Kora
(#45310864)
The Vampire
Familiar
Ruby Webwing
Click or tap to view this dragon in Predict Morphology.
Energy: 50/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Nature.
Female Fae
This dragon is hibernating.
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
0.57 m
Wingspan
0.91 m
Weight
3.02 kg
Genetics
Obsidian
Iridescent
Iridescent
Sanguine
Alloy
Alloy
Sanguine
Glimmer
Glimmer
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 5 Fae
EXP: 1339 / 5545
STR
5
AGI
8
DEF
5
QCK
6
INT
8
VIT
5
MND
8
Biography
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♕ K O R A The Vampire ╰ ╭  ╰ ╭ 
AZULA
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CALAMITY
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AZHI
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MAGPIE
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LILITH
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Paranoid | Cautious | Apathetic ╰ bio template by squidragon adapted by Katalist
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Vampire
Left her parents early on Is afraid of the sun Can go out in the sun perfectly fine But for some reason is terribly afraid Hates the taste of blood Doesn't stop the cravings Can't be near friends Her closest friend has poisoned blood. She can't be in the room if her friend's blood is spilled, for the smell mkes her sick. Believes she is living a divine punishment for a past life's crimes. The Last of a long line of 'Failures' Mother is the original 'Kora'
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The woods make noises tonight A stutter, a crack, a scream, stifled. Then the sound of drinking, like a thirst ignored for years has finally been quenched. Feverish lapping, ripping, sucking. And then sobbing. Retching. Silence. The woods are still once more.
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Some of the dragons that have made it to the Tribe are represented by a mild affliction, but for Kora, her disease has taken over her life. She was born with it. That doesn't make it any easier. She hates her parents for it, for spreading the disease. They relish in the activity, as do her sisters. Kora wants no part in it. And yet every night, when she wakes up, the first thing on her mind is steaming, fresh, blood. Mammalian blood is the best. If she is desperate, dragon blood will do. Normal food makes her gag. Sometimes a dripping, raw steak can be stomached, but for some biological reason, she, a fae, can't eat. She can't have a job in the Tribe. She can't. She tried, but her cravings were too strong. She'd find herself staring at necks and wrists, her stomach cramping and her jaw unlocking. Working with animals was impossible. Her heightened sense of smell meant she couldn't work with food or people. She was a night hunter, a dragon too small to bring down an animal, and her methods of reaching the fat, juicy arteries were too barbaric to warrant anyone else using the corpse after she had her fill. It was all wasteful too. She couldn't preserve the blood. And once her hunger had faded, the last thing she wanted to do was clean. So now she avoids the rest of the clan. She was sent by her mother, to a clan that would take her in, but she never made it there. Instead she hid, with the kelpies of the swamps, where the dragons of the clan would be safe. Her kelpie friend is immune to her hunger, as her blood is poison. Her cleanup crew, dragons who eventually found the trail of rotting bodies. Wylde, the only other dragon with a hunger for blood as strong as hers. Zika, the ragged imperial with a perfect use for the corpses. Her allies, the only ones she dare show herself to. No one else needs to know her story. She is the monster they talk about. The vampire bat.
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The blistering wind carried the harsh sound of her gasps to her ears, as she struggled to keep her breath in check. White light from the full moon shone, catching on the wings of insects as they sought her out. She was young, alone, terribly lost. But she wasn't the only one there. Another sought her. And so, she started to run again. Running in the opposite direction of the voice that called her. The urge to turn around and run straight into the arms of death played with her mind, but she fought off the mental fog and kept going. The house seemed to jump into her path. Crashing through the door, splinters and dust fell around her, piercing her skin and grazing her legs. The moon shone through the cracked windows, like a spotlight, on her palms. Beads of blood decorated her palms like jewels, black in the night light. Smearing them on her clothes, she got up - and dove behind a shelf. Centuries of dust and long abandoned cobwebs stung her nose and burned her lungs. The desire to cough was intense, savage, but her fear of what stalked her was worse. Backing slowly further until another piece of furniture dug into her back, she watched it creep through the door. A hand, a tiny hand. Then another hand, dragging a snakelike body behind it. Something dragged along behind it, catching the splinters on the floor and dragging them along too. They were connected to the body of whatever was following her, leathery yet glossy. And the face. An antlered face, as pale as the moon that shone on it. As it slowly crept into view, picking up a shard and sniffing it, she realised: She could see through its face. Its eye sockets were empty, its nose just a hollow bone. Teeth were bare, with no lips to cover its fangs. Rotten fins flapped as itcocked its head, sniffing the bloody shard. It could smell her. And it was smiling. She tried to press herself even further into the furniture, before it turned its head, but she felt it fall before he heard it. Wooden shelves with plates and cups fell, ricocheting off walls and bouncing around the floor. The cacophony caught its attention, and it locked eye sockets with her eyes, before screaming and covering long decayed ears. She took the opportunity and ran. Her clothes caught on shards and ripped, her legs ran into furniture, as she struggled to make it out of a too-small house. A flash of silver caught her eye and she grabbed for it instinctively, as she pushed her way out of the door. And stopped. The back patio had decayed, the swamp had taken it back. Surrounding her was the edge of a quagmire, a swamp with no end. But it was still in the house. Gripping the silver item, she gasped in pain and brought it closer. Her blood dripped from the slice in her palm, as the dagger dropped to the ground. She could hear it stop and sniff. Grabbing the dagger, she jumped off the patio, hoping to at least make a head start. Insects slapped her face and bit at her legs, as the swamp tried to drag her down. Gasping and pushing her wet hair out of her eyes, she pushed ahead. The wind picked up. She could still hear the house creak. And then the screech. It had found her. Twisting around as much as she could in waist deep sludge, she saw it again. Black as shade, prowling the edge of the patio. It snarled, hissed, crouched, and jumped. The leathery folds behind it stretched out to reveal blood red wings. The mental fog returned, stronger. It was calling her to it. Beckoning her. It was hungry. And she was tired. She sobbed as it flew towards her, narrowing down in a few wingbeats the few metres she had managed to get. Gasping, she raised up the dagger. She aimed, and swung. Smooth skin met silver dagger, and gave way. She pulled the dagger down, hoping she’d struck something vital, but its screeches turned to cackles. The voice in her head had turned to a scream. Her head felt like it was splitting apart, as her muscles turned to lead. Teeth latched on to her neck, as leathery wings wrapped around her. Her arms dropped, and grip weakened, until the dagger had left her grasp. With a grunt, it pulled the dagger from its chest and threw it. The plop of the dagger hitting the water was the last thing before the centaur’s eyes rolled back in her head. Blood pulsed rhythmically from her vein, as the monster ripped and tore at her, trying to get that sickly sweet flow of blood. She fell, spasming, sinking into the swamp, but it had already flown away. Collapsing on the porch, it pulled the mask off its face and looked back at the centaur, sinking into the greedy fingers of the swamp. Brilliant green eyes, glassy with tears watched her. The daughter of the centaur that had let her rest in his home. The daughter of the centaur who gave her clothes and bathed her wounds. The same daughter who offered to show her to the next clan, knowing her way through the swamps like she had lived here forever. Her friend. And now she would never return home. It covered its face with its thin hands, wrapped itself in its leathery wings, and cried over the death of it… her …friend. All because of a simple scratch.
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ETYMOLOGY - Kora: ""Maiden"" - Greek RELATIONS -
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No faes exist- No female dragons exist - No colour/gene combinations exist
Obsidian/Sanguine/Sanguine
Iridescent/Alloy/Glimmer
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Feed this dragon Insects.
This dragon doesn't eat Meat.
This dragon doesn't eat Seafood.
This dragon doesn't eat Plants.
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Exalting Kora to the service of the Gladekeeper 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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