Lucky
(#44636686)
Self-Exiled Prince
Pestis
Graveyard Guardian
Click or tap to view this dragon in Predict Morphology.
Energy: 47/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Plague.
Male Fae
This dragon is on a Coliseum team.
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
1.21 m
Wingspan
1.58 m
Weight
0.7 kg
Genetics
Stone
Python
Python
Silver
Morph
Morph
Robin
Basic
Basic
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 14 Fae
EXP: 573 / 54161
STR
51
AGI
30
DEF
21
QCK
20
INT
14
VIT
30
MND
18
Biography
Birthplace:
Mate:
  |
“Go on. Just touch it.” Lucky stood at the edge of the Wyrmwound, squinting into its churning depths. His brother Layel stood behind him, urging him forward. This wasn’t their first excursion to the Plaguelands’ most dangerous landmark but it was the first time either of them had dared the other to reach down and touch it. Layel inched closer and laid a claw on Lucky’s shoulder. “Look, it’s not like it’s going to hurt you,” he insisted. “We’re Plague dragons, aren’t we?” “Of course it won’t hurt me,” Lucky said. His fins flared, but he continued to tremble. “I was just… trying to see the Plaguebringer in there. I thought I saw her for a second.” “You’re stalling.” “Am not!” “Then do it,” Layel said, giving Lucky a light shove. Lucky stumbled forward, fluttering his wings to keep his balance. He glanced back at Layel, who only shrugged in response. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, he crouched on the lip of the crater. His claws dug into rock slick with the liquid disease. He reached a trembling claw forward, only to find the Wyrmwound was well out of his reach. “Did you do it yet?” Layel called. His fins flicked up and down several times in quick succession, making his expression difficult to read. “I can’t reach it,” Lucky replied, flattening his fins in discouragement. “Maybe you’re not trying hard enough.” “Fine, I’ll try harder,” Lucky grumbled, stretching his arm out to its full extent. The broiling surface of the Wyrmwound lay a few tantalizing inches from his claws. “Just a… little more.” He leaned forward even further and his claws barely skimmed the surface. “I… I did it!” he shouted. “I touched the-” Lucky lurched upright and his claws lost their grip. His wings snapped open, but it was too late to catch himself. In seconds, he was engulfed by the liquid disease. He tried struggling for the surface, his limbs feeling more like lifeless rocks than actual flesh and bones. Eventually, the quickly fading remains of his strength left him. The last thing he saw was a skeletal face with piercing red eyes. 
Nearly an hour later, Layel burst into his parent’s home, dragging a pale, shuddering mass behind him. “Mother! Father!” he wheezed between labored breaths. “Something terrible happened!” Panori and Themis hurried into the room at Layel’s call, their eyes settling on the strange thing their son had brought in. Layel all but collapsed into Panori’s arms, still struggling to catch his breath. “Layel, what is this?” Panori asked. “It’s… The Wyrmwound...” Layel panted, unable to form a proper sentence from both exhaustion and terror. “I didn’t mean to… He’s gonna die if we don’t...” Panori’s eyes grew wide once she realized what Layel was trying to say. She turned to Themis and cried, “Get the healers, the medics, anyone who can help our child! We can’t lose another one!” Themis nodded and bolted out the door, leaving Panori and Layel to watch over Lucky. Several agonizing minutes later, Themis returned with the clan’s medical team. The medics and healers worked diligently for hours, carefully removing as much of the Wyrmwound’s influence as they could. However, even their most delicate tools could not remove the pustulating mass on his face without damaging his eyes or brain. They had to leave it alone, despite their worry that he would never see again because of it.
Once the surgery was complete, Lucky was transferred to his own room. The medical team gave strict instructions to let him rest, but none of his family members wanted to leave him alone. They remained in mostly silent vigil until he finally awoke. “Mother? Father? Layel?” Lucky croaked. He coughed and cleared his throat. “What are you all doing here? Did something happen?” “You’re okay,” Panori said. She reached for Lucky but stopped herself, her claws hovering over his bandaged body. “There was… an accident but you’ll be okay. You are my child. You’re strong enough for this.” Lucky blinked, several pairs of fleshy eyelids moving in tandem. He turned sickly yellow-green eyes on Layel. “Layel? What happened?” Layel shuddered, his fins dropping at the sound of his name. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” he whimpered. “I shouldn’t have told you to do it. I just… I just did and I didn’t really want you to get hurt but you did and I just… I’m really, really sorry.” “It wasn’t your fault,” Lucky insisted. He tried to sit up and yelped in pain. “Rest, my child,” Themis said, helping Lucky ease himself back down. “You’ve been through a lot. You need to get your strength back.”
For the next several months, Lucky focused on healing and regaining his strength. He received many visitors during his healing process, but the strangest among them was Taiem. “Afternoon, prince,” Taiem said, approaching the place where Lucky was re-perfecting flying. “Are you healing well?” “Of course,” Lucky replied, alighting on a rock near Taiem. He fanned his wings and studied the thin scars crisscrossing them. “Everything looks yellowish and kind of warped, but I’m getting used to it.” “I see,” Taiem murmured, looking Lucky over. “Say, boy,” he said. “How long have you managed to fly so far?” “A couple minutes, why?” Taiem grunted, unimpressed. “I would have thought you would be stronger by now,” he stated. He circled around Lucky, scrutinizing him. “Your recovery has been… slow. Not very becoming of a prince, hm?” Lucky’s fins faltered. “What do you mean by that?” he asked. “Nothing at all, prince,” Taiem noted, shaking his head. He continued to pace around Lucky. “Only that you’ve brought shame on your family.” He snorted at Lucky’s quickly lowering fins. “A weak thing like you has no place in the royal family, wouldn’t you agree? Even your scrap of a brother can hold his own better than you.” “But that’s… No, Mother said-” “Of course, your mother,” Taiem cut in, stopping abruptly. He towered over Lucky, a wicked grin spread across his face. “You haven’t seen the pity in her eyes, have you? You haven’t noticed the utter disgrace she feels at bearing another fool of a son.” He brought his face uncomfortably close to Lucky’s. “I heard her mutter to herself once. She wishes you’d died in the Wyrmwound.” “That can’t be true!” Lucky exclaimed, stumbling backward off the rock. Viscous tears welled up in his many eyes. “You’re lying. You have to be.” Taiem shrugged. “I wish it were so, prince, but I know what I heard,” he said. “Now if I were you, I’d want to prove her wrong, yes? I say you should go out into the Plaguelands to fetch her a gift. A memento from a Beastclan leader, perhaps? Something to prove your worth to her.” He smirked. “I’m afraid your family may never truly accept you again unless you bring them something worth their while.” “Maybe… she would like that.” “Exactly. Run along now, prince. The day isn’t getting any longer.” As Lucky scampered off, Taiem chuckled to himself. “That sickly whelp is as good as gone. If only ridding ourselves of his brother was so easy.”
Lucky prowled around the Abiding Boneyard, keeping a sharp eye out for something Panori would enjoy. His body, though not as strong as it had once been, remained steady even as he wandered farther from home. Eventually, though, his legs gave out and he had to rest beneath a long-decayed Guardian skeleton, still clutching the crumbled remains of her Charge. Tucked inside the large ribcage, Lucky drifted off to sleep. His dreams were haunted by Taiem’s words. When he awoke, he found himself glancing back toward home. If what Taiem said was true, he wouldn’t be able to return until he was perfectly well again. There was no way he could take on a Beastclan leader in his current state. With the wind at his back, Lucky erupted from beneath the skeleton. He pushed himself into the air, working his wings harder than he had in the past few months. His strength waned quickly and he crashed again several feet away. Tears coursed down his face and he cursed his weakness. Hours passed as Lucky lay sprawled in the dirt. His tears ran dry after the first, but he couldn’t bring himself to move. This accursed condition of his was robbing him of passion for life. And, if he was ever to be accepted back into his family, he had to prove himself to them. What Taiem had said made sense. They didn’t need a weak prince who could hardly fly. They needed a strong heir to someday take over the clan. Layel was a much better candidate. When Lucky finally gathered the motivation to stand, his mind was made up. He would prove Panori wrong, no matter what it took. First, he needed to grow even stronger than he had been before his accident. His eyes scanned the Scarred Wasteland for a long moment. Here would be the perfect place to begin his training.
Lucky remained in the Plaguelands for several years. He surpassed the doctors’ original prognosis and became known as something of a vigilante across the Scarred Wasteland. Once he decided to leave his home behind, he bore the scars of battle as well as the scars of his recovery. Dragonhome was the next viable option. It was close to the Plaguelands and far fewer dragons lived there. Because of that, Lucky figured it was the perfect place for a lost and unwanted soul such as himself. During his travels across Dragonhome’s deserts, the dragons Lucky managed to find were often repulsed by his appearance. Many would take one look at the pulsating mass on his face and shut their clan’s doors to him. Needless to say, he quickly learned how to shelter himself from the sandstorms that frequently whipped through the desert. Winging his way North, Lucky came across a clan situated near Sorneith's coastline. This was the first Earth clan to welcome him with open arms. Many of its members shared stories similar to his, spinning tales of abandonment or rejection. For the first time in a long while, he felt acceptance and a real connection. What was meant to be a short stop on Lucky’s tireless journey turned into a stay that lasted weeks, then months. He made friends with other dragons ‘blessed’ by the Plaguebringer. There was even a timid Nature Fae who showed a genuine interest in him. Life in this new clan was good. Lucky eventually found himself thinking less and less about his old home in the Plaguelands. Some nights, however, his thoughts would drift back and he would wonder how his parents and Layel were doing. Perhaps someday he would write them a letter to let them know he was alright. But for now, he had earned his rest. |
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