Corvus
(#29424468)
Level 8 Wildclaw
Familiar
Death Seeker
Click or tap to view this dragon in Predict Morphology.
Energy: 0/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Light.
Male Wildclaw
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
4.47 m
Wingspan
6.16 m
Weight
456.8 kg
Genetics
White
Poison
Poison
Obsidian
Paint
Paint
Obsidian
Underbelly
Underbelly
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 8 Wildclaw
EXP: 223 / 16009
STR
8
AGI
9
DEF
6
QCK
5
INT
5
VIT
6
MND
6
Biography
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___________________Corvus___________________
The Crow Gestalt |
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Theme song : Nevermore (Can't Sleep, Crows Will Find Me)
do you hear them cawing?
do you smell the scent of incense? beware of watching eyes Feeding time in the Aviary. It is a simple affair. Anpiel sets out fresh bowls of food, and the birds poke their heads out of the nests. They descend in twittering droves. They snatch up bits of food. Many of them land on Anpiel and chatter excitedly to him. He laughs and replies, but even the birds' brilliant wings cannot hide the shapes of the crows. They are scattered all around the aviary, so that no matter which way Anpiel turns, there is always a black bird, silently watching. The crows need to be fed, too. It is a more trying task. Anpiel is always alone when he feeds the crows. The other dragons of the Hidden Haven know by now that they should stay away. They watch Anpiel ascend the aviary stairs, and then the door is shut and barred behind him. Visitors are distracted with stories and the occasional threat. And Anpiel climbs the stairs. He has a private chamber near the aviary. He prepares himself, washes himself thoroughly and applies special unguents. It is imperative that certain smells don't cling to him. Like the smell of rotten meat. The crows demand fresh meat. (The meat has been prepared beforehand by Anpiel himself. It is generally acquired from outside the lair, harvested from certain beasts. Some of them are hunted. Most of them are farmed. They are bound in caverns deep underground, their chambers filled with perfumed smoke. Their flesh is harvested in an elaborate ceremony involving much chanting in a hundred alien tongues. The dragons who conduct this dangerous task are paid well for their expertise. They are very affluent, for they command high prices, but most of them do not enjoy their money for long. There is something about the animals that changes these dragons. Eventually they are driven deep underground in yet another elaborate ceremony and walled off from the rest of the world. Their families and colleagues have been trained to ignore their screaming and the odd bumps that have begun to wriggle beneath their skin. Changing their faces. Changing their shapes. New farmers are chosen, and so the harvest goes on. You should not worry too much about the beasts. Their meat grows back.) Once Anpiel has bathed himself, he sits in the light. His face is still. Maybe he is thinking deeply...maybe not. On some days, the sun doesn't shine on him. It doesn't matter. The broken halo is still there, glittering above his head. He puts on a fresh tunic. It hides the scars on his skin. He picks up the cask of meat, and away he goes. Like the other dragons, the birds know what will transpire. They huddle in their nests. They cheep fearfully. It is only when the crows come that they fall completely silent. They stay as still as stones. More crows appear, and more. There are always crows in the aviary, but when they smell the meat, the flock swells in size -- until there are crows plugging the cracks in the walls, crows filling up the windows. Blankets of black feathers and glassy obsidian eyes. Always whispering, whispering...whispering. Anpiel whispers back. The crows don't take flight. They simply sweep down in a tidal wave of ink and quills. They swarm over Anpiel. A lesser being would cry out, but he has learned to ignore it. He can even watch as the crows take their meal. Their beaks slice into the meat. There is no blood; they eat so quickly that none escapes. The few drops that spatter their wings vanish quickly into the feathers. Puffs of smoke waft into the air -- for brief moments they can smell heady perfume. There are snatches of chanting in alien tongues. And the sated crows come together. They huddle in a quivering mass, and their gloss becomes an inky gleam. Then, all at once, the dark eyes close. A new pair of eyes opens in the blackness: just two, bright yellow eyes. The blackness breaks open, coalescing into feathered wings. Underneath them is a black-and-white speckled hide, the form of a Wildclaw. Fierce eyes. Gleaming claws. But the eyes shine with a terrible light, and his outline is unclear. The black spots blur, oozing over his white scales. He opens his mouth and lets out a rasping screech. He briefly embraces Anpiel, his claws gouging. Some break through the tunic and rend the other dragon's skin. The wings beat around Anpiel's head. When they break apart, the rasping screech shatters, too. It becomes the voice of many inky crows. They rise up in a single cackling storm. Soon they will be silent, as is customary, when they begin digesting their meal. ~ ~ ~ Despite the Hidden Haven's best efforts, rumors arise. Travelers sometimes stray near the lair. They glimpse a black-and-white Wildclaw stalking through the trees. They hurry forward to ask for help.... The world shivers, or they stumble. Sometimes they hear an odd noise. They look away....When they look back, the Wildclaw is gone. Occasionally a traveler sees something shining in the grass. They are feathers. Most of them are ebony. A few are pearly-white. Rumors have grown from these sightings, of a ghost dragon or a demon with wings like a bird. The rumors are further fueled by those dragons who were last seen near the Hidden Haven before unaccountably disappearing. Sometimes they vanish with a cry and a shout. Other times they just...stop being there. There are usually feathers left on the ground when this happens. A few reports mention the thick scent of incense, barely covering the stink of rotting meat. Brief whispers are heard. Chants in a language no one can recognize. When Anpiel hears of these disappearances, he can't help frowning. He looks at the crows. It may be his imagination, but it seems that every time this happens, the size of the flock grows. By Disillusionist
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Click or tap a food type to individually feed this dragon only. The other dragons in your lair will not have their energy replenished.
This dragon doesn't eat Insects.
Feed this dragon Meat.
This dragon doesn't eat Seafood.
This dragon doesn't eat Plants.
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Exalting Corvus to the service of the Shadowbinder 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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