Eris
(#41329194)
Level 5 Spiral
Familiar
Masked Phantom
Click or tap to view this dragon in Predict Morphology.
Energy: 50/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Wind.
Male Spiral
This dragon is hibernating.
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
3.02 m
Wingspan
2.77 m
Weight
79 kg
Genetics
Turquoise
Iridescent
Iridescent
Mint
Seraph
Seraph
Jade
Thylacine
Thylacine
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 5 Spiral
EXP: 202 / 5545
STR
5
AGI
9
DEF
5
QCK
8
INT
6
VIT
6
MND
6
Biography
After what seemed like eons, Magus has stopped pursuing mysterious stories and legends. For the first time in a very, very long time he has a place to call home. He lives (LOCATION) with his eternal mate, Cahira, and his best friend/pseudo-brother, Anubis. He is finally happy where he is, with no need for far-fetched, cryptic tales of hidden caches of treasure or dangerous missions meant only for the brave and powerful. He's had his fill of mystery and terror, and only wishes to live the rest of his life in relative peace.
----Divider Goes Here----
His first memory isn't of his mother or father; Instead, it was a group of masked figures cloaked in dark magic. He was raised in a mysterious temple where they resided, taught there, and trained in their magic. This was his world for a long time -- practically all he knew of. It wasn’t until much later that he discovered what a mother and father were, and that he didn't have either. For much of his life he was called "boy" or "young one", sometimes things much worse, things he didn't care to remember.
As he grew, so did his power. Even when he was very young, his magic rivaled some of the High Council’s. When he reached adolescence he had the ability to level mountains with the wave of a hand. The High Council of Elders never bothered to teach him to control his magic, only to exploit it. He was crafted into the perfect weapon. If anyone spoke out against (*NAME OF DARK TEMPLE*) he would be sent to destroy them. Magus never had to get close; with his abilities, he could stand several miles away from whatever village he was sent to destroy and raze it to the ground with ease. He could always hear the faint screams of his target on the wind, but never paid much mind to it. Having never killed up close, he hadn't fully understood what he was doing other than following orders. That is, up until the day he earned his name.
It was several years later, when he entered adulthood that stories of 'A God-Like Mage' began to spread across the land. He was to be feared, and if so inclined, worshiped. He became the story parents would tell their children: when little dragons misbehaved, they risked being snatched up by him, never to return.
The council came to the decision that if they were to truly control and master all magics, it was essential to conquer The Starfall Isles and defeat The Arcanist.
So they sent him, leading a small group to The Starfall Isles. They met little resistance getting to the Observatory.
Only Magus and his mentor Astla where allowed entrance; when the others stepped through the doorway to follow them, they were turned into scrolls and floated up to the topmost shelf inside the building.
The interior of the Observatory briefly confused them, for you see, they had walked into a tower but now stood in a very large great hall with many rooms and hallways as far as the eye could see.
It was in that initial sweep of the room that Magus began to realize what they were up against, but he was taught to never retreat. They could clearly see The Arcanist at the end of the room, leaning back in a overly large, ornate chair reading and sipping tea.
Astla leaned in and whispered, "Best we do this quickly, Apprentice."
Magus nodded, understanding they would only have one chance to accomplish what they had come to do. He summoned up all the power he could and launched the destructive force at Arcanist.
By all logic, it should have obliterated everything in front of him, but what happened instead made Magus’ heart skip a beat. Instead of the cataclysmic, lethal explosion he and Astla were expecting, nothing happened save a small splash of the Arcanist’s tea, as if something had been dropped in it.
Without looking up, Arcanist spoke. "I guess the rumors do hold some truth,” he chuckled, “that was quite a lot of of raw magic power, if I do say so myself.” He picked up a spoon and stirred his tea. "All to make a cube of sugar. Tsk.
"So, why are you here? Just hurling magic at me for the fun of it? Or,” his eyes cut straight into Magus and his voice turned patronizing. “Is it to kill me and take my power for your own? And on and on, and on it goes.” He tsked again, laughing darkly. “Your mind is wide open, even with such power! How absurd."
Astla took offense immediately. "How dare you," she seethed, stepping up as if to guard Magus."I will destro---”
"Well that's enough of that," The Arcanist said, rolling his eyes.
To Magus' shock, he watched in horror as his mentor rolled into a scroll and stowed herself on a shelf with the others. Magus went numb. The only being that had ever cared about him was gone. He didn't understand the growing ache in his chest, the pain and anguish rushing through him.
"Astla, I will avenge you," he growled, his voice chilling and fangs bared. Tears welled in his eyes, a completely foreign experience. He took a staggering step forward and screamed, "If magic won't hurt you, I'LL USE MY CLAWS!"
"So you do have emotions, hmm. Interesting." The Arcanist turned back to his book, flipping through its pages, searching for his place. “Aha,” he spoke to himself as he found it, a glint of excitement in his eyes. “You're wrong, you know. Magic can hurt me -- If you know how to use it, that is. But it'll never touch me while you're throwing it around like an angry hatchling, barely able to fly."
Magus was done listening. He had a job to do. Instead of throwing his magic outward he pulled it in, making him faster, stronger.
His claws dug deeply into the floor as he ran, intent on attacking The Arcanist, but instead ended up in a town that he had once destroyed, standing over a mother and her child. They looked at him in terror, fear written across their faces and tears streaming down from their eyes. He gasped, taken aback. A flash, then he was standing in another town and could see his younger self standing in the distance. He could feel the fear and panic around him. His past self had know what would happen, but had never known how it had felt, or how many innocents would perish. He knew now, and felt sick at the thought.
When the next blast hit him, he was back in front of Arcanist, who was still reading his book. When The Arcanist looked up, he closed his book. Magus was now close enough to see the title: 'The Magus from Darkness'.
"It's not a bad read, if you're not squeamish. You have no idea how many lives you have taken or ruined. Here,” he said casually, “read it for yourself." He threw the book at him, smacking him between the eyes and landing open in front of him. This book was about him, he realized, as recognized names and conversations printed on the open pages.
"This is about me? How? How do you have this?" His voice shook and he was visibly sick at the thought.
"Yes, it is, and there many, many more. You may not understand now, but one day you will." He waved his hand with a simple flourish. "All your colleagues are alive." The scrolls floated off the shelves and unrolled themselves, transforming back into Astla and the three others that had came with him.
"This was all a test to see if you have a conscience. It seems,” he paused for effect, “you do.” He rose from his chair, the furniture creaking as he did so. “This is what going to happen, young Magus. For every life you've taken, a year will be added to yours. You will live for them. This is your burden to bare.” His voice boomed with his command, before adding softly, “You may even outlive me."
----Divider Goes Here----
His first memory isn't of his mother or father; Instead, it was a group of masked figures cloaked in dark magic. He was raised in a mysterious temple where they resided, taught there, and trained in their magic. This was his world for a long time -- practically all he knew of. It wasn’t until much later that he discovered what a mother and father were, and that he didn't have either. For much of his life he was called "boy" or "young one", sometimes things much worse, things he didn't care to remember.
As he grew, so did his power. Even when he was very young, his magic rivaled some of the High Council’s. When he reached adolescence he had the ability to level mountains with the wave of a hand. The High Council of Elders never bothered to teach him to control his magic, only to exploit it. He was crafted into the perfect weapon. If anyone spoke out against (*NAME OF DARK TEMPLE*) he would be sent to destroy them. Magus never had to get close; with his abilities, he could stand several miles away from whatever village he was sent to destroy and raze it to the ground with ease. He could always hear the faint screams of his target on the wind, but never paid much mind to it. Having never killed up close, he hadn't fully understood what he was doing other than following orders. That is, up until the day he earned his name.
It was several years later, when he entered adulthood that stories of 'A God-Like Mage' began to spread across the land. He was to be feared, and if so inclined, worshiped. He became the story parents would tell their children: when little dragons misbehaved, they risked being snatched up by him, never to return.
The council came to the decision that if they were to truly control and master all magics, it was essential to conquer The Starfall Isles and defeat The Arcanist.
So they sent him, leading a small group to The Starfall Isles. They met little resistance getting to the Observatory.
Only Magus and his mentor Astla where allowed entrance; when the others stepped through the doorway to follow them, they were turned into scrolls and floated up to the topmost shelf inside the building.
The interior of the Observatory briefly confused them, for you see, they had walked into a tower but now stood in a very large great hall with many rooms and hallways as far as the eye could see.
It was in that initial sweep of the room that Magus began to realize what they were up against, but he was taught to never retreat. They could clearly see The Arcanist at the end of the room, leaning back in a overly large, ornate chair reading and sipping tea.
Astla leaned in and whispered, "Best we do this quickly, Apprentice."
Magus nodded, understanding they would only have one chance to accomplish what they had come to do. He summoned up all the power he could and launched the destructive force at Arcanist.
By all logic, it should have obliterated everything in front of him, but what happened instead made Magus’ heart skip a beat. Instead of the cataclysmic, lethal explosion he and Astla were expecting, nothing happened save a small splash of the Arcanist’s tea, as if something had been dropped in it.
Without looking up, Arcanist spoke. "I guess the rumors do hold some truth,” he chuckled, “that was quite a lot of of raw magic power, if I do say so myself.” He picked up a spoon and stirred his tea. "All to make a cube of sugar. Tsk.
"So, why are you here? Just hurling magic at me for the fun of it? Or,” his eyes cut straight into Magus and his voice turned patronizing. “Is it to kill me and take my power for your own? And on and on, and on it goes.” He tsked again, laughing darkly. “Your mind is wide open, even with such power! How absurd."
Astla took offense immediately. "How dare you," she seethed, stepping up as if to guard Magus."I will destro---”
"Well that's enough of that," The Arcanist said, rolling his eyes.
To Magus' shock, he watched in horror as his mentor rolled into a scroll and stowed herself on a shelf with the others. Magus went numb. The only being that had ever cared about him was gone. He didn't understand the growing ache in his chest, the pain and anguish rushing through him.
"Astla, I will avenge you," he growled, his voice chilling and fangs bared. Tears welled in his eyes, a completely foreign experience. He took a staggering step forward and screamed, "If magic won't hurt you, I'LL USE MY CLAWS!"
"So you do have emotions, hmm. Interesting." The Arcanist turned back to his book, flipping through its pages, searching for his place. “Aha,” he spoke to himself as he found it, a glint of excitement in his eyes. “You're wrong, you know. Magic can hurt me -- If you know how to use it, that is. But it'll never touch me while you're throwing it around like an angry hatchling, barely able to fly."
Magus was done listening. He had a job to do. Instead of throwing his magic outward he pulled it in, making him faster, stronger.
His claws dug deeply into the floor as he ran, intent on attacking The Arcanist, but instead ended up in a town that he had once destroyed, standing over a mother and her child. They looked at him in terror, fear written across their faces and tears streaming down from their eyes. He gasped, taken aback. A flash, then he was standing in another town and could see his younger self standing in the distance. He could feel the fear and panic around him. His past self had know what would happen, but had never known how it had felt, or how many innocents would perish. He knew now, and felt sick at the thought.
When the next blast hit him, he was back in front of Arcanist, who was still reading his book. When The Arcanist looked up, he closed his book. Magus was now close enough to see the title: 'The Magus from Darkness'.
"It's not a bad read, if you're not squeamish. You have no idea how many lives you have taken or ruined. Here,” he said casually, “read it for yourself." He threw the book at him, smacking him between the eyes and landing open in front of him. This book was about him, he realized, as recognized names and conversations printed on the open pages.
"This is about me? How? How do you have this?" His voice shook and he was visibly sick at the thought.
"Yes, it is, and there many, many more. You may not understand now, but one day you will." He waved his hand with a simple flourish. "All your colleagues are alive." The scrolls floated off the shelves and unrolled themselves, transforming back into Astla and the three others that had came with him.
"This was all a test to see if you have a conscience. It seems,” he paused for effect, “you do.” He rose from his chair, the furniture creaking as he did so. “This is what going to happen, young Magus. For every life you've taken, a year will be added to yours. You will live for them. This is your burden to bare.” His voice boomed with his command, before adding softly, “You may even outlive me."
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Exalting Eris 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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