, and he was content to merely listen, drinking in the nearness of her. At one point, when she asked why he was silent, he could only answer, “You are so beautiful.” Other dragons would have been unnerved by that, but not Nebu. “Do you really think so?” she asked breathlessly. She leaned towards him, her pale eyes wide. “Am I really the most beautiful dragoness you’ve ever seen?” “The most beautiful, the most divine. Not even in my wildest dreams did I imagine one as lovely as you....” Nebu laughed, asked him again if she was beautiful. So he told her that she was. Again...and again...and again.... It wasn’t long before they officially became a mated pair. Lurker attended the union ceremony only out of courtesy. By then, she and Nebu were barely speaking to each other. Furthermore, the Guardian was already quite old, and her words no longer carried as much weight with the clan. She was still respected as the founder, but that was all. Even her Sight, which had once made others fear her, had begun to wane. She had attempted to read Lys’ fate, but been unable to. A single sign had leaped out at her—the horn of plenty, sign of wealth. It didn’t tell her anything she didn’t already know (for Lys had already been the treasurer for some time), and so it was useless. She no longer attempted to read Nebu’s future. She knew there would be no change. ~ ~ ~ Lys continued to do his work well, and the clan’s coffers swelled. As he collected merchants’ payments, they asked the usual questions: “How’s work, Lys? How’s the clan, how’s your mate?” He always ignored the other questions. “My mate is the loveliest dragon in the land,” he breathed, as if under a spell. Most visitors were fazed by this response and did not comment further. But some were interested. Nebu even deigned to speak with a few of them. They would compliment her on her bold-patterned scales, on the gold now twined into her mane in place of flowers: “How beautiful those ornaments are!” “Yes, are they not lovely? My mate says I am particularly suited to them!” “They make you look like a queen,” one visitor remarked. She had meant it as a compliment, but Nebu took offense. She straightened up, and her pale eyes blazed. “Am I not a queen?” she gasped, her body rigid with outrage. It was alarming that such ideas had caught fire in her mind. Perhaps even more alarming was the fact that other dragons were ready to support her. “You are not only beautiful, but also intelligent!” they praised her. “You would make a magnificent leader....Our elders are such wishy-washy drakes. Not like you...” “What about the clan founder? What will Lurker say?” “Lurker practically raised me,” Nebu purred. She flipped her mane, and the golden ornaments jingled. “I’ll speak with the poor old dear. She won’t say a word, I assure you.” ~ ~ ~ Nebu involved herself further with Lys’ work until she controlled the flow of treasure in the clan. Those dragons who complained about this were chastised severely. They retreated, grumbling but unbowed. The attempt on Nebu’s life came later. A small group of merchants visited the lair, and after a successful trade deal, they invited Lys to drink with them. Nebu, naturally, accompanied him, and the merchants offered a toast to “Lys’ beautiful mate”, which she was only too eager to drink to. Before the chalice touched her lips, Iah leaped forward. He smashed it away with his paw, and the dragons stared, aghast, as the wine smoked and bubbled atop the table. “Treachery! Poison!” Lys screamed. Nebu wailed in horror, shouting, “A hundred thousand gold pieces to whomever cuts down these treacherous worms!” Several dragons leaped to do her bidding. The skirmish was over in moments, with none dead among the clan. They never confirmed who had hired the assassins, but Nebu declared that she had her suspicions. She claimed she was afraid for her life, and she dipped into the coffers, brought out gold with which to hire bodyguards. They took over the lair, threatening other clan members, particularly the ones who’d criticized Nebu before. It wasn’t long before they left for good. No one else could access the vault, and even Lys did not open it without Nebu’s say-so now. Nebu herself used the treasure as she saw fit. Those dragons who remained in the lair did so in dread, but soon they noted that something unexpected was happening. The clan was flourishing. Many of the dragons recalled winters when food had been scarce and death close by—like the winter when Nebu had come to them. But ever since Nebu had assumed leadership, they had not known any seasons of starvation. Nebu, despite her greed—or perhaps because of it—had increased the clan’s wealth to the point that they were actually prospering. In time, resistance to her died away. Many dragons still feared her—but what was fear against a full belly, against the promise of food for your children? Many of them believed it was a small price to pay for living under the blind Imperial’s rule. ~ ~ ~ Nebu entered Lurker’s den uninvited. As she strode up to the Guardian, Lurker murmured, “Nebu. You look well.” Her eyes remained focused on something else. “Lurker.” Nebu nodded curtly. Iah sat down beside her, licked his paw, and waited. “Have you come to expel me from the clan?” Lurker inquired. Her eyes gleamed from the shadow of her hood. “Not at all, old lady. I only wanted to ask you something....But, one moment.” Nebu’s voice hardened. “What’s so interesting, that you won’t look up at my radiance?” “I see the future, Nebu.” “Truly?” A smile played across the Imperial’s face. “Did you ever see me as a queen, old lady?” In answer, Lurker took up the bones, cast them. They clattered onto the table in the pattern she’d seen and dreaded many times before. “The crook and flail,” Lurker read. “Symbols of rulership, handed down from the great lords of the desert. The symbol of absolute authority. “Next: the lash, tool of slave-drivers and beast-breakers. A symbol of cruel oppression.” Lurker looked up, but Nebu didn’t seem offended by that. On the contrary, she looked fascinated. So Lurker moved on: “The mirror: a symbol of vanity.” Nebu actually laughed, albeit with a trace of cynicism. She listened as Lurker concluded, “And the total eclipse: the all-consuming darkness not even the sun can erase.” Nebu’s smile faded. She stared at Lurker. “What does that mean?” “It means exactly what it says,” sighed Lurker, “nothing more. Nebu. If you are here to dispose of me, then you may do so. Not that I can stop you. Heaven knows I tried.” She swept the bones back into their drawstring bag, tugged it shut. Nebu loosed another laugh. It was just a bit too loud, and it made the cavern ring like a bell. “Don’t be silly, Lurker! I’m not going to dispose of you.” The Guardian looked up in surprise. Nebu explained, “After all, you did take me in and raise me. I’d be remiss if I weren’t at least a bit grateful for that.” “There were others who cared for you, Nebu. You expelled them.” Nebu ignored that. “You’re old now, but still useful. Your faded Sight remains truer than that of many others’. They might as well have been charlatans.” She smiled mirthlessly, and Lurker shuddered to think of those “charlatans” who had displeased the Imperial. “So I’ve decreed that you be allowed to stay. I might be visiting again. Don’t lose that little bag—it’s got plenty of fascinating secrets in it. I’d love to hear more of them sometime.” Lurker bowed her head in defeat. Nebu left her there, but Iah lingered a moment. A grin flitted across his face like a moonbeam...and then it was gone, and he padded after his mistress, stoic and unobtrusive once more. ~ written by Disillusionist (254672) all edits by other users
lore written byUSERNAME HERE
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