Ranzarc » Lair » Ruin

Ruin

(#24296982)

Level 25 Imperial

Familiar

Scroll Stealer

Energy: 0/50

Personal Style

Apparel

Skin

Scene

Physical Attributes

Battle Stats

Measurements

Length

20.98 m

Wingspan

15.55 m

Weight

8123.2 kg

Genetics

Midnight
Iridescent

Midnight
Shimmer

Flint
Crackle

Hatchday

Jun 08, 2016
(7 years)

Breed

Adult
Imperial

Eye Type

Plague
Common

Level 25 Imperial

Max Level

STR

119

AGI

DEF

QCK

INT

VIT

MND

Lineage

Parents

Offspring

Biography

༻ R U I N ༺

^{cruel | remorseless | curious}

_{O C C U P A T I O N}
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^{Occupation Here}

_{F A M I L Y}
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^{Family Here}

_{F A M I L I A R}
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^{Familiar Here}

_{A R T}
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^{Art Here}

_{A L L E G I A N C E}
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^{Flag Here}

_{W E A P O N}
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^{Weapon Here}

྿

^STR
_{██░░░░░░░░░░}
^INT
_{█████████░░░}
^AGI
_{████░░░░░░░░}

^MAG
_{█████░░░░░░░}
^CHA
_{███████████░}
^VIT
_{███░░░░░░░░░}

"Insert quote here."

⚔^{- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -}

Perhaps once in millennia, once in a thousand years, comes a shift within the binding codes of blood. Something engineered, written and carved in stone, blood rushing in the ears. A sudden force, an emptiness inside. And the creature born from this emptiness, the silence and dull, monotonous thuds, is unfeeling, numb, born without a trace of remorse. It's a vaguely disturbing thought, a cold, detached curiosity. A creature immune to pain, to loss, to thought and love. A creature whose very presence brings forth destruction, death staining brutal claws in seeping shades of red, the scent of smoke and burning flesh. Infatuated with death, with suffering and hopeless cries. A monster with bone-deep hate beating in its heart, flowing through its veins, glinting from behind crimson eyes as talons are raised to strike a final blow.

It had never occurred to him to think about his past. It had been far too easy to forget, born in some obscure lair of the Wyrmound, to a clan of dragons he had not cared to learn the names of. He had never cared for participating in games or making childish friends or petty relationships as the other hatchlings had; he had never quite understood the point, the purpose of friendship. Emotions had bewildered him, and he had never made the effort to understand everyone else. Never understood why dragons would back away from him, recoil, flinch as if struck. No matter. He took care of them in his own time.

These memories, of camp, sunlight and something they called horror glinting in dragons’ eyes, had blurred and dulled into a dark mass in Ruin’s mind. Nothing comparable to the sharp edges of the first time he had seen blood, smelled death, heard wails and screams of pain. The first time he had felt truly alive, a curiosity stirring in his mind, something more than the monotonous haze that had accompanied him through the years of his youth. What did it mean, to die? How come the effects known as love, the disease of hate and happiness and sadness could be reversed, yet lives could slip forever between his claws? Wounds healed and joy forgotten, but death left a permanent mark, a scar and a blemish, left pain and torn upon chests in its wake. And Ruin wanted, needed, to know more, more, more. The all powerful force, an unrelinquishing pull and tug that not even the strongest could evade. Perhaps, if he were to discover the true meaning of death, he would cease to be so dead inside.

And to know the meaning, to know the feel and purpose of death, Ruin himself would inevitably be needed to cause it. And so began his experiments, claws sliding across tender throats. Blood frothing and spewing, glassed over eyes and the dull thuds of bodies hitting the earth. Something within...the empty monster that lived and breathed and consumed within him purred with delight, the only inklings of emotion Ruin had ever witnessed. Corruption and greed, and loss and suffering, all cut short with a single swipe of silver talons. Pain was a concept he found confusing, for tooth and claw passed harmlessly over his hide, for the beads and streams of red that flowed from his flesh meant nothing to him. It couldn’t hurt him, it couldn’t hurt him, it couldn’t hurt him.

art by Nadjari

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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 Ruin 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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