Fathom
(#50174487)
Level 1 Imperial
Click or tap to view this dragon in Predict Morphology.
Energy: 50/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Lightning.
Female Imperial
This dragon is hibernating.
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
28.89 m
Wingspan
17.84 m
Weight
8740.92 kg
Genetics
Blackberry
Iridescent
Iridescent
Shale
Shimmer
Shimmer
Antique
Smoke
Smoke
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 1 Imperial
EXP: 0 / 245
STR
6
AGI
6
DEF
6
QCK
5
INT
8
VIT
8
MND
6
Biography
|
Fathom
Invisible Dancer |
Revolutions start in dreams. Wars end in them. Fathom's first dreams came in the waves of blood that would hammer the sides of her skull from the earliest days of her hatching, warm and painful in their pressures. The dark rooms that she resided in for optimal pain reduction bore strange shapes, some comforting and others foreign. She would dig into the heat of her straw nest, figuring that the pain that would shoot from the sharpened blades was worth trading for the constant throb in her head, and try to unpiece what she was seeing. Her journals were full of depictions strange creatures with many eyes and arms, all outstretched as if inviting her. She spent too much time inside, her parents decided, flipping through the artwork with concern. She was to begin integrating to the outdoors, no matter the strain it put on her head. A hobby would do her well. Dance, perhaps. It was a skill worthy of an Imperial to possess. Beautiful. Gentle. Yet dance is a mirror, and Fathom felt none of those things associated with her bloodline. Whereas most dragonesses of her stature insist on learning finer, sophisticated dance styles worthy of their stature, Fathom felt immediately drawn to Hrim, an ancient style marked by its unnatural contortions and ability to terrify its audience when done correctly. In Hrim, she saw what was revealed to her in the dark - the flowing arms, the plentiful eyes. And it was something she could summon herself, should she put in the practice. Her first public performance shocked and dismayed her parents. She covered herself in dirt and fish scales, heaving her great weight across the stage as if in the process of elongated death. She called it "Stomped Dragonfly". Her parents called it "get out of the lair and never return". She obliged. Her performances thereafter took place in a darkened theatre, movement visible only to the careful eye. Under the black her body took form and shape unfamiliar to the average derg, striking fear and dismay into its viewers. Her eyes betrayed her Lighting origin and occasionally beckoned past her performance through the dim, giving watching dergs a point of reference for the position of her body. It was revolutionary, the way she moved, the unusual set-up of her performances. It was art. It was an excuse for her to integrate within the dark, just little by little, until she could eventually become it. One day, she will go up in smoke, much like the markings snaking up her sides. Until then, she offers herself to the darkness through her dances. The headaches still strike her, but not as badly as they did before. She knows the conflict inside her skull will lessen once she totally gives herself to the black - and so she contorts and twists, donating herself piece by piece to her visions. |
x.-x.-x.-x
You turn your back on the light
so that its reflection may magnify all the better for your friends off of your scales.
so that its reflection may magnify all the better for your friends off of your scales.
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Exalting Fathom to the service of the Windsinger 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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