Vengeance
(#33327875)
Level 10 Mirror
Familiar
Peony of Rockbreaker
Click or tap to view this dragon in Predict Morphology.
Energy: 49/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Earth.
Male Mirror
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
5.83 m
Wingspan
5.37 m
Weight
593.35 kg
Genetics
Stone
Falcon
Falcon
Garnet
Peregrine
Peregrine
Blood
Thylacine
Thylacine
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 10 Mirror
EXP: 182 / 27676
STR
23
AGI
8
DEF
6
QCK
10
INT
5
VIT
7
MND
5
Biography
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——————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————— Vengeance (they/he) Adjutant | Chimera | Host Courteous · Charismatic · Clever "Good morning. We have been expecting you." |
 
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Despite their odd appearance and deviation from their
original element, they have been invaluable in advancing the clan's social standing through elegant diplomacy and near-undetectable subterfuge. They were the obvious choice for second-in-command, having always put any visiting diplomats at ease, with ease. Olympia crafted them a set of beaded bracelets and bangles to drape from their branches and feathers, and visitors are informed that he is a Nature dragon with eccentric taste in apparel, rather than an extensively mutated Earth dragon. They rarely notice how much more at ease they are around him after taking a few deep breaths, and chalk the rich scent of petrichor up to his "decorative" branches.
The host possesses very few memories of his hatch-clan,
but when asked about their past, the symbiote is fully capable of cheerfully fabricating a deceptively convincing story about a swaying cottage in the Gladebough Village, a hammock by a tranquil pond in the Everbloom Gardens, or a devout and studious clan employed at the Wild Sanctum. Their clanmates know better than to pry into their past—some are afraid of what the chimera might say, as the jagged scars littering their body hint at a far less idyllic past.
Locust and Umber, who grew closest to him following his
metamorphosis, secretly fear that the perpetually-growing branches will eventually consume him outside and in: they have seen him crouched in the corners of dark rooms when he thinks none are watching, clutching his feather-and-wood-clad head and talking to someone, or something, that none of the others can see. |
"Try to breathe shallowly when they smile, and don't touch the feathers."
-???
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————He was young when he was found: merely a bewildered hatchling, scratched and tattered. Blood dripped from the wounds along his wings and spines, and he was indeed close to death. Perhaps he would have died, if the leader of a small Arcane clan had not taken pity on her fellow mirror and bound his wounds before passing him along to the clan healer. ————It was of little use, though. Soon those bandages were soaked through with a deep crimson that only faded or dried after being washed, but the leader told the beleaguered healer to use whatever means necessary to keep him alive. ————Days of whispering and meditating and Aid and Regeneration turned into weeks, and they were no closer to a permanent cure. He grew, though slowly, and the cost was evident in Umber's sunken eyes and sallowed skin. His wounds never closed, and the repressed earth magic that he was too weak to wield festered in him. Volatile pebbles of chalcedony and magic that exploded when touched formed and fell from the lair walls around him, and thin crusts of stone that broke whenever he moved grew over his wounds. The healer was at her wit's end, saddled with a decaying specimen that she had been ordered to keep alive. ————The green-eyed advisors were the first ones to click their long tongues and mutter that this would never have happened under the Gladekeeper's watch, that the benevolence of the goddess of life and growth would easily have purged this evidently Plague-wrought condition. The other nature dragons, even the emerald-eyed murderess of a spiral, absently voiced agreement. The mirror might even have joined in, begging for any cure, but he could only choke on those ever-bleeding cuts. ————In the end it was Ivy, the clever omnipresent fae, who told Locust that she could find a cure, for a price and a cost. Locust agreed, Umber agreed, the now adolescent patient agreed. They sent her off with a sack of treasure and waited four days with bated breath, until the fae returned looking quite worse for wear, holding a gently wriggling bag. ————"I journeyed homeward for this cure, and it came at quite the cost. There will be no turning back from this, do you realize?" ————The two that could speak murmured assent, and the fae hurried the others out of the sickroom, claiming that "only an acolyte of Nature would understand," and turned to look at him from the doorway. Her fans fell with regret and exhaustion. ————"I am sorry." ————With that, she dashed the bag on the ground, hurriedly activating the arcglass door as it burst, and fled as the cloud of spores billowed behind a wall of arcane magic. She made the mistake of looking back, and saw the mirror scratching weakly at the translucent door as spores settled into his wounds, his lungs...his eyes. Dear Gladekeeper, his eyes. ————When they opened the door days later, they were greeted by a cocoon of leaves and bark tearing open to release a vaguely mirror-like shape. He staggered upright and respectfully inclined his head towards Locust. His wounds had closed neatly, leaving only an angry flush behind wide scars, though the skin had an odd patchy quality and seemed ragged in places. His eyes, strikingly, had gone dark save for a pinprick of green at the centers. What surprised them more than his recovery, was his, or should we say their, raspy and under-used voice. ————"Matriarch Locust. We have heard only good things about you. Healer Umber, we have you to thank for our recovery, though we owe the resourceful Ivy for the discovery of us—pardon me, of our cure." ————They were clever and charming, and the clan almost managed to ignore the sprouts poking out from their healed wounds. They politely averted their eyes when the sprouts grew into tendrils, and then interlaced into a skeleton of bark around the mirror's body. They looked aside when trailing maroon feathers began to push out from their skin, and a helmet of wood grew around the outside of their skull until only those green pinprick eyes peered out. ————But they were polite and helpful, and their ability to sigh out a cloud of green spores into the wind and tell the clan about the goings-on across the Reaches minutes later didn't hurt. Soon the clan became accustomed to the many-minded amalgam of dragon, beast, and plant, and they grew to accept and embrace the shed feathers and leaves alongside the spore smudges and omniscient advice. |
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Exalting Vengeance 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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