Theine » Lair » Stormfront

Stormfront

(#23465787)

Level 25 Mirror

Decay

Plague Sprite

Energy: 49/50

Personal Style

Apparel

Skin

Scene

Physical Attributes

Battle Stats

Measurements

Length

4.76 m

Wingspan

5 m

Weight

671.62 kg

Genetics

Coal
Skink

Thistle
Butterfly

Thistle
Spines

Hatchday

May 07, 2016
(7 years)

Breed

Adult
Mirror

Eye Type

Plague
Common

Level 25 Mirror

Max Level

STR

120

AGI

DEF

QCK

INT

VIT

MND

Lineage

Parents

none

Offspring

Biography

Stormfront

Warlord | Matriarch

"I shall train them myself; and when they fail, I shall dispatch them to the Plaguebringer's embrace"

Ruthless. Cunning. Charismatic. Vicious.

Of all the world's pleasures, Stormfront loves battle the most - the rip and tear of flesh beneath her talons, the sharp tang of blood against her tongue, the burn in her lungs as she pushes herself faster and higher and harder. She stands on a mountain of corpses and feels nothing but exaltation that she is alive – that she has persevered yet another night.

Like a storm she rolls over the battlefield, merciless and primal in her rage. A force of nature against which exists only two options: flee, or be destroyed.

Beside her stand warriors – battle hardened veterans and soft-claws alike – within whom she’s kindled the same thirst for blood that parches her throat and sets her veins alight with want. They guard her on and off the battlefield, loyal to a fault, most having never known a life with nights not punctured by panicked screams and the crunch of vertebra between eager jaws.

She rules her clan in absentia, her shadow extending across the parched wastes of the Boneyard to hover, dark and ominous, over those dragons deemed unfit to fight at her side. These crafters, caretakers, artists, and those who worship learning over might whisper a single word in the dark of night. A single word to sum up the whole of Stormfront’s parts.

Tyrant.

Allies

Rivals

From the moment of her hatching all Stormfront knew was thirst.

She clawed into the sickly afternoon light, hauling herself through the putrid slush of her siblings - eggshells soft with rot and small bones bending as she shouldered them aside. She lurched onto the crumbling rim of the breeding pool, her talons slipping over the trails of slime streaking the outer wall like war paint. Her red eyes strained, seeking the face of her dam, but there was nothing but tangles of fleshy tendrils and bloated membranes as far as she could see.

She was too young to understand why her clutch had been abandoned - soft green eggs left for dead at the edge of the Wandering Contagion, the nest sundered by a heavy blow from a dragon with just enough mercy in his cold, reptilian heart not to puncture the eggs with his talons before going on his way.

Alone, she struggled to survive, at the mercy of the elements, eating what she could kill and hiding from what she could not. Scars measured the years, carved into her flanks and tracing the dips and groves of her skull - proof of her will to live.

She ranged across the plaguelands, a lone wraith trailing destruction in her wake until she stumbled upon a starving mirror, his talons blackened with soot from alchemical reactions. She spared him not from mercy, of which she had none, but curiosity as to how such an ill-adapted dragon could have survived knowing nothing of combat or hunting.

Her season came and went, and together they founded a clan in a crumbling ruin at the edge of the Quarantine Zone. A single tryst proved them incompatible. Binding herself to a single mate was not her way, and her one-time companion had no space in his heart for anything but his research.

Their clan started small, a clawfull of dragons seeking refuge from the elements in the shadow of the ancient, ruined fortress’s walls, or lured by the promise of Stormfront’s prowess in battle and willingness to mate with whichever dragon could put a new scar on her flanks.

When restlessness took her she’d gather these new warrior-disciples and lead them to the outskirts of the Plaguebringer’s domain, back to the twisted landscape in which she'd hatched.

She would never admit it, but part of her yearned to find him - the dragon who sundered a nest and left the eggs within it to rot. To sink her fangs into his neck and watch the blood seep out until his heart beat empty within the cage of his ribs.

From the moment of her hatching all Stormfront knew was thirst - an all-consuming, bottomless need for everything that had slipped through her talons.
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ARTWORK

Adoptable by Fortune3689

~Art by Fellefan~

Aesthetic by Rottingflesh

Glitterfied by Copierthief

~Gift by Anon (Secret Santa Art Trade 2018)~

Awm - The Elm represents strength in the form of the great height the trees can grow to. The randk and respect given to a Giant is based on their physical size - the taller, the heigher ranking.

Additional core meanings: Courage, Fortitude, Intensity, Power, Tenacity
~Rune by HereticalSun~

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0/1000

Click or tap a food type to individually feed this dragon only. The other dragons in your lair will not have their energy replenished.

Exalting Stormfront to the service of the Plaguebringer 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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