Schattenfeuer's dragon Lauryl

Personal Style

Apparel

Skin

Scene

Physical Attributes

Battle Stats

Measurements

Length

27.62 m

Wingspan

21.02 m

Weight

8115.33 kg

Genetics

Peridot
Petals

Chartreuse
Butterfly

Murk
Ringlets

Hatchday

Aug 21, 2018
(5 years)

Breed

Adult
Imperial

Eye Type

Nature
Unusual

Level 25 Imperial

Max Level

STR

AGI

DEF

QCK

INT

VIT

MND

Lineage

Parents

Offspring

Biography

» Lauryl Fleur de Lis a forgotten rose

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Shy · Sweet · Depressed
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code by epher #101073

» ═══════════════════ ※ ═══════════════════ «

”Hush now, gather around the fire as I share this story with you. It happened a long, long time ago, when our race was still young and the world much larger, filled with a raw kind of magic, untamed and less explored like today. In such a world, a kingdom existed, a kingdom which was ruled by a wise king and his fair queen, in which peace reigned and beauty was everywhere. This kingdom, known as the kingdom of roses, was as close to perfect as they could get, plagued only by one fateful flaw. The queen, a beautiful yet frail lady, was haunted by a sickness, a fever that burnt through her body much too often, one that robbed her of the ability to ever carry the spark of a new life in her womb. Her king, loyal until the end, refused to take another wife in order to create a heir, instead he turned towards the spirits that used to rule this world.

The king bargained, pleaded with the spirits to help, promised them everything he could think off. In all his wisdom, he still was blinded by despair, by fear of losing the one he loved more than life to grief and agony, foolishly offered what he was not willing to give. Fickle and malicious as the spirits tended to be, they gave the king one rose seed, ordered him to plant the seed in the kingdom’s most holy sanctum, to water it with royal blood until it would bloom. Eager to soothe his wife’s agony, the king took the seed, did was he was told, forgetting that the spirits had not yet spoken about the price it would take.

The rose bloomed, larger, more beautiful than anything before, until one night, as the king returned to once more bathe the pure white petals in royal red, but instead of a blooming rose, he found a child, young, pure and everything they had wished for. Overjoyed was the queen and almost immediately was the child taken in, raised as the long awaited prince and the looming threat of the spirits and the price for their service was pushed away, nearly forgotten by the king. The prince was taken in and raised as if he was their own child, soon the entire kingdom came to adore their innocent, pure heir to the throne as he grew and prospered under his parents watchful eye.

The end came abrupt and as a surprise to everyone, a rude awakening, a dream turning into a nightmare as the spirits came to demand their reward. In exchange for the seed that had allowed the king to give what couldn’t exist otherwise, the spirits wanted the most cruel thing of all. They ordered that the prince was returned to them, that sixteen years of loving and nursing was enough, now they wanted their power back, which meant the death of the very prince. Furious and blinded by his anger were the spirits chased out by the king himself, something that woke the thirst for vengeance in the fickle creatures. They howled and cursed, spat out darkest, most twisted magic possible, screamed death and ruin at the kingdom. Like a foul storm the storm rushed over it, leaving behind the twisted, dying corpse of what used to be a blooming kingdom, serving as the grim reminder to never cross the spirits of the wild, as their service comes at a heavy price. ”

This is the story that had been told by mothers to their children, by friends and strangers alike, around a fire late at night, when sleep was still evasive and the mind thirsting for something to imagine about. But, as it always is and always will be with stories, there was something that the storytellers of old and new missed, something lost to the centuries that had passed in between. Blurred and veiled by time, the story was told as if the entire kingdom was gone, yet there was one that survived.

When the spirits foul magic hit the realm of roses, the prince could only watch in terror as his friends and family died all around him, eaten alive by a dark cloud of sickness, as the ivory walls of his home started to turn black from mold and moss from the foul magic and, as the storm finally hit him, the prince found himself struggling, crying out for help that would not come. The life that had been created out of magic and blood flickered, but it refused to vanish, clung to existence with all its strength. Instead of falling and dying from the curse unleashed like so many before, the prince instead fell into a slumber, so deep that nothing could wake him up again.

He slumbered through centuries passing, winter chasing spring and summer before becoming autumn and finally closing the eternal circle once more, his body resting on a bed of white roses, surrounded by crumbling walls and - after an eternity without care - vines and thorns where once roses used to bloom. The prince could have remained like this for the rest of time, seemingly untouched and pure as the bloom that spawned him, unmoving and jumping from dream to dream, seeing the world through the dreaming eyes of the slowly changing creatures roaming the lands. From the smallest bird to the largest dragon, the prince roamed the land of dreams and imagination, the only one where he could move freely.

But the dream did not remained undisturbed, as many centuries after the fall of his home, when it was long forgotten by the dragon kin, a Guardian fought her way through vines and thorns, unstoppable in her determination to find what caused this desire to guard with in her, it was so strong that she could feel it vibrate within her very bones. How long it took her to finally reach what was hidden behind those very vines, the prince did not know, but once she stepped into the scattered ruin that used to be a lavish room, his dream started to twist and distort, bright and vibrant colors and fantastical shapes slowly paled and gave away to a heartbreaking reality. [size]

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Exalting Lauryl to the service of the Flamecaller 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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