Cyatheales » Lair » Nistra

Nistra

(#42055021)

High Councilor, Clan Founder

Familiar

Snowflake Nymph

Energy: 29/50

Personal Style

Apparel

Skin

Scene

Physical Attributes

Battle Stats

Measurements

Length

3.75 m

Wingspan

2.88 m

Weight

297.43 kg

Genetics

Ice
Giraffe

Sky
Hex

Banana
Basic

Hatchday

May 29, 2018
(5 years)

Breed

Adult
Tundra

Eye Type

Ice
Rare

Level 25 Tundra

Max Level

STR

AGI

DEF

QCK

INT

VIT

MND

Lineage

Parents

none

Offspring

Biography

Kelsik stared at the lump in the snow, his expression unreadable. Hoping to haul home a few elk before the winter made them too lean, the centaur hunting party had found something entirely unexpected instead. The tundra, curled up in futile defense against hunger, loneliness or just the unnatural cold of the Southern Icefields and half-buried in snowfall, was almost indistinguishable from any of the boulders of ice they had passed earlier in the day. It was only by sheer chance that they stumbled upon the pitiful scene while the sun was still high, and the party's two leaders-- Kelsik and his mate, Tamm-- had been arguing for the better part of the past hour. They would not be bringing home any elk this day. The point of contention now was what they may bring home instead.

A shard of ice lay cradled in the arms of the dead tundra, a tiny fetal dragon curled up inside in mirror image of its frozen mother.

Tamm threw up her hands. "Fine! You've always been as stubborn as an ox. Take it, then, if you won't listen to reason. When the dragons come to our village, I'll tell them who it was who took their egg, if only to spare the rest of us."

Kelsik gingerly trotted up to the corpse, moving the egg from its mother's clutches to the fabric of his saddlebag. He spared a mournful look at the snow-covered body as the party moved on. It hadn't snowed in over a week.

"No one will come, Tamm."

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The travois plowed through the ice-capped spring snow, heavily laden with baskets of berries and spring game, trussed and field-dressed for further processing indoors. Its crashing passage was nearly enough to drown out the not-particularly-quiet footsteps of the small herd of foragers surrounding it-- a constant crunching staccato of countless hoofbeats and the heavy rhythmic thud of four dragon paws.

Such a haul would have taken two or three centaurs to drag back home. It was useful to have a dragon in the party. For most of her life as a young whelp, Nistra was happy to be useful-- that's what she told herself. These days, it felt like eating snow. She was still starving for something. She raised her gaze to the dappled grey flank of the centaur ahead of her, an old half-friend of hers, Alia, and felt a pang of... something. Happiness? Sadness? Anger? She was getting well-practiced at crushing down these complicated feelings, but she let herself wallow in them this time, if only to distract herself from the drudgery of her current task.

Even as a juvenile, she now towered over and vastly outweighed most of her centaur family. She was sleeping in the great tent now (and it wouldn't be long until she grew too big for the entryway and had to sleep outside), and ate the keep of two adult centaurs. She would be eating more and likely growing even larger, but the Southern Icefield was never a bountiful place at the best of times, and though her adopted parents would always encourage her to eat her share even at the expense of their own satiety, the shame she now felt taking enough to fill her belly was enough to force her into a starvation diet. Despite this, she was large now. She got looks of fear now whenever she got too excited and forgot for a happy second what she was. Just yet another thing to monitor. Yet another way she had to crush herself down, to try to be smaller than she is. To try in vain to be something she fundamentally isn't.

Every day she felt more and more like an alien among her lifelong friends and family, and her budding romantic feelings only made things more painful for her. She cast her gaze down to the snow at her feet, hot with shame. She could crush down these feelings, too. She might as well. She was a dragon. She wasn't good at loving, or being loved, but she was good at crushing useless things. Without warning, a hot, salty tear splattered against the crust of ice topping the snow beneath her, and quickly, with a heavy paw, she crushed her embarrassment underfoot.

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WIP

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Exalting Nistra to the service of the Icewarden 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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