Azmodan
(#43279210)
Level 1 Spiral
Dust
Dustfeather Sphinx
Click or tap to view this dragon in Predict Morphology.
Energy: 50/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Plague.
Male Spiral
This dragon is hibernating.
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
4.47 m
Wingspan
3.2 m
Weight
70.68 kg
Genetics
Copper
Python
Python
Copper
Morph
Morph
Copper
Capsule
Capsule
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 1 Spiral
EXP: 0 / 245
STR
5
AGI
9
DEF
5
QCK
8
INT
6
VIT
6
MND
6
Biography
Azmodan
Merchant, son of Jeremiel
Merchant, son of Jeremiel
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One little rascal the forces of nature could not stop. Up and around, under and between. The light tinkling of bone-necklaces and small trinkets follow as he slithers through piles of stuff. It's dark down here, dry, he likes it quite a lot. He'd take a nap if he had the patience, but there's so many things to see! Underneath a pile of heavy drapes lies a little closed box. He zooms in on it, and curls around the top to open it. The lid isn't closed properly. He sticks his head inside, wiggling the back of his legs to get a good grip. Something golden meets his eye, twinkling in the darkness. A big clump of something, and a little golden buzzing something. It interests him a lot and he tries to bite it. Taste like rock. Ew. Next item! A golden watch, it ticks slowly, and the middle arrow is fascinating to watch. He chirps. Glances at these good very good trinkets. Tucks them close to his body, the buzzing and the ticking, both in colours of ember and gold. He's about to crawl out from inside the box when a bright light disturbs him greatly and makes him hiccup in fright, kicking the box away from him. The drapes he was hiding under have been lifted, and the light shining through hurts him in its suddenness. Clutching his trinkets tightly he kicks and crawls with his eyes closed, trying with all his might to get back into the dark. His back hits the soft material, and he squishes himself into it. There's a moment of silence where all he hears is his own puffy breath, and then a low rumbling starts. He barely opens one eye to look, and the very bright light seems to calm down somewhat. There's the rumbling laughter of a bigger dragon. He can barely see a silhouette, it's very close. With his one narrowed eye he clutches the trinkets closer to himself. "Well this is a surprise," says the big dragon. "There seems to be a little lad crawling among my merchandise," he rumbles gently. Azmodan opens the other eye, and narrowingly tries to look up. The voice seems kind, and the light isn't as harsh anymore. He blinks and sees what must be the largest dragon he has ever seen. His white, bearded face is bowed down, far enough down that he can touch him. Maybe touch the beard. He wants to touch the beard. "Hello there," the dragon smiles. Azmodan looks at him very closely. The dragon reaches out to put the drapes away, and is suddenly very close to his trinkets. He clutches them very hard, the dent of the clock sharp. These are his. He chirps as much. The dragon smiles again. "Oh well then, are these yours?" He asks. The little dragon narrows his eyes when the hand is suddenly pointing at his things. "Are you the fine merchant of this wagon then? You must be the youngest merchant I've ever seen, but perhaps we can trade?" Azmodan can hear the awaiting laughter in his voice, and it tempts him to let loose a little on his harsh grip. "How about," a long neck bows down next to him, and another box is retrieved from close by. It smells good. "If you give me the ember and the clock," he points at the trinkets again. He points for a long time, and Azmodan looks down at them as well. They are very nice. "you can have this delicious can of mallard meat?" The box he's holding is opened towards him, and it smells so much that he has to lick his mouth to catch the full scent. He eyes the box interested, and chirps when its lowered closer to him. In his haste to grab it, he loses both of his fine things. But food smells better than the rock. Food wins. He eats the pieces of meat, and looks up happily at the big dragon. Keeps looking at him to see if he also wants food. The bearded dragon smiles at him, and carefully moves the box closer to the light outside the wagon. Close to finishing what was in the little box, the big dragon bows his head closer. Azmodan stares at the beard. He still wants to touch it. He grabs onto the fluffy looking hair with both claws, and the surprised oomf from the dragon doesn't stop him from crawling further. Up and around again, he's a real explorer. The dragon he's hanging onto doesn't quite seem to be in on the fun of it, but he continues spiraling himself around, at last settling with his body around his neck, and his head poking in around the fluff of his mane. It is very comfortable. He'd like to stay here, thank you. Soft rumbling followed, and two big hands grabbed ahold of him, and lifted him down. He made reluctant noises, not wanting to let go of this wonderful, soft newfound place. He was put down on the hard earth. Utterly confused at this turn of events, he looked up at the big dragon. "In the least I'll find your parents shall I?" he said. His beard was rustling, and he was suddenly lifted up again. Delightedly he twisted himself around the imperial again, softly tucking his head in. 
Restlessly he squirmed in his father's grasp. The big dragon had waved and was moving away, and that was not ok. Even the calming gaze of his father would not settle him down. His mind flashed with images of the ticking thing and the feeling of soft fur. He knew where he wanted to go. He screeched and twisted around, and his father tutted at him. "Azmodan calm down." Azmodan did not calm down. Another sigh, then the playful voice of his father finally got him to listen. "You really want to go with him, travel a little?" The hatchling didn't understand his noises quite yet, but they were playful and happy and it made him chirp happily back. Baal got a indulging expression, and lowered his voice. "Now, you have to be really quiet." The spiral turned watchful eyes to his father, and held on as he was flown quickly across the ground. It was a game they played frequently, and he squirmed in glee. Across the ground they went, and suddenly they were there, behind the wagon he'd been picked up from. "I'm going to leave a little message here with you, and if it doesn't work out we'll see you soon," Baal winked, and put his son into the wagon again. He chirped happily, and crawled under the space he had come from. He could still hear the laughter from his father. Curling around soft clothing, he breathed out. It must have been a few hours before he awoke again, by the bumping of the road and movement. Wasting no time, he found the beloved watch closed up in the box he'd opened earlier. It ticked and ticked, and he chewed on it with a gleeful smile. Hidden underneath the cloth he slept in, was a scrawny note, written with the chicken scratch of a dragon in a hurry.
"He seems to have some unfinished business with you. We would be most pleased if you'd let him travel along and indulge him for a while, however long you see fit.
Azmodan has a knack of getting into things that aren't his, but you already knew that. Best of wishes on your journey, please take good care of my son. Sincerely, Baal."   
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Along the coach roads I did ride.
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This dragon doesn't eat Seafood.
This dragon doesn't eat Plants.
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Exalting Azmodan to the service of the Lightweaver 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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