Luciferous » Lair » Illyan

Illyan

(#34115315)

Level 1 Skydancer

Familiar

Sweetheart Swan

Energy: 48/50

Personal Style

Apparel

Skin

Scene

Physical Attributes

Battle Stats

Measurements

Length

4.96 m

Wingspan

6.74 m

Weight

762.25 kg

Genetics

Tan
Skink

Pearl
Toxin

Rose
Lace

Hatchday

Jul 01, 2017
(6 years)

Breed

Adult
Skydancer

Eye Type

Water
Common

Level 1 Skydancer

EXP: 0 / 245

STR

AGI

DEF

QCK

INT

VIT

MND

Lineage

Parents

Offspring

none

Biography

Illyan
Courtesan
Mate of __

The paramours of courtesans
Are well and satisfied, content.
But as for me my limbs are rent
Because I clasped the clouds as mine.

Illyan will claim he has no memory of a time before he owned by The Queens Court, of a time before he was a lavish creature draped in the finest silks and satins. No memory of having learned to walk on any floor but marble, or having ever existed outside his gilded world of refinement.
But he remembers, as surely as the older courtesans themselves might remember.
The way to stench of the auction house clung to him, of Ser Visserly laughing that it was 'barely worth the paper to sign for the expenditure' of his newest acquisition.
Five gems, pocket change really.

The memory of being sold, of being seperated from his siblings, and then his own purchase still haunt him daily. A mere five gems for his life because unlike others in the pen reserved for 'fodder', Illyan bore pearl colored wings, mottle with every shade of softest seashell and bright carnation to the blue of first morning light and august sky.
Not a day goes by that Illyan is unaware his worth is defined by his feathers. A common 'fodder' dragon 'rescued' by Ser Visserly, many would be quick to tell him it is a stroke of luck to have been brought to the The Queens Court, where education and refinement are ingrained in to every dragon there. But, behind a demure smile and soft laugh at the comments, Illyan wishes now and then he could dye his wings black.

But the fates have more instore for Illyan and the anxious clawing fear of the world outside his gilded life force him to every night groom his feathers back to their lustrous shine and in the morning paint a smile on his face.
Illyan is the favorite of lady of Veilmore, the mistress of the The Queens Court, making Illyan her personal apprentice in all matters. From the running of the Tea House to the manners of speech that allow him to fit seamlessly into noble society, Veilmore passes her knowledge of all things onto him, and Illyan takes each lesson like a fish to water.
It may not be the life he wanted, but a life time of learning to paint a new mask for each patron has taught him how to become anyone in any situation. In an instant Illyan can set aside his nervous withdrawn self and become the arrogant lordling, or the coy and playful harlot.
With a mask ready for any occassion, Illyan is never himself untill the last of the lights are put out and the silks are removed. Beneath it all, is still the anxious dragon lost in a sea of other hatchlings, looking for his siblings before being snatched from the ground and bought for a price in gems one could find on the floor.

First Memories
'5 GEMS' the sign overhead read, not so much as swaying in the stagnant air, while below it was an utter cacophony of chirps, shrieks, trills, and squawks being emitted from a jarring mass of blinding and clashing colors that mottled hatchlings of every breed and sex.
Hatchlings on the verge of adulthood with electric blues and dusky greens were being bought and carried away by battle scarred trainers, tundras mottled with the most arresting shades of red and purple were being rounded up by priestesses of every deity in Sornieth, and still more buyers came to gaze at the pen.
Illie looked up with watery eyes and ears that perked like a perytons as another buyer approached, clamoring and squirming to the front of the holding pen with the dozens upon dozens of other hatchlings all eager to see and be seen.
The buyer paused and glanced towards the foremen.
"Only five gems for the fodder?" the Skydancer asked, resting his hands upon his gleaming sword hilt.
"Yes, yes, though fodder is a somewhat... derogatory word, if you would." The foreman responded with an awkward cough, not meeting the gaze of the buyer now.
"Fodder or not, my mistress would be pleased with the pearl winged one." Came the bored response as suddenly gems flashed in the light, trading hands quicker than magic, and of the scrambling pile of four or five hatchlings with pearl colored wings he reached down to pluck the one with watery eyes.

"Illyan? Not bad, not worth the price of a name change. You'll do."
Illyan, thrumming with excitement scrambled happily at the older Skydancer, trying to find purchase to right himself from the hold on his wings, all the while purring in bright chrips and trills.
"None of that, suppose manners will be the first of your lessons. Still, what a pretty trinket you make."

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Exalting Illyan to the service of the Shadowbinder 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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