Plague (#36799616)
he/him
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Familiar

Iguanador
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Energy: 50/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Nature.
Male Wildclaw
This dragon is on a Coliseum team.
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Personal Style

Apparel

Skin

Scene

Measurements

Length
3.55 m
Wingspan
8.45 m
Weight
691.37 kg

Genetics

Primary Gene
Antique
Tiger
Antique
Tiger
Secondary Gene
Tarnish
Bee
Tarnish
Bee
Tertiary Gene
Moss
Opal
Moss
Opal

Hatchday

Hatchday
Oct 22, 2017
(4 years)

Breed

Breed
Adult
Wildclaw

Eye Type

Eye Type
Nature
Unusual
Level 25 Wildclaw
Max Level
STR
115
AGI
9
DEF
5
QCK
75
INT
5
VIT
20
MND
5

Biography

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Plague
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The last of the first-ever wildclaws was Plague. Named for his mother's sister-flight and fitting right in the palm of her hand, he was small and new to the world. All was peaceful as he opened his eyes for the very first time.

"Oh, Plague," spoke the Gladekeeper, ever so softly, "my sweet darling, Plague... what an unfortunate name for you to bear."

The infant wildclaw stared up in awe at his mother. His smooth white scales were a stark contrast to hers, rough and brown. She gently stroked the feathered crest on his head with an extended claw.

"Plague," she whispered once more. The Gladekeeper shifted as she nestled herself lower into the soil. Plague listened closely, blinking large verdant eyes.

She continued, "spread my love, child. Take the seed and help it grow... nurture those around you."

When Plague nodded, his mother closed her glowing eyes and slowly reached behind her head. She plucked a branch from her leafy wings, placing it gingerly between her wildclaw's shoulder blades and watching it begin to root. The roots themselves gently twined around Plague's entire form.

The Gladekeeper set plague down on the lush earth, smiling at him with a great fondness; and just as soon as Mother Nature had given her son a fragment of the Behemoth itself, she vanished.

xxx

Plague sprinted through the Shrieking Wilds, fraught with concern. His talons burned as he ran; stray thorns and sharp pebbles had been poking into them, but he remained determined to run as fast as his legs could take him to get to his destination quicker. Heavy rain fell in sheets, saturating the feathers of his wings. Something itching in the back of Plague’s mind had called out to him. It was only a whisper, a gentle persuasion, but it drove the young wildclaw near mad. The voice was never specific with what it wanted from him, not to mention he could barely understand it; it was so quiet. He could only make out that it wanted him to travel in a specific direction, so that was what he did.


Plague heaved out a ragged breath as he started to slow, wincing at the new stitch in his side he’d gotten from running so profusely. The wildclaw continued to hobble his way through the Viridian Labyrinth, the firm floor of thick forest turning marshy as his footsteps began to squelch in much more saturated mud. He realized quickly that he was now in the Gladeveins. The wildclaw stumbled to a halt, looking around. Plague was no stranger to this area, but it certainly wasn’t his favorite. He trekked forward and marched through the marshland for what felt like an hour before coming across a large channel. He peered across the body of water, spotting the Sunbeam Ruins. The whisper in the wildclaw’s mind became more urgent.

‘Cross,’ it demanded, sending a chill down Plague’s spine.

“What do you mean?” he replied aloud, “it would be impossible for me to do that, I can't fly in this storm…”

Getting no response, Plague looked at the gap between the land he was standing on and the sheer cliff of Light’s territory up and down. It was a tall, steep incline with a much greater swim in between, but the wildclaw knew he had to do it. Warily, he stepped into the cold water, shuddering when his body sank like a rock. The water was much deeper than he’d expected it to be, and his splash caused small waves to lap at his waist.

‘Oh my, Gladekeeper,’ Plague thought, grimacing. He leaned forward and slowly began to paddle, canny with what limited knowledge of swimming he had.  However, getting across proved to be a much greater task than he expected.

Swimming looked just as easy as walking, roughly the same as flying, but it wasn’t. As rain churned the water, Plague’s muscles began to ache and his lungs felt like they were being squeezed in a vice's grip when his head had gone under the surface… but he kept going. He had to.


Plague climbed onto the rocky coast, gasping for breath and slumping down on the close cliffside. He was sopping wet and breathing heavily, moving his feet and long, feathered tail away from the disturbed waters he’d just flopped out of. The wildclaw sighed and continued to lay, close to giving up, until the voice was back.

‘Climb,’ it said, deadpan.

Plague snorted, snarling as he chuckled sarcastically, “oh, you’re funny.”

Once again, the voice didn’t reply, so Plague grumbled and rolled over, laying on his belly. The rocks began to poke at him, but he didn’t care. He looked right up the cliff, glaring at it and standing up. He still couldn't fly with his wings soaked through, and, unfortunately, it seemed much, much taller when he was right in front of it.

“It wants me to climb,” the wildclaw whispered to himself, “I’ll climb.”

Plague jumped up onto the steep edge, expecting to be able to dig his claws into the dirt and climb just like that- only to scramble and scratch at what was solid dried mud and fall right back down onto his backside. He yelped, flapping his wings and jumping back to his feet. Getting up would be harder than he thought.


Plague sighed and considered his options, soon noticing a few rocks jutting out of the cliff along with small ridges for him to grab onto… perfect. This time, Plague approached it slowly, taking time to look where each bump and groove was so he could securely get his claws on them. Climbing this way didn’t take as long as he thought it would, which he was grateful for.


Once Plague finally made it up, he hauled himself over the edge, sitting down on his haunches. He looked around with a proud grin, glad he managed to get this far… and then his heart sank, along with his smile. The first thing the wildclaw saw was an abandoned Light nest, filled with four crushed eggs. His eyes widened and he grimaced with unease as he stood up and carefully walked over to the nest. Was this what the voice was constantly telling him to find…? A nest of dead eggs? Plague felt sick to his stomach as he peered over the nest and spotted a fifth one, brighter than the rest. It was intact, unlike the other ones; flickering as if the life inside was about to expire.


Plague felt overwhelmed, to put it simply. He couldn’t understand why he was driven to see this, and more importantly why the presence that was telling him these things had suddenly left. There was an obvious difference, a weight off his shoulders that would usually feel relieving, instead felt uncanny. Plague’s talons shook as he picked up the fifth egg and gently cradled it, his grip tensing when a bright, loud flash appeared in front of him. A powerful presence, the one from the back of his mind, only stronger filled the air. It shook Plague to his core. The light dissipated and the wildclaw could finally see what was in front of him, and by the eleven, she was the Lightweaver herself. Plague shook his head and blinked rapidly, staring up at her large, elegant form.


“You,” she spoke calmly, and she had the same voice as the one Plague had heard, “you are a blessed dragon.”

“Wh- what…?” he stumbled on his words, stepping back.

“You have been touched by a deity before,” she continued, “you were able to complete my challenge, Plague… you are worthy of my gift.”

“Touched by a deity…? What gift?” the wildclaw repeated, and the Lightweaver held out a massive talon. Plague hesitantly handed over the flickering egg, it immediately shining with such radiance he could only compare to the goddess in front of him. He stood with an expression of awe, staring up at her.

“You are the Gladekeeper’s child, Plague… the very tree upon your back represents her. We believe you are worthy of a child of your own.”

The Lightweaver handed Plague back the egg. It was already beginning to hatch. The wildclaw gasped and sat down, allowing the hatchling to continue breaking through the egg, but when he looked up to thank the goddess, she was already gone. Plague frowned for a moment but returned his focus to the egg-- rather, his egg.

He gently pulled a piece of the shell away and a tiny head popped out and blinked at him. She was a pearlcatcher, who looked identical to him save for soft, yellow eyes and gleaming scales.

“Hello, little one,” Plague cooed, delighted. He never knew how much he wanted a hatchling of his own… the pearlcatcher cooed back and stumbled out of her egg, chirruping and shaking out her thin, shiny mane. Plague smiled down at her, picking her up gently. Recalling the beauty of the deity he'd witnessed, he decided to name her after a figure from a Beastclan tale.

"Aphrodite," Plague announced, "that will be your name." He kissed her little forehead, getting a squeal in response. Plague placed her onto his shoulders between his wings and under the tree that twined around his torso.

The wildclaw was now at peace, having answered the voice’s bidding. It was now time for Plague to find his way home, as he trekked his way down the steps right of the Mirrorlight Promenade to head back to the Viridian Labyrinth and find a proper area for his gift of a child.

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Original owner: Raneva85! <3
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Exalting Plague to the service of the Lightweaver 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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