Siby
(#56127214)
Level 12 Imperial
Kos
Winter Wolf
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Energy: 0/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Ice.
Male Imperial
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
27.23 m
Wingspan
22.4 m
Weight
8676.15 kg
Genetics
Charcoal
Starmap
Starmap
Shale
Bee
Bee
Smoke
Opal
Opal
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 12 Imperial
EXP: 6281 / 38956
STR
40
AGI
12
DEF
18
QCK
30
INT
10
VIT
20
MND
11
Biography
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 S I B Y 
BARGHEST LORE AND LINEAGE PROJECT
GENERATION N/A BITTEN BY ROMULUS 
"Beware the wolf, great and gray,
That you might see the light of day." A call for help is answered, but at great cost. A hunter finds not his prey, but regret and a curse that will linger for the rest of his days, for he could not have known what he would face, let alone what terrible fate would await him. This is the tale of the Barghest, Siby. |
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Siby was a hunter. It was his calling and his passion and his greatest talent, and he wanted nothing more than the exhilaration of the hunt. The feel of a bow in his claws as he tracked his quarry, letting loose an arrow and watching it find its mark, the satisfaction of providing for those around him. He had little company, and little want for company, though loneliness wore on him as it did any other. He had a few friends who each made a point to visit him, and even assist him in hunting. He lived near a burgeoning clan, at that; it was to them that the bulk of his prey was given for the sake of subsistence. It was due to his passion and talent for hunting that the clan he lived close to contacted him about a missive they received from a township several leagues away. The message contained an offer of riches untold in exchange for his services in hunting a great and terrible beast, who was said to glitter like a gilded statue with long, sharp teeth. The promise of wealth meant little to Siby, but a beast of a unique nature as described intrigued him. And so he went without fanfare, and he took his bow and his arrows and his snares, and he made his way to the township and to the beast he was going to hunt. Upon his arrival in the late evening, the settlement that might once have been bustling with commerce and community was instead found to be eerily empty, its inhabitants hiding away out of fear. To this Siby paid no heed, instead stalking to the town square, where he had been asked to meet the dragon who had hired him. There was a fountain there, carved to resemble a dragon that somewhat resembled an Imperial with its neck bowed, water trickling from its maw. Beside it stood a squirrely-seeming Pearlcatcher with a long, spindly neck, their pearl held in an elaborately embroidered sling around their neck. They were fidgeting with their claws and staring intently at what seemed to Siby to be nothing at all, but as he approached they started and somehow managed to fidget even more than they had been before. "Ah," they said, their voice high and reedy, "you must be Siby." At his responding nod, they stammered, "Good, good, I—yes, good. Er, my name is Abda, it's nice to finally—to finally meet you." "Likewise," Siby said, his voice a low rumble. He noted with amusement that Abda seemed to shrink a bit at the sound of it. "Ah. Ahem. Yes... yes, quite good. Ahem. Well, I suppose we should go ahead and get to the point," Abda said hurriedly. "No doubt you know already that we have been beset upon by a... by a beast of some unidentified nature. It really is quite strange, you know, that not a one of us has any idea of what sort of creature it may be. By all accounts it resembles some kind of hound or something of the sort, but larger than—yes, larger than even you, Imperial that you are, and of course its hide is said to glitter as if it was encrusted with jewels. Well, it has been preying on many in the area, and now it has descended onto our humble—our humble settlement here, and already two have fallen prey to whatever unnatural methods it uses to hunt. Truly we would be in your debt if you were to fell this beast, and save not only us, but many others it may have hunted in the future to come." "Where am I to go to find this beast?" "Well, Lady Nycta has been complaining of nightmares that leave her drained and weak. What's significant about this is that, thus far, every dragon with similar complaints has later been found dead in their beds, the shadow of the beast haunting their bodies. Truthfully, we do not expect her to survive this ordeal, but if her life should be saved she may very well compensate you with no small portion of her wealth, but I digress. If I were you in this—if I were you in this situation, I would make a point of investigating her manor." Siby nodded. "And where would this manor be?" "Ah—Do you not need any preparation? I—" "I am already prepared." "I—Ahem. Of course. Then, if you'd be so kind as to follow me, the manor is right this way..." At last, Siby was alone. If he were being honest, that was a relief. Despite his intimidating and professional appearance, most of his laconicism came from genuinely not knowing what to say more often than not. No matter. He had a job to do, and then he could return home and resume his normal affairs. For now, though, he was in a manor of not-unimpressive opulence, and its size and scale was suited to a large dragon. Siby had no trouble navigating it. The walls were made of polished wood, trimmed in elegant carvings. Decorative mirrors and paintings lined the walls, though few depicted anyone in particular; they mostly displayed landscapes or flowers and other such pretty things. Their frames were inlaid with gold and jewels that Siby noted to be eye-catchingly shiny, but undoubtedly frivolous. This description also applied to the crystalline chandeliers hanging from the lofted ceiling, the rugs lining the floor with designs so intricate they overwhelmed Siby when he tried to examine them, and, in all honestly, the estate as a whole. To this he paid the regard that was due, which was, in his opinion, very little, before turning his attention to seeking out any sign of a beast being or having been present, while at the same time setting up snares and traps cleverly concealed so that they might catch the beast in an attempted entry or escape. When he came to the Lady's chambers, he set up a snare in the doorway and surveyed the room. It was decorated to the point of utter gaudiness, but in a state of disarray. Elegantly embroidered curtains hung from bent rods, silken cushions lay strewn across the floor along with jewelry and trinkets. There was a canopy bed against a wall, sheets hanging off the sides and spilling onto the floor. There, a guardian with dull scales—Lady Nycta, presumably—lay sleeping, wings akimbo, breath shallow and uneven. Siby observed the scene, wary of anything that might happen, but nothing happened. Nothing moved. Nothing changed. Eventually, he left, and found a place to lie low, in the shadows under the staircase. He knew how to be still and silent, such as that his quarry never knew he was there until it was already too late. So he waited, vigilant, not letting any stray sound or flicker of movement escape his notice. Soon, his quarry would reveal itself, and that would be the end of it. It was not too long, all things considered—a few hours, perhaps? Siby was no timekeeper—before he heard movement from the upper level. Footfalls, subtle save for the click of claws, and a sound that reminded him of golden coins gently clacking against each other. And then came a lapse into silence. Siby did not dare breathe for some time, until it became clear that any and all activity had ceased. It was then that, on silent feet, Siby stalked up the stairs, vigilant so that he may ready his bow at a moment's notice. Not one trap had been sprung, and he wondered at how the beast might have avoided them all. When he came to Lady Nycta's quarters, even the snare laid at the door was untouched. The room was much the same as it had been before, but many of the trinkets strewn about had been displaced, and even more had gone missing. Aside from that, there was no evidence that there might have been a beast in the room at all. Save, of course, for the fact that the Lady drew no breath, lying on her bed eerily still. Siby had failed to save her. Though it had been an unrealistic goal to start with, it saddened him still. Another life claimed by the beast. Yet more reason for why it had to be culled. He set to thoroughly inspecting the room for any possible clues. A claw mark, a strand of fur, and yet he found nothing. Only missing trinkets, and the body of Lady Nycta. He exhaled through bared teeth in frustration, only to catch movement out of the corner of his eye. In the vanity mirror, cracked as it was, he saw a flicker of—something. He could have sworn he saw a flash of golden eyes. Instantly, Siby was on guard. He had never hunted a beast that could travel through anything but the world, material and concrete as it was, but he did not know what he was dealing with here. He inspected the vanity mirror, but only saw his own visage staring back at him. He narrowed his eyes and gripped the rim, not quite knowing himself what he intended to accomplish. Though it did seem to accomplish something, as he saw movement behind him in the mirror. He whipped around, but saw nothing. Only the room, just as it had been since he had entered it. When he turned back to the mirror, there was... something in it, having taken the place of his own reflection. "Well now," it said, and its voice was... uncanny. Like the rumble of thunder and the bay of a hound twisted into words. "It seems a hunter has come. To slay me, perhaps? That is how it works, no?" Siby could not quite place what it was. It resembled a canine of some sort, yes, but which kind was beyond him. Not a wolf, not a hound, not a fox. Perhaps a jackal—that was closer than the others—but still not quite. Its eyes were a cold shade of amber-gold, its pelt was dark with shades of black and tawny brown, and when it spoke, its teeth were long. Most striking were the jewels—draped around its neck, its wrists and ankles and tail, embedded in its hide, glittering around its coarse fur. It looked almost uncanny, because it almost resembled a bejeweled statue in how it glimmered, but it was no statue, for it had long claws and analyzing eyes. "Oh, come now, do try not to bore me," it said, and Siby had not hunted a beast that spoke, before. "I am patient, but I have spent long enough being patient today, and you do seem to me to be someone worth lending attention to, so long as you do not waste it. For, look how your wings shine! You should take care of them, so that they may be all the more lustrous." "Who are you," Siby said, "and what are you, that you stalk through mirrors and speak to me like a dragon would?" "I am Romulus, and I am as I am. Perhaps if I had known my mother and my father, I would have a better answer for you, dear hunter." "And yet you are a beast, still, though no beast I have seen before. The Lady lies dead just there, and you have killed her, no? I must put you out of your misery, for the sake of any that might come after her." At this, the creature called Romulus looked affronted, an expression that quickly twisted into anger. "Beast," and it spat the word like it tasted foul, "I am no mere beast. What beast decorates itself as I do so that it stands out in its splendor? What beast travels through realms immaterial so that it may not dirty its paws with that which is below it? I'll show you what a beast truly is, dear hunter. Oh, how quickly you'll discover how paradigms can shift." Without any further warning, the mirror shattered as Romulus lunged for him, and Siby was stunned for its suddenness. He was launched out of shock by the pain of long, sharp teeth lunging into his shoulder, at the point where wing met torso. He screeched with pain and went for his bow, gritting through the splitting agony in his shoulder. The beast before him had a muzzle soaked with blood, and a look on its face like it had already won. Siby wondered, even as he nocked an arrow, why it hadn't gone for his throat. Did it not intend to kill him? The beast dodged his first arrow and and ran out of the chamber, deftly stepping over the snare in the doorway. Siby followed closely in pursuit, already readying his bow once more. It dodged his second arrow as it sprinted through the hall, and forwent the staircase in favor of leaping down to the grand room below. Here, from the position at the top of the stairs, Siby's third arrow hit its mark, landing squarely in Romulus' flank. It howled in response, but before Siby could finish the job, it leaped to a mirror hung on the wall, and suddenly the room was filled with cold, golden eyes, as the decorative mirrors and the gem-inlaid picture frames and the chandelier that seemed to be sculpted from diamonds all held its reflection, refracting it until there was no hiding from its gaze. "You will regret ever having met me," it said, and its voice echoed and filled the room with its malice, "you will regret having slighted me, you will regret having wounded me, you will regret ever having come here. Soon, hunter. Soon we shall see who is really the beast." And then it was gone, and Siby was alone. The adrenaline receded from his system, and the wound in his shoulder was deep, and the full pain of it hit him all at once, and his consciousness fled from him. They say that there is a beast in the woods. They say it is great and grey with eyes like ice, bigger even than the largest dragons. They say it looks like a wolf, but only because they lack the words needed to describe it with full veracity. They say it only comes out on nights when the great silver eye of the moon is opened full. They say it wanders the forests on silent paws, that no one hears it coming. They say there was a hunter who lived in those very woods, an Imperial who wielded a bow, who was quiet and intimidating but kind, however he tried to hide it. They wonder why he shut himself away so, for surely he could've felled the beast, that great grey wolf. His hut is still there, unassuming and shaded by the tree cover, but the door is locked more often than not, and there are little signs of life within. One more dies with every moon. One more body is found, unmarked but lifeless and still. The people of the clan by the woods pray that they might be saved. The worried parents of the clan by the woods pray that they might be saved. The elders of the clan by the woods pray that they might be saved. The dragon in the woods, who once wielded a bow with deadly accuracy, who carries nothing but regrets on his scarred shoulders, prays that he might be saved.
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