Rot
(#32469921)
Level 1 Imperial
Familiar
Deadland Disciple
Click or tap to view this dragon in Predict Morphology.
Energy: 50/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Plague.
Female Imperial
This dragon is hibernating.
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
28.13 m
Wingspan
21.17 m
Weight
7093.74 kg
Genetics
Blood
Python
Python
Pumpkin
Butterfly
Butterfly
Saffron
Glimmer
Glimmer
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 1 Imperial
EXP: 0 / 245
STR
6
AGI
6
DEF
6
QCK
5
INT
8
VIT
8
MND
6
Biography
Actual plague ambassador
super not friendly. Obviously only there because she has to be
She's totally better than you
Also loathes how the roses are growing on her. How dare nature leech at her like a parasite. That's her job.
lore bit wrote:
There was a deep, menacing chuckle over the sound of ripping foliage and frustrated growls. The Deadland Disciple in the corner of a large macabre lair shifted in his spot of concentrated ooze and unpleasantness. ~You know, they're just going to grow back,~ the familiar commented in his mistress' mind, to which the infuriated Imperial whirled about on him, her own crimson eyes daring another word out of him.
Rot's face had completely been stripped of flesh over her years here in the Boneyard, which was not a change she'd objected. She'd happily accepted it, in fact, and embraced her new face by adorning herself and her new lair with other skulls. What made her so displeased, however, were the full, rich bouquets of roses that stubbornly grew out of her body. At least she no longer had lips for the thorns to tear. "I don't care that they're going to grow back. It's satisfying enough to rip them out all the same."
Even though the Disciple had no lips, he smirked at her, her mane fluffing with her anger. ~I would think such adamant force of life would befit a Daughter of the Plague. After all, is that not Her teachings to you and your kin?~
Rot scoffed and ripped out another bundle of petals, spitting them out onto the ground. It made lovely decor, especially since the old withered petals remained to create a sort of bedding. "Sniveling stain. Of course I acknowledge that. I just can't stand--"
As if on cue, a small hummingbird fluttered about her face, trying to drink from the crown of roses on her head she'd had yet to cull. Swearing violently, Rot reared and thrashed, trying to rid herself of the persistent little bird. "These DAMNED BIRDS! I'll send each and every one of them into the Wound! Fluttering vermin, I'll use your useless little skulls as wind chimes!" She snapped and bit at the tiny blur of feathers, but each time her massive bare maw missed its target. The Disciple chuckled again, content to watch.
~Perhaps your lack of respect for the Nature god caused this curse?~ he suggested casually. ~The Gladekee-~ The Disciple jumped a bit at a blast of power aimed just beside him, and he quirked a brow at his fuming mistress, who was panting from the effort, the bird happily feeding off the roses.
"Don't you dare say that name. The Wretched and her ilk will never best Our Mother. They are the prey, we are the hunters. Always. They are the chattel and we the wolves! Insult Her again and I'll eat you myself."
The Disciple was used to such threats, as Rot was never a pleasant dragon to accompany. His attention turned to the remaining flowers and bird, who had somehow gathered company, and shrugged. What a stubborn fool. ~Very well, Ambassador.~
Rot's face had completely been stripped of flesh over her years here in the Boneyard, which was not a change she'd objected. She'd happily accepted it, in fact, and embraced her new face by adorning herself and her new lair with other skulls. What made her so displeased, however, were the full, rich bouquets of roses that stubbornly grew out of her body. At least she no longer had lips for the thorns to tear. "I don't care that they're going to grow back. It's satisfying enough to rip them out all the same."
Even though the Disciple had no lips, he smirked at her, her mane fluffing with her anger. ~I would think such adamant force of life would befit a Daughter of the Plague. After all, is that not Her teachings to you and your kin?~
Rot scoffed and ripped out another bundle of petals, spitting them out onto the ground. It made lovely decor, especially since the old withered petals remained to create a sort of bedding. "Sniveling stain. Of course I acknowledge that. I just can't stand--"
As if on cue, a small hummingbird fluttered about her face, trying to drink from the crown of roses on her head she'd had yet to cull. Swearing violently, Rot reared and thrashed, trying to rid herself of the persistent little bird. "These DAMNED BIRDS! I'll send each and every one of them into the Wound! Fluttering vermin, I'll use your useless little skulls as wind chimes!" She snapped and bit at the tiny blur of feathers, but each time her massive bare maw missed its target. The Disciple chuckled again, content to watch.
~Perhaps your lack of respect for the Nature god caused this curse?~ he suggested casually. ~The Gladekee-~ The Disciple jumped a bit at a blast of power aimed just beside him, and he quirked a brow at his fuming mistress, who was panting from the effort, the bird happily feeding off the roses.
"Don't you dare say that name. The Wretched and her ilk will never best Our Mother. They are the prey, we are the hunters. Always. They are the chattel and we the wolves! Insult Her again and I'll eat you myself."
The Disciple was used to such threats, as Rot was never a pleasant dragon to accompany. His attention turned to the remaining flowers and bird, who had somehow gathered company, and shrugged. What a stubborn fool. ~Very well, Ambassador.~
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Exalting Rot to the service of the Plaguebringer 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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