undercoverdragon's dragon Brutus

Personal Style

Apparel

Skin

Scene

Physical Attributes

Battle Stats

Measurements

Length

5.54 m

Wingspan

5.27 m

Weight

998.69 kg

Genetics

White
Ripple

Strawberry
Current

White
Thylacine

Hatchday

Mar 22, 2017
(7 years)

Breed

Adult
Bogsneak

Eye Type

Shadow
Uncommon

Level 8 Bogsneak

EXP: 8268 / 16009

STR

AGI

DEF

QCK

INT

VIT

MND

Lineage

Parents

Offspring

Biography

BRUTUS

from
Frozen Writer:
Soul Shores
chapter 12

Brutus stood up straight, his hands closed together before him around the handles to his case. His white coat had gotten a little dusty on the trek over here, and his rust-red trousers had gotten very dusty, but he wasn't too worried about it. A man who wore a white coat chose either to worry about nothing or everything, and Brutus was a simple man who didn't let dust get in the way of his endeavors.

After a few moments, Brutus raised one hand and knocked again, his knuckles rapping sharply against the wood in a practiced rhythm that mixed urgency with importance, without seeming presumptuous or hasty. He replaced his hand and waited a little longer.

It was a few more moments before the door finally opened, revealing a flagpole of a man, wearing a beaten-down coat and threadbare yellowish gloves. He looked on Brutus with a wary gaze, his wiry mouth etched into a frown. Behind him, deeper into the house, Brutus could see a much shorter young man with a round face and a curious expression.

"Ithuriel Denver, I presume?"

The man opened the door a little wider, his expression melting down into confusion. "Yes?"

Brutus smiled. "Ah. I thought so. Brutus Mayhew." He held out his hand to shake, which Mr. Denver accepted with only a slight hesitation. "May I enter?"

"Uh," said Mr. Denver. "What is this about? I'm... in the middle of work."

"Well, then, isn't that perfect! I'm here about your work, Mr. Denver."

"I'm not really in a position right now to sell anything, Mr. Mayhew-"

"Oh, no, no, you have me all wrong, sir." Brutus left his case to hang by his left side while his right hand doffed his hat, revealing a well-trimmed head of strawberry-blonde hair. He held his hat courteously before his chest. "I am a representative from the New York Society of Upstanding Scientists. I am here to review your lab and ensure that it is up to our standards."

Mr. Denver's eyes hazed over as he tried to recollect the society of which Brutus spoke. He interrupted the young man's thoughts by saying, "We're newly sanctioned by city hall, and it is in both of our best interests to ensure that scientific research being performed all throughout the city is honorable. If your study is something of some interest to the community, you may be asked to join our ranks, and all of the benefits therein."

Mr. Denver blinked. "If we could postpone-"

"What's the point of carrying out inspections if one is given time to prepare?" Brutus said, and stepped into the house. As expected, Mr. Denver pulled out of the way and shut the door behind him, despite not having invited him inside. "I will only be a moment. The basement is this way?" He gestured to the hall, then--again, without invitation--sauntered into the Denver home, chin up, eyes even, leather case swinging gaily by his side.

He passed by the shorter man, who simply watched him as he turned and descended into the workroom belowground. That was the thing about scholarly types; the more impressive and knowledgeable you seemed to be about a subject that they weren't themselves experts in, the more they hesitated to stop you. The common dockworker would never have let Brutus this far into his home, no matter how many stories he fetched up.

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Exalting Brutus to the service of the Icewarden 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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