Farroc
(#38608441)
*banjo noises*
Familiar
Cinder Mith
Click or tap to view this dragon in Predict Morphology.
Energy: 42/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Plague.
Male Ridgeback
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
14.95 m
Wingspan
13.19 m
Weight
6658.93 kg
Genetics
Clay
Jaguar
Jaguar
Carrot
Bee
Bee
Orange
Capsule
Capsule
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 1 Ridgeback
EXP: 0 / 245
STR
8
AGI
7
DEF
7
QCK
6
INT
5
VIT
7
MND
5
Biography
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—— Farroc is always all too happy to share stories of his youth—to weave ludicrous tales of his exploits. He is a bard, after all, and storytelling is his way of life. He wasn't always like that, though... He was born to two wealthy parents and a multitude of boisterous siblings. In his youth, he was reclusive and spiteful; he often took to hiding in his room or the manor's library. Books were his solace—free from the shouting and yelling of his overly-large family. He would lose himself in the pages from dawn until dusk. Sometimes, if he was lucky, he wouldn't see another one of his siblings until the next day. Of course growing up meant growing out, however. His parents forced him to leave his books behind. They thrust a sword into his unwilling fingers and shoved him into the grasp of a brutal Plague battalion. It wasn't like he couldn't fight; he had been brought up in the household of seasoned warriors. On the contrary, he was a most skilled swordsman. He just didn't like to show it. Killing because others told him it was right didn't sit well with him, and often, he balked and set his blade aside in refusal. His compatriots mocked and jeered—what kind of Plague dragon was he who didn't wish for survival for only those worthy? Eventually, the battalion spit him out, and they left him on the Shadow Flight border a little too ragged and a little too not right. So he finally did what Plague dragons do best—he survived. In unfamiliar territory, the goings were rough. Everything in the shadowy vale seemed out to get him, and he couldn't even seem to trust his own shadow to watch his back. He persisted, however. He filched and pillaged anyone who dared to leave something open or turn away from him for even a moment. To pickpocket became a second nature to him. It was always him or the other guy. In one of his bolder heists—pilfering an exquisite mansion of grand design and dastardly traps—he got his claws on an enchanted harp. The entire instrument was wreathed in golden vines, and the strings shone a pale ivory that glowed in the dull light. A single strum, even beneath his uncoordinated fingers, sounded heavenly. His angelic revery wasn't allowed to last long, though. The Guardian of the house returned, and Farroc was forced to fight for his life. It was more of a battle of wits than a battle of steel. The Guardian spat riddles at the thief, and Farroc laughed them back with an equally scathing bite. The hours spun on, and neither gained any headway. The Guardian was tireless—an autonomous construct—but Farroc grew weary, and his wit began to waver. The Guardian saw its chance, and it concocted its most devious riddle yet.
'Who am I who can
only live where there is light, yet I die if the light shines on me?' Farroc gave a chuckle at the Guardian's game. "Why," he replied with a devious grin, "that's me, mate." He waved the cold construct a lazy salute and promptly tumbled out a window. As he scurried away from the dark manor, his pealing laughter rang after him. |
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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.
This dragon doesn't eat Meat.
Feed this dragon Seafood.
This dragon doesn't eat Plants.
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Exalting Farroc to the service of the Stormcatcher 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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