Mystif » Lair » Devise

Devise

(#44601765)

Level 19 Imperial

Familiar

Hippalectryon

Energy: 0/50

Personal Style

Apparel

Skin

Scene

Physical Attributes

Battle Stats

Measurements

Length

19.35 m

Wingspan

16.54 m

Weight

8722.96 kg

Genetics

Phthalo
Metallic

Teal
Bee

Spruce
Runes

Hatchday

Aug 25, 2018
(5 years)

Breed

Adult
Imperial

Eye Type

Ice
Rare

Level 19 Imperial

EXP: 54512 / 104563

STR

104

AGI

DEF

QCK

INT

VIT

MND

Lineage

Parents

Offspring

Biography

♜~ Devise~♜

Council Seat ♦ Soldier

"Be gone, or be at peace."

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Code & Lore by Mystif#130699 (Me)

Dread-Folly Dragons by helliace #36905

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Biography

Snapshot: Her broiling, and savage temper is concealed by a cold, deadly exterior. Devise is poor at reading other's tones and communicating her own. When she arrived with the clan she seemed dazed, unfocused on anything besides violence. But she's slowly revealing a dry, mildly sadistic sense of humor as she interacts with the rest of the clan.

Her reaction to them so far has been a sense of befuddlement, followed by a fierce possessiveness once they accepted her and gave her power. She's not particularly sure how to lead, but she’s slowly discover

Background: A snapped rib buried into the shallow permafrost of the open tundra was used to create Devise; animated once more through fell necromantic rituals inspired by the dread creation of an Emperor. She's revealed little to others about how she originally came to the mainland away from the Icefields, but it involved a fight against several dragons that left her wounded; followed by an encounter with the local beastclans. That went more than a little violently.

Following those altercations, she stumbled in to the clan’s territory, only to be greeted by a young snapper oracle proclaiming her an omen, and determined to assist her on her way home, greeting her as a friend, and confusing the dread-folly imperial immensely.

And the whole clan seemed to take to her in similar fashion, though Brin was the only one brazenly friendly at it. Over time, as they made their journey to the Icefields together, she found herself growing to covet that network, reacting violently whenever it was threatened.

Relationships: Devise’s relationship with the clan is a strange beast from her perspective. She hasn’t properly been part of a clan for long since the beginning of her second life. And now here she is trusted to lead one, thanks to the aura of mystery and power she carries, and the faith the clan has entrusted their oracle with.

For the most part, they respect her, look up to her as a dangerous combatant, and are slowly learning she has a clever mind, even if it’s often turned to anger. And she, refuses to allow them to come to harm. They are hers.

The only real friend she’s made so far, is Brin. Though she’s aware that young Farrow wants to get close to her, Devise isn’t entirely certain what to do with the curious young fae who looks so fragile and is decidedly less powerful and not interested in her for her power alone. She doesn’t know what to do with the fact that the young Fae finds her funny.

Daily Life: Devise’s day to day activities mostly consist of patrols, council meetings, and learning just what it means to help rule over a clan. She’s found she has no patience for math as she learns about keeping records, and is therefore doing her utmost to conquer it, despite having shredded several dozen pounds of paper for its impudence.

Goals: Protect what is hers, find outlets for her anger. Eviscerate math.

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The Red Keep (Brin, Devise, Dread-Folly Dragons, Hints of Diablos)

By the time Devise’s massive claw set into the ice, digging furrows half the length of Brin’s squat body, the oracle’s gift was already racing out over the expanse of broken snow. Plumbing at possibility as the world shattered into a kaleidoscope of fractured maybes and almosts.

That way and they’d likely encounter a local Clan, territorial. There were interesting things that could happen there, but bad ones too. Many.

That way and they’d be tempted to rest and...she knew rest would be unfortunate. Wasn't sure how. Didn't let herself indulge.

She flipped through potentialities with a determined hum, discarding through those she didn't like the feeling of. Seeking promising hopes.

And then Brin took in a deep breath and went fear-still. Her muscles pulled knot-tight beneath her scales as the too sharp taste of freshly exposed bone that wafted around the larger dragon invaded her mouth.

The immediate roads ahead slipped away, and she felt the someone massive breathing against her neck from behind and above as the world went red. It tasted...like bone, yes. And flesh, but more-

Like-

Like the adrenaline rush of walking along the seaside cliffs as a hatchling, before she could fly. Her head held high, confident in her foolishness. Her folly. And the taste of dread at the back of her throat when one claw slipped, sending pebbles skipping down into the ocean.

In the vision she was standing on a field of skeletons packed into blood-dyed snow, stomped down a thousand times. A field at the foot of some massive structure, with her rooted in the shadow of it beneath a bright moon. Staring out over a scene that made her tremble.

“Beautiful,” the dragon that belonged to the breath whispered. Almost cooed.

Ahead of her was a massive host of centaurs, forces from the other beast clans arrayed beside them. Standing around dozens and hundreds of dragons from every flight.

All of them arrayed against...she couldn't count how many. Imperials, all of them. All of them the same coloring, still with the same eerie composure, as Devise herself. They were arrayed in perfect formations. The vision pulsed, jerked, flickered.

She saw a second army supporting the deathly one, pale and ghostly and crystalline, arrayed around a cloaked figure. Pulse. She saw her own small clan mixed in. Some of them as strange and unnatural as Devise’s...kin? Sistren? Brin wasn't sure.

It stabilized again, and the armies moved like a dream’s idea of a battle. Blurring into streaks of light that melded and tore at each other. Spraying red and leaking light into the field.

Tearing herself away, she tried to assess the breath behind her. But as she moved, it vanished. Leaving her with only the sight of the looming castle.

Around it were shattered boulders and hills of old ice. Former prisons and tombs, cracked open for warriors. And then the keep itself.

It was crimson. Built into great, loving, spires of unnatural red ice.

She groaned, nerves shuddering through her. And the voice laughed, delighted and drunk on itself.

Brin began to snap at it, opening her mouth just before something heavy slammed into her side, and her wings flicked tight against her as she grunted, falling to her side. Back into the moment.

Where devise was staring at her with that unwavering, eerie, gaze. “You were still. Unmoving. What did you see?” Devise asked, her voice blunt and soft at the same time.

She did not ask Brin if she was okay. But then, the snapper thought wryly as she pushed herself back up, she wouldn't. Devise had trouble caring about many things, beyond what infuriated her. She was learning, but it was a process.

Shaking herself off of the now chilling snow, the snapper chuckled. “Nothing. Just omens,” she said lightly, hoping that wasn't literal. But if it was, well.

That would be interesting.

She glanced up at Devise. “I have the feeling we'll be meeting a few more like you before too long, is all. Interesting times, Dev. And great things ahead.”

Terrible things. But she wouldn't turn away from the future just because it might be terrible. She'd asked for greatness. They could coexist. Often did, even And the clan wanted it. Needed it. She wanted it. Needed it.

She wouldn't turn aside, wouldn't rule any road out without knowing for certain it ended in disaster. The larger imperial glowered at her, without her expression wavering at all. Brin regarded her easily, earnest.

“I liked Vise, better. Dev only sounds unfinished,” she said, dry and matter of fact. Without any trace of humor in her voice.

Brin granted her the benefit of the doubt, and laughed, a burst of fondness racing through her as she started to stomp forward towards where the others were setting down. Filionel was fretting over everyone, and the group was starting to talk.

“Of course, ‘Vise. Now let's go, I have a feeling things are going to get exciting. I hope you're feeling wise,” Brin said cheerfully, dreamily, throwing herself into the next hour or so as she walked. Anything to distract herself from the red snow. The red keep.

She'd think on it more later.

Devise huffed. And ambled along beside her, without asking or pressing.

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D R E A D - F O L L Y
D R A G O N

Read about Dread-Folly Dragons lore here!

A snapped rib buried into the shallow permafrost of the open tundra was used to create this dragon. Her broiling, and savage temper is hidden by a cold, deadly exterior.

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Click or tap a food type to individually feed this dragon only. The other dragons in your lair will not have their energy replenished.

Exalting Devise to the service of the Icewarden 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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