Megatronus
(#52763279)
Level 25 Guardian
Familiar
Armored Iguanador
Click or tap to view this dragon in Predict Morphology.
Energy: 49/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Light.
Male Guardian
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
19.94 m
Wingspan
20.99 m
Weight
7690.95 kg
Genetics
Obsidian
Starmap
Starmap
Obsidian
Flair
Flair
Obsidian
Scales
Scales
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 25 Guardian
Max Level
STR
7
AGI
24
DEF
9
QCK
18
INT
22
VIT
118
MND
6
Biography
| __________________ |
|
Megatronus Strength . Loyalty . Honor Guard |
| ___ |
 
|
Megatronus stares after the Mirror he's supposed to be guarding. She's on the other side of the wide field, having used the lift from her wings to clear the swamp that he would have had to swim. She's over there, and out from under his guard. Again. He watches as she breaks the neck of a kamaitachi. Before either of them could move, the mossy cerdae whips over the fallen corpse and gores Mixie in the shoulder with razor-sharp hooves. She doesn't cry out, but Megatronus can see how serious it was. Mixie returns to his side, stumbling over the last few puddles as stretching out her wings tugs on the new wound. Keeping his gaze squarely on the two beasts left, Megatronus stretches out one large wing and firmly tucks Mixie against his side. "Might I suggest...a potion?" he rumbles, pitching his voice low so the nervous fodder trainee hiding somewhere in the treeline behind them wouldn't hear. Mixie looks at him out of the corner of her eye and snorts. "I've enough left to clear those guys, potion's for next round." "......you won't take it next round," Megatronus replies, by now far accustomed to her unreasonable heal-dodging. "Well! You're right. What makes you think I'll take it now, then?" Mixie says with far too much good cheer. Before Megatronus can reply to that, she wiggles free from his protection and rushes back into battle. He sighed. Gossamer was never this much trouble. |
 
| ___ |
Megatronus narrowed his eyes, quickly glancing around the copse of trees they were in. He'd gotten tips from the Shadowlands Peacekeeper on rapid assessment of chaotic situations, a skill sorely needed with who he fought with. It helped with the rapid fodder switches, too, so it didn't go to waste. No battle experience ever did.
After confirming Mixie's position, he focused ahead on the "small" herd of four gigantic, dragon-sized Elk. Ha! Small... Did that count as a joke? If it did, she could never, ever know. She'd never let him hear the end of it.
He blinked rapidly, shaking his head minutely to get the gentle snowfall that had accumulated in his moment of inattention off. It scattered down into the everpresent soft carpet of snow already across the Boreal Woods, disappearing from his view. They had been at this so long already - someone in the brewing team needed Elk ears, and a lot of them. The Trainee this time was a Gaoler, adjusted to the cold, but he could see the minute tremble in Mixie's wings.
She was hiding how much the long, long hunt was affecting her. They had to finish this soon, because Mixie won't quit so close to the end. And, Megatronus supposed, neither would he.
The Elk furthest out started, staring somewhere into the night - were they going to run? That's not an option. Megatronus and Mixie jumped forward in synchrony, stanced to fight.
An Elk bugled, stamping at the snow and swinging it's heavy antlers in preparation to strike. Mixie reared up in the familiar opening Rally, but as she stomped back down the wash of amber power came over him.
Wait, what?
Thrown off his rhythm, Megatronus defaulted to what he knew, snapping his wings forward around Mixie to target his Guard to her. What is he supposed to do with a Rally? He's a guard, for Plaguebringer's sake!
After weathering the battering of an Elk's charge in the face of the dragon's inattention, Megatronus looked down at Mixie. She was staring straight at the Elk through a gap in his wings, but not lunging the way she usually would upon locking eyes with the enemy.
In fact, despite her focus, she was slowly listing toward his flank. Towards his body heat, Megatronus noticed. Was that why her aim was so off? She couldn't fight like this.
Just as he was about to override Mixie's usual 'fight to the last standing dragon' rule and drag them all home, that fool Trainee lunged forward. To his credit, he managed to destabilize an Elk before locking horns with another.
Mixie doesn't tolerate attacks on her lair, though, fodder or warrior or....even a temporary stay, like Megatronus. So she straightened up and launched out after the Trainee, taking down the staggering Elk with an unrallied Eliminate and wasting half of her remaing breath on another Eliminate right after. It left the second Elk tangling with the Trainee bleeding and dazed, but still upright. Still a threat.
"B - behind guard!" Mixie shivered violently in the middle of her order, a standard drill call that most Trainees would obey in their sleep. Megatronus planted his feet, prepared to sweep the Gaoler back as - he didn't obey?
"You need help!" the Trainee said, bright and cheerful and so, so unaware of the odds of a level 4 dragon facing the beastclans who called the Boreal Woods home.
This moment of chatter was enough to allow an Elk to take initiative and lash out with razor hooves, catching the Trainee in the face. One sharp slice down his muzzle, drops of blood across the snow.
And a set of sturdy Gaoler antlers knocked into the delicate wingjoint of the dragon next to him.
To hell with the usual orders. This Trainee was going to get Mixie killed, if not kill her himself trying to play the shining hero! Disregarding the fact that he, too, was abandoning his expected position, Megatronus bound forward to the frontline of the skirmish.
Just in time to catch the edge of another kick, swiftly deflecting the flailing hooves away and following the assailant with a tail swing to snap the offending leg.
"Try that kick again on a broken leg, I dare you." Megatronus said, glaring at the Elk like it could understand his words.
Mixie, dazed beneath the shelter of his wings, took this literally and kicked out. One foot harmlessly hit the edge of his wings, causing Megatronus to stumble that way. The other foot, though, raked through the exposed neck of the Elk behind them preparing to charge.
Getting his balance back and scooping Mixie and the Trainee closer again, Megatronus narrowed his eyes, quickly glancing around the copse of trees they were in. Two Elk down, two injured. Injured and very, very mad. One shocked Trainee pressed against his side. One hypothermia-addled warrior with friendly fire injuries.
And he was trained as a guard, not a warrior.
This should be fun.
Megatronus stares after Mixie, waiting for that tell-tale twitch of her tailtip. She's on the other side of the wide field, having used the lift from her wings to clear the swamp in one bound. He doesn't even try to swim after her, wide toes making sturdy footing in the soft mud an easy task by now. She'll be back under his guard, and he's going to be ready to catch the chasing beast's attack. Again.
He watches the whole battlefield as she breaks the neck of a kamaitachi. Behind her, the mossy cerdae shifts its weight back, about to lash out at Mixie with razor-sharp hooves. She doesn't see it, sides heaving as she glares down at the corpse beneath her, but Megatronus can.
He makes a sharp sound, flaring up his wings in a snap. Mixie returns to his side without questioning, gracefully bounding ahead of the startled cerdae. Keeping his gaze squarely on the two beasts left, Megatronus relaxes his large wings to allow Mixie to settle against his side in proper formation.
"It was that cerdae. You never think they'll attack, and they always do," he rumbles, pitching his voice low so his humor wouldn't be apparent to the nervous fodder trainee hiding somewhere behind them.
Mixie looks at him out of the corner of her eye and snorts, clearly able to feel his laugh pressed against him. "It's not my fault I've got a cerdae assassination order on my head."
"......then maybe you should watch them better," Megatronus replies, idly shifting his pose so the trainee could better see the textbook-perfect resting pose Mixie was telegraphing for their benefit.
"Well! Isn't that what I have you for?" Mixie says with far too much good cheer, grinning up at him. Before Megatronus can reply to that, she wiggles free from his protection and rushes back into battle.
He sighed fondly after her, and shook out his wings again. When had he got used to the trouble?
But despite centering himself, Megatronus found himself freezing as Mixie drove her claws through the soft scale at the base of a toridae's head. With its death, the experience added up. For a moment, he could almost feel the rolling of the numbers that the analysis dragons swore by. A gentle wash of clarity came across him, categorizing threats and the location of his charges with newfound ease. For once, the information did not please Megatronus.
Instead, feeling like an empty potion bottle had been snapped somewhere in his head, cold, sharp snap echoing around the spaces between his thoughts, Megatronus reeled. The battle infront of him felt like some distant thing, sounds blurring together and colours bleeding out like some moving shape ahead of him. He shifted his toes in the mud. The chill felt like it belonged to some other dragon's feet, miles away and beneath him simultaneously.
He had reached level 25. His contracted time here was done. The current set of Trainees were no longer his to watch and guide. The ornery familiar he spent so long ignoring, and then befriending, would go back to the Beastmaster. His lessons with the other warriors were concluded.
Mixie was no longer his to guard.
He was going home.
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