Valsyn
(#42896)
Level 22 Guardian
Familiar
Shadow Serpent
Click or tap to view this dragon in Predict Morphology.
Energy: 0
out of
50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Arcane.
Male Guardian
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
11.58 m
Wingspan
13.39 m
Weight
7840.46 kg
Genetics
Obsidian
Basic
Basic
Violet
Basic
Basic
Avocado
Basic
Basic
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 22 Guardian
EXP: 2183 / 136210
STR
10
AGI
36
DEF
20
QCK
46
INT
80
VIT
30
MND
15
Biography
Ah, little son, second to hatch and the spitting image of his mother. No magic sings in your veins yet, but you will learn. Like mother, like son.
Valsyn still remembers the day Bharl received his pet, that ethereal trickster who never left his side. There was resentment, true. His brother didn't need him any more for games like tag or hide-and-seek. He had been usurped. The darn thing even got a vote when the hatchlings were making decisions. It was too much. It was too far.
But Valsyn was also more curious than his brother. Mnemosyne had hidden herself away somewhere; Bharval was in some kind of glass-eyed stupor; his brother had apparently disowned him and was otherwise occupied. Only one of those things held the possibility for discovery. He combed the tunnels of their cave system for hours, until he saw the flicker of a green leaf. Mnemosyne liked collecting leaves. And-- he scented the air, his little snout scrunched up-- he could smell something strange, like fresh air and smoke. And it seemed to be coming from between these boulders. Small as he was, it was no trouble to sneak between them, and in minutes a tiny black form flopped onto the floor. The stone was worn smooth by repeated passing and then scratched once more by the sorceress's needle-sharp claws, and the walls held evidence of a similar process. Hollowed shelves held hallowed tomes, but the walls between them were intermittently scorched, scratched, pock-marked where some spillage had worn parts away, and covered with various breeds of moss and slime. The floor, what little of it could be seen, wasn't much better, but it was the contents of the room that held little Valsyn's attention. From worn floor to raw ceiling, the place was a perfect circle divided into spokes of colour. Her arcane patterns glowed up from the floor and ceiling, and some even hung in place. Near the far wall, an obsidian tail was twitching from side to side as its owner hunched over something that filled the air with cloying smoke.
He was so exposed in this antechamber, so very aware that this was not a place he was supposed to be, and yet there was something in this room that called to him. On quiet feet, the young dragon slipped over to the nearest set of shelves. The first shelf was just the floor and the last was just before the ceiling, that was how much of the space she'd given over to her resources. Glancing into the shadows he caught sight of bones, arranged neatly; a higher shelf showed more bones, and bones on those bones, as high as he could see. The next set of shelves held stones: some glittered, some were matte, some honey-combed, some plain and raw. After that were the books. Arranged by subject (he would've known, if he'd yet learned to read) and each one well-thumbed from cover to cover.
It was a long time before he felt her stare. Her face was as indecipherable as her books; she simply watched, impassive, as he turned, saw, and let out a squeak as he dashed under a shelf. From the darkness, panting, he peeked out. No, she was still there. And her eyes were definitely on him. Then a scraping of scale against stone, and she was moving, approaching like Death on four taloned feet, and he was shaking so hard his teeth started chattering.
"Valsyn." He did not move.
"Come here, my sweet."
Still nothing.
"I will not ask again."
Scrambling, tripping over himself like the child he was, the hatchling tumbled out from under the shelf and sat at her feet, trying to look innocent while avoiding her eyes. It was this avoidance that meant he was surprised by the smile in her voice.
"Clever, aren't you? Your brother never thought to look in here."
Valsyn's little chest swelled, in spite of his caution. It hadn't been much, but she'd called him clever and that was more than he'd ever had. Maybe she wasn't angry. Mnemosyne's upturned mouth (it was never quite a smile with her, after all) gave way to a thoughtful twist as she surveyed the quiet hatchling.
"Come have a look, sweet." She gestured over to the cauldron, still spewing its black smoke. That she hadn't punished him yet was surely a good sign, wasn't it? And he did so want to see more of what necessitated such grandiose chambers. He followed, tentatively, and accepted the paw that, palm up, was extended to lift him to her shoulder.
It smelled awful. It looked awful. It was just a bubbling pot of black, viscous... stuff. Gross. The sorceress raised a foreleg and enunciated a few delicate words under her breath. Valsyn didn't see any change, but he felt the power like a punch to the abdomen and gasped for air. Magic, apparently, because she then reached into the boiling liquid and withdrew a shifting orb of the viscous material. This one didn't seem to smell so much. He dug his little claws in as she moved to the centre of the room and slowly undid the charm, the liquid pouring as if from an unseen decanter, until it formed a smooth spiral. Then he recognised the motion she made with her hand: the same gesture that had drawn the trickster into existence. There was no punch to the stomach this time, and for a moment he thought nothing was going to happen. Then the spiral began to vibrate. As if there were shock-waves going off somewhere in its core, the shape pulsed and shook and began to solidify. The congealing darkness on her forearms was vibrating too, shaking itself free to join the larger mass. He watched, awestruck, as scales began to rise from the liquid, broke the surface and rippled into place. Some were pushed out of place and where they had been, larger scales grew. They began to harden into gleaming purple. She twisted her hand once more and the spiral twisted, shook, and then then a head ripped out of the congealing scales and into place, its eyes glowing yellow and teeth bared to expose the green tongue inside. It hissed and then shook itself from side to side, as if stretching muscles that hadn't been used for millennia.
"Do you like it?" she murmured, and the little dragon shuddered, then quietly voiced his assent. Bhal's trickster had been one thing, but there was something dangerous about this snake he wasn't sure he liked. At least the trickster could be trusted to not be trustworthy.
Mnemosyne must have noticed his hesitation. She lifted him from her shoulder and settled him down by the snake. It hissed, bared its fangs wider. She had to have a reason for this, but the little dragon wasn't sure it was a good one. And then she was backing away and Valsyn was left, so small and so alone, with the serpent. It began writhing slowly, sliding towards him. He couldn't think straight. What could he do? Panic clawed at his throat. He turned to run, but the snake was faster. It sprang, and he felt the coils tightening around him. He couldn't fight. He couldn't cry for help; all that came out was a breathless whimper. Begging, that was all there was. He cried for her, and she did not move, her eyes boring into him. It was like she was waiting for him to-- but what? The coils were so tight he could hardly breathe. His legs were fastened to his sides, his claws useless, his jaws too weak to gain purchase. The snake's green eyes locked with his. He saw the great mouth open wide, the tongue slip free. And then the words finally snapped into place.
"Stop!"
The snake flinched away as if it had been struck, but it was regaining its composure far too quickly. Valsyn thought he understood. "Stop!" he yelled again, and this time the snake began to loosen its coils with the force of the word. He couldn't let up. "Stop! Halt! Back!" And with its hiss of pain, he felt the bindings loosen. That was it. He could command it. It held no power over him: he could make it slither away if he wanted, he could make it do whatever he wanted. "Sit up!" the little dragon roared, and the snake coiled itself up in front of him, balancing its upright length on top of the lower coils.
"Lie flat!" and the snake unfurled itself and lay flat and straight. His heart was hammering, his heart was singing, and he'd barely noticed the kick of power that had accompanied each word.
He turned to her, grin as bright as the sun. He'd bested it. He'd done it. And he was sure he wasn't imagining her infinitesimal nod of approval.
Valsyn still remembers the day Bharl received his pet, that ethereal trickster who never left his side. There was resentment, true. His brother didn't need him any more for games like tag or hide-and-seek. He had been usurped. The darn thing even got a vote when the hatchlings were making decisions. It was too much. It was too far.
But Valsyn was also more curious than his brother. Mnemosyne had hidden herself away somewhere; Bharval was in some kind of glass-eyed stupor; his brother had apparently disowned him and was otherwise occupied. Only one of those things held the possibility for discovery. He combed the tunnels of their cave system for hours, until he saw the flicker of a green leaf. Mnemosyne liked collecting leaves. And-- he scented the air, his little snout scrunched up-- he could smell something strange, like fresh air and smoke. And it seemed to be coming from between these boulders. Small as he was, it was no trouble to sneak between them, and in minutes a tiny black form flopped onto the floor. The stone was worn smooth by repeated passing and then scratched once more by the sorceress's needle-sharp claws, and the walls held evidence of a similar process. Hollowed shelves held hallowed tomes, but the walls between them were intermittently scorched, scratched, pock-marked where some spillage had worn parts away, and covered with various breeds of moss and slime. The floor, what little of it could be seen, wasn't much better, but it was the contents of the room that held little Valsyn's attention. From worn floor to raw ceiling, the place was a perfect circle divided into spokes of colour. Her arcane patterns glowed up from the floor and ceiling, and some even hung in place. Near the far wall, an obsidian tail was twitching from side to side as its owner hunched over something that filled the air with cloying smoke.
He was so exposed in this antechamber, so very aware that this was not a place he was supposed to be, and yet there was something in this room that called to him. On quiet feet, the young dragon slipped over to the nearest set of shelves. The first shelf was just the floor and the last was just before the ceiling, that was how much of the space she'd given over to her resources. Glancing into the shadows he caught sight of bones, arranged neatly; a higher shelf showed more bones, and bones on those bones, as high as he could see. The next set of shelves held stones: some glittered, some were matte, some honey-combed, some plain and raw. After that were the books. Arranged by subject (he would've known, if he'd yet learned to read) and each one well-thumbed from cover to cover.
It was a long time before he felt her stare. Her face was as indecipherable as her books; she simply watched, impassive, as he turned, saw, and let out a squeak as he dashed under a shelf. From the darkness, panting, he peeked out. No, she was still there. And her eyes were definitely on him. Then a scraping of scale against stone, and she was moving, approaching like Death on four taloned feet, and he was shaking so hard his teeth started chattering.
"Valsyn." He did not move.
"Come here, my sweet."
Still nothing.
"I will not ask again."
Scrambling, tripping over himself like the child he was, the hatchling tumbled out from under the shelf and sat at her feet, trying to look innocent while avoiding her eyes. It was this avoidance that meant he was surprised by the smile in her voice.
"Clever, aren't you? Your brother never thought to look in here."
Valsyn's little chest swelled, in spite of his caution. It hadn't been much, but she'd called him clever and that was more than he'd ever had. Maybe she wasn't angry. Mnemosyne's upturned mouth (it was never quite a smile with her, after all) gave way to a thoughtful twist as she surveyed the quiet hatchling.
"Come have a look, sweet." She gestured over to the cauldron, still spewing its black smoke. That she hadn't punished him yet was surely a good sign, wasn't it? And he did so want to see more of what necessitated such grandiose chambers. He followed, tentatively, and accepted the paw that, palm up, was extended to lift him to her shoulder.
It smelled awful. It looked awful. It was just a bubbling pot of black, viscous... stuff. Gross. The sorceress raised a foreleg and enunciated a few delicate words under her breath. Valsyn didn't see any change, but he felt the power like a punch to the abdomen and gasped for air. Magic, apparently, because she then reached into the boiling liquid and withdrew a shifting orb of the viscous material. This one didn't seem to smell so much. He dug his little claws in as she moved to the centre of the room and slowly undid the charm, the liquid pouring as if from an unseen decanter, until it formed a smooth spiral. Then he recognised the motion she made with her hand: the same gesture that had drawn the trickster into existence. There was no punch to the stomach this time, and for a moment he thought nothing was going to happen. Then the spiral began to vibrate. As if there were shock-waves going off somewhere in its core, the shape pulsed and shook and began to solidify. The congealing darkness on her forearms was vibrating too, shaking itself free to join the larger mass. He watched, awestruck, as scales began to rise from the liquid, broke the surface and rippled into place. Some were pushed out of place and where they had been, larger scales grew. They began to harden into gleaming purple. She twisted her hand once more and the spiral twisted, shook, and then then a head ripped out of the congealing scales and into place, its eyes glowing yellow and teeth bared to expose the green tongue inside. It hissed and then shook itself from side to side, as if stretching muscles that hadn't been used for millennia.
"Do you like it?" she murmured, and the little dragon shuddered, then quietly voiced his assent. Bhal's trickster had been one thing, but there was something dangerous about this snake he wasn't sure he liked. At least the trickster could be trusted to not be trustworthy.
Mnemosyne must have noticed his hesitation. She lifted him from her shoulder and settled him down by the snake. It hissed, bared its fangs wider. She had to have a reason for this, but the little dragon wasn't sure it was a good one. And then she was backing away and Valsyn was left, so small and so alone, with the serpent. It began writhing slowly, sliding towards him. He couldn't think straight. What could he do? Panic clawed at his throat. He turned to run, but the snake was faster. It sprang, and he felt the coils tightening around him. He couldn't fight. He couldn't cry for help; all that came out was a breathless whimper. Begging, that was all there was. He cried for her, and she did not move, her eyes boring into him. It was like she was waiting for him to-- but what? The coils were so tight he could hardly breathe. His legs were fastened to his sides, his claws useless, his jaws too weak to gain purchase. The snake's green eyes locked with his. He saw the great mouth open wide, the tongue slip free. And then the words finally snapped into place.
"Stop!"
The snake flinched away as if it had been struck, but it was regaining its composure far too quickly. Valsyn thought he understood. "Stop!" he yelled again, and this time the snake began to loosen its coils with the force of the word. He couldn't let up. "Stop! Halt! Back!" And with its hiss of pain, he felt the bindings loosen. That was it. He could command it. It held no power over him: he could make it slither away if he wanted, he could make it do whatever he wanted. "Sit up!" the little dragon roared, and the snake coiled itself up in front of him, balancing its upright length on top of the lower coils.
"Lie flat!" and the snake unfurled itself and lay flat and straight. His heart was hammering, his heart was singing, and he'd barely noticed the kick of power that had accompanied each word.
He turned to her, grin as bright as the sun. He'd bested it. He'd done it. And he was sure he wasn't imagining her infinitesimal nod of approval.
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Exalting Valsyn to the service of the Arcanist 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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