Mertisal » Lair » Rosevine

Rosevine

(#31148461)

My loyalty is vigilance

Familiar

Thornhide Floron

Energy: 44/50

Personal Style

Apparel

Skin

Scene

Physical Attributes

Battle Stats

Measurements

Length

13.36 m

Wingspan

15.81 m

Weight

11661.22 kg

Genetics

Strawberry
Tapir

Swamp
Daub

Blood
Thylacine

Hatchday

Feb 26, 2017
(7 years)

Breed

Adult
Guardian

Eye Type

Nature
Common

Level 25 Guardian

Max Level

STR

115

AGI

DEF

QCK

INT

VIT

MND

Lineage

Parents

none

Offspring

Biography

Rosevine, Sentinel

Patron god: Mimshra, god of Life and Peace

Eyes: dark green|Gender: Slipstream

Age: ~500
Mates: Bluehour, Spectre
Role: Naturalist, Gatherer, Herbalist
Alignment: Lawful Neutral

He had walked the same paths for years--centuries. The forests changed over time, old trees falling and new ones sprouting up from the loamy soil. Streams diverted onto new paths, or stopped entirely, and fresh springs welled from the earth. The waves beat the sandy shores into new shapes. But it was a slow kind of change, one so gradual that it was impossible to notice while it was happening, like ageing from a hatchling to a grown adult. No one could deny the change, but to pinpoint the moment it happens would be impossible.

Rosevine aged with the forests and the streams and the shores. Their changes were his changes. He walked the ever-changed but ever-same paths, always vigilant.

There had been a storm yesterday. The constant swirling vortex that surrounded the Waypoint’s island chain had shifted, sending torrential rain pounding into the small archipelago. But Rosevine knew the paths just the same, stepping over fallen trees and flooded ditches with practiced ease. He was a massive guardian, heavy and armored, but yet he moved near silently, with only the occasional soft rustle of leaves.

It was routine after a storm to check on the animals of the island, and take them to Terracotta or Poiesis to be healed if they were injured. Rosevine knew there was something injured up ahead. Some kind of feline, probably one of the pygmy tigers, had limped through the mud only a few hours earlier. It would likely try to find a confined space to hide, and Rosevine knew exactly where it was headed.

He was fast and silent. If the rains came again, the tiger would be unable to move to higher ground and drown. These were his forests, his islands, and he would protect them.

The tiger was where he predicted, lodged miserably under an outcropping of granite and turned brown with mud. He reach out with his magic, and the tiger answered to the call of nature. It squirmed out from under the rock, looking up at him with trusting brown eyes. He scooped the cat up in his talons and draped in across his neck, so that its injured back leg wouldn’t be jostled.

Rosevine couldn’t risk flying with the tiger, so he began the wet and muddy walk to one of the tunnel entrances to the Waypoint. The waterlogged tiger chuffed its appreciation at his body heat, and he ignored the cold dampness easily.

Behind him, there was a muffled splash.

With the tiger, he was unable to quickly turn around, so instead he let his breath stream out in a rough hiss, one of the few sounds he was capable of making.

“It’s Surelight, Rosevine. Sorry to startle you.” There were some more quiet splashes and wet footsteps, and then the pale blue pearlcatcher was by his side. His long whiskers, swept in front of him warily, twitched, and he opened his mouth to scent deeply. “A tiger? I don’t smell any blood, so it isn’t too hurt then.”

Rosevine thumped the ground with his tail twice, for yes.

Surelight brightened, his ears fluttering happily. “Ah, good. I’m headed back, too. It’s tiring, constantly being on alert like this.”

Two thumps, yes.

The two friends slowly picked their way back to the Waypoint. They were, Rosevine understood, an odd pair. Not from a personality perspective, though. In that respect, they were almost too similar: quiet, contemplative, content to simply exist and be a part of world. But in other ways, their differences made their friendship difficult. Rosevine didn’t wish that Surelight could see--it would be unfair to want him to be different when he was happy as he was--and Surelight didn’t wish that Rosevine could talk for the same reason. But he did wish it could be easier to communicate, that somehow his usual sign language could make sound for Surelight to hear.

It was fine, though. They made do with what they had, and everything was alright.

"I, Rosevine the Sentinel, vow to do all in my power to heal the wounded, defend the weak, and shelter the outcast. My loyalty is vigilance, and my vigilance is loyalty; all my loyalty to the Waypoint and those we serve. On my life, forest, and wings I do swear."

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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.

Exalting Rosevine to the service of the Tidelord 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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