PAlbatross » Lair » Malady

Malady

(#40817557)

Level 1 Mirror

Familiar

Rusty Golem

Energy: 49/50

Personal Style

Apparel

Skin

Scene

Physical Attributes

Battle Stats

Measurements

Length

7.32 m

Wingspan

6.82 m

Weight

583.52 kg

Genetics

Stone
Iridescent

Blood
Current

Blood
Thylacine

Hatchday

Apr 10, 2018
(6 years)

Breed

Adult
Mirror

Eye Type

Plague
Common

Level 1 Mirror

EXP: 0 / 245

STR

AGI

DEF

QCK

INT

VIT

MND

Lineage

Parents

Rixis
Grisha

Offspring

none

Biography

Size
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Wingspan
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Strength
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Defense
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Magic
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Resistance
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Speed
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Charisma
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A carrier of disease, of the Plaguebringer's will. Neither malevolent nor benevolent, the mirror needs only a handshake to show you Her power, another to cure you of the disease she has passed on to you. Tests, she says, to see if you're worthy of Her favor, to understand Her opinion on you.

A prophet, an expert on the Scarred Wastelands and the happenings in it, every visit her abilities grow more diverse, more powerful, as she combines the diseases of the Sunbeam Ruins with that of her homeland.

Malady
Necromancer || Plague Ambassador

Earn Her favor, and let the plague overtake you; A handshake, and we can begin this small trial.

Disease. It surrounded her, on dragons, on eggs, on the trees and the land. It was fortunate, then, that she saw it not with fear or hatred, but with beauty. And it was fortunate that her parents could control it. A gift earned, given by the Plaguebringer herself, for completing a trial.
She mulled over these thoughts as she scanned her surroundings. The Rotrock Rim was fascinating, to say the least. Trees surrounded her, warped but surviving, perhaps even thriving. The creatures, even more interesting. Bubbles under skin, an extra pair of eyes, but some-- swollen to a hopeless size, fighting for breath, not strong enough to live so close to the wyrmwound.
This did not deter her, and she journeyed closer to the wyrmwound.

Sisyphus had not simply touched the infested river, he dove in and raced out, a spectacular display of his skills in flight and spreading the orange, glowing liquid in his wake. What Malady couldn't decide is if it was brave, or if it was foolish. Regardless, in that moment, his chances of survival had plummeted. Rot had taken to him immediately, yet to her surprise, he has survived the dive as well as the hours following. Maybe her sky-loving brother had it in him.

This left her with a dilemma. Does she play it safe, or does she step up her game? Outdoing her brother is out of the question; bathing in the wyrmwound may as well be a death wish, and she couldn't create a better display than him anyway. Mirrors are made for running, not flying.
...
But, she could tempt fate. She positioned herself close to the wyrmwound and seated herself, back facing the pool, then spread her wings. She would bake them on the heated air. Perhaps her wings would mutate, become stronger, form a beautiful pattern of veins, rot, something unforeseeable. Or perhaps they would weaken, and decay beyond repair.
This, she decided, was the risk she would take.

Days later, the sickness set in, first showing in the form of her wings becoming discolored and fragile, where any strain would crack the dried webbing, leaving countless cuts behind. She observed the cracks, the veins that are growing more apparent, and vaguely realized the ache in her limbs.

As time passed, her condition worsened. The ache became unbearable, and any touch, any movement made it worse. Smells became indiscernible, sounds became muffled and unrecognizable. With her senses went her clarity; What she saw only barely registered, her mind slowed, thoughts became vague and fuzzy. The rattling in her lungs, the boils and welts, the dizzy spells and hot flashes kept her focus, and the rare coherent thoughts she had were of absolute admiration of the Plaguebringer's work.
Slowly, carefully, so as to not lose her balance, she took a drooping wing in her claws and brought it forward, to observe it as best she could.

A week after the trial of survival began, the abnormalities began replacing themselves with blood colored stripes, and gradually, the daze she had been in ended. The feeling of rejuvenation after the illness subsided was heavenly-- This must be Her power, Malady realized. If she succeeded the final trial, she could use it so others may understand the feeling, experience the power.
Slowly, she rose. While she had won over the illness, her body was still recovering, but she could not afford to wait. Capturing something to infect was currently out of the question, so she would seek out plants; they are immobile and hardy, aren't they? Her wings dragged uncomfortably behind her as she slowly made her way to the nearest tree she saw, and she wondered about them, the cause of their weight, why the webbing felt so wrong.

Cackle
Bonespeaker//Scout

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shes cute, i love her

-Is extremely fascinated by how diseases affect certain dragons, will infect dragons at random to see how they and the disease fares
-Can easily identify disease and, if she really wanted to, could cure it, but if a dragon catches it naturally she most likely would give advice and observe over intervene
-May or may not have regularly used dragons as test subjects with diseases, to learn about them and their cures.
-Also probably tries to connect with Cackle since he's the only other plague dragon around, but since cackle left his family at an incredibly young age, it... doesn't work out
-May or may not get cackle sick more than anyone else as a result
-The trials leave her wings pretty messed up. Please don't cook your wings at the wyrmwound for a couple days, thanks (Permanently fragile webbing, they're just not Strong. Sensation in her wings (+back between wings) are also all wonky and messed up)
-Essentially grounded as a result

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0/1000

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 Malady 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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