Carrion

(#38255364)
Level 1 Snapper
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Familiar

Giant White Toridae
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Energy: 48/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Plague.
Male Snapper
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Personal Style

Apparel

Brutal Banner
Crimson Aviator Scarf
Teardrop Lapis Lazuli Earrings
Crimson Aviator Gloves
Crimson Aviator Boots
Crimson Aviator Satchel

Skin

Accent: Glassbreather

Scene

Scene: Plaguebringer's Domain

Measurements

Length
6.46 m
Wingspan
1.97 m
Weight
8406.22 kg

Genetics

Primary Gene
Copper
Lionfish
Copper
Lionfish
Secondary Gene
Beige
Toxin
Beige
Toxin
Tertiary Gene
Steel
Smoke
Steel
Smoke

Hatchday

Hatchday
Dec 22, 2017
(6 years)

Breed

Breed
Adult
Snapper

Eye Type

Special Eye Type
Plague
Dark Sclera
Level 1 Snapper
EXP: 0 / 245
Scratch
Shred
STR
7
AGI
6
DEF
7
QCK
6
INT
6
VIT
6
MND
7

Lineage

Parents

  • none

Offspring

  • none

Biography

qTZLUhu.png
C A R R I O N
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He | Him | Himself
O C C U P A T I O N
-
Poisoner

F A M I L Y
-
None

M A T E
-
None

F A M I L I A R
-
Giant White Toridae

A L I G N M E N T
-
Lawful Evil

S E X U A L I T Y
-
Unsure

E X T R A
-
Writhing Sepsis

྿
x STR
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INT
████████████
AGI
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MAG
████████████
CHA
██████████░░
VIT
██░░░░░░░░░░
"If it was that easy to kill, it did not deserve to live."
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

You were a fool.

You smelled him before you heard him, and you heard him before you saw him. First was ozone, hanging heavy and sharp in the air, pungent in your nose. Then was the rough-and-tumble crackle of a motor running on magic, a constant whirr overlaid occasionally by the sputter of additional fuel boosting it. Then he crested the hill, and you were doomed the instant you laid eyes on him.

Bold stripes of color splashed across his scales, and a pouch no doubt heavy with riches dangled at his waist, but what caught your gaze most was the strange contraption hooked up to his face. It was some kind of machine from Lightning, that much you could tell; glass, and filled with liquid. And a perfect target to attack. You sprung from your hiding place, claws outstretched, and roared a challenge. His head swung in your direction, and you had an instant - no more, no less - to register his eyes: red, but rimmed in black like nothing else you’d ever seen.

Then you were awash in scalding liquid that spewed forth from his strange glass jaw. Not water, no - it was viscous, rolling over your scales in a sort of slow torture, seeping into every crack between them, into old scars and fresh cuts, into your eyes, into your mouth. It tasted of death.

By the time you were finished rolling wildly in grass to rid yourself of the vile stuff, the snapper was gone.

And now, here you are, you miserable little thing. Days - weeks - have gone by, and you lay here helpless. Dying.

You only noticed it two days after attacking the snapper. Your heart seemed to race at the slightest exertion, and even in the heat of the day you were wracked with chills. Illness is no stranger to you, of course, and you had no way of knowing this was any different.

Then came the confusion. Your sense of direction was shot, and you found yourself following the same trails over and over, hour after hour, until at last you reached a sheltered gully and collapsed into it. Your head spun, and moving too quickly would cause your consciousness to wink out for a heartbeat. Time passed, and while a small part of your mind insisted that you were hungry, you were thirsty, you could only lie still and fill your lungs.

Now the end comes for you, as it comes for us all. Your skin burns, itches, as if a thousand thousand ants have burrowed under your scales and walk across its surface. You writhe in agony, trying to relieve your pain.

And then you are gone, legs still splayed mid-spasm, teeth bared as if you were grimly confronting the face of death itself. A fight you would never win.
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Exalting Carrion 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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