Crispwind
(#53806830)
Level 18 Fae
Familiar
Contagion Gem Guardian
Click or tap to view this dragon in Predict Morphology.
Energy: 0/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Plague.
Female Fae
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
1.29 m
Wingspan
1.24 m
Weight
1.72 kg
Genetics
Lavender
Crystal
Crystal
Crimson
Seraph
Seraph
Sunshine
Peacock
Peacock
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 18 Fae
EXP: 35548 / 92435
STR
5
AGI
15
DEF
9
QCK
70
INT
75
VIT
22
MND
9
Lineage
Parents
- none
Offspring
- Noxxious
- Splatter
- Jessamine
- Mykia
- Finna
- Gimel
- Charm
- Bevan
- Aeolyss
- Ainslee
- Julera
- Hooktongue
- Lucille
- Rae
- Poisonstrike
- Garcia
- Camo
- Viroplasm
- Viroplasm
- Phi
- Reddish
- Phenomenon
- Sproat
- Dembones
- Rosemary
- Paladin
- Lamia
- Hua
- CrimsonPeacock
- Conjure
- Clever
- Maxima
- Walter
- Graham
- Silvercircle
- Breeya
- Gethin
- Hagen
- Banana
- Haeata
- Libretto
- Rofel
- Banana
- Banana
- Unnamed
- BoneBreaker
- akuserareeta
- Camo
- Sandrale
- Kessla
- Bidelia
- Manybattles
- Yaad
- Kukura
- Barrok
- Abelion
- Aurelus
- Landar
- Chandy
- Kindara
- Enderus
- Shadow
- Garnek
- Hemloch
- Tamara
- MURKY
- Enalius
- Cherok
- Dammeyer
- Rammaq
- Unnamed
- eyeball
- Lenna
- Mep
- Fawry
- Rofel
- Carulata
- Unnamed
- Glitterpoff
- Glitterpoff
- Glitterpoff
- TooLate
- TooLate
- TooLate
- Isi
- Sombre
- Runk
- Georgio
- Ambers
- Swiftfang
- Cedrela
- Cornelia
- Sevenseas
- Stormgold
- Berto
- Frostcape
- Helena
- Gerard
- Helena
- Latimer
- Intangible
- Musa
- Ruler
- Trahern
- Fharath
- Sazed
- Clodovea
- Apocracy
- Apocracy
- Apocracy
- Xzavier
- Unnamed
- Unnamed
- Unnamed
- Unnamed
- Unnamed
- Unnamed
- Unnamed
- Unnamed
- Unnamed
- Unnamed
- Pembroke
- Jiyuu
- Unnamed
- Unnamed
- Unnamed
- Unnamed
Biography
A fae hatchling crawled alone out of the scattered shells of her siblings - smaller than most fae dragons, long but skinny, she had been left behind, a late hatchling, a spoiled egg.
She dragged herself out of the rancid nest on the edge of the Scarred Wasteland and the Tangled Wood, red eyes glowing with a single-minded purpose - survival.
She clawed out her way through her life to adulthood, fighting and scrapping her way further into the Scarred Wasteland, cruel to the core with her own life as her sole treasure. She shook off contagion and rot, ate putrid flesh and unidentifiable edibles, and scorned every other dragon she came across.
And then, on the eve of her adulthood, she came to the center of the Scarred Wasteland - the Wyrmwound, that sickening lake of stench and decay, and she beheld it with the same cold and calculating eyes that she set upon every facet of her life... until she saw Her.
The Plaguebringer, though distant at the epicenter of the Wyrmwound, rose from its pus like a vengeful phoenix, Her ribbed wings dripping with orange and red fluids. It webbed between Her horns and spines, dripped over the pustules and sludged down the sides of Her skeletal face.
When She raised Her head and screamed to the skies, hundreds of voices echoed the scream back. The young fae was caught up in a whirlwind of wings, as hundreds of thousands of dragons launched themselves from the edge of the Wyrmwound, winding around the Plaguebringer in a hurricane of death, drawing the infectious swill up, and up, and up... before breaking formation, sending the slop flying across the Scarred Wasteland, perversely watering and feeding its twisted ecosystem.
The young fae found herself part of this whirlwind, and struggled, as she did in all things, to survive. She was still young, and these dragons around her, these honored of the Plaguebringer, were strong, elder dragons, marked with the blessings of the Plaguebringer... and for the first time, the nameless fae felt humbled.
When the twister split away, she found herself hanging aloft, higher than she could ever have flown alone, born on the sharp, acrid wind that the Plaguebringer's flight had conjured with their fervor.
She named herself, after that wind. She found her way down safely, to the edge of the Wyrmwound, and began to hurry back to her edges of the Wasteland... but with a purpose burning inside of her.
She recognized all the dragons in that whirlwind. Each one held the same inferno within them that she held, the same heart, beating against all opposition. She saw a horizon of survivors.
Crispwind would become the progenitor of a new age of those survivors. She would become a mother of the Wyrmwound, and her children would flood the skies.
She dragged herself out of the rancid nest on the edge of the Scarred Wasteland and the Tangled Wood, red eyes glowing with a single-minded purpose - survival.
She clawed out her way through her life to adulthood, fighting and scrapping her way further into the Scarred Wasteland, cruel to the core with her own life as her sole treasure. She shook off contagion and rot, ate putrid flesh and unidentifiable edibles, and scorned every other dragon she came across.
And then, on the eve of her adulthood, she came to the center of the Scarred Wasteland - the Wyrmwound, that sickening lake of stench and decay, and she beheld it with the same cold and calculating eyes that she set upon every facet of her life... until she saw Her.
The Plaguebringer, though distant at the epicenter of the Wyrmwound, rose from its pus like a vengeful phoenix, Her ribbed wings dripping with orange and red fluids. It webbed between Her horns and spines, dripped over the pustules and sludged down the sides of Her skeletal face.
When She raised Her head and screamed to the skies, hundreds of voices echoed the scream back. The young fae was caught up in a whirlwind of wings, as hundreds of thousands of dragons launched themselves from the edge of the Wyrmwound, winding around the Plaguebringer in a hurricane of death, drawing the infectious swill up, and up, and up... before breaking formation, sending the slop flying across the Scarred Wasteland, perversely watering and feeding its twisted ecosystem.
The young fae found herself part of this whirlwind, and struggled, as she did in all things, to survive. She was still young, and these dragons around her, these honored of the Plaguebringer, were strong, elder dragons, marked with the blessings of the Plaguebringer... and for the first time, the nameless fae felt humbled.
When the twister split away, she found herself hanging aloft, higher than she could ever have flown alone, born on the sharp, acrid wind that the Plaguebringer's flight had conjured with their fervor.
She named herself, after that wind. She found her way down safely, to the edge of the Wyrmwound, and began to hurry back to her edges of the Wasteland... but with a purpose burning inside of her.
She recognized all the dragons in that whirlwind. Each one held the same inferno within them that she held, the same heart, beating against all opposition. She saw a horizon of survivors.
Crispwind would become the progenitor of a new age of those survivors. She would become a mother of the Wyrmwound, and her children would flood the skies.
Click or tap a food type to individually feed this dragon only. The other dragons in your lair will not have their energy replenished.
Feed this dragon Insects.
This dragon doesn't eat Meat.
This dragon doesn't eat Seafood.
This dragon doesn't eat Plants.
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Exalting Crispwind 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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