Schattenfeuer » Hibernal Den » Vivaca

Vivaca

(#46247706)

Level 9 Spiral

Familiar

Barhide Menace

Energy: 50/50

Personal Style

Apparel

Skin

Scene

Physical Attributes

Battle Stats

Measurements

Length

3.38 m

Wingspan

2.51 m

Weight

70.31 kg

Genetics

Metals
Savannah

Carmine
Morph

Slate
Okapi

Hatchday

Oct 23, 2018
(5 years)

Breed

Adult
Spiral

Eye Type

Fire
Dark Sclera

Level 9 Spiral

EXP: 18809 / 21526

STR

AGI

DEF

QCK

INT

VIT

MND

Lineage

Parents

none

Offspring

none

Biography

__._

Vivaca Ira.
↠ Of madness and genius

"And now was acknowledged the presence of the Red Death. He had come like a thief in the night. And one by one dropped the revellers in the blood-bedewed halls of their revel, and died each in the despairing posture of his fall..."

You are going too far!
Such an interesting little creature you are, push on, show me more.

Was it too far? Was it truly? Who cared for the lives of a few when the stake was everyone else? He only did what no one else had the guts to do! Pushing the boundaries of the feeble state of what society deemed good and bad was too easy. He did it all because he wanted to help. That was reason enough, wasn’t it?

This needs to stop!
You could do much more, why are you listening to those that envy, that hate?

The whisper in the back of his mind, in his thoughts and his every hour drawing breath was right. His colleagues, his friends, even his family, they were just rotten, eaten alive by jealousy. The rising star of medicine and healing and science needed to rise even higher. He was young, too young, blood young. But he wanted more, even then, he climbed up, higher and higher, like Icarus and the sun, this was a tale to end in victory or misery.

Too soon he saw the boundaries of law and order as goals to be tested, to be broken and overturned. What use was the life of one if it could be used to save the lives of many? And he wasn’t anyone either, he was the doctor, the one everyone ran to, the one that could cure them all. Who cared that his patients were as likely to end up as his lab rat as they were to be cured?

The plague is running wild in the west. The cities are all empty houses and burning pyres.
Serves to show, they are too weak. The solution was right there, yet they preferred being muzzled for the comfort of the mass.

It didn’t take long until the plague had reached his home too. His family, his loved one, sick and dying and he refused. So he tied them to the bed with ropes of silk. He sharpened his knives and fired up his pauldron. Books open and everywhere, his hands as stained with ink as they were with blood.

Let me die...please just let me die.
Are you weak? Will you be the one to cure it all?

Of course there were sacrifices to make, on the dinner table of his childhood home he performed a dissection of his father’s dying body. Still alive but not for long, an inflamed heart, a swollen liver. The plague filled the lungs with rot and water and ate through the organs. So much to learn, too much, his ears were deaf to the groans of pain. They were filled with toxic whispers that warned him of pride and the inevitable downfall.

Failure was foreign to him, morality a joke he could not laugh about. Yes, he would find it, this elusive cure and the answer to all that ailed the body and the mind. And they would love him for it.

Help me! He’s gone mad! The plague ate his mind!
Unlucky, little fox, the sheep have bound together against you.

Ungrateful! They all were! He was only trying to help them! Yet they came because he forgot to tighten the bounds of his dear beloved. Skin covered in sores and bruises and cuts, he had to admit they looked bad but truly, all he ever did was help them! But no one listened. They came, with pitchforks and torches, they found the father’s body on the dinner table, they found the husk of the mother and the parts of the brother. They found books with squiggly, hasty scripts and blood stained fingerprints on the edge of the pages. They found and they assumed.

They locked the door to his underground lab, they left him to rot in the dungeon underneath the home, with his knives and his books and nothing to eat but organs floating in chemicals. And while all above him, the house and his life burned, went up in smoke and sparks, he continued to work. He would show them, he would show them, he would --

Bow before your king, little doctor.

___

code & assets by archaic #19153

If you feel that this content violates our Rules & Policies, or Terms of Use, you can send a report to our Flight Rising support team using this window.

Please keep in mind that for player privacy reasons, we will not personally respond to you for this report, but it will be sent to us for review.

0/1000

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 Vivaca to the service of the Flamecaller will remove them from your lair forever. They will leave behind a small sum of riches that they have accumulated. This action is irreversible.

Do you wish to continue?

Name

Names must be longer than 2 characters.
Names must be no longer than 16 characters.
Names can only contain letters.

Name

Names must be no longer than 16 characters.
Names can only contain letters.