Monstrovity » Lair » Tyr

Tyr

(#52028486)

Level 8 Gaoler

Arnbjorg

Dripcave Deputy

Energy: 0/50

Personal Style

Skin

Scene

Physical Attributes

Battle Stats

Measurements

Length

10.6 m

Wingspan

5.23 m

Weight

11209.73 kg

Genetics

Garnet
Basic

Hatchday

May 22, 2019
(5 years)

Breed

Adult
Gaoler

Eye Type

Water
Goat

Level 8 Gaoler

EXP: 6976 / 16009

STR

AGI

DEF

QCK

INT

VIT

MND

Lineage

Parents

none

Offspring

none

Biography

Tyr
||Hunter of Draugar||

.:Main theme:.

The heat was unbearable. Tyr's breath cams out in short, laboured puffs.

Something had happened... There had been a breach? Beach? No, breach. He almost chuckled to himself...
Losing my damn mind...
He had been to the beach once, as a child.
Too much sand.
He noticed himself slowing down and pushed onward. Tyr didn't know where he was, but he knew he had to find the Draugr that had escaped. It was his duty, he had no other option. And yet his feet faltered with each step. His loyal deputy tried to nudge him onward, but she was faltering as well. Their water had run out yesterday and he doubted he would last to see tomorrow.
Tyr wept. He had devoted his life to the Icewarden, he would be a failure if he couldn't track this monster. And yet here he was, dying and without a lead in sight. He had wandered so far he couldn't even recognize the landscape. Red clay had stained his fur, and bones of long dead horrors rested in the sand. He looked up at the sun, and his vision went double. Was that a bird? Warden' s beard he hated not being able to fly. The swift messengers of the Windsinger were so lucky. Of course he had only ever seen one once, but it had been so beautiful...
No, his mind was wandering, he had to stay focused. Focused.... focus..... crocus... Just like the ones his mother kept.... winter crocuses. He could hear her voice.

The bright burning sun was the last thing he saw before blacking out.

His hearing returned first, followed by touch. He was somewhere soft. Soft and warm.
Gamnhësk? Had he made It? Done well enough? Would his mother be waiting for him to embrace him in her wings? Would he be able to join her in the eternal feast?
Then his smell returned, and he that wherever he was, it was not the great hall. The room reeked of spices, sickness, and acrid smoke. He tried to lift his head, but failed. He was too weak. Tyr settled for trying to figure out where he was, focusing on his hearing.
"I say we kill him."
The first voice was sharp and oddly smooth at the same time, he didn't trust it. Not one bit.
"Of course you do you purple sidewinder. Not your choice to make."
The voices were strange. Full of rough inflections and new sayings. The language was the same, but the usage of words... completely different. Not the point. These wyrms were trying to kill him! And here he was, lying bling on a nest. Weak. Gamnhësk his arse. He tried to lift a limb, and let out a grunt.
"Oh! Looks like somebody's awake. Come on, we can say it was exposure."
Tyr's heart raced. He was going to die. Blind, alone, and far from home. Adrenaline surged through his veins. He waited until he heard their breath and, ignoring his pain, pounced.
Success. Both voices cried out in alarm. He grasped the throat of his victim and raised his claws. It was small, long like a snake. He was ready to bring down his other claw when he heard a third voice enter the room.
"That's enough."
The voice dripped with power, and the same rough accent shared by the other two. He bared his fangs, although deep down, Tyr was was just a bit afraid. He couldn't see, and he had no idea what monsters he was up against. They spoke his language, but might they be something not even draconic in nature? The possibilities scared him.
"I'll need you to let go of Vesper please, before he has a fit."
Tyr snarled.
"Make me."
"I would honestly rather not. You seem in pretty rough shape, and I would hate to have to finish the desert's work. I can say, that if you let go of him, I'll make sure Meifeng fixes up your eyes, and you can stay if you wish... as long as you provide for the clan. Your other option is I personally break all the bones in your body and slowly roast you over the wyrmwood fire."
Tyr slowly loosened his grip, but didn't let go. This was all too strange for him.
"Now."
He grumbled and backed off. Then stumbled, wincing at a needle of pain pierced his skull. He had remembered something important, something very, very important. The Draugr!

All these souls were in grave, grave danger.

By Astermoore!

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Exalting Tyr to the service of the Plaguebringer 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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