Astyanax
(#41948697)
A Child Spared
Pyrrhus
Emberglow Gem Guardian
Click or tap to view this dragon in Predict Morphology.
Energy: 48/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Plague.
Male Banescale
This dragon is an ancient breed.
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Personal Style
Ancient dragons cannot wear apparel.
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
6.09 m
Wingspan
4.26 m
Weight
673.98 kg
Genetics
Shadow
Cinder (Banescale)
Cinder (Banescale)
Maroon
Basic
Basic
Ruby
Basic
Basic
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 1 Banescale
EXP: 0 / 245
STR
7
AGI
8
DEF
6
QCK
8
INT
5
VIT
6
MND
5
Lineage
Parents
- none
Offspring
- none
Biography
Astyanax
They/Them
Curious | Isolated | Miraculous
All fame is lost and all is gone.
We weep tears for the last dawn!
The Banescale corpses dappled the ground like snowflakes. The Gaoler turned away- some of them were flying away. Forever posed in their last moments of terror. They tried to kill them, but they also loved their lives. They also feared for their lives. And they slaughtered them.
No. Do not think of guilt. The shattering was not finished. He had to do it- he would sleep with frosted nightmares if he did not. The Gaoler walked towards another Banescale, frozen in cornered terror. It bore immature horns; it was a juvenile. He winced, trying not to think of that. Its frosted scales turned clear. The Gaoler could stare straight through the Banescale.
Bright red eyes stared back.
A child spared, a child saved.
From loss a future engraved.
The hatchling tilted its head, crawling around its frozen kin to meet him. It was smaller- so much smaller than he expected, the horns barely cresting above its head. At most, it could have hatched a day ago. This was a child. It squawked, the pale membrane of its wings turning purple with the frozen light. All must be shattered.
The Gaoler clenched his talons. Snapping the neck would be painless, or he could drop it into the ocean far, far below. It would not comprehend what would happen. There was no reason to hesitate. Do it! The hatchling squawked again, then.. nuzzled him. He was suddenly reminded of the Gaoler hatchlings at hime, chirping whenever he entered their nests. This Banescale- this hatchling was no different.
He sighed. He couldn't do this.
But he could do something else.
Escape hatchling and flee your doom.
Fly from us, darling, from our tomb.
The Scarred Wasteland is no place for dragons, at least, not those born outside it. Little food, little water, and hundreds of diseases. Even if one was adaptable enough to survive the viruses and bacteria, it was a different story to adapt to the marauding tribes of raiders. There were hundreds of diseases and a thousand ways to die, to fail the challenges decreed by the Filthy One herself.
The Banescale chirps as he drops it at the edge of the festering, red tendrils, as he urges it to go deeper into the wastes. His general accepted his request to transfer to the northern division, unknowing of what hid in his satchels. The general would never know. The hatchling would surely succumb to the trials of the Wasteland. If not… well, he was not one to deny the Eleven.
Remember our pride and our fall.
And someday you shall win it all!
Stasis. The gift of raw, bountiful magic. As the child grew, their aging ceased, leaving them in their prime, muscles broad and healthy. Their eyes grew, too, in strength and multiplicity, until their great Plague magic was for all to see. The child would have made their family proud, had they lived to see them.
Time went on. Gaolers and Aberrations and all of the Eleven's first children vanished to their tombs and dens for a future time of bountiful magic. All of them except the child. They hid from dragons, from Beastclan, and rumor faded to myth, until one day, when Sornieth was filled with songs. Songs they almost remembered. The Banescale had returned. And, with that old song, the last of the first Banescale took flight.
There was an entire world out there.
Somewhere, Astyanax had a place in it.
____
(Note: Sing 'Child' with two syllables!)
Scattersight Quest
1. Uncommon
2. Unusual
3. Rare
4. Uncommon
5. Unusual
6. Rare
7. Uncommon
8. Unusual
9. Uncommon
10. Unusual
Oops vials now
Contact kitkune if selling
They/Them
Curious | Isolated | Miraculous
All fame is lost and all is gone.
We weep tears for the last dawn!
The Banescale corpses dappled the ground like snowflakes. The Gaoler turned away- some of them were flying away. Forever posed in their last moments of terror. They tried to kill them, but they also loved their lives. They also feared for their lives. And they slaughtered them.
No. Do not think of guilt. The shattering was not finished. He had to do it- he would sleep with frosted nightmares if he did not. The Gaoler walked towards another Banescale, frozen in cornered terror. It bore immature horns; it was a juvenile. He winced, trying not to think of that. Its frosted scales turned clear. The Gaoler could stare straight through the Banescale.
Bright red eyes stared back.
A child spared, a child saved.
From loss a future engraved.
The hatchling tilted its head, crawling around its frozen kin to meet him. It was smaller- so much smaller than he expected, the horns barely cresting above its head. At most, it could have hatched a day ago. This was a child. It squawked, the pale membrane of its wings turning purple with the frozen light. All must be shattered.
The Gaoler clenched his talons. Snapping the neck would be painless, or he could drop it into the ocean far, far below. It would not comprehend what would happen. There was no reason to hesitate. Do it! The hatchling squawked again, then.. nuzzled him. He was suddenly reminded of the Gaoler hatchlings at hime, chirping whenever he entered their nests. This Banescale- this hatchling was no different.
He sighed. He couldn't do this.
But he could do something else.
Escape hatchling and flee your doom.
Fly from us, darling, from our tomb.
The Scarred Wasteland is no place for dragons, at least, not those born outside it. Little food, little water, and hundreds of diseases. Even if one was adaptable enough to survive the viruses and bacteria, it was a different story to adapt to the marauding tribes of raiders. There were hundreds of diseases and a thousand ways to die, to fail the challenges decreed by the Filthy One herself.
The Banescale chirps as he drops it at the edge of the festering, red tendrils, as he urges it to go deeper into the wastes. His general accepted his request to transfer to the northern division, unknowing of what hid in his satchels. The general would never know. The hatchling would surely succumb to the trials of the Wasteland. If not… well, he was not one to deny the Eleven.
Remember our pride and our fall.
And someday you shall win it all!
Stasis. The gift of raw, bountiful magic. As the child grew, their aging ceased, leaving them in their prime, muscles broad and healthy. Their eyes grew, too, in strength and multiplicity, until their great Plague magic was for all to see. The child would have made their family proud, had they lived to see them.
Time went on. Gaolers and Aberrations and all of the Eleven's first children vanished to their tombs and dens for a future time of bountiful magic. All of them except the child. They hid from dragons, from Beastclan, and rumor faded to myth, until one day, when Sornieth was filled with songs. Songs they almost remembered. The Banescale had returned. And, with that old song, the last of the first Banescale took flight.
There was an entire world out there.
Somewhere, Astyanax had a place in it.
____
(Note: Sing 'Child' with two syllables!)
Scattersight Quest
1. Uncommon
2. Unusual
3. Rare
4. Uncommon
5. Unusual
6. Rare
7. Uncommon
8. Unusual
9. Uncommon
10. Unusual
Oops vials now
Contact kitkune if selling
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Exalting Astyanax to the service of the Tidelord 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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