Nremyn
(#44830366)
Level 1 Skydancer
Loster
Bramblecrown Stoat
Click or tap to view this dragon in Predict Morphology.
Energy: 50/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Arcane.
Male Skydancer
This dragon is hibernating.
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
5.51 m
Wingspan
6.35 m
Weight
484.47 kg
Genetics
Abyss
Iridescent
Iridescent
Midnight
Bee
Bee
Watermelon
Stained
Stained
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 1 Skydancer
EXP: 0 / 245
STR
4
AGI
5
DEF
4
QCK
9
INT
9
VIT
4
MND
9
Biography
Rune specialist and an introverted thinker.
Written for the enchanted stories thread
Book wise, he was never a particularily smart student. He read, he wrote, and did just about anything his tutor taught him, even when she demanded he recite ancient text over and over.
Nremyn, home grown- arcane student, and not so easily impressed with everything that glitters, had a hunger for something new.
"It is as they say," he thought, "take an earthly bound to this land of magic, and he will never cease to be amazed. But I, who've seen nothing else, need something new." And so, despite his high grades, despite his correct resitement of the arcanist text, and most of all, despite his lawful co-students, and imaginary teachers - he could not take it.
Every gods forsaken pink rock prortruding through the water could no longer amaze him.
That is why, right at this moment, he's hands deep in the glowing bench at his feet. His eyes and skin reflect everything around him, and it turns a dark, illuminating shade of purple.
"I'm going to do it!" He yells to himself, loud in the empty library.
Finally, he will be amazed by new discovery.
He, and no one else will see this, and hopefully, he thinks, no one will know.
There could be anyone walking in, he darts his eyes about as his hands grow further and further down into the bench, atop it only books visible from the sides.
It seems as though his hands are going through them, and down into what should have been visible beneath the bench. But it was not, only his robe and his legs from the other side.
"YESSss," he hisses, as he grabs onto somthing. It could be cold, and it could definetly be warm, but he can't feel it through the glow. Everything on the other side seems so difficult to grab onto.
There sounds a loud knock in the library, booming through the corridors. He lets a moment of fright enter, and begins to feel the thing he's grabbing getting heavier.
He struggles, pinpricks of white flashed by his eyes, and it feels like frost and cold and ice, and it clings to his skin, making it hard to see. It's as if the harshest winter swirls around him, making him shake and groan and try to hold on. Hold on to focus, he must not make mistakes.
Practical he's always been, but never the scholar.
How fitting, he thinks, that he can grab on and into what he could never in his mind grasp. The object, or what he thought was an object, slips past his hands, and it feels like it's turned to liquid.
The knocking in the library persists, until he feels the snow hit him harder.
It's not coming from the corridors of the library at all, it's coming from inside the parchment.
The snow stops suddenly, and his fur is icy purple all around, making his skin burn.
He warily looks inside the parchement, where his hands used to be the only thing that could fit.
There's light down there, easily the most calming light he's ever seen.
It's warm, glowing, but also buzzling with life.
Poking his head even closer, he can see tiny figures moving around.
There's grass, and trees, and the figures are moving.. very fast for their size. Almost like ants.
They've got long strecthy legs, but seem to be wearing brown and beige cloaks.
By the trees - he moves his hand - is what seems like a massive construction, something pumping and groaning, and it lets out grey, fine skies.
The little figures move fast around this contraption, and he leans even closer to look, trying to move his hands to see better.
As he does so, the figures start to scream, and the contraption starts to bellow skies in rapid succession, groaning loudly, knocking. The source of the insistant knocking.
As he moves his hands around, even though he can't see them, it feels like he's holding on to liquid, icy hot glass suddently melts way, and he shrieks, trying to shake it off.
The contraption shakes as well, and is bubbling.
The figures sprint towards it, he shakes his hands harder, his face almost dropping into the parchement as he fumbles and -
He's hit by a hard blast, ice and snow, and something absolutely burning shoves him back, and out of the papers.
He flies out from the bench, and the purple light follow, encreasing speed as it swirls into the snow, forming a shadowy figure above him.
His eyes fool him, it has no life.
The cloud growls, and the paper burst into smoke.
He can't see, and the library is laid black by dust and ash.
He coughs once, twice.
He breathes, and listens.
The library is empty.
Nremyn falls back in relief, trying to breathe slowly through the ash.
Thank the gods no one has come running, thank the arcanist I'm alone.
But had he looked outside, he'd see,
the purple rocks still protruding, but there would be no one by them.
it's not just an empty library, but the sky's laid in ash,
and the land is quiet.
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Plant stocks are currently depleted.
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Exalting Nremyn 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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