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Azide

(#55245639)

The Chemist

Linus

Tar-Trooper Slarg

Energy: 42/50

Personal Style

Apparel

Skin

Scene

Physical Attributes

Battle Stats

Measurements

Length

6.55 m

Wingspan

6.63 m

Weight

618.55 kg

Genetics

Phthalo
Metallic

Phthalo
Bee

Abyss
Capsule

Hatchday

Sep 14, 2019
(4 years)

Breed

Adult
Mirror

Eye Type

Light
Common

Level 1 Mirror

EXP: 0 / 245

STR

AGI

DEF

QCK

INT

VIT

MND

Lineage

Parents

Tagas
Sora

Offspring

Biography

___________________________________________________________

Azide
The Chemist

_________________________

B I O G R A P H Y

______ A mirror raised as an academic, operating purely on logic and higher thinking, was a rarity. Yet in the clans of the Mirrorlight Promenade, academia was the only respected path for a dragon. Whether it be philosophy or physics, a dragon was not worth their salt unless they had papers and dissertations to their name. Some were better suited for this introspective life, particularly the Lightweaver’s children. One would typically see Pearlcatchers and Imperials at the upper echelons of their respective fields. There were hardly any of the more impulsive breeds populating these clans; a mirror or a spiral was a rare sight in an institution. But when a little mirror hatchling wound up at a scholar’s doorstep, hungry and alone, what was one to do?

______ The chemist named her for her reactive energy; “sit still” was a common phrase spoken in that house. Fiddling with glassware was her favorite activity, saving the activity for when her adoptive father wasn’t watching her. But one day when she was caught he surprised her. Instead of chastising the hyperactive child like he usually did, he sat her down at the mench next to him. He took the glass flask from her claws and clamped it in a ring stand, setting it above a pile of alchemical kindling. With a quick spark of flint the kindling was alight, flames licking at the bottom of the flask.
“Watch this,” he said, walking to grab a glass of clear reagent. The reagent trickled into the flask with a careful pour and almost immediately began to react with the heat of the flame. Phosphorescent and bright, the chemical illuminated the room with a bright yellow glow, as if the lab had been blessed by the Lightweaver herself.
“This is Chemistry, honey. If you concentrate and work hard, you could be on the frontlines of discovery one day.” He always had a flare for the dramatic, and he smiled as his adoptive daughter watched the display completely enraptured.
“I can do that?” She looked up at him with a toothy grin, eyes filled with excitement.
“Oh, I think you can.”

______ It was against her nature, being cooped up in a lab all day. But Azide loved her work. Soft beams of light filtered into her lab in the mornings, illuminating pristine work benches and refracting off of spotless glassware. Chalkboards and tacked-up parchment lined the walls, rings and lines communicating in a language only she had the wherewithal to understand. Years of hard work, years of trying to prove herself to her more level-headed clanmates, had finally paid off. All that groveling, all those hours spent as some Pearlcatcher academic’s lackey, she was finally in control. This is what she worked so hard for, this is what she wanted. Right?

______ Weeks came and went, along with a steady string of lab assistants, none wanting to stay too long in that chaotic environment. Nothing organized, nothing methodical, just an animal pacing back and forth in her cage. Occasionally she would hit a stride and work herself into a frenzy, mixing and measuring and analyzing as long as she could go. Her notes were nothing more than chicken scratch, the ramblings of some deranged madwoman who needed a bit of a break. But in that mess were gems, theorized explosive reagents that could create immeasurable energy for very little input. The only problem was their synthesis, which Azide was stubbornly trying to work out. Her arms were covered in burn scars from failed experiments, places where heat ate her flesh and glass dug into her skin. But she just bandaged them up and got back to work. It was the only way, right? No breaks, no follys, just as everyone told her. Sit still, have discipline, and work.

______ "Miss? Perhaps that’s good for today.” Her latest lab assistant, a diminutive fae with goggles too big for his head, cowered behind a lab stool. Azide’s latest trial had singed the walls and sent glass flying in all directions; it would take hours to clean up. Azide sat with her head in her hands, dejected by this latest failure. The fae plodded over to his instructor, careful to not step in any reagent or glass.
“Hey, it’s alright, miss. You know what they say, it takes a thousand failures for one success!” He put a tiny hand on her shoulder to comfort her, but she whipped around with her teeth barred. Startled, he jumped back, stumbling over his long tail. Azide caught herself and sighed.
“Go home, Whisker. I’ll deal with this myself.” Whisker nodded and quickly stepped out of the lab, careful not to meet Azide’s gaze. The door shut quietly, leaving the chemist alone with her mess. Bandages soaked with a fire supressor needed to be changed, glass picked up, fluid carefully neutralized and disposed of. But all of that would have to wait. Not caring about the crunching of glass under her feet, Azide snuffed out the electric light illuminating her lab and shut the door behind her.

______ Outside, the sun shone bright over the Lightweaver’s domain. Everything tinged with the golden hue of afternoon light, beautiful and picturesque. The polished alabaster of the court pathways was smooth under Azide’s scarred feet, as smooth and cutting as the glass in her lab. But she didn’t want smooth. She was done with polish, with the carefully curated illumination that felt so artificial to her. She tried, she tried so hard to conform to it. She enjoyed the thrill of discovery, but not this bureaucratic nonsense. She was tired of smooth, she wanted something rough.

______ Wilds were an uncommon thing in the Sunbeam Ruins; it was farm more common to find perfectly manicured gardens rather than untamed wilderness. Hatchlings were warned to avoid whatever wilds there were, lest they encounter some horrible beast on their excursion. But the long grasses and loamy soil surrounding the outskirts of the forest were a breath of fresh air to Azide, something so different that a sterile institution. Field flowers reached for the sun, birds sang from the trees, and the ground itself seemed to move, teeming with the insects that called this place their home. Azide watched them, bending down to the ground to watch the ants march in their little formations back to their home underground, carrying their spoils of scavenging. Scratching at the ground felt so wonderful, so very natural that she couldn’t bring herself to stop. Stomping produced a wonderful echo through the soil, a crunch of detritus followed by the thud of earth. She bounced, bounded, anything to get the sound louder. She didn’t know why she was doing it, only that she wanted to do it. Sit still, her father would say. But she didn’t want to. Eyes on the horizon, focused on the trees, she bolted. Muscled ached from years of inactivity, but it was a wonderful kind of pain. Faster and faster, she dodged trees she didn’t even know she was seeing, too focused on the sensation of pursuit. The smells, the sounds, the quick wind buffeting her polished skin. Sit still.

But oh, how good it felt to move.

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Exalting Azide to the service of the Icewarden 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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