Anatemno
(#35276991)
Level 1 Wildclaw
Familiar
Writer's Aid
Click or tap to view this dragon in Predict Morphology.
Energy: 0/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Plague.
Male Wildclaw
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
6.94 m
Wingspan
4.6 m
Weight
499.61 kg
Genetics
Overcast
Skink
Skink
Blood
Rosette
Rosette
Cerise
Runes
Runes
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 1 Wildclaw
EXP: 0 / 245
STR
8
AGI
9
DEF
6
QCK
5
INT
5
VIT
6
MND
6
Lineage
Biography
|| A N A T O M Y ||
Derived from the Greek ἀνατομή anatomē "dissection" (from ἀνατέμνω anatémnō "I cut up, cut open" from ἀνά aná "up", and τέμνω témnō "I cut".
A weird fandragon for a weird indie game
(video here)
|| Gene'd with Rosette ||
Derived from the Greek ἀνατομή anatomē "dissection" (from ἀνατέμνω anatémnō "I cut up, cut open" from ἀνά aná "up", and τέμνω témnō "I cut".
A weird fandragon for a weird indie game
(video here)
|| Gene'd with Rosette ||
"The bedroom is perhaps the room that most eludes direct comparison in this fashion. At a stretch - and allowing for a bit of poetic sympathy - it may be said that the bedroom is not unlike the human mind - that is the part which dictates thought and imagination. In the bedroom, dreams dreams dreams drdrdrdr - "
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"... dream that there are teeth and they are all over me. And they're everywhere on me, and in me, like cysts or bone spurs. They're loose but I can't move them because I have no hands. I look out through the bedroom window and see a truck approaching. A young man steps out, approaches, and enters through the front door. His body is covered in swollen ticks the size of quarters. He's walking through the downstairs hallway and laughing. He begins urinating on the wall and spits on the carpet. ??? though they go through the first floor, breaking and exciting ???. Goes to the basement and stands at the top of the stairs. I'm angry at him so I slam the door and he falls down. I can feel his bones... snapping. The ticks are bursting, oozing old black blood everywhere. I can feel them being ground-up, dissolved and torn, splitting and shredding. But I leave the door closed. And I close my eyes and try to sleep. The teeth continue growing ??? until there's nothing left underneath but teeth and gums and sinew."
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"The basement is dark."
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"There is an important distinction that must be drawn between the words 'dissection' and 'vivisection', a distinction that appears to be lost on you. Your purpose was to listen and yet at every turn you have pried, you have prodded, and you have interfered. Have you not been paying attention? Did it not occur to you that if an organism exists within a greater organism, your intrusion would be felt? And still you harassed. And now like the wayward spider who witlessly sat on a sleeper's tongue, you will be swallowed. Because the truth is this: when a house is both hungry and awake, every room becomes a mouth."
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"What happens to a house when it is left alone? When it becomes worn and aged? When its paint peels and its foundations begin to sink? When it goes for too long unlived-in? What does it think of? What does it dream? How does it regard those creatures who built it? Brought it into existence, only to abandon it, when its usefulness no longer satisfies them? It may grow lonesome. It may stare for long hours into the darkness, its own empty halls, and see shadows. And its heart may jump as it thinks, 'Here. Here someone again, I'm not alone.' And each time it is wrong. And the hurt starts over. It may haunt itself, inventing ghosts to walk its floors, making friends with its shadow puppets. Laughing and whispering to itself at the end of some quiet cul-de-sac. It may grow angry. Its basement may fill with churning acid like an empty stomach, and its gorge may rise as it asks itself through clenched teeth, 'What did I do wrong?' It may grow bitter. It may grow hungry. So hungry and so bitter that its scruples dissolve and its doors unlock themselves. While a house may hunger, it cannot starve. And so, in fever and anger and loneliness, it may simply lie in wait.
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Doors open.
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Shades drawn.
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Always empty.
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Hungry."
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"... dream that there are teeth and they are all over me. And they're everywhere on me, and in me, like cysts or bone spurs. They're loose but I can't move them because I have no hands. I look out through the bedroom window and see a truck approaching. A young man steps out, approaches, and enters through the front door. His body is covered in swollen ticks the size of quarters. He's walking through the downstairs hallway and laughing. He begins urinating on the wall and spits on the carpet. ??? though they go through the first floor, breaking and exciting ???. Goes to the basement and stands at the top of the stairs. I'm angry at him so I slam the door and he falls down. I can feel his bones... snapping. The ticks are bursting, oozing old black blood everywhere. I can feel them being ground-up, dissolved and torn, splitting and shredding. But I leave the door closed. And I close my eyes and try to sleep. The teeth continue growing ??? until there's nothing left underneath but teeth and gums and sinew."
.
.
.
"The basement is dark."
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
"There is an important distinction that must be drawn between the words 'dissection' and 'vivisection', a distinction that appears to be lost on you. Your purpose was to listen and yet at every turn you have pried, you have prodded, and you have interfered. Have you not been paying attention? Did it not occur to you that if an organism exists within a greater organism, your intrusion would be felt? And still you harassed. And now like the wayward spider who witlessly sat on a sleeper's tongue, you will be swallowed. Because the truth is this: when a house is both hungry and awake, every room becomes a mouth."
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
"What happens to a house when it is left alone? When it becomes worn and aged? When its paint peels and its foundations begin to sink? When it goes for too long unlived-in? What does it think of? What does it dream? How does it regard those creatures who built it? Brought it into existence, only to abandon it, when its usefulness no longer satisfies them? It may grow lonesome. It may stare for long hours into the darkness, its own empty halls, and see shadows. And its heart may jump as it thinks, 'Here. Here someone again, I'm not alone.' And each time it is wrong. And the hurt starts over. It may haunt itself, inventing ghosts to walk its floors, making friends with its shadow puppets. Laughing and whispering to itself at the end of some quiet cul-de-sac. It may grow angry. Its basement may fill with churning acid like an empty stomach, and its gorge may rise as it asks itself through clenched teeth, 'What did I do wrong?' It may grow bitter. It may grow hungry. So hungry and so bitter that its scruples dissolve and its doors unlock themselves. While a house may hunger, it cannot starve. And so, in fever and anger and loneliness, it may simply lie in wait.
.
Doors open.
.
.
Shades drawn.
.
.
.
Always empty.
.
.
.
.
Hungry."
Click or tap a food type to individually feed this dragon only. The other dragons in your lair will not have their energy replenished.
This dragon doesn't eat Insects.
Meat stocks are currently depleted.
This dragon doesn't eat Seafood.
This dragon doesn't eat Plants.
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Exalting Anatemno 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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