MasterToad » Lair » Isis

Isis

(#46595648)

Level 1 Gaoler

Familiar

Death Seeker

Energy: 0/50

Personal Style

Skin

Scene

Physical Attributes

Battle Stats

Measurements

Length

13.48 m

Wingspan

5.89 m

Weight

10294.9 kg

Genetics

Obsidian
Basic

Ruby
Basic

Hatchday

Nov 04, 2018
(5 years)

Breed

Adult
Gaoler

Eye Type

Ice
Unusual

Level 1 Gaoler

EXP: 0 / 245

STR

AGI

DEF

QCK

INT

VIT

MND

Lineage

Parents

Offspring

Biography

◆ O̷̡̡̦̙͈͑̈́͊̔͊͌̀͘͝͠͝ ̵̠͖̹͖̼̥̔̊̋̕S̴̗̜̺̯̹̯̤͐̾̌̇́̍̅̽̍͋̕ ̴̫͙̪̝͕̰͉̤̩͙̺͂͐̾͊͛͛̓͆Į̴̠̹̬̌̈͑ ̸͓̽̆̊Ŕ̵͓͕̮̑̈́̚͠ ̵̛͕̲̠͓̱̘͆̆͜͜I̸̪͍̍̌͋̒̏̐͜ ̷̘̜͉̤̥̫͕̰͙̳̋̐Ş̷͖̻̳̭͇̭͖͋̔͌͐̌̑̈́̔ ◆

T̴͉̩͎̲̟̥͍͍͕͎͔̦̖̼̠͇̠̻̫̲͚̞̖̠̠͑̎͆͌̄̔̏̅͑̊̆̐̀͛̚̕̚̚͝h̴̡̢̨̡̞̩͈̙̰̰̭͙̗̝̣̬̟̜̫̞̜̹̣͈̓̍̒̅̽e̴̢̡͉̮̻̪̫̼̦̓̊͛͌̐͘̚̚ ̷̡̢̘͎̭̘͙̯̤̮̟̣͂̔͂͜Ĉ̶̡̨̺̗̖̮̫̪̣̤̫̠̥͔̳͕͍̬̦̩̺̘̣̘͐͘Ơ̴̧̛̬̠͙̭̬͎̤͑̿͑͒̔̈́͑̆͐̈́̇̿͗̇̾̑͠Ḻ̷̡̨̡̢̧̙̰̪̭̝͓͇̟̜͓͚̼͈͉͕̪̮̪̩̦́͒̓̈́̈͂̇͑̀͂̈́͋̈͌͒̌̔̇̀̚̚ͅD̷̨̢̡̫̪̆̔̊͋̂̔͝ͅͅ

I'm already dead?

So cold...

Mom?

Nothing but worn down graves.

Cold.

Clan Lore

I see the wood.
All around me.
I feel the crown.
On my head.
I feel the cold.
Weaving it's way through me.
Blood.
Darkness.
Scritch. Scratch.
Pouring Dirt.
Scritch. Scratch.
Light.
Scritch. Scratch.
Ice.
Scritch. Scratch.
Mist.
Stones.
Words.

Graves.

The Dead
Everyone dies.
Why not me?
They say it's because I already have.
Impossible.
That's what I am.
Impossible.
A queen.
Impossible.
Dead.
Impossible.
Queen of the Dead.
Me.
Dead,
Dead,
Dead,
Dead,
Dead,
Dead,
Dead,
Dead,
Dead as a doornail.
Christmas.
A present.
What?
What's the present?
Me.

A R E N A

______ The frosted Wildclaw stood in the shadows of the entrance, behind her gate. Watching. Waiting. The sands turned red as the dragons fought. This was the Arena. Her home. Almost none knew how dragons were recruited for the Arena. None but the participants, who never spoke of it through fear of Her. She was the protector of the Arena. She made sure only the ones the Leader chose survived. And in turn, Leader would not tell her story.

______ She had fallen into a regular routine for her Executions. She would hide in the shadows of her gate, then, when Leader chose, she would step out onto the sands, her black claws leaving a trail of ice. She would herd the winner off the sands with her glare, then she would turn to the looser, waiting for his opinion. Then, when he gave it, she would stalk towards him, letting him scream in terror, beg the guards, try to climb the walls, anything to be safe. Then, when she was almost where she needed to be to kill him, she would turn away, looking at the hope in his eyes through the corners of hers.

______ The young Pearlcatcher stared at the Wildclaw in front of him. She would kill him, surely. Her icy claws tearing out his spine, or ripping him to shreds. Then, at the last moment, she turned and began to walk away. Her long tail suddenly flipped back and caught his neck, freezing to it's warmth. She turned again, smiling at his crushed hope. She sighed, ice forming on the sand under her mouth. She pointed her mouth towards her captive audience, and breathed a jet of ice straight down his throat. He saw her grin as the last thing, his body giving way to the ice crushing his lungs from the inside.

B̴̨̳͂̉͑̃̀͋̐̒̓͑͜͝r̶̢̩̣̉̈́̂͊̎̐̈́̆͝ǒ̵̻͎̦̠͆̄̐̉͝k̸̡̨̢͈̰͚̦͖͉̫̲̉̾͠e̷̳̺̪͔̍͗̓̊̾̊̽͂̐n̵̢͚̭͍̺̋͌͜͜ ̵̢̨͖͔̘̟̲̹̺́̈́̎̇̓̐̅́̾͘Q̴̧̜̘͙̪͎͎̣̰̘̗̅͘ų̴̲̫̣̺̫͍̭̎̈́̓̿́̀̋́̂ͅȇ̷̙̹̗̉͂͌̓͂e̴̫͎̫̲̻͎̤̽́̿́̑̈́̇͂̈̌͜ǹ̵̘̹͇̉̿̈́̉̾͛͂

I love it when they scream.

I don't need an axe.

Why do they run?

Call for your god.

Graves and a Story

______ Nobody would ever know her story, nobody would ever know what happened to the Wildclaw who wouldn't keep quiet. She was a little thing, not very strong, but very feisty. She could talk her way out of anything, she said. Nobody believed her. And then, a big, strong Guardian came and asked her to join an arena, to fight others in a big pit, to win. She saw her chance and took it, not fighting in the arena, but, indeed, talking her way out of joining. But the Guardian was persuasive, hardheaded, and annoyingly perceptive of all her ploys. She fought her way out with words. After days and days of the Guardian coming back, Isis finally got her to back off, or so she thought. She told her friends of her cunning, proud of her achievement. And then the darkness came.

______ The shadow following her every movement weren't very noticeable. Just a little bit of darkness. It could have been anything, leaves drifting in the wind, flies buzzing around and leaving bigger shapes than them on the ground as the hot afternoon sun beat down. But she noticed them more and more as she went through her days, and the dragons talking to her disappeared one by one, until they were all gone. The she felt it. It was a terrible cold seeping through her veins. Her blood was so cold it felt like it was boiling, her claws slowly losing feeling as it came to her heart. Her heart beat faster as it tried desperately to warm her freezing body in the midsummer sun. She tried to move, to get away from the ice, but she was slowly losing her legs into a world of sharp pain. Slowly, her wings, her tail, her legs, and her arms disappeared to her. Then the cold, numbing pain began to cover her head and body, reaching for her heart with tentacles of pure ice. Then her brain went foggy, and the beating of her pitiful heart disappeared.

______ The Wildclaw woke up from her icy slumber, her eyes open and searching the world. But all she saw was dark. A deep, impenetrable dark, filled with silence. She sniffed and smelled dirt and cold. Have I been buried? Isis wondered with a sense of detached calm. She scrabbled around, trying to figure out where she was. She felt wood, she sniffed and found pine, mos common in the Snowsquall Tundra, if one could call it common. There was pine, then dirt in all directions. She looked at what she knew to be up and clawed at it. She tore through the top and shoved the incoming dirt into the corners of her wooden cave. She pushed her head out and dug. She dug upwards though the dirt clogged her mouth and nose, she dug for air and for life, even without any real sense of urgency. She knew she would start to become weak from loss of air in a few seconds, then, depending on how long she could hold her breath, she might just last a few minutes. She clawed at the endless earth, wondering whether she would ever get to air. And then she realized something after a few minutes of digging. She was dead. She was still moving her claws, pushing the dirt, and holding back, just a tiny bit, as if she was aliving, but she felt none of the familiar sensations of living.
This thought gave her renewed strength, and she pushed harder. She dug harder, knowing that she didn't need to save her breath. And finally she burst into the air. She flapped her wings and took to the air as she came from the ground. Her wings faltered and she fell to the ground.
She looked around and found that she was not in the Snowsquall Tundra, but an arena in the Driftwood Drag. Two dragons fought beside her. Thousands of dragons watched from seats high above her. A big Guardian stood at the top and gazed down with a smirk. "Welcome back, Isis."

̸̰̃ ̵̜̍W̸̜̎h̷̫̐ä̸̢́t̷͓̓'̴̲̐s̵̙̔ ̴̞̔y̸̝̕o̶̠͠u̶̮͋r̵͓̓ ̷̞͆
̷̢̑s̴̘̈́t̴̖͘o̵͙̒ř̶̖y̴͙̋,̷̧̾ ̶̝̑ḽ̶̏ǐ̶̜t̵̜̒ẗ̷͖ḻ̸̆e̶͕͝ ̴̛̳o̸̞͝ṅ̴͈è̶̗?̶̡͝

I can talk my way out of anything.

There's the door. I suggest you take that exit.

I've got my own little world down here.

End it.

Bio template by Mibella, find it here.

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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 Isis to the service of the Shadowbinder 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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