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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
26.01 m
Wingspan
21.92 m
Weight
6351.99 kg
Genetics
Beige
Starmap
Starmap
Stone
Constellation
Constellation
Stone
Opal
Opal
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 1 Imperial
EXP: 0 / 245
STR
6
AGI
6
DEF
6
QCK
5
INT
8
VIT
8
MND
6
Biography
Rain.
It taps on my snout and scales, as if wanting my attention. I turn my head heavens-ward in answer to see grey skies through blotted maroon and orange. This place is... wholly unfamiliar. Where are my hills of vibrant green, of pastel flowers? Where are the brilliant ruins, the columns that guided me home? Where... where is the ocean? Where is my beloved homeland?
Where is Ravania?
Rain gently patters against me, yet offers me no answer.
I turn my gaze to my own body, which is also... wrong. Where before were brilliant scales of rich coral and lavender, there are... only shadows of those colors. My body is a mixture of too solid and too ethereal. Stone now covers me, and that stone houses small gardens of tulips... But where the stone breaks off is a swirling mass of cloudy mist... I am stone, yet not. I... am alive... yet not.
A test of my still broad wings confirms I am still capable of flight. How is that possible, when my wings are made up of naught but stone, flowers, and mist? There are no feathers to keep me aloft, no muscle to pump them against the air. Yet, I can raise myself up. I can climb through the cold air and burst through the canopy above me to see endless trees, all somehow growing in the shadow of the single largest tree on the planet.
I'm... in the Labyrinth...?
How did I ever get here?
The rain offers no answers, only more tapping.
I descend back into my spot. Being above the trees was tiring, somehow, but back beneath it I feel better. Finally, I take a better look at my surroundings. Through discarded leaves of all manner of warm hues, I find more purple tulips-- more little splotches identical to those that cover me. I do not mind the tiny birds flitting about me as they eagerly sip from my flowers. In fact, I find it a bit charming. I take note that my footfalls don't sound as deep and the old ache in my shoulder is gone. A bit worrisome, but it's mitigated by the birds' soothing.
And then... I find it.
Or... me.
The grave looks old, older than I care to guess. It's unmarked and messy, but I can fathom that it once looked like any other spot of land here. Upturned soil and tulips are everywhere, and some even gravitate toward me, as if I'm somehow pulling them closer. I then realize that it's because these flowers have sprouted feet. Flowers... don't normally have feet, yes? At least, they certainly didn't back home. I should have been more shocked when the tulips settled on my stones and replanted themselves there, but there you go.
With the tulips now gathered back upon me, I can see into the grave clearly. There lies a skeleton, or bits of one, and I am compelled to pluck the skull from the depths. I don't know how I know. I simply know: it's mine. It seems... wrong to leave it, though. I do not drop it out of horror or try to bury it. I place it among my flowers. Perhaps... they can have some use of it. It's easier to focus on the practical use of one's own skull rather than the fact that I no longer was using it.
How did I die? Why did I die here, thousands of miles from home? Who buried me, and why wasn't the grave marked...? Once more my eyes turn up to the sky, but the rain offers no answers... only more tapping.
It taps on my snout and scales, as if wanting my attention. I turn my head heavens-ward in answer to see grey skies through blotted maroon and orange. This place is... wholly unfamiliar. Where are my hills of vibrant green, of pastel flowers? Where are the brilliant ruins, the columns that guided me home? Where... where is the ocean? Where is my beloved homeland?
Where is Ravania?
Rain gently patters against me, yet offers me no answer.
I turn my gaze to my own body, which is also... wrong. Where before were brilliant scales of rich coral and lavender, there are... only shadows of those colors. My body is a mixture of too solid and too ethereal. Stone now covers me, and that stone houses small gardens of tulips... But where the stone breaks off is a swirling mass of cloudy mist... I am stone, yet not. I... am alive... yet not.
A test of my still broad wings confirms I am still capable of flight. How is that possible, when my wings are made up of naught but stone, flowers, and mist? There are no feathers to keep me aloft, no muscle to pump them against the air. Yet, I can raise myself up. I can climb through the cold air and burst through the canopy above me to see endless trees, all somehow growing in the shadow of the single largest tree on the planet.
I'm... in the Labyrinth...?
How did I ever get here?
The rain offers no answers, only more tapping.
I descend back into my spot. Being above the trees was tiring, somehow, but back beneath it I feel better. Finally, I take a better look at my surroundings. Through discarded leaves of all manner of warm hues, I find more purple tulips-- more little splotches identical to those that cover me. I do not mind the tiny birds flitting about me as they eagerly sip from my flowers. In fact, I find it a bit charming. I take note that my footfalls don't sound as deep and the old ache in my shoulder is gone. A bit worrisome, but it's mitigated by the birds' soothing.
And then... I find it.
Or... me.
The grave looks old, older than I care to guess. It's unmarked and messy, but I can fathom that it once looked like any other spot of land here. Upturned soil and tulips are everywhere, and some even gravitate toward me, as if I'm somehow pulling them closer. I then realize that it's because these flowers have sprouted feet. Flowers... don't normally have feet, yes? At least, they certainly didn't back home. I should have been more shocked when the tulips settled on my stones and replanted themselves there, but there you go.
With the tulips now gathered back upon me, I can see into the grave clearly. There lies a skeleton, or bits of one, and I am compelled to pluck the skull from the depths. I don't know how I know. I simply know: it's mine. It seems... wrong to leave it, though. I do not drop it out of horror or try to bury it. I place it among my flowers. Perhaps... they can have some use of it. It's easier to focus on the practical use of one's own skull rather than the fact that I no longer was using it.
How did I die? Why did I die here, thousands of miles from home? Who buried me, and why wasn't the grave marked...? Once more my eyes turn up to the sky, but the rain offers no answers... only more tapping.
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Exalting Cairn 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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