Pippatis » Lair » Patches

Patches

(#30253754)

The Caring

Vallius

Serthis Potionmaster

Energy: 0/50

Personal Style

Apparel

Skin

Scene

Physical Attributes

Battle Stats

Measurements

Length

28.62 m

Wingspan

20.86 m

Weight

9391.65 kg

Genetics

Ice
Petals

Obsidian
Facet

Dust
Glimmer

Hatchday

Jan 21, 2017
(7 years)

Breed

Adult
Imperial

Eye Type

Plague
Common

Level 25 Imperial

Max Level

STR

117

AGI

DEF

QCK

INT

VIT

MND

Lineage

Parents

Offspring

Biography

Price: 5 gems
First dragon I ever bought. I was so excited to get an imperial, I waited the first 8 days until I had 5 gems from the energy bonus, and bought this kid. I love him.

Loves his mate, his best friend, and his kids. A true family man with love to spare
Honest
Watches his weight
Knows how to tell a creepy story
Not threatening
Sweet

P A T C H E S

• Plague Ambassador • Giant Softie •

O R I G I N

Not long after Patches and his siblings, Revolutionary and Savior were born, their parents brought them on a customary trip far from their lair in the Wyrmwound. It was a test of will, training to ensure that their hatchlings would not be weak. In their clan emotions and sympathy were seen as fickle, and had no place in the Wasteland where tacit soldiers were highly valued. Patches was a sentimental kid, so he knew his parents would be toughest on him.

However, on the edge of the Abiding Boneyard where massive skeletons and bone cages obstructed their view of the sky, their training was interrupted by a huge swarm of Raptorik warriors and Tengu callers. Unfortunately, his father Eclipse took the brunt of the ambush, and fell. The remaining four scattered, and Patches fainted from shock while being carried in his sister's arms.

...

When he awoke, he was alone. He stood slowly, stretching his sore limbs. Surrounded by rotting tendrils and grotesque forms, he did not recognize his location. Feeling exhausted and confused, Patches tried to remember clearly what had just transpired. Upon realization that his family was gone, he began to panic.

"Mom? Dad!" He cried out, as he ran frantically through the mess of bulbous vines. One of the wretched things caught his foot, sending him spiraling forward, toppling him into a clearing. His landing was not a pretty one, as he fell right into an unidentified rotting corpse with an exposed ribcage, shattering it and sending fragments into his shoulder.

"Agh!" He winced and clutched his shoulder, painfully tearing out the shards. He knew the dangers of infections borne in his homeland, even though he was a Plague dragon himself. His elemental alliance by default provided him immunity to most strains of illness from the Scarred Wasteland, but his parents had taught him to take no chances. Patches hastily abandoned the corpse and curled up near the side of the clearing close to some dead weeds, weeping to himself for the loss of his family. The weeds reminded him vaguely of his bed at home, and it helped to ease the shock. He lay there for a while, until he heard a different voice, also calling out for help.

"Hello? Hello!" Patches' ears shot up upon hearing this new, young, male voice, but it was unfamiliar.

"Hello? Help! Is anyone there?" The voice sounded to be getting closer to him, and he begun to fidget. The bearer of the voice would likely find him soon, and he wondered if he should run. Then, it came one more time - "Brother! Are you there?" - and Patches decided to seek out the caller.

He cautiously took a step forward, before a figure much smaller than Patches came crashing through the shrubbery. Both of them gasped, as Patches recognized the child, who had a humanoid torso and a long, reptilian and limbless snakelike body, as being from the Serthis race. His parents warned him about the Serthis, describing them as a murderous, backstabbing race that only cared about strength and survival of the fittest. Kind of like his own clan in the Wyrmwound, but far more brutal.

"H-hello?" The child stammered anxiously upon seeing the young dragon. "Uh, could you help me? I've lost my clan."

Patches tilted his head, feeling empathetic. Even if the Serthis were a bloodthirsty race, he couldn't seem to distrust this child. The kid probably even had good reason to believe that Patches would eat him for lunch. "You're lost, huh?" He asked, temporarily forgetting his own trauma.

"Uh-huh. I went out with my brothers on a hunting trip, but when they found prey they left me behind. They always do that," the child responded quietly, tugging nervously at his coat. "But this time I don't know where I am."

Resting his ears, Patches sighed. The child's story reminded him of his own situation. "Well, I haven't seen any of your kind around here, but maybe I can help you look for your clan."

"Really? Thanks!" The kid exclaimed excitedly, straightening up. "I'm Vallius, but you can call me Valley for short. What's your name?"

Patches raised an eyebrow. For a Serthis child, he was surprisingly polite. Maybe that's why his clan abandoned him, but in that case, there was no point in returning him. "My name is Patches. Uh, it's nice to meet you." He responded. "Shall we?"

Vallius nodded with a smile, and the unlikely duo began to travel, walking along the edge of the Contagion in search of his clan, and Patches searched for his family.

They wandered for maybe a mile, with no luck. Patches found himself desiring food, but fresh meat was next to impossible to find in the Contagion, and he wouldn't consider eating his new Serthis friend. Any plants there were beyond dead and rotted. He did not care for insects, even though there was no shortage of the nasty critters in the festering tumors of the Plaguelands. If he remembered correctly from what he had heard from his clanmates, though, they were very close to the edge of the Tsunami Flats on the border of the water God's territory, where the imperials of his clan always used to hunt for seafood. He could almost smell the salt water, and began straying towards what he thought was the beach.

"Hey, did you find someone?" Valley called after Patches, quickly noticing his change of direction.

"Oh, uh, no..." Patches answered, "But I'm hungry, aren't you?" He clambered into an open, sandy area and was disappointed not to see water anywhere in sight. It must have been farther along.

"Wait up!" Vallius rushed to catch up with his companion in the clearing, not wanting to be left behind again.

Suddenly, Patches heard rustling in the brambles behind him, and he whirled around to find the source of the noise. Valley pulled out his small knife, brandishing it in fear of the sound. Soon they saw the source of the movement, as an adult Serthis warrior bent down in preparation to pounce. Slowly, more Serthis revealed themselves from the shrubs, and their intentions were not desirable. Patches, in horror, realized they were surrounded.

Within minutes the two children were crowded by the fighters, who were highly concerned with achieving the kill of a dragon. Patches, who was already somewhat larger than they were, fought back fiercely, using his claws and teeth to strike down soldier after soldier as they came at him. They attacked him at all sides, stabbing at him with their spears and firing at him with their arrows. Some of them attempted to poison him with their dangerous concoctions, but luckily, his Plague element rendered him invulnerable to their toxins. Just as he felt the triumph of beating one of their forms of assault, he was injured by another as one of their assassins drove a knife into his flank. Patches let out a roar of pain, flapping his enormous wings in attempt to intimidate the horde. They scattered, and Patches spotted Vallius on the other side of the clearing, unconscious. They had injured him, as well.

"Valley!" Patches cried, figuring this was as good a time as any to run. He jumped from the horde, stretching his wings to catch the current. Soon he was airborne, but even having been assaulted by the same kind, he couldn't leave his new Serthis friend behind. He swooped down, grabbing Valley in his arms, and flew as hard as he could towards the Sea of a Thousand Currents.

Hours later, Patches' wounds and hunger were taking a great toll on him. As he flew he could feel
intense pains from his legs, shoulders, stomach and tail. There was no way he could keep himself in the sky for much longer, but he couldn't just land, either - not in the water. He had to get himself and Valley to the land. Clutching the Serthis to his chest, Patches told himself to continue, there was no way he'd make it back home now. It would only be a little longer. He could land on the beach. Find a new home, maybe. He was almost there...

_THE MATRIARCH_

____As the great guardian surveyed the area around her new charge in the Highland Scrub, Galeca spotted a white snakelike form in the dark sand down below. Something seemed odd about the shape, something that instinctively drew the guardian closer. She landed gracefully in front of the form, leaning down to take a closer look.

A hatchling, she thought. It must have fallen here before the sandstorm last night. She pawed at the sand covering the hatchling's limbs, gently rolling over its body to check for wounds. Still breathing. Galeca frowned, seeing that his hind quarters and tail were practically perforated by serrated blades, some of which were still present.

"Those beastclans, to come after a child..." She sighed. Removing the sand from around his body, finally she saw the tiny form fall from the hatchling's arms. "Is that... a Serthis?" The guardian thought aloud, gasping softly. Those weapons look just like those belonging to the Serthis, what on Sornieth was this child protecting his enemy for?

Regardless, Galeca scooped up both of the children, intending to care for them both back at her own newly formed lair. Maybe this imperial would become a part of her charge.

...

When Patches awoke this time, it was in a dark place, enveloped by huge fresh leaves and soft sand. The edges of the leaves were beginning to curl, being in such close proximity to a Plague aligned dragon. Still, the freshness and life of the plants were a comfort to Patches. They so contrasted his upbringing, and in a positive way.

He lifted up his head, rubbing his eyes and taking in his surroundings.

_THE MATRIARCH_

____His legs were especially stiff, and he glanced back to see that his wounds had been wrapped in bandages. Next to him lay Valley, sleeping soundly - whose injuries had also been tended to. He could sense that there was more life in the cave than just them, though, as he could just make out the silhouettes of at least four other hatchlings resting quietly in the darkness.

Out of curiosity - and hunger - Patches pushed himself off the bed to explore the place. He headed towards the entrance, dragging his tail behind him and limping on his injured leg. The sun shone brightly, and he shielded his eyes from the sudden change. He could hear booming in the distance, but could not identify the sound. Once his eyes adjusted, they caught the great form of a dark blue guardian dragon standing at the edge of the cliff.

He opened his mouth to speak, but hesitated. The guardian turned from her perch to face him, anyways, and paced over to greet him.

"Good morning, child." She began, leaning down to survey him, analyzing him with her bright blue eyes. Patches fearfully took a step backward, knowing he had no chance if this dragon were to become hostile. "You shouldn't be up and about, dear. Your wounds need time to heal. Are you hungry? There is plenty of food inside the cave. My daughter Erie can help you to find it if needed."

Patches nodded nervously, and started to return to the safety of the cave. But he paused, looking back at the guardian as she watched him. "Where am I?" He squeaked, uncertain of how to take this substantial change of scenery.

"Child, you are in the Shifting Expanse." The guardian answered calmly, with a hint of a smile on her face. "And as long as you stay, I will keep you safe."

Bio template by Mibella, find it here.

I just realized that the Serthis Potionmaster's tooltip is a reference to Snape
SNAPE.
WHAT THE F@*#
Now I'm even happier that's the one I picked

Anyways, here's good ol' Val.

Sweet art by pheelthemoment!

...

As Patches took a step into the crumbling, dark structures that were the Ghostlight Ruins, his nose wrinkled up. He resisted the urge to withdraw his whiskers, one of which he kept entwined with his mate's, the others he used to better analyze his surroundings, to see what his eyes couldn't.

"What is that smell?" He asked, curling his lip and squinting into the darkness.

"Is it the decay?" Winterkin answered, but quieted. Patches grinned slightly, recognizing her realization. Because he was a plague dragon, such things did not affect him.

"I think... it's the dust." Patches began, taking a look around. "The tatters, the metal..." He trailed off. He knew they were close. Winterkin watched him, lowering her head in respect. She knew what it reminded him of.

They continued through the rocks and debris. The only sounds that echoed through the structures were the thorns snapping, the dirt sifting beneath their feet. Occasionally the wind would pick up, howling softly through the cracks and circulating the dust about.

Suddenly, Patches stopped dead in his tracks, causing their whiskers to separate. Winterkin paused again, turning her head back towards him. His expression was blank, but she could sense his fear, and his hatred.

"We won't be here much longer." She assured him, smiling gently. Of course, she didn't know that. They might not even find what they came to retrieve. Not only were these ruins vast, but the beastclans may have taken it or destroyed it, knowing it was the property of a dragon. However, the scarf would likely be a source of noise, what with all the adornments attached to it.

Winterkin chuckled softly. "I shall have to lecture Paranon to keep better track of her things," She thought aloud, hoping to distract her mate. "She'll buy herself a new scarf if we don't locate it."

Patches sighed, telling himself to snap out of it. "No, we'll find it." He shook his head, unlocking his legs and moving forward. "It's important to her."

Winterkin nodded, and proceeded, with a hint of a smile on her face. Patches followed along, keeping his focus on her for encouragement. Taking a hold again of her whisker, he picked up his pace. The sooner they found the scarf, the sooner they'd be able to go home. Luckily, too, if any beastclans were present, they were hiding - their attacks had to be planned and calculated if they were to succeed. Winterkin, too, was an experienced warrior. Patches calmed himself with these thoughts.

Soon, they entered an area surrounded by surprisingly sturdy walls, considering the state of the rest of the place. There was no ceiling, but it was enclosed enough that if they were attacked, they wouldn't easily be able to escape. They were trapped, yet exposed.

"This looks like the area she described to me... What have I taught her? Why would she put herself in such a dangerous place?" Winterkin scolded, to no one in particular.

Patches peered up through the ceiling, at the sky. It was cloudy and dark, as if it were forever obscured by the smoke of Shadow magic. His ears twitched as the wind carried the faint sound of tiny bells ringing through the air. "Do you hear that?" He asked, pointing his ears toward the chimes.

"Yes!" Winterkin exclaimed, lifting her head. "Hopefully, that's it!" She stepped through an archway in the direction the sound came from, but then a swarm of Greybeak Reapers, Tatterwing Carcasses and Wendigos appeared, also responding to the chimes. They surrounded Winterkin's head on the other side of the archway, already slashing at her with their scythes and claws.

Patches jumped forward, glaring at the horde, but he couldn't reach them. Winterkin blocked the archway with her size, but she quickly pulled herself back in, keeping her underside covered. "Come on, that way! We need to reach an open space!" She pointed to the entrance they had come through, but Patches pushed her through first, turning back to face their attackers. "Patches! Don't fight them yourself!" She cried back to him, grabbing his leg and pulling him with her.

"I can take care of them!" Patches shouted emphatically, but Winterkin shushed him, fearing that they'd attract more monsters still. He resisted her pushing, wanting to protect her from harm. Soon they reached a clearing, and the monsters chased after them. With Patches still behind her, Winterkin stood up, facing them. She scratched and snapped at them, keeping her wings open so they couldn't reach Patches.

Patches could only watch, there was no space for him to join the fight. Even in this more open space, there was little room within the ruins. However, Patches was strong, but he had not been trained - Winterkin had. She had the advantage in this fight.

Thankfully the monsters were far outclassed; Winterkin understood the tactics she used, and she used them well. Still, they were strong, and managed to injure her somewhat. Once the Reapers were defeated, the remaining monsters fled, leaving Patches and Winterkin in the clearing. Winterkin stood, relaxing her wings, but she staggered on her wounded arm.

"Winterkin!" Patches gasped worriedly, regretting being unable to help during the fight. He rushed to her aid, standing against her and supporting her weight, when he looked forward and saw it. "There!" He gestured towards a post sticking out of one of the entrances to the structure they had previously been caught in. On the post was the scarf, hanging down like a flag, jingling with the currents. He left Winterkin for a second to grab it, and rushed back. Winterkin was recovering quickly, though - she had brought some of Tropic's potions, and they helped immensely once the battle was over. They weren't a replacement for long term recovery, but they'd certainly do for the trip home.

"All right, then..." Winterkin sighed, holding her head low as Patches draped a wing over her. He kept close to her body, lifting some of her weight again so she could walk more easily. "Let's go home, shall we?" Even after having been attacked, Winterkin was grinning. Patches glanced uncertainly at her, but of course agreed, thankful to once again be heading towards safety and out of this forsaken place.

As they traveled home, Winterkin chattered about how she was going to scold their daughter, practicing her lecture with Patches. She seemed very upbeat, even triumphant after the attack; but Patches' mind stayed back within those ruins.

He found himself hoping that someday, eventually, he could get revenge on those Talonok - both for his family, and now for his mate.

___________________________________________________________________________________

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