Nimthiriel
(#46069737)
head is filled with parasites, black holes cover up my eyes
Familiar
Midnight Lantern
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Energy: 46/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Shadow.
Female Gaoler
This dragon is on a Coliseum team.
This dragon is an ancient breed.
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Personal Style
Ancient dragons cannot wear apparel.
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
13.59 m
Wingspan
7.4 m
Weight
5481.74 kg
Genetics
Midnight
Shaggy (Gaoler)
Shaggy (Gaoler)
Eldritch
Paint (Gaoler)
Paint (Gaoler)
White
Ghost (Gaoler)
Ghost (Gaoler)
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 25 Gaoler
Max Level
STR
129
AGI
12
DEF
5
QCK
50
INT
6
VIT
9
MND
6
Biography
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x nimthiriel ; smuggler {  }The Shaded smuggler, who is not at all what she seems. Luckily for everyone else, she hasn't figured out what that is yet. For now, simply beware of things that rattle in the night. | xxxxxxxxxxxxxx |
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The dawn was bathed in a harsh blue light. Screams accompanied the morning bird song, though whether it was the searing heat or the all-encompassing regret of the splintered hive that prompted them, Nim couldn’t say. She had never lived outside of the Collective. What was there to regret? She had not lost anything to Dread’s machinations, and even now as her world became nothing but smoke caught in the breeze, she had really only gained a new experience. For a few glorious minutes, Nim reveled in solitary life. It was peaceful, almost eerily so, and she would not have minded a future alone. But there can be no future where fire blazes without end, and so the flames claimed her soul.
Rahndiri was beginning to regret taking the Salvaged Collective clean-up as her first assignment. Really, what had she been thinking? Hell, what had the council been thinking even offering this solo mission to a brand new Seeker like her? Sure, the cult’s followers had been contained for decades now due to the drastic measures taken by one of their own, but… Well, looking at the boiling lake in front of her, with its obscuring smoke banks and jutting stone spires, she wouldn’t be surprised if even the Icewarden’s Sentinel’s themselves trembled just a bit at the sight.
The Shade-worshippers had all been incapacitated by the eternal fire. All she had to do was collect their remains; they weren’t even alive. Except for the traitorous spell-caster himself, of course, but he was rather busy keeping the fire lit beneath the ashen lake. He wouldn’t be any trouble. It would be fine.
She winced, anticipating the pain that was sure to come as she stepped into the bubbling gray water, but nothing hurt. It seemed that crazy old Guardian back at the tavern had in fact given her a working potion. ‘It’s one of my most popular,’ he had said. ‘Dread buys it all the time.’
The potion in question protected the user from extreme heat, but only for one twelfth of the day’s light. Two hours. Collect the bones, then get out. It was a one step mission, with a generous time limit. Maybe the council hadn’t been so foolish sending her here. Even a Gaoler without an order could do it! And besides, Rahndiri was a full-blown Seeker now. Maybe if she did well on her first solo mission, the council would even consider promoting her to Sentry! She steeled herself, and dove beneath the murky waves.
The change was instant. Rahndiri wanted to scream as the warm glow of the floating day-glo lilies was choked out by the black and all sense of direction was lost to her. If it weren’t for the soft blue glow of her eyes that penetrated the water for a short distance, she would have lost all courage and fled for the surface. (She tried not to think about how there was no longer a surface to flee to.) She opened her eyes as wide as possible, twin flashlights fighting back the hungry dark, and swam downwards, her wings acting as makeshift fins to propel her quickly into the depths.
As she pushed ever onwards, ever down to the bottom of the lake, Rahndiri began to tire. Her thick winter coat was bogging her down, and the light of her eyes no longer allowed her to see her outstretched limbs. How much time did she have left? Had it been fifteen minutes since she’d started her descent? Twenty? (She prayed in vain that time still flowed in this place.) The water wasn’t cold anymore, but like the sun basking her in a gentle heat. It was no comfort, only a reminder of what was to come should she slow down. There was nothing here. Nothing but darkness, water, and the promise of a tortuous death. The magic protecting her would not last forever, and this godforsaken lake was beginning to seem as if it went beyond time and space itself. She would never reach the bottom in time, let alone return to shore weighed down by the skeletons of those her elders would call demons. Without the guiding light of the sun (she chose to ignore that it must have burnt out long ago), how could she even tell if she’d been swimming downwards? What if she had shifted directions unwittingly near the start of her journey, and was swimming across the lake mere inches beneath the surface? There was no hope here. Only death waited for her, and so she shut her eyes. There was nothing but void now. She sank, and became one with it.
Thunk.
As her surroundings changed suddenly for the second time that day, she actually did scream. Her eyes shot open, and as life returned to her she thought the light surrounding her was all her own. Then she remembered. Blue flame burns the hottest, and it was this that brought down the collective so many years ago. She had made it, then. This was the depth of depths, the fire of fires. The watery world around her was cast in a harsh blue light. It was hard to make out distinct shapes through the flames, only vague outlines of dragons long dead. Her quarry was here then, as suspected. She didn’t know what she would have done if she’d made this journey for nothing, if their bones had been melted by the heat. Joined them, probably. Returning to the council empty-handed would have led to no better a fate.
After taking a few moments to adjust to the pressure, she began to move slowly through the ruins, enchanting each of the skeletons to follow her. She had been told there would be eighteen in total. One: A small Skydancer, twisted and charred, bones run through with black tendrils. Two: A grave Guardian, bits of red still clinging to its cracked and battered claws. Three: A Mirror, Shaded tattoos on its skull no doubt echoing those that once marked its skin. And so on, until she had collected seventeen of the demons.
What a grim little parade, she thought, so far detached from reality. In any other place, it might have seemed strange, but what was a single Gaoler and her monstrous inmates marching through the eternal prison of the deep if not fitting? The brilliant light of the fire made the runes running along her limbs and torso shimmer. (She did not pay mind to the glistening sweat now soaking her through even more thoroughly than the water that boiled around her.)
It was almost pretty, down so far. There was still nothing, but it felt less empty now, the blue fire a mockery of the sun she doubted she would see again. As she went along, she could just make out a single cry of agony fighting to be heard beneath the waves, but it was muffled like everything else so far beneath the earth. Kahlanon, the caster, no doubt. Rahndiri couldn’t help but respect him, in a way. Oh, he was certainly a demon, a vessel of the Shade that plagued the world of the living, but what else? No true monster would choose to suffer with no end to bring about the downfall of a great evil. Even the holy Sentinels would not sacrifice themselves so willingly. Was it repentance that moved him? Grief? Had he even known what he was doing? She supposed she wouldn’t get an answer to any of those questions, but he hadn’t stopped, regardless of the catalyst. It was admirable. She began to regret that she had not brought a second potion to grant him some temporary relief, but there was no time to ponder such things. She had a mission to complete. (She had long ago begun regretting not bringing another potion for herself; her fur was starting to singe.)
As Rahndiri approached the final skeleton’s resting place, Kahlanon’s wailing was blocked out by a rattling sound. It was almost reminiscent of humming, but unlike the muffled clattering of the skeletal procession behind her, this noise was utterly untouched by the deafening waters.
Get out, she thought unwillingly. This is not the same kind of unnatural you came here to Seek.
Rahndiri kept walking, dragging her feet across the hot black sands. She had a job to complete. She was so close. Grab the last skeleton, and get out. Swim up, and greet the sun. (There is no up, she reminded herself. There is no sun.)
It was a Spiral. Contrary to the other two she had collected (family, she assumed), the position in which its bleached bones were scattered on the sand seemed almost contented. There was not a single tangle of vertebrae she would have to work back into the proper shape before enchanting it. And while the bones in its throat shifted ever so slightly, perfectly in sync with the strange rattling, there was no cause for alarm. It was just the current, pushing and pulling at a skeleton long forgotten and left to erode. (She willed herself not to acknowledge that there are no currents in lakes. She ignored how the skeletons trailing her seemed to pull back, as if they were begging not to be brought near.)
Reaching out with her binding magic, she felt the sickly stain of the skeleton’s aura. She stood the skeleton up, and began to walk it to the end of the line. It was behaving like all the rest. It was fine.
And then Rahndiri felt its aura reach back.
Colors, shapes, and sensations she had never known overtook her. She was no one. She was everyone. She was the shifting void and the shattered stars. She was a Spiral, content in death. She forgot that dead things do not stay in their bodies. She forgot everything. She fell to the ashen sand and slept, joining the demons in their eternal slumber beneath the waves.
Nim returned to colors, shapes, and sensations long forgotten. She was someone. She was small. She was… A Gaoler? Yes, though the shape did not fit her bones quite right. She was a dead thing, and she had no body, yet the magic coursing around and over her kept her remains as one in a form she did not remember. She remembered nothing. She looked around, confused as the others like her slept. Did they not want to see the sun? She rose to the surface and lived, joining the dragons in their too-short lives beneath the sky.
prettiest dragon above you: 3
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