Joywing » Lair » Iblis

Iblis

(#50622003)

Level 25 Gaoler

Familiar

Flowering Pohip

Energy: 0/50

Personal Style

Skin

Scene

Physical Attributes

Battle Stats

Measurements

Length

13.43 m

Wingspan

4.79 m

Weight

7209.79 kg

Genetics

White
Shaggy (Gaoler)

Orca
Streak (Gaoler)

Seafoam
Runes (Gaoler)

Hatchday

Mar 31, 2019
(5 years)

Breed

Adult
Gaoler

Eye Type

Plague
Rare

Level 25 Gaoler

Max Level

STR

129

AGI

DEF

QCK

INT

VIT

MND

Lineage

Parents

Offspring

Biography

IblisXXXXXXXXXXXXXXSenior Warrior

Remembrance

Blood seeps into the fleshy ground. Muscle was stripped from bone, and rent down to nothing. Two walk the waste, fleeing the same fate. Trepidation and doubt invade the mind and cloud the path. In the place where the tears have been spent, she nuzzles her companion’s side.

“We will stay together. We will survive.”

Iblis looked upon the assembled battalion. A hundred fine dragons stood at attention, disciplined from rigorous training. Some were bright eyed and optimistic, eager to try their hand at real combat. Others were hardened from many a warpath, weary, but prepared for what was to come. Her own apprentices stood among them, respectable warriors in their own right, unrecognisable from the fresh recruits she had met them as long before. Unwavering, the Gaoler stood tall to address them.

“We are dealing with a Shadebeast, a high-level threat. The foe is unpredictable with its shifting shapes. To eliminate it, every mote must be eliminated. If even one of its multitude is left alive, it will return, and continue to put dragons in danger. This will be by no means an easy fight.” Some of the newer warriors looked at each other with some doubt. Such hesitation would get them killed. Iblis continued her address.

“I have chosen each of you myself, because you are the best of the best. When the time comes, we must strike with speed and precision. The enemy will try to dissuade you, take the faces of those you care about. Do not hesitate. No matter what happens, we must take it down. No more will be taken by it. It shall not pass!” With a stamp of her paw, she roared her battle cry. The battalion rallied behind her, ready to perform their duty.

Steeling her will, she led the souls into the heart of the wastes.

Their bones ached, and their throats burned. Running was all there was now. Further and further from the grim mountain of ivory. They would not take them. They would not be added to the pile.

Breathless, they reached where the flesh dug into stone, the border between tradition and waste. A cool, fresh breeze washed over them. The two imperials gazed out, at the cliff over the ocean. As the sun dipped below the horizon, it bled orange, staining the seas. Idle cawing sounded in the distance, as birds soared free.

“It’s beautiful.” One of them breathed, laying herself to rest on the rocks. She sighed with contentment, a refreshing gust washing over her face.

“It is,” the other responded, gazing out at an endless horizon. “It’s worth fighting for.”

The armies marched forth, carefully maneuvering through the spires of bone and gashes of septic pus. Moving through the wastes in a small group was hard enough, to move a battalion through would be arduous. They scaled toothy ridges, and dodged the webs of phlegm and mucus. Some of the weaker-stomached ones lost their lunch. Yet, none of her fellow warriors signed on for the duty if it would be easy.

Iblis was the first to catch the scent, salty and wet. They were nearing the Wasteland-Dragonhome border. She insisted on going with the swift scouting party, she had to see for herself. Still the sea breeze blew, carrying the cawing of life beyond the waves. The ocean was a sheet of dark blue, calm in the daylight. The scouts could bring the rest. Her vigil was more important.

Underneath the seaspray and tranquility, there was the bitter taint of the Shade.

Like the coming storm, the seas began to churn. A tiny pinprick of purple was there on the horizon, waves parting from its approach. It came steadily, but there was no haste in its movement. It moved forward as if coming to meet an old friend, leisurely flying in the sky. Yet, Iblis tensed, her world darkening to edges as it came. The sounds of life were still there, yet underscored by droning, the not-noises of a creature half-alive. The Gaoler held her ground there, watching. The reinforcements will soon arrive.

The speck of purple became a shape, long and swirling in the sky. There was a solemn majesty in its movement, as if it too knew why she had come. The warriors approached, tensed and ready on the cliff. The dark aura was overpowering now, magic seemingly being pulled from the body. Iblis could see the creature’s face, a cruel mockery of one she knew. Iblis climbed atop one of the larger dragons, and turned to face her troops. She could not falter now. The duty was too important.

“The enemy stands ahead. We will not fail in our mission. Today, we fight! CHARGE!” With a roaring cry, dragons took to the air, battling the wind and seaspray whipping at their faces. The creature roared too, its gargantuan form teeming with shifting specks of purple. It sped forward, striking like lightning. The two forces met in the air, dragons flying into a storm of purple. Warriors fought like demons, gouging and tearing the parts of the whole.

Yet, the beast was not passive, as the specks moved and crawled, skittering down the arms and legs of those that walked upon it. Blasts of magic were absorbed into it, and some weaker warriors were trapped. With a yell of desperation, one was sucked in whole, her body drained of every speck of magic within. Her comrade was taken aback, her form emerging from the cloud of purple. With a twisted smile, it struck, that moment of hesitation all she needed to end him.

Iblis leapt off the back of a Guardian, and onto the body of the beast. With grim determination, she raked her claws across its hide, her throat and mouth burning with the acrid stench of the Shade. The specks bled black, staining her paws the colour of ink. The monster shrieked, not with the guttural cry of a primal force, but with a voice that was distinctly dragon. The Gaoler fought like a dragon possessed, her fury the blade to rend her enemy asunder.

Still, the specks waited, trying to crawl on her body. She swatted them away, one by one. She scaled the length of the beast, attempting to reach its heart. Her lack of flight was no concern, as her muscles had her bounding onwards and upwards. Eventually, she reached its chest. She snarled as she raised her claws, ready to strike it down.

Yet, she could see her face. She did not speak, but Iblis knew what she tried to say, as she tried to make her to remember. Those times when they were together, relying on each other. The laughter, the sorrow. The tears of loss that they shared, the simple happiness that they had. She could have it all back, if she would only join them. Despite the purple, Iblis could still see those same features, the smile lines on her face, and that bit of playfulness on her eyes. The bonemark of blue, that which tied them together, was still there, barely visible on her scales of purple. Iblis could feel the specks crawling on her legs. She would not take her without her consent. All she had to do was close her eyes.

The Gaoler looked straight in the face of her sister, and spoke.

“I remember you. But you are not Mitzuki, and you will never be.” She snarled, plunging her claws into the beast’s heart. It roared, shaking and convulsing. The warriors hurried now, prying comrades from the specks, and crushing what parts they could. Like butchers, they descended, cutting and slaughtering every part of the beast they could. It flailed desperately, putting aside any pretense of deception, but at the end, it simply stopped, accepting of its demise. The specks, cleared away, left a pile of corpses, untouched from the day they perished. Some were her own students, died in battle. Others were far too small, far too young to have been caught in its jaws. And there was a white imperial with dark bone tattoos, serene in her eternal rest.

The iron taste of blood filled her mouth. Scars and wounds criss-crossed her body, bleeding over her bone-marks of green. With a grim expression, the other imperial stood her ground. The Pack was coming, and they left no survivors.

“Go! I’ll hold them off!” She cried, her cheerful expression replaced with grim determination. Her sister coughed, trying to stand on shaking legs.

“No! I can’t leave you! Maybe we can hide somewhere-” She was interrupted, the blue-marked imperial placing a claw on her lips.

“You know that’s impossible. We’ll both die if we stay.” Tears in her eyes, she placed her claws on her sister’s shoulder.

“...No matter what happens, please remember me. Remember us.” The wounded imperial nodded, and began to run, far, far away. She would not let her down.

They would mourn the dead. Comrades were retrieved, tears shed over lives that were lost, and for the lives that were saved. The Gaoler approached wordlessly, taking a bit from each fallen dragon. A tooth here, a claw there. She paused, as she took the long, ivory branching horns. It would take a long time to get through all the corpses, but it would be done. No matter what, they would be remembered.

"Strength alone does nothing."

Fun Facts

Is ticklish on the back of her ears.

Stern and fierce to those she trains, but a very good teacher.

Had to change out all of her furniture when she changed from a giant Imperial to Gaoler.

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Art by Centennial

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