xXDeathFuryXx » Lair » Death

Death

(#3879597)

Level 10 Mirror

Familiar

Darktouched Chimera

Energy: 0/50

Personal Style

Apparel

Skin

Scene

Physical Attributes

Battle Stats

Measurements

Length

7.09 m

Wingspan

5.94 m

Weight

649.05 kg

Genetics

Obsidian
Bar

Crimson
Striation

Navy
Spines

Hatchday

Jun 03, 2014
(9 years)

Breed

Adult
Mirror

Eye Type

Plague
Common

Level 10 Mirror

EXP: 789 / 27676

STR

AGI

DEF

QCK

INT

VIT

MND

Lineage

Parents

none

Offspring

Biography

Death
Matriarch of the Hunting Party
Custom Progenitor

Death was born into a cruel world. As a hatchling, she was abandoned near a river, and she strayed far too close to the water's edge and fell in. She was rescued by a shadow dragon that was passing through the territory.

The hatchling accompanied him for several days until he traveled into the Ashfall Wastes. She watched him leave, turning to try to begin a life of her own. She met Poison, who helped her found a small clan. The two had a clutch of babies, but they couldn't survive the poisonous environment they were born into.

Due to the loss, Death became more agressive, training herself to be stronger, and to be able to deal with future losses, and to be able to protect her small clan.

Some time after their loss, Stalker, a Fire dragon, found their clan while scrounging for food. The fire dragon had been exiled from his previous clan. He grew attached to the passionate, very aggressive female, and challenged Poison for his rights as Patriarch. The battle was short and bloody--but Stalker came out on top.

In the Plaguebringer's lands, where packs of Mirrors race across the scorched earth and only the strong survive, the weak are cast away as soon as their weakness makes itself known. In elders, they fall behind the pack, left behind for the birds and beasts to soon scavenge what remains. In the wounded, they fester and die, a liability no matter the love they may have felt before then. At least they have their valor in death, the only company they take with them to the grave.

But the young? Oh, the young and weak are left to whatever the Scarred Wasteland has to offer then and there.

In Death's case, it was a river. The banks burst with pestilence, and her heart stuttered with a fever to match. She was left beside the rushing waters by a dragon she cannot remember, one she is not sure she wants to remember. They left her, defenseless and burning with fever, to the mercy of the Scarred Wastelands, a thing which does not exist. She was expected to die, a creature of the Plaguebringer who had failed to withstand her deity's ultimate test: survival.

And yet she did not die. That was luck, to be fair, rather than any sort of spite or conscious resistance. In Death's fragile state, desperate for water even if it was tainted by all manner of disease, she had crawled to the river's edge. Instead of lapping at the water, though, she tumbled in and the current whisked her thin form away. Already weak, the shock of cold, murky water did nothing to help her.

She should have drowned, but for the intervention of a stranger. They plucked her from the water, saved her from her fate, and for almost a week, she followed them. Every morning, she woke to their Shadow-born eyes before her, and every night, those eyes watched until she slept. For a week, she was cared for, and at long last, the fever broke.

Death was on her own after that. From the moment the Shadow dragon realized they no longer had the patience or resources to mind a growing young Mirror, they left her to her own devices, giving her only the most basic of hunting lessons and a warning to leave the Scarred Wasteland as soon as possible before they took their own leave.

That would be surrender, though, and Death refused. She became stubborn then, even spiteful, as the world looked at her and saw something frail. There was a hunger in her belly at all times, sometimes the result of a failed hunt, other times the product of ambition. She would not give in, not yet. If the Plaguebringer really wanted her dead, she would have to try harder, because Death was growing stronger by the day.

There was a moment of weakness, though, when she met Poison. They became mates in an extraordinarily short amount of time, and while their love was not weakness, their decision to have children was steeped in weakness. Together, they brought three eggs to hatching, three new lives to challenge the Plaguebringer's lands.

Those three lives all perished, having inherited whatever fragility had once left Death on the riverbank so long ago. Disease claimed every last one, and Death stayed with them to the last, refusing to let anyone lay a claw on the lives she'd so come to love in such a short time. They would know that love until their last breaths. They would not be abandoned.

But eventually, they had to be buried, and Death changed after that. She assumed leadership of the small clan she and Poison had built around themselves during their courtship, and her relationship with Poison faltered, fractured by their differing opinions on the deaths of their first and only clutch. Perhaps it was no wonder that when Death's world shifted, she allowed it to push Poison away.

It was Stalker that changed everything. Death and Poison found him while hunting, and while Poison tried to convince Death otherwise, she would not be swayed: she would save Stalker from his wounds, and bolster the ranks of her clan in the process. He would survive, and by extension, so would her clan.

One thing led to the next, and then another, until the shift was complete. It took a single challenge from Stalker, now healed, to unseat Poison as the clan's co-leader and as Death's mate. The pitched battle was more formality than anything, but it was enough for the rest of the clan to recognize the shift in authority. It didn't matter that Stalker fought dirty; what mattered was that he survived, and Poison so nearly didn't.

Death didn't allow Poison to perish. It went against everything she intended for her clan. Dragons under her watch survived from their own hardiness, or from her compassion. No one was left to die. No one.

That law will stand until she herself dies, and she intends that occasion to be in the very distant future. The Plaguebringer will not have her, not yet.

Bio by Tues.
Gene: Spines

by Synsouls

by Tallinier

by Fellefan

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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.

Exalting Death to the service of the Plaguebringer 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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