Poplica
(#24326764)
Level 1 Nocturne
Familiar
Princess Petal Gecko
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Energy: 0/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Arcane.
Male Nocturne
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
5.92 m
Wingspan
4.68 m
Weight
727.19 kg
Genetics
Pearl
Cherub
Cherub
Amber
Current
Current
Gloom
Basic
Basic
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 1 Nocturne
EXP: 0 / 245
STR
7
AGI
6
DEF
7
QCK
6
INT
6
VIT
6
MND
7
Lineage
Parents
- none
Offspring
- none
Biography
Poplica
Proud/Studious/Reckless
Lifewarper
Proud/Studious/Reckless
Lifewarper
  
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Suspended upside down from a rocky ledge in a midsize cavern, he pores over the thick, archaic-looking scroll, nimble Nocturne claws twisting and nudging the paper in exact increments as his eyes demand. A faint, pink-and-gold-tinged light suffuses his body...or perhaps that is just the luster of his scales in the torchlight. He straightens at a soft sound. His eyes, naturally pink, are unnaturally sunken--he hasn't slept in many days. The light of life in them seems to waver, alternately dead and void, seeing nothing, and brimming feverishly with intelligence and interest. He turns his head left, then right, searching with ears as much as eyes for the sound. But it has stopped. Probably someone traversing the adjacent tunnels. No matter. He returns to the scroll, digging his aft claws deeper into the ledge to hold himself steady. Below, a deeper shadow crouches at the base of the rock wall. Twin pinpoints of pink fire, matching the reader's exactly, stare up at him with interest...or possibly hunger. Poplica has been a powerful mage since the moment he hatched. One of those insufferable beings who seems to have everything figured out at a ridiculously young age, and for whom things just seem to happen, without any hard work or even attention. This may be because he is relentlessly charming as well as talented...or because his Arcane magic manifests in the form of illusion and manipulation of other life forms. He is unmistakable in any gathering because of his uniquely colored scales, and learned early to combine that and his magic to his advantage by being a gracious, if two-faced, guest and conversationalist. Many know of him. Very few actually know him. Almost all would do anything for him after just a moment's conversation. The only thing Poplica truly cares for is his magic. He cares nothing for morals and uses those around him to experiment on, if they let him get close enough. His magic requires breath-sharing to have full effect: he needs to be in close enough proximity to the one he intends to charm that they are breathing the other's expelled air. The dragons of Stonehearth, upon learning this, have presented a united front in allowing him to live among them, but giving him a fairly wide berth. This suits Poplica just fine; he can always take a dragon unawares if he really needs to, and anyway, the dragons of Stonehearth are uniformly dull, aside from a few interesting sparks. There is no reason to attempt to sway their opinions of him; they aren't useful, and anyway, his magic fades about a sunlength after he and the affected part company. One exceptional "spark" is the Imperial Candor, who, despite loathing Poplica's youth and power, waited only a few days before offering himself as Poplica's student. The dragon was desperate to be able to perform Arcane magic; desperate enough to ignore his own pride and submit to a being barely one-tenth his size. At their first meeting, his only requirement was to see Poplica's full power in action--child's play! Or so Poplica thought. He readily agreed. He intended to use his full power to seduce Candor completely. Let him debase himself for a while, then leave to give him time to come back to his senses and see what he'd done. To enhance the effect, he invited Candor to join him in his own Cavern, which, while not small by any means, was never meant to accommodate the full length of an Imperial. They were uncomfortably close, enough so that their breath and bodies began heating the air almost immediately. Perfect. And Candor knew nothing about his particular type of magic yet. Candor says that Poplica began his spell by breathing deeply, going almost into a trance. It was hypnotic, he says, to watch his body move and see the glimmers of his pink-gold magic begin to appear, first around his claws and then seeping up to coat his body in a shimmering net of pure magic. At the height, only his eyes were visible, gleaming pink, the pupils fully dilated and staring into nothing. And the pink-gold sheen kept growing brighter and brighter, until Candor had to close his eyes and turn away, the image of Poplica's body seared behind his eyelids. A crack! And a strange, two-toned thump. When Candor was able to open his eyes and turn back, he saw not one, but two Nocturnes sprawled before him, their limbs tangled, colors night and day, looking as oddly matched as any dragons he had ever seen. Their eyes, though. Their eyes were open, staring at him in confusion and not a little horror, just as he was staring at them. And those eyes were exactly the same. Brilliant pink, pupils blown. Poplica refuses to admit that he still doesn't understand completely what happened. When asked, he says that Candor is so impervious to Arcane magic that his spell rebounded. Somehow, instead of convincing Candor of his superiority and excellence, putting him under his control, Poplica's own view of himself was shattered and split, reborn into two entities: the Poplica-that-was, and the new Nocturne, Marasch. What was lost? Gained? How can you tell? Poplica doesn't know. Sometimes, he feels almost normal. Sometimes, it feels as though half of his soul has been ripped away, and he is watching himself through his own eyes...but not his eyes. He tries to ignore it, mostly. He studies himself and Marasch relentlessly, ferreting out texts that even Atronas was previously unaware of on body and mind-magic. He and Marasch are rarely seen apart; with every step he takes away from him, Poplica feels himself grow weaker, and assumes that Marasch feels the same. Marasch will not speak of what he actually feels. He is a strange, mostly silent entity, a shadow just as Poplica seems to be a shadow of his former self. It would be easier if they were exactly twinned. That has been noted before. But at times, Marasch seems so much older...as though a different entity entirely is staring out of Poplica's duplicated eyes. Poplica will never admit it, but he believes Marasch to be a great failing, not a triumph of new magic. He should have known that Candor was immune, or should at least have factored in the possibility. His Guardian, Oriens, is similarly immune. There was precedent. And the Imperial continues to hound him for lessons, believing that the creation of Marasch was the intent of Poplica's spell, entirely dumb to the fact that he will never be able to learn what Poplica can do even if he deigns to teach him. He longs to leave Stonehearth but cannot in his current state. Even if he felt strong enough to try, Oriens would forbid it. So he buries himself in his studies and watches Marasch always, barely sleeping to avoid missing any crucial data that should present itself. It is a miserable existence. Perhaps someday, he will find a way to undo it. |
Genes Needed:
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Bought from, and art by, Necrowmancer.
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Bought from, and art by, Necrowmancer.
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