Theine » Lair » Riptide

Riptide

(#23465788)

Level 10 Bogsneak

Genesis

Tar-Trooper Slarg

Energy: 48/50

Personal Style

Apparel

Skin

Scene

Physical Attributes

Battle Stats

Measurements

Length

1.29 m

Wingspan

1.09 m

Weight

1.62 kg

Genetics

Stonewash
Pinstripe

Caribbean
Alloy

Denim
Capsule

Hatchday

May 07, 2016
(8 years)

Breed

Adult
Bogsneak

Eye Type

Plague
Common

Level 10 Bogsneak

EXP: 16807 / 27676

STR

AGI

DEF

QCK

INT

VIT

MND

Lineage

Parents

none

Offspring

Biography

Riptide

Alchemist | Patriarch

"Some would call them abominations, these true-born children of Progress. They will never comprehend the beauty of life springing from a battered womb of steel."

"I am not your sire."

It was the first truth he could remember; the first words the withered pearlcatcher who’d raised him had spoken when he was barely out of eggshells. He was not his sire, but he would raise him so long as he could learn, and learn quickly. All masters needed an apprentice, someone to pass their knowledge to before it was lost to the ravages of time, and to the old alchemist, Riptide would serve. Or he would starve, the choice was his.

Imprisoned in the alchemist’s tower, Riptide learned quickly first to read formulas and then to brew them. For years that was his life, dawn until dusk, and it came to please him. He took the art farther than even his master dared, toying with life itself — a god in his own right.

Then one morning his master was dead, time having finally caught up with him. Riptide didn't pause his work, eating through their rations until nothing but crumbs remained and he was forced to leave or join the pearlcatcher in death. The world outside the tower was foreign to him, a wasteland of bones, empty of sustenance. He would have starved if not for a vicious female mirror who took him under her wing, amused at his inability to sustain himself. He tolerated her, and when the clan they founded together began to flourish, he plotted against her.

She was powerful, but he was clever, and so they danced around one another, searching for an opening in which to strike a killing blow. It was a dance that would last decades.

Mate

Cabal

Rivals

Alchemy. Magic. Power.

These are the three things Riptide loved most. There was nothing more wonderful to him than the smell of potions brewing. The joy he felt once a potion came out successful was almost ecstasy.

But there was a darker side to Riptide that dragons dared not to face. His lust for potions was great, but with it came cruel torture to unknowing victims. Each potion brewed required specific ingredients. Some of these ingredients needed to come from living beings.

Unlike most dragons, who would use the remains of a dead meal, or the carcass of a familiar, Riptide always felt that items were best when taken from live animals. If fact he enjoyed the feeling of taking the life of Beastclan members; the sound of their screams as they were melted in his cauldron was like music. It was sadistic, and Riptide liked it that way.

But as a Mirror, Riptide found potion making somewhat tedious. His four eyes made discerning bottle labels more of a task than it needed to be, and on multiple occasions his large bat-like wings had on knocked vials from their shelves.

Most dragons would find a new hobby; a new passion to pursue. And Riptide tried, time and time again. He tried fighting, hunting, healing, even tried becoming a scholar. But all these were short lived, nothing amounted to what he felt for Alchemy.

Many moons would go by and Riptide would be by his cauldron brewing vicious stews, the fumes alone too much for many dragons. He had caught wind of a new potion that could be created; a DNA altering one that would change the entire molecular structure of a dragon.

Riptide tried many times to create it, but came up empty clawed each time. He did, however, manage to stumble upon a few poisons during his trials.

Eventually, Riptide had to travel to the Trading Posts and talk to Baldwin. This was a task Riptide had been putting off ever since he caught wind of the new potion. He hated talking to the old Pearlcatcher; the kook always talked his ear off, telling him things he already knew about brews, warning him about the dangers of pushing the boundaries, all things Riptide really didn’t care about.

But he wanted this so called “Scroll”, so off he went. When he arrived, Riptide was shocked by the sight before him. Where Baldwin was so often sitting was a hulking lizard-like dragon. His wings loomed behind him, there was a large crest of spines at the top of his head leading down his neck. And his claws; they were dexterous. This dragon held a beaker in a way Riptide had never seen.

Riptide had to know who, and what, this dragon is, and what he had done with Baldwin.

“Where’s Baldwin?” Riptide growled upon approaching this foreigner. “What have you done with him?”

The mysterious green dragon looked up. He had the same colouration as Baldwin, even the same spectacles. “Oh, Riptide. Nice to see you.” The green dragon replied, voice low and gravelly.

“H-how do you know my name?” Riptide stuttered, taken aback by this dragon’s apparent familiarity.

This caused the lizard to laugh, which sounded like boulders crashing together. “Because I am Baldwin!” he said.

“No, this isn’t possible. How?” asked Riptide, awestruck.

The new Baldwin pondered the thought for a moment. “Well, to tell you the truth, I’m not entirely sure how it happened. About two moons ago, I was brewing in my cauldron as I usually do. It was a rainy afternoon, there were storm clouds forming in the atmosphere above. I continued to work, when suddenly a lightning strike hit the contents of my cauldron and covered me in it. Many dragons helped clean it off, but it appeared to seep through my hide.” Baldwin began.

“There were no immediate side effects, but I took notes of the process throughout, and eventually I became this,” Baldwin gestured to his elongated body. My apprentices are calling this new breed a ‘Bogsneak’, seeing as I find much comfort in cool damp places, and many have noted that I am sneaking around. I find the last bit semi preposterous, but in all fairness the urge to fly is gone. I like being grounded.”

Riptide was struck. A new breed. It is so obtainable; so possible to become one of his own creations. Riptide had to have it. “How? How did you do it?!”

“As I said, young Mirror. I am not quite sure. I was working on replicating my potion to brew another living Familiar, but when the lightning struck I believe it changed the molecular structure of my batch. If you’d like, I can let you look at my notes regarding the transformation.”

“Yes.” Was all Riptide said, itching to get at the scrolls.

“Alright, one moment.” Baldwin said, going into his stores to find the papers. He returned with a handful of scrolls. “You can spend as long as you want to read them. But you cannot take them. Feel free to take notes though!”

Riptide spent the brunt of the afternoon reading and rereading the notes, absorbing all information possible. By the end of the day, Riptide felt he had a good understanding of just what to brew in order to create this “Bogsneak” potion.

When Riptide returned to his lair, he got to work right away. His clan leader, Stormfront, had caught wind of what Riptide had planned. She confronted him about it right away, saying that he had no right to be playing Gods, and that he should stop this madness before it starts.

“You’re daft, Stormfront. You know you cannot stop me.” Riptide hissed, bearing his fangs.

“I am the leader of this clan and you will do what I say!” growled Stormfront, opening her wings in a threatening stance.

“You can order about all the petty underlings in this pathetic excuse for a clan, but you have no say over me. We are equals, whether you like it or not. And I will create this potion. I don’t need your blessing.” Spat Riptide, matching her stance.

The two dragons were at a standoff. Riptide was correct, the two Mirrors were equals. Stormfront could not control Riptide no more than Riptide could control her. Eventually, she knew this argument was futile, and backed down.

“Ha. I knew you’d concede.” Said Riptide. “I always get what I want.”

“I’m watching you, Riptide. One claw out of place, and you’ll be answering to me.” Stormfront said, staring down her counterpart. She then flew off without another word.

After the argument, Riptide began brewing day and night, trying to get the right ingredients. After the nth time of trying, Riptide felt he finally had the right concoction.

Using a Golem Gauntlet and an Electricians Power Pack that he “borrowed”, Riptide attempted to recreate the lightning surge just as Baldwin had. It took a few tries to create enough energy, but after the third attempt he struck his cauldron and, just as Baldwin’s brew had, it splattered all over Riptide.

Wanting the process to be faster than 41 days like Baldwin had written in his notes, Riptide took his cauldron and doused himself in the contents.

When he had done so, he waited, feeling the liquid seep through his scales. However, this process seemed to hurt. In fact, it burned. Riptide felt as though he was boiling in acid. He screeched in agony, thrashing around his lair, trying any means to amend the vicious pain he was in.

When that didn’t work, he fled, trying to find any dragon to help him. In his panicking state, he was blind with the torment, and did not see Stormfront until he barrelled into her. The two mirrors collided, and Stormfront barred her fangs in response.

“What in the…Riptide?!” She screeched, startled and angry.

“Stormfront, you’ve got to help me. I’m suffering.” Riptide choked.

Realizing the dragon whom she was speaking to, she retracted her claws. “What’s wrong with you, Riptide? You don’t look physically injured.” Stormfront replied, wary of him.

“No, you don’t understand,” Riptide wheezed. “I made the potion, I did it. But, something is wrong. So wrong. It hurts…” Riptide wanted to say more, but he collapsed.

Stormfront looked down at the Mirror in front of her. She thought for a moment; she could help him. Or she could teach him a lesson and let him endure the pain. He made his bed. So now he must lay in it.Not wanting to distress the other dragons in her lair, Stormfront dragged Riptide back to his nest and left him there.

Riptide woke up, groggy and stiff. He was disoriented and thirsty. So thirsty. Pulling himself up to his feet, he realized he was back in his nest. His cauldron sat a few feet away from him, empty and cold. “Did I dream that? Did I not successfully recreate the potion?” Riptide thought, sullen. He then saw the Golem near the entrance, and saw various bottles scattered around; some shattered, some not.

The memories flooded back to Riptide, and they made him cringe. Standing up, he felt the torturous pain was considerably less, and was now more of a constant ache. He decided to get to work on writing the symptoms of his transformation process.
..

..
Day 2
The ache I feel in my scales is constant and pressing. It is hard to focus on anything but the pain. Nothing I do amends it; I try in vain to find release, but it seems to be just beyond my grasp. My wings feel heavier than normal, and I fear flying may be too strenuous. Even my claws feel sore. The simple task of holding a vial feels too much to bear. I will continue taking my notes, but I feel like I may need a scribe.

Day 5
The sunlight hurts. I have holed myself up in my lair, enjoying the dampness in the far corner. I have taken to closing my second eyes. Keeping them open makes my vision worse, and I need to try to keep a level head through this. I swear I feel my tail shrinking, but I also think I may be delirious. If I get the chance, I will talk to Baldwin. Surely this agony means something is wrong.

Day 10
Days and nights blur together. I sit in solitude in the darkness. Dragons from my clan have come by, but only to provide me with meat. My hunger has doubled, and no matter how much I eat I never seem satisfied. The pain within my hide has increased ten fold. I constantly feel as though my blood is boiling. My scales feel too tight, my ear fans detect every sound and also nothing. I feel my skin stretch around my joints and at the base of my neck. I want this pain to end, but I know it is for science.

Day 12
Finally, the first real physical alteration. The past week must have been my internal organs shifting and molecular structure changing. It was painful, but I eventually came to terms with it. The constant boiling under my skin was like background noise. But this, this was gruesome. I would not wish this pain upon my worst enemy. I was woken up to the feeling of tearing flesh. With a scream, I threw myself to the ground, and my claws went to the base of my skull. From there, I felt bone protruding. I screeched in agony, surely waking up the entire clan, and purged my dinner from the night before. Yet the torture was relentless; every movement I made caused a jolt of pain cascading through my body. In a last-ditch effort, I took my claws and tore away the flesh at the back of my neck. Instantly, I felt release. From the torn flesh of my neck sprouted two large fans. My own ear fans morphed into them too, and blood dripped from the new skin and bone. I laid in a heap on the ground, only the sound of my breathing keeping my company; assuring I was still alive. I fear for my life, knowing just how far I have to go.

Day 18
It has been nearly a week since my last transformation. The rest of my clan refuses to look at me, and I am no longer allowed in meetings. I do not mind, they are petty fools who know not of what scientific breakthrough I am currently going through. I feel restless with the process. I thought by dousing myself in the contents it would increase speed. I may have thought wrong. I also feel increasingly heavy; my body mass doesn’t appear to have changed, and yet I find myself dragging on the ground. I am also so very tired, and I fear falling asleep may do more harm than good.

Day 26, I think
I fell asleep many nights ago, and only woke up today. What woke me from my slumber was once again excruciating pain. This time, however, it was centred around my wings. They were on fire, the feeling of stretching and pulling of my fragile skin over bone. I physically felt my wings begin to recede into my body, and it is tormenting. I feel as though I want to tear them off; that would be less pain that what I am now. As I write this, I feel my bones snap and reform, my muscles being pulled in ungodly directions. I want to die, oh god how I want to die. It hurts so much. Please, let it end.

Day 27
Not even a day after feeling my beautiful Saturn wings had altered; bones growing and shrinking into new biological formations, I was struck yet again with agony. This time, it was in my face, and radiated through my entire neck all the way to my chest. I clutched my face in my claws, trying so hard not to unsheathe my talons and rake them across my scales. I could not see; I was blind in white pain. I screamed, and could not stop. I saw Stormfront shoo dragons who wanted to help away from me. I knew she was cruel, but this was beyond barbaric. Eventually I gave in, and I unsheathed my claws and scratched out my own eyes. The pain somehow doubled when I did this, and I could hear the unholy sounds I was making. I dragged my claws down my snout, pools of blood falling and dripping beneath my face. I do not know why I did that, but a small part of it made the pain subside. Then, in an instant. The pain disappeared. I sat, panting. I dragged myself over to a small pool of water, and stared at my reflection. Looking back was a foreign face. Yes, it was covered in blood. But the structure was clear; I now had only two eyes, and my snout was much shorter; thicker. Where my second eyes used to be was…healed? I am not sure how much more of this I can take.

Day 30
The boiling within my body has returned, and I now know it is the feeling of my molecular DNA altering. I know that in a few days there will be another physical transformation, and I will be once again suffering. I now know that I have indeed grown in length and mass, and the thought troubles me. I feel as though I will be grounded forever. But, this is science, and I will do whatever it takes.

Day 32
My hypothesis was incorrect. It was not a few days, it was the next day. My claws and talons are excruciating. I can’t bear the sight of them, for they have bent and curled in directions that should not happen. I do not look, but I feel the flesh tearing around my outer talons, and I try to contain my anguish. I do the unthinkable and peer at my mangled front feet, and am greeted by the sight of each digit, bent and broken. I see bones poking through my scales, blood clotting around each joint. One talon seems to be farther than the others. I can’t help but feel as though I am going to be sick. And then I am. I continue staring at my claws as they break, not able to look away. Strangely, I watch the skin begin to heal. In no time at all, all the wounds are sealed. They are still covered in my own blood, but they no longer have broken skin. How interesting…

Day 33
I have read and reread Baldwin’s notes. This process should not be this painful. Yet, I am transforming. I do not understand; why has Plaguebringer cursed me. Why does she hate me? I do not know if I can take much more of this transformation. I hope that I will no longer feel the constant pain after I am the new dragon.

Day 40
It has been a week since I last felt pain. I believe I have come to the end of the morphing. My DNA seems to have found a stable state in which to be in, and I no longer feel as though I am boiling. The fans are sensitive, and I have on multiple occasions bumped into shelves. My now binocular vision is strange, and I have yet to fully adjust to it. The sun still is not pleasant, but it does not burn. When I left my cave for the first time in more than a month, my clan-mates were shocked at what I had become. Stormfront threatened to physically remove me from my home, but I reminded her that I am still Riptide, and we are still equals, despite my appearance. I am very pleased with my outcome, despite what I hear dragons whisper about me. I look forward to seeing just what this body has in store for me.
..

..
Riptide had managed to successfully transform himself from a Mirror to a Bognseak, though he greatly suffered for it. He continued to brew his potions, but had to adjust to his new body size. Luckily, one of the perks to this new body is the opposable “thumbs” he now has, making holding vials and glassware much easier. Moons passed and Riptide was eventually accepted by his clan. He was still an outcast, but that was not new. Riptide was very pleased with the transformation, as painful as it was, and plans on potentially seeing if he can create more of the potion to sell.

..

~Story by ShadowFromAbove~

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ARTWORK

~Art by Lokenosse~

Art by SweetToothArt

Vix - meaning 'refine' - This Signum Alchemicus rune symbolizes the chemical compound HgS, mercury sulphide. It can be cast to separate out different ingredients that have been combined previously.

Alternate meanings: Hone, Improve, Perfect, Polish, Temper
~Rune by HereticalSun~

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BREEDING CARD

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