DEVASTATION
(#56181662)
"Please don't go--I'll eat you whole." { he, it }
BOLTCONSTRUCT
Charging Cerdae
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Energy: 46
out of
50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Lightning.
Male Imperial
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Effect
Scene
Measurements
Length
31.05 m
Wingspan
19.06 m
Weight
6465.89 kg
Genetics
Dust
Lionfish
Lionfish
Crocodile
Noxtide
Noxtide
Cerise
Crackle
Crackle
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
| _.. |
________________________________________________
· D E V A S T A T I O N ·
One Cursed Unspeakable, Third to Spill His Blood for the High King Unofficially; ... i.
CW: VIOLENCE AND GORE
He stands silently besides the High King, but no silence accompanies him, for his physical form alone thrums with sheer power as a quiet static hum. Various colored tendrils of electricity lick across his weathered scales, sometimes sparking off to connect with surrounding objects as brief glimpses. The High King Himself does not seem to mind as one spark ripples across His fair coat like a flame in dry brush. The static fizzles out. His attention is instead focused on the ceremony presented before them in the Second Throne Room of Gadamere, most of His trusted Court present for the proceedings. For now, only Devastation accompanies the High King Himself, surrounded by red banners and red, red, red... The King's third Leadbledden observes the many-eyed Leadbledden, Dispater, sat before the Gadamere throne upon his own towering seat, cruel crimson eyes trained on his prey crouched low before his shale base; a Royal Guard from the King's Royal Forces, now at trial. Devastation turned to face his King again, gauging his current expression, but struggling still to glean any insight. It was disturbing how difficult to read his King was. Leadbleddens possessed a perception most mortals lacked—it was easy for them to peer into another and know most of what and who they are. The High King, however, is a blank slate... He provides nothing discernable. How aggravating. "Devastation," The Other whispers then, in a level, smooth tone that only His target could hear. The warrior immediately straightens when he is addressed, keeping his gaze leveled and fixated on the show before them. "I want you to be this traitor's executioner." A thrill zipped down his spine then (it has been a long while since he had felt something akin to the element that raged throughout him). An important task, one he was deliberately chosen for. It was pleasing. To show his gratitude, and keeping his gaze trained to the floor in respect, Devastation bowed before his High King. In the peripheral of his vision, he caught sight of His satisfied smile. Now that was pleasing too. Dispater's sharp smack of his mallet echoes loudly throughout the silent courtroom—a tolling bell announcing Devastation's arrival—for the Traitor's fate had been decided. Having been summoned, the King's Third Leadbledden rises, turning from his Master to leisurely descend down cold stone steps, passing banners of red that hint towards one's unfortunate bloody fate. It amuses him how the ex-soldier watches him in panic from the corner of his eye, sweat forming across his trembling and wretched body. He knew this was the end. This was death. When Devastation reaches him, he flinches, as if expecting an immediate blow... But what the creature did instead was lower his mouth right to the other's ear, who instinctively shied away from the closeness. A tendril of electricity kisses his right leg, making the ex-soldier jump in response with a pitiful, loathsome whimper as he proceeds to soil himself. The sudden stench makes Devastation see red. PATHETIC. An extreme hatred burns hotly within the Leadbledden then, and without much thought for consequence, he snarls softly with the curl of a ruined lip, "DIE." And the traitor does. His entire body explodes in a horrible flash of red viscera and gore. Devastation does not seem to take notice of the coward's muck splattering across his visage, and neither does he seem to recognize that the ground shook. A few screams of agony had sounded from those gathered, but they remain unheard too. The electricity sparking freely from his figure has grown now, covering the cracked surface beneath him in raw static. This was indeed very satisfying to him. Someone begins to clap. It takes a moment, but eventually Devastation turns to observe whom is congratulating him, incredibly pleased to see that it is the High King Himself. A great grin crosses the executioner's maw then, revealing gleaming fangs tinted crimson, ichor clinging and cascading down his large body. Praise from his very Master, his dear King... Perhaps that was the most satisfying of all.
« shock, horror... you've lost all that you ever loved in the blink of an eye... »
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« ...all because of me... »
ii.› powerful entity of unknown origin summoned by the high king himself › mastery over any electrical element › when he speaks, his voice brings devastation and his physical form emits deathly strikes of lightning › so he is mute unless instructed otherwise (few can withstand his voice at a normal speaking level) › big ol ball of catastrophe ________________________________________________ | _.. |
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Exalting DEVASTATION to the service of the Flamecaller 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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