Decay
(#48924025)
Level 1 Fae
Familiar
Cloudkeeper Herald
Click or tap to view this dragon in Predict Morphology.
Energy: 50/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Light.
Male Fae
This dragon is hibernating.
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
1.32 m
Wingspan
1.04 m
Weight
0.74 kg
Genetics
Slate
Basic
Basic
Jungle
Morph
Morph
Moon
Firefly
Firefly
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 1 Fae
EXP: 0 / 245
STR
5
AGI
8
DEF
5
QCK
6
INT
8
VIT
5
MND
8
Lineage
Parents
- none
Offspring
- none
Biography
|
Decay
Black Mire Guide 
|
|
You are gripped by unease as you wander the labyrinthine swamp. Twisted black branches tug at your wings and unidentifiable muck squeezes between your claws. The cold slime sends a shiver down your spine. If you could climb through those malevolent branches, you would fly away from this nightmare. Whatever led you to the horrid decision to enter this mire has long since slipped your memory as you wander aimlessly for a way out.
Days had been spent lost, and the mosquitoes are having a happy feast of you. What’s worse, strange noises and glowing eyes have kept you on edge whenever you weren’t passed out from exhaustion. Clawing, howling, screaming, you’ve heard it all. But the eyes. The eyes are the worst. They watch your every move and keep you awake until you can’t function. They gaze evilly at you through the haze and darkness. But there is one pair of eyes that are different. Brilliant golden eyes watched you just out of reach. Unlike every other pair, they stare back curiously, benevolently. They calm you whenever you see them. You feel compelled to follow them and you trudge towards them, hypnotized. In an instant they disappear. It’s a game you play. Every now and then when they appear, you follow them and just as you get within a few feet they vanish. Sometimes they materialize further away, watching you. Sometimes you lose them for hours before you spot them again. Whenever you get close you swear you can hear whispering. A soft song drawing you in and calming your nerves. The itching subsides and your exhaustion melts away. These golden orbs are a respite from your tired wanderings, and you crave their light. |
The appear again, but there is something different. They are filled with sadness. Your heart aches as you slowly approach them. They move away from you, as if reluctant to disappear. Despite your desperate pleas, they close slowly, and you are left calling out to the black swamp.
A drop of water landed on your snout, breaking your reverie. You look up at the blasted branches strung with lichen as several more drops fell. It began to rain. You lower your head dejectedly and hunt for a shelter slightly less damp than the elbow deep sludge you are currently wading in. Soon, you find an island held together by the stems of cattails. It is damp and slimy, made moreso by the rain, but it’s better than nothing. Your aching muscles collapse as you reach the center of the island. Your ears are filled with a soft song that lulls you to sleep. Something is draped over you, shielding you from the cold bite of the rain and you slip into unconsciousness, the lilting song soothing your pains.
You awaken suddenly. You are in a dry clearing and a ray of sunlight weaves between the twisted limbs of the trees. Moss flowers around the edges of the island, and pollen dances in the brilliant rays of light. At the edge of the sunlight, standing in the shadows and black ooze of the swamp, a figure stands. You can just barely make them out against the dark background. A slim figure stands, face and body hidden by a tattered, weather-stained cloak the color of swamp water. Its head raises slightly, and golden eyes meet your own. They are filled with joy.
The figure stands, and you rush to follow them as they make their way through the clawing brush. You are running faster and faster, trying to keep up with the effortless gliding of the figure before you. You reach out to grab the edge of their cloak and trip on a branch. You tumble forward, crying out as thorns and twigs rake your body. In an instant, you roll free.
Taking a moment to orient yourself, you realize you have fallen out of the swamp. You look around frantically, searching for the mysterious dragon. They are nowhere to be seen as you pull yourself to your feet. Another quick glance reveals nothing, so you turn uneasily and begin to make your way to a place to rest. After many days in the swamp, you are eager to find a decent place to sleep. You make your way to a large tree and curl up amongst the moss covered roots that form a comfortable hollow. Your eyes close slowly, finally at ease after your ordeal. You hum softly as sleep overcomes you.
You wake up feeling rested. All your aches and pains are gone, and the sores left by the pests of the swamp have healed. Feeling something around your neck, you glance down, perplexed. A scrap of fabric, the color of swamp water, was tied neatly into a scarf around your neck. You look up to see yellow eyes at the edge of the swamp before they vanish. Your claws rub the fabric thoughtfully. A gift from a friend.
Golden eyes watch over the black mire. The lost and forsaken are their charge. An ethereal song floats among the branches, soothing those wandering souls. A cloak the color of swamp water flits among the gnarled trees, hiding a figure only barely there. A friend guides you out of that dark place, they protect you and hope that you do not fall to the same fate they once did so many years ago. This friend leaves gifts, gifts that tell you that even in your bleakest hour, you are not alone. So return. Return to your homes, your friends, your families. Live for those that cannot, who were lost and were not saved. Live for what was lost and what could have been. And remember your friend.
1. The Shadow. Is somewhere there? No. It must be the mire playing tricks on a fear addled brain. Then again, you've never heard a forest hum before.
2. Dusk. Everything is beginning to look the same, every noise echoing what you already know. You are lost, but are you truly alone?
3. Points. You have lost all sense of what is. Your mind sees what is and isn't there. Thorns turn to antlers, beasts to plants, and shadows smile urging you forward.
4. Daylight. The misty hue of daylight gives you little comfort, for even in the light of day you are no closer to finding your way out. And you can no longer shake the feeling of eyes on the back of your head.
5. Fear. It smothers you, and in your heart it isn't death that frightens you, but the uncaring loneliness the mire prescribes you. Yet with each passing shadow you find yourself amongst a glimmer of hope.
6. Hope. It is the shadow, the hum, the light in the darkness. He was the unseen companion, stalling insanity until you could be delivered from the mire's grip.
by AtticaIonia
A drop of water landed on your snout, breaking your reverie. You look up at the blasted branches strung with lichen as several more drops fell. It began to rain. You lower your head dejectedly and hunt for a shelter slightly less damp than the elbow deep sludge you are currently wading in. Soon, you find an island held together by the stems of cattails. It is damp and slimy, made moreso by the rain, but it’s better than nothing. Your aching muscles collapse as you reach the center of the island. Your ears are filled with a soft song that lulls you to sleep. Something is draped over you, shielding you from the cold bite of the rain and you slip into unconsciousness, the lilting song soothing your pains.
You awaken suddenly. You are in a dry clearing and a ray of sunlight weaves between the twisted limbs of the trees. Moss flowers around the edges of the island, and pollen dances in the brilliant rays of light. At the edge of the sunlight, standing in the shadows and black ooze of the swamp, a figure stands. You can just barely make them out against the dark background. A slim figure stands, face and body hidden by a tattered, weather-stained cloak the color of swamp water. Its head raises slightly, and golden eyes meet your own. They are filled with joy.
The figure stands, and you rush to follow them as they make their way through the clawing brush. You are running faster and faster, trying to keep up with the effortless gliding of the figure before you. You reach out to grab the edge of their cloak and trip on a branch. You tumble forward, crying out as thorns and twigs rake your body. In an instant, you roll free.
Taking a moment to orient yourself, you realize you have fallen out of the swamp. You look around frantically, searching for the mysterious dragon. They are nowhere to be seen as you pull yourself to your feet. Another quick glance reveals nothing, so you turn uneasily and begin to make your way to a place to rest. After many days in the swamp, you are eager to find a decent place to sleep. You make your way to a large tree and curl up amongst the moss covered roots that form a comfortable hollow. Your eyes close slowly, finally at ease after your ordeal. You hum softly as sleep overcomes you.
You wake up feeling rested. All your aches and pains are gone, and the sores left by the pests of the swamp have healed. Feeling something around your neck, you glance down, perplexed. A scrap of fabric, the color of swamp water, was tied neatly into a scarf around your neck. You look up to see yellow eyes at the edge of the swamp before they vanish. Your claws rub the fabric thoughtfully. A gift from a friend.
Golden eyes watch over the black mire. The lost and forsaken are their charge. An ethereal song floats among the branches, soothing those wandering souls. A cloak the color of swamp water flits among the gnarled trees, hiding a figure only barely there. A friend guides you out of that dark place, they protect you and hope that you do not fall to the same fate they once did so many years ago. This friend leaves gifts, gifts that tell you that even in your bleakest hour, you are not alone. So return. Return to your homes, your friends, your families. Live for those that cannot, who were lost and were not saved. Live for what was lost and what could have been. And remember your friend.
1. The Shadow. Is somewhere there? No. It must be the mire playing tricks on a fear addled brain. Then again, you've never heard a forest hum before.
2. Dusk. Everything is beginning to look the same, every noise echoing what you already know. You are lost, but are you truly alone?
3. Points. You have lost all sense of what is. Your mind sees what is and isn't there. Thorns turn to antlers, beasts to plants, and shadows smile urging you forward.
4. Daylight. The misty hue of daylight gives you little comfort, for even in the light of day you are no closer to finding your way out. And you can no longer shake the feeling of eyes on the back of your head.
5. Fear. It smothers you, and in your heart it isn't death that frightens you, but the uncaring loneliness the mire prescribes you. Yet with each passing shadow you find yourself amongst a glimmer of hope.
6. Hope. It is the shadow, the hum, the light in the darkness. He was the unseen companion, stalling insanity until you could be delivered from the mire's grip.
by AtticaIonia
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Exalting Decay to the service of the Tidelord 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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