Baruk
(#56664690)
A poison in the dying vein, burdened by the shame
Familiar
Manticore's Might
Click or tap to view this dragon in Predict Morphology.
Energy: 50/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Water.
Male Pearlcatcher
This dragon is hibernating.
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
4.38 m
Wingspan
4.87 m
Weight
560.85 kg
Genetics
Sanguine
Jaguar
Jaguar
Antique
Seraph
Seraph
Jade
Basic
Basic
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 9 Pearlcatcher
EXP: 276 / 21526
STR
35
AGI
15
DEF
6
QCK
27
INT
5
VIT
16
MND
6
Lineage
Parents
- none
Offspring
- none
Biography
| __._ |
 He was so tired, jumping at every shadow, at every unsuspected sound. He was sick of the nightmares, of the memories springing to life and turning every bite of food into ash on his tongue. Of old things to sour his life. ”Baruk, Baruk are you awake? Baruk?” At first, he didn’t react to the name he had chosen himself. A red flag that should have caused people to grow suspicious. And some really were, they watched him tighter, but once it became clear to those suspicious that all he wanted was to be left alone, they backed off. He wasn’t here for redemption, for salvation. He knew he was far beyond that. All he wanted was forgetting. ”Your accent sounds strange. Where’re you from, lad?” Better not to give any too detailed answer. If he gave too much, people could start combining the pieces and find out. He didn’t want that. He liked it here, having to pack it up again and run once more was too much. He just wanted to rest. Sleep, he barely remembered how that was supposed to feel. Whenever he closed his eyes, he remembers a war in the shadows. Remembered a Kingdom of Gold and Red and Serpents. He also remembered how frail the boy had felt under his hands, when he held a chemical drenched cloth over his mouth and trapped thin arms against a skinny body. He remembered the horror in pale golden eyes and how they disappeared behind long lashes when the little crownprince succumbed to the lull of poison and herbs. He had carried the boy out of his lavish home and he also remembered stepping on the boy’s serpent’s tail, the snake’s bite still marred the inside of his ankle, thank the deities that it hadn’t been poisonous. His comrades had not been inactive either, each of them off to do their own shady bidding, his knowledge of the palace serving him well. Not too long ago, it had been him, dressed in fine, golden rimmed armor, weapon at the ready. Guarding the royal family and everything that belonged to them. But the royal family was gone, replaced by an ursurper queen with hands drenched in red and the last scion of a once noble family reduced to her toy puppet. Following the rightful Queen only felt good for so long. Until they started to paint the stolen child’s skin blue. At first with bruises, this he could swallow. Barely, but still possible. He was the prince of the pretender. He deserved a bit of pain for all the terrible deeds his mother did. The boy once asked him what he had done to deserve this. ”If you really want to know...I will tell you.” So he told the boy - Leif - what his mother did. And even though it broke his noble soul, he did not stop, word by word, death by death, he laid out the queen’s crimes open for her son to see. But when his so called comrades entered the cell with knives and chemicals, with peacock feathers and thread, he refused to partake anymore. They were insane. They were just as bad as the pretender they raged against, rebelled against. Why hadn’t he seen this sooner? Only when the boy’s screams echoed through the cave, did he feel the strength to cut old ties. He turned tail, he ran. This was cruel, this was unjust, this made them just as bad as the queen herself. In the end, his escape saved his life as he heard the rumors later. Of the crown prince’s rescue by the queen’s right hand, how noble, that it only took them a year to find the missing child. He could have returned to the lap of his side, could have continued to fight for them. But why should he? They were no better, there was no honor found in this. He hoped, in secret, that their victory would turn to smoke within their hands. He himself, he would simply fade away, as he should. "What are you fighting for, Baruk?" - "Nothing. My sword is rusted and no longer made for fighting." 
| ___ |
code & assets by archaic #19153
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Exalting Baruk 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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