UnhappyJoker » Lair » Fleur

Fleur

(#30760942)

Level 10 Skydancer

Familiar

Deadwood Boar

Energy: 0/50

Personal Style

Apparel

Skin

Scene

Physical Attributes

Battle Stats

Measurements

Length

5.23 m

Wingspan

5.42 m

Weight

402.82 kg

Genetics

Bubblegum
Iridescent

Rose
Shimmer

Robin
Opal

Hatchday

Feb 11, 2017
(7 years)

Breed

Adult
Skydancer

Eye Type

Wind
Common

Level 10 Skydancer

EXP: 287 / 27676

STR

AGI

DEF

QCK

INT

VIT

MND

Lineage

Parents

none

Offspring

none

Biography

outfit in progress

FLEUR
elegance | fire | queen

TRIGGER WARNING: Violence!

Fleur tapped a carefully manicured claw on the snout of the quivering bat-with-wings which was held suspended before her, and the clearing echoed with the reverberation, an achingly dull “thump.” Her lips parted slowly, revealing a sickeningly sweet grin, her trademark smile. It had translated so well to her publicity campaign, and has the masses eating out of her claws, begging for more. This thought widened her smile, and in the dim light of dawn tooth and fang shone brightly.

In the depths of her lived a sinister heart, one she had learned to hide well behind her mask of elegance and refinement. In this moment, however, malice leached off of her as smoke rises from a fire. The poor beast held out before her guessed his fate, and how could he not, he had crossed the last dragoness of the Nightingale Empire. He squawked in fear, and closed his eyes against the sight of her, babbling incoherently in his native tongue. Fleur placed a sharpened claw beneath his chin and pulled his gaze upwards to meet her own, droplets of blood dripping down her claw as she cut into the resistant beasts soft throatlatch. She paid it no mind, and as the first rays of dawn danced upon the opascent markings which caressed her muzzle and marked her with such exquisite beauty, she chuffed in amusement. He was her prey now, and she enjoyed playing with her food.

Shaken not stirred, was just fine with her.

He had made a grave mistake, trying to undercut the market with his inferrior product. Fleur thought for a moment and spoke very softly, “You were never safe in the lands of Shadow, little bat. Had you come to me, served me, today you would be flying home to that pretty mate of yours, nuzzling your hatchlings, and feasting upon my profits.” She paused for a moment, letting the quivering of the little beast flow into her, his fear exciting her. Her eyes flared, and she continued, “Instead...instead I will rip your wings from you, and you will crawl, crawl away from here. You will crawl as fast as you can, your feet scratching the ground, slipping in your own blood as it pours from you...and maybe if you are very, very lucky, little bat, you will make it to the edge of this forest before you die.” She had a voice akin to the sound of the wind as it caresses a smooth stone, a voice as sweet as a mother's lullaby, and as callous as the breaking of the colossus.

She flicked her tail as if to shoo a fly, and the little beast let out a blood curdling scream of pain and fear as the great bogsneak which held it to the right grasped the first joint of its wings and began to pull, snapping the bones and ripping the skin from muscle. Fleur never let him drop his gaze from her own, his eyes as large as saucers now, his mouth wide, his tongue rolling in agony and anguish. She let out a hiss, “You see, little bat, I hope you make it. I know how much you will want to see your mate, and your clutch, just one...last...time.” As her meaning sunk into the mind of the beast, the guttural howling intensified.

Fleur dropped her claw, and wiped it on the cloth offered promptly by her assistant. She did not turn to look at either him, the mutilated nocturne, nor her enforcers, as she carefully cleaned the blood from her feathers. “Karin,” she said as if speaking to herself, “take care of this, and send whatever is left to his, associates, promptly.” She lifted her claw to her face and looked at it with much scrutiny, before shoving it into the nose of the waiting Tundra, “Does this look like it might stain?”

“No, mam, but I can have a manicurist called to meet you at the grove for when you land if you would so like?” replied a quiet looking tundra, his fur the color of cotton candy and winterberries, Karin, assistant to Madame Fleur. “Hum, yes do that.” Fleur tossed the retort over her shoulder as she crouched to launch her graceful lith form into flight. “Oh, and be sure to get this done quickly, I have a job you need to do.” With that, the plumed dragoness launched herself from the grove and into the dawn, leaving only a shadow in her wake, and the eyes of the Tundra upon her. He shook his head in amusement once she was out of sight, and then called over a messenger, relaying the instructions for the manicurist. The small swift dragon fluttered up and away rapidly, flying fast, its life depended upon it reaching the lair before the Madam did.

Karin turned back to the bogsneaks, now cleaning up, licking the blood from their scales, and snapped as he strode by, “Get back to headquarters, the Madame flies out for the Bright Shine Festival at dawn tomorrow, arrange for the flight security to be ready at 0500. Crow will fly as soon as the Madame is ready.” They turned and bared their fangs at him, which he returned with a rumbling growl. They knew their places, and slowly began to able off towards the deep woods, likely to take the slowest path, one with lots of mud holes to wallow in. Bogsneaks Karin thought with some level of annoyance, before he refocused his mind on the task ahead.

The little nocturne had not gotten far. His blood colored the soil of the woods a deep rust, and the smell was overwhelming. He was dragging himself by his front legs, obviously the boys had gotten a little rougher than they were told, as the poor sods back legs were useless. Karin approached silently, the only sound to be heard was the desperate breathing of the dying nocturne, what was his name, thought Karin...Rinsilk. Karin approached him softly, unseen or heard, as was his specialty, and before Rinsilk knew what was happening Karin had snapped his neck between his jaws ending his life and his suffering. His family wasn't actually there, at the edge of the woods. They were dead, all but a male egg, who would be raised to serve the Madame. This way there would be less mess to clean up. Such a flair for the dramatic she has Karin thought as he carried the carcass back into the woods, my Fleur.

^{you are ice and fire --

the touch of you burns my hands like snow}

lore by @Elextra

without apparel

gjinka by @BandedLake

art by @anubis

art by @nerdysnivy

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0/1000

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Exalting Fleur 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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