Bishop
(#39971891)
Level 10 Pearlcatcher
Familiar
Steam Gyre
Click or tap to view this dragon in Predict Morphology.
Energy: 46/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Nature.
Male Pearlcatcher
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
4.32 m
Wingspan
5.02 m
Weight
416.5 kg
Genetics
Gloom
Iridescent
Iridescent
Gloom
Shimmer
Shimmer
Moon
Capsule
Capsule
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 10 Pearlcatcher
EXP: 12154 / 27676
STR
48
AGI
5
DEF
4
QCK
11
INT
9
VIT
4
MND
9
Biography
 
 A delicate shrine // Spun glass roses climb columns // And pebbles balance |
BISHOP - The Bereaved
In the days long past, Bishop was happy. He remembers it well, the time before he was brimming with vengeance and sorrow alike. There was sunshine, there were flowers. The birds sang, the world turned, and all was well. Mara was there, and he still had joy. She was the light of his life, an angel walking the earth. Everything he could have dreamed of, Mara was. Her heart was calm and light, her air steady and sweet. She loved flowers, cherished his Nature Flight roots, but loved her own home as well, and decorated their shared corner of the lair with paper lanterns and candles that floated on lily pads. She brought the best of their early days to like in the darkness of the Tangled Wood, making their lair feel like home with the slightest touch. But for Bishop, she was home. He could have traveled all across Sornieth, but as long as she was with him, he would have been at home. But it was not to last. The adage that the good die young was vicious and precise. It lay in wait for the hapless couple in the most benign of places, hidden in the roots of a flower field and thirsting for blood without a care for who gave it. Its name was Exon. Bishop learned Exon's name later. All he knew when Exon attacked him and Mara was that his life was in danger, and worse, so was his mate's. He did his utmost to shield his mate, throwing his wings out to hide her from view while she clutched her flowers close in shock, but it wasn't enough. Exon's first spell was meant to incapacitate, and when Bishop made himself an inconvenience, the mage intended his next spell to kill, clearly saving the hassle of a two versus one fight. It was Mara who died, though, not Bishop. She was so different than him for the most part, but their hearts were alike. Without a second thought, she leaped in front of the next blast, taking the brunt of its might. Bishop was heavily wounded nonetheless, but unlike Mara, he survived. His clan found him in the evening, when he and Mara didn't return before nightfall. They buried Mara without him, since he could barely keep his eyes open, let alone stand, and when he was finally well, all that was left of his beloved was a raised mound of earth in the heart of the flower field. The flowers she had held that day were long gone. He wept. He wept at length, his tears spilling over the earth, running in shimmering rivulets before they hardened into pearl. Mara's grave was beautiful in a cold, empty way once Bishop had cried himself dry, and he hated the sight of it. Compared to Mara herself, it was ugly and imperfect, a flawed and ghastly image. The only thing he could think of that was worse was Exon's face, hungry and twisted, greedy for power. However much he hated the grave, he hated Exon more. Exon's magic slowed Bishop's healing, and while he was kept away from heavy exertion by the clan healer, he devised a plan. It was bitter, so dark he would have never imagined himself capable of dreaming such a thing. There was blood. There were screams. At the end of it, Exon's body lay limp across the earth. And so Bishop schemed, aiming to turn his dream to reality. He spent long hours in the forge, limited by his injuries until they finally began to heal. He stopped adding to his pearl, which remained unusually small after that, and instead collected his pale spit in a blade-shaped mold, kept over a roaring fire day and night to keep the pearl from forming until the time was right. For months, he labored to turn pearl into blade, memory into weapon, and when he finally hammered it into shape and cooled it for the last time, he knew it was time to leave the clan and begin his quest. He has been wandering Sornieth ever since, carrying his rage in the blade across his black. Everywhere he goes, he offers a bounty for Exon brought to him alive, since he wants to lop the murderous mage's head off himself, and everywhere he goes, no one is able to deliver. But he refuses to rest, not when he still weeps a night, his side cold where Mara should be, his heart aching when he thinks of her. She was everything to him, his home, his world, and she was ripped away. He cannot forgive the mage who did it, cannot return to any semblance of the life he once had. He will have his vengeance, or he will die starving for it. Bio by Tues. |
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Exalting Bishop to the service of the Shadowbinder 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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