Viking
(#37216358)
240,000 miles away
ChrysePlanitia
Spirit of Plague
Click or tap to view this dragon in Predict Morphology.
Energy: 47/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Plague.
Female Skydancer
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
5.18 m
Wingspan
6.75 m
Weight
833.74 kg
Genetics
Camo
Jupiter
Jupiter
Brick
Current
Current
Garnet
Crackle
Crackle
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 1 Skydancer
EXP: 0 / 245
STR
4
AGI
5
DEF
4
QCK
9
INT
9
VIT
4
MND
9
Biography
 VIKING "NASA's Viking 1 and 2 missions to Mars, each consisting of an orbiter and a lander, became the first space probes to obtain high resolution images of the Martian surface; characterize the structure and composition of the atmosphere and surface; and conduct on-the-spot biological tests for life on another planet." -nasa .gov |
Viking joined the Plague Air Force as a young adult, because her hometown was boring and she wanted to fly. She'd always loved watching the air shows, where beasts of metal would shriek through the air at speeds no dragon's wings could withstand. She worked hard to get exalted, and when she did, she made sure she was worth the Plaguebringer's while. Well, the Air Force was a blast for her until her first battle. I won't bore you with dates and who was where, I'll get to the gist of it: they got their ***** kicked. They were half rookies that just weren't agile enough in the air, and Viking was one of them. They got hit, and their plane crashed hard into the wall of the Carrion Canyon. Viking survived, but barely. Her head was throbbing. Her legs were weak--or clumsy? Likely both--and wouldn't stand beneath her for long. Every movement she made sent a scream of pain through each of her muscles; the closest she had to a sensation of touch was how much her skin hurt as she pushed against the shattered hatch and threw herself out of her vehicle. She fell soft on a mass of feathers, and waited to rest, before growing aware of a dull pain in her left side; with horror, she realized she was on top of her own wing, bent at an angle she'd never seen a dragon's limb bent before. |
What was left of the battle still raged over her. The buzz of jet engines was the only noise in the canyon, and it echoed through the empty, lifeless space like a singer in an empty opera hall she'd once conquered. At home, the sound would have been quickly softened by the constant hums and chirps of bugs and wildlife, but here, there was nothing, not even a wind, to lull her. What a shame that she'd die for her flight in this barren wasteland, she mused, fighting for a flight dedicated to life in a land so empty of it.
As she fell into a stupor, she wondered what would kill her first. Would it be the pain in her head, beating softer with every strained heartbeat? Would shrapnel from a shot-down engine strike her and put her out of her misery? Or would she bleed here, warming the sand with the last of life she had to give? She wanted to stay alive so desperately, at least to let out one final cry in contempt before slipping the surly bonds of Sorneith, but the void was warm and inviting in familiar shades of red.
When she awoke, an Ice doctor, assisted by a fuchsia-eyed Fae with a deep Lightning drawl, duly informed her she had one of the worst cases of cancer they'd ever seen. It was riddled throughout her body. The fae brought up an image on a rolling flat-screen monitor of a skydancer body, mostly blue and green with a few gray splotches. Viking asked if the gray spots were cancer; the fae informed her that in fact, they were non-tumorous flesh.
But further testing proved, more remarkably, that these cancer tumors didn't inhibit Viking's functioning. Rather, they had integrated into her flesh, forming muscle tissue, bone fiber, even nervous tissue, which acted just as functionally as the real thing. It didn't come without a price, though; her skin was mottled and hairless with the exception of a thin mane, and even her feathers appeared to have lost some of their luster.
Viking was kept in the hospital's care for months after that, and slowly introduced to the area around her. The hospital was in a public space agency in Lightning, a few miles from where she'd crashed. The entire space was underground in the walls of the Canyon, with only a few windows hinting at sunlight, but the halls were clean and friendly. Most strange were the dragons themselves, who ranged from introverted computer-types to athletic, fratty military types, to everything in between. All the while she explored the tunnels, she became more and more healthy; but the cancer never left. In fact, it seemed to help her become stronger, with the tumorous muscles strengthening and working along with her.
After months in her care, the doctors released her, determining that her plague magic had helped her "heal" in a strange sense after the accident, growing as a bio-armor around her. They released her, and got her a flight on a Lightning Air Force plane back home to plague.
The flight was the first time she'd been in the air in months, and she watched the desert ground draw smaller beneath her, more cracked than her own diseased skin. She could see railways extending beyond the Canyon, a bridge she'd flown under to enter the Canyon in that fateful battle, railroad towns, bits of desert vegetation making their way from the sanitized ground... until they ascended through the cloud cover, and the sky was the same gray it was in the storms back at home.
The sky was the same, she realized. It was only the land that was foreign.
| ********** |
No one in the Baikonur Space Agency knows what became of Viking. She's passed into legends, the only evidence of her presence the confidential paperwork on her time in the hospital. But the astronauts and pilots alike are still inspired by her force of life: the woman who defied death by sheer willpower, using the destructive magic she had to stay alive. | ********** |
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