Coa's dragon Vespre

Personal Style

Apparel

Skin

Scene

Physical Attributes

Battle Stats

Measurements

Length

4.84 m

Wingspan

6.86 m

Weight

472.75 kg

Genetics

Midnight
Wasp

Shadow
Bee

Teal
Basic

Hatchday

Jul 06, 2018
(5 years)

Breed

Adult
Wildclaw

Eye Type

Shadow
Common

Level 25 Wildclaw

Max Level

STR

127

AGI

DEF

QCK

INT

VIT

MND

Lineage

Parents

none

Offspring

none

Biography

_____

PROLOGUE.

In the isles that border Shadow and Water, midday’s light is swallowed by thick fog before it touches the surf. The coastline of the Tangled Wood recoils into the rolling mist as if it’s shielding itself beneath a veil of gray. The sun’s golden rays are choked until they vanish, leaving the swampland isles to bask in a dull, dusky glow.

Val Vistaria is sheltered here, hidden in this infinite gray. Few maps know of its existence, and those that do can only vaguely pinpoint where the island may lie along the coast. The silver haze that shrouds the island makes navigating the waters all the more difficult. Most stumble upon the enclave by chance, and those that look for it may search for days before turning around and admitting defeat.

But rumors tell of a guide that manifests in the mist.

THE MISTWALKER.

It’s blinding. The daylight has departed, yet my vision is obscured by blinding gray. Everything is gray. It’s still, and calm, and suffocating. I cannot see my hands in front of my face, nor the water beneath my boat; just the wisps of fog that dance across the surface of the waves, mocking and cruel. I cry out, but even my voice seems to be consumed by the billowing mist. There is no sky above me, no ocean below. As panic sets in, the air catches in my throat. I’m drowning… gods, I’m drowning above water. I am lost in an empty sea.

That’s when I see it. The smothering cloud of silver is illuminated by pale lantern light, shining weakly through the fog. My heart quickens - I can touch it. I reach out with frenzied hands and arms outstretched, but the lamplight is farther away than it looks. Out of my reach. I shout, and my desperate calls seem to fall on ears, this time - for the glow appears to shift and move towards me.

Am I hallucinating? No, that’s impossible - I can hear something now, too. A paddle boat’s slow creaking, water softly lapping at its sides, an oar cutting through the waves. The boat comes into my vision - it is built of dark wood, with a lantern hanging from its bow and boxes of supplies resting in its belly. Insects - fireflies, it seems - swarm around the boat in mesmerizing patterns. As my eyes adjust to the growing light and I turn to speak to whoever is within the vessel, my heart drops.

A dark figure is standing in the boat, staring back at me through sunken eyes. Its face is a skull. Shock grips me as I fall backwards, stumbling and violently rocking my raft. The other boat draws closer, as does the demonic apparition within.

“Are you lost?”

The being’s silken voice rings out to me, gentle as the calmest waters. The eyes that stare back at me, once somber and black, are now alight and flooded with concern. Lost for words, all I can manage to do is nod my head. He floats ever closer, guiding his boat nearer to mine. I can now see his modest smile from beneath the skull that he wears like a mask. His tone is soft as he speaks. “Let me guide you home.”

...

It’s impossible to know how long I followed him through the gray. Our route twisted and turned, and he said nothing of our destination: he simply rowed in silence, gradual and steady. I drifted in my boat behind him. I was anxious. Trembling. Several times, I doubted my guide; perhaps he was a malevolent spirit from the Tangled Wood, here to trick weary travelers and strand them in the mist? Was I the next victim? Whenever my heartbeat would rise at these troubled thoughts, he seemed to notice and turned to face me - all I needed was a glimpse of that earnest smile, and my fears were put to rest.

Eventually, I saw a break in the never-ending fog. Beyond the muddied gray, I could make out the outline of the shore. I could see radiant, unrestrained daylight glittering on the surf before me. My guide pointed forward, and I didn’t hesitate behind him: I quickened my rowing and propelled forward until I had finally pierced through the all-engrossing haze. That guiding spirit never followed me; his boat never left the mist. Once I was sure that I was free from the fog, I turned to thank him, yet I could not distinguish anything past the gray.

All I could see was the glow of his lantern as it dimmed and faded away.

VESPRE - LATE EVENING.

x. Those that hear of Vespre in adventurers’ stories know him has the Mistwalker: an enigmatic figure that appears in the mist, whose face is obscured by a skull. The tall tales surrounding his existence - those that call him a spirit, or an apparition in the fog - are far more interesting than Vespre’s true purpose.

For as long as he has lived, the Mistwalker has served the Temple of the Bleeding Sun as a supplier. Out of all of Val Vistaria’s inhabitants, Vespre is the only one to leave and return to the island with any frequency. He embarks on his ramshackle paddle boat, trading supplies with coastline villages and taking goods back to the island. Because of the sheer number of times he has entered and left the isle, he has developed a knack for navigating the fog. Not only that - he has come across countless, troubled sailors who have stranded their boats in the gray. His good nature and boundless empathy have led him to help guide thousands of lost travelers out of the mist. He is blissfully unaware of his role as a mysterious spectre in all those tales of adventure.

_____

Sweet insect boy, loves beetles and fireflies.
Awaiting commission from @Vaxildan! Remember to save + upload yourself once it is done so you don't lose it.

Art by @lolcraft376

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Exalting Vespre 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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