Onryo
(#42543485)
Level 1 Imperial
Familiar
Ghosthost Viola
Click or tap to view this dragon in Predict Morphology.
Energy: 50/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Plague.
Male Imperial
This dragon is hibernating.
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
26.47 m
Wingspan
15.1 m
Weight
8039.76 kg
Genetics
Beige
Vipera
Vipera
Obsidian
Safari
Safari
Obsidian
Thylacine
Thylacine
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 1 Imperial
EXP: 0 / 245
STR
6
AGI
6
DEF
6
QCK
5
INT
8
VIT
8
MND
6
Biography
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Entombed
"...beloved brother, valiant knight, cursed by his King and fallen into madness. We mourn for his eternal soul, forever bound in darkness..."
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Cold iron cuts into his flesh, he can feel the soft trickle of blood running down his skin and dripping softly to the ground. The air smells damp and earthy, mingled with a sharp iron scent. It’s dark, and cold. He is alone. Struggling against his chains, he screams in agony and rage but nobody hears his agonizing cry. Entombed, buried alive for so long. For how long, he does not know. The burial shroud has almost faded away, torn to pieces by his mindless fury. They buried him here, like he was dead. Mourned him like one of the fallen. But he wasn’t dead, or was he? He feels pain every waking moment, an agonizing and excruciating pain that never stops. Anguish beyond measure. “Why am I here?” He keeps asking himself. But he doesn’t remember. Where there should be memories, there is only a black void. Sometimes, flashes of images or emotions ascend from the abyss, tormenting him even further. They bring no solace, only insanity…
”Can you see them? Are they coming?” the King’s daughter asked, her voice full of hope and anticipation. It seemed to have been an eternity since he had seen his beloved princess smile. Her elder brothers were dead, fallen in battle like so many of their brave Clansmen and her father, the King, wasn’t himself anymore. Some rumored he had gone mad. But he trusted in his King. He was an honorable and valiant dragon. He would lead them back to prosperity and power once again. And this was the beginning. Their allies had finally come to their aid. A glimmer of hope in these dire straits. Everyone had felt it. This was a new beginning. The filthy Serthis had been defeated, they would never rise again. It was time to re-built. His beautiful princess turned around and smiled at him. He smiled back at her. They were here. Suddenly, a red gaping hole appeared where her eye had been. Blood gushed out of the wound, and she slowly fell to the ground, her last smile still etched on her now horribly disfigured face. Beside him, members of the honor guard fell to the ground, screaming. He stared at the dead princess, and slowly, reluctantly his mind grasped what his eyes were seeing. They had been betrayed. Their allies were attacking them, intend on finishing the deed the Serthis had begun. A mindless rage took hold of him, and his furious roar shook the trees around him. He charged at the traitors, the murderers of his beloved princess…
“No, please, make it stop. MAKE IT STOP!” his wailing and screaming echoes in his prison. He thrashes around, but the chains still hold him down. Relentlessly, mercilessly. Tears stream down his cheeks and fall to the ground, mingling with his blood. The ground is soaked with red stains, some dried, some still glistening wet. “MAKE IT STOP!” he screams, but his pleading goes unheard.
He stared at his blood-soaked claws unfocused. Vengeance wasn’t sweet. Killing the murderous traitors had brought him no relief, it had not eased his pain nor hat it brought her back. The pain was still festering in him, and a rage was boiling in him he could barely control. The urge to rip something apart, to dig his claws into living flesh was almost overwhelming him. How long had it been since he left her mutilated corpse on the bridge? How many foes had he slain in blind rage? He did not know. But something, some instinct, had led him here. To the King’s rooms, deep into the Marble Halls. He was still the King’s guard. Protecting the king and his family was his duty. Suddenly, an anguished scream pierced the night. “You…how dare you come to me? My daughter, my beautiful little girl. Dead, like her brothers. You should have protected her, you swore to protect my family and now they are all DEAD! And you, you are still alive…you failed them, you failed me, their blood is on your hands!” Each word hurt like a knife. His fault, everything was his fault. He failed them. And her. She had been his to protect, the bolt that ended her life, it should have ended his. His body should have been her shield. As he had sworn all those decades ago. “She loved you, you know. Despite your unnatural nature.” The King hissed like a snake now, spit flying from his mouth. “No, please, your grace. Stop it, please…have mercy…” he cried but the King only laughed. A cruel, mad laughter that echoed through the Halls. “I haven’t even begun yet, traitor. Mercy, who showed me and my family mercy? The Emerald Holt has fallen, but it will not fall alone. They will all perish with me. All the traitors, Serthis scum and spineless defenders of my realm. Vengeance is mine!” The King stopped laughing. He leaned closer, until his face was only inches away from him. He was clutching something in his paw. “But you, oath breaker, you will not get away that easily. I curse you, you filthy little halfbreed, you shall be consumed by anguish and rage, haunted by the memories of your failures, driven by a thirst for revenge that can never be stilled. You shall know no joy, no happiness and no rest. You will know no friends, no kin, no loved ones. All shall perish by your claws. Nobody shall remember your name, I take it from you. And with it all there is except your thirst for vengeance. Do you hear me? I CURSE YOU!” The stone in the King’s hand glowed deep-red. Thy sky darkened and an ice-cold wind blew through the hall shattering the mirrors and stained-glass windows. Somewhere, lightning struck a tree and the deafening sound made his ears ring. His sight became unfocused, his heart raced. Sweat ran down his face, the rage he had held back so desperately engulfed his soul, washed over him, devoured him. He screamed and clutched the jewel he was wearing on a delicate silver chain around his neck. Streaks of red and black clouded the once emerald-green jewel, its warm glow faded. Ghost fire sprang to life around the wailing Kitsune. In the broken mirrors he could see his light yellow eyes turn red…
He screams. Why, why do those memories come back to him? He does not know. Amongst all the pain, all the anguish, fury and rage, the memory of a beautiful dragoness surfaces. She smiles at him but there are tears in her eyes. Who is she? Is it her? He tries to hold onto her image, caress it but then her bright green eyes are replaced by gaping red holes. Her features melt away like wax, and he screams. The image is washed away by boiling rage, a thirst for blood and desire to kill. There is no place in his soul for anything but dire revenge. The chains creak while the Kitsune thrashes around in mindless fury. Weakened by centuries of ramp and rage, a link breaks, unbeknownst to the raging beast. Great care has been taken by his kin to entomb their vengeful raving brother but nothing can hold a cursed Tenko forever. His time will come… |
Cursed Tenko, Number of Tails: 9, Former Variant: Forest Spirit Kitsune
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Exalting Onryo to the service of the Gladekeeper 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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