Andromecha » Lair » Cucurbita

Cucurbita

(#24300769)

Level 1 Skydancer

Familiar

Striped Crecko

Energy: 47/50

Personal Style

Apparel

Skin

Scene

Physical Attributes

Battle Stats

Measurements

Length

4.22 m

Wingspan

4.71 m

Weight

443.76 kg

Genetics

Spring
Skink

Marigold
Toxin

Pumpkin
Spines

Hatchday

Jun 08, 2016
(7 years)

Breed

Adult
Skydancer

Eye Type

Arcane
Common

Level 1 Skydancer

EXP: 0 / 245

STR

AGI

DEF

QCK

INT

VIT

MND

Lineage

Parents

none

Offspring

none

Biography

C U C U R B I T A

Witch of the Mire • Lover of Amphibians • Potions Maker

_____________________

You part the cluster of hanging vines blocking your way, the once musty odor of decaying detritus giving way to something cloyingly sweet as the permanent fog takes on an almost playful hue. You realize at once that it is no longer the fog of the mire that you have been fastidiously wading through these past hours, but the smoke cascading from an unattended cauldron that stands vigil over the alcove you have unknowingly wandered into. A nauseating mix of purples and reds layer a truly unappealing tint over the surrounding swamp, and the heat from the fire drives the humidity in the air up by a noticeable degree. If you were not already sweating before, you most certainly are now.

Unbekwonst to you, the very owner of this place watches your ingress into the clearing from the canopy. They idly run their claw over the gnarled wood of their lute, watching you with keen interest from under their mop of sickly, vine-adorned hair. They smirk, a low chortle passing from their lips as they begin to pluck a jaunty little tune on their instrument. The sound does not register to you, nor does their presence, all you know is the warmth of the clearing enveloping you and staving off the chill of the fog.

The wood pops, the sound deafening in your ears, and you notice suddenly that the sounds from the fire are the only ones you can hear. The swamp has gone eerily silent from the moment the smell hit your nostrils. But you are not perturbed. Indeed, you feel a sense of calm and warmth and the feeling that you are safe here wells up inside you. You figure there would be no harm in stopping to rest for a while; surely the owner of this camp wouldn't mind?

The onlooker cackles now as they look on with glee in their glinting eyes and the dirge of their lute picks up in a delighted fervor. Still, you do not hear them, for the water is so warm and comforting. You think you would like to go to sleep now; just for a little while. Your audience of one crows in satisfaction as your head dips below the surface, and you know not what they will do from here on, as you will no longer know anything. All anyone will know is that the Witch of the Mire has claimed another.

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Parents often tell their children not to go venturing into the swamps alone, and for many reasons, this is sound advice. The swamps are dangerous, they say, any number of vicious and feral beasts roam the muck. There exist predators of all kinds that are just waiting for an unsuspecting traveler to make a wrong step so that they can snap their jaws tight and never let go.

But no predator is more dangerous, more unnerving, and more deserving of its reputation than the Witch of the Mire. The Tempter of Fates. The Harbinger of the End. The Foulest Omen. They have many names, and none know their true face or motivations; only that if ever see a lone cauldron or hear the sound of whimsical instruments from beyond the thicket- you turn around and run in the other direction. You don't stop or turn back, and you pray the scent of myrrh hasn't invaded your senses.

Many would call them rumors, but there still yet exists many a tale of people roaming off from their camp in the midst of the night to never return. As if they were lured away by some siren song of the swamps. Many more stories still, wherein a traveling companion struggles to keep their friends from wandering off to the very same fate- reporting of a trance-like state their friends had been in prior to being forcefully pulled away from the treeline. And still, more of the tragic recounts of those who had not been strong enough to stop possessed loved ones from rushing into the darkness.

They say this is the work of the Witch. They say to meet with the Witch is to meet with an unsavory end, but in truth, no one knows what happens to these unfortunate souls. Only that they are never seen again. Some absurdly believe them to be reformed into the many beasts that plague the Mire. Maybe there is a kernel of truth to this. Maybe not.

Sisters of the Trade

Raine

Vida

Lavena

***

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Exalting Cucurbita to the service of the Arcanist 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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