Bibbit's dragon Toro

Personal Style

Apparel

Skin

Scene

Physical Attributes

Battle Stats

Measurements

Length

3.86 m

Wingspan

6.05 m

Weight

923.19 kg

Genetics

Antique
Giraffe

Cherry
Hex

Maize
Capsule

Hatchday

Jan 06, 2020
(4 years)

Breed

Adult
Skydancer

Eye Type

Fire
Rare

Level 1 Skydancer

EXP: 0 / 245

STR

AGI

DEF

QCK

INT

VIT

MND

Lineage

Parents

Offspring

Biography

Toro
Witch

Not all vagabonds had a chaotic or lonely upbringing. Toro grew up with a loving family, but he never felt like he belonged with them. He would overthink everything they said, his mind twisting the words into those of hidden hatred. When he was finally old enough to set out on his own, Toro did so eagerly, not knowing that his family wouldn’t be the only ones that he thought hated him...

Several years passed before Toro decided to settle down. Packing his few possessions and moving every few months was becoming incredibly exhausting. A dagger was thrown at a map, and soon Toro was on his way to the Scarred Wasteland, with nothing but chance guiding his steps.

The Clan of Outcasts was just as welcoming as any before had been. Toro let his walls fall a bit, but for the most part he remained reserved and alone. This is why it came as a shock to everyone--including Toro himself--when he found himself opening up to a certain Mirror.

"Oof! I-I'm sorry!"

Toro grabbed at his satchel, swinging it upright in an attempt to keep it from spilling its contents across the floor. Unfortunately, it was too late, and the motion sent the candles and incense and other ritual items arcing through the air instead of just onto the floor.

Toro let out an annoyed huff. "Watch where you're going!" he snapped, then stopped short at the sight of the frantic Mirror scrambling to gather his things. Nobody had ever helped him with something so trivial. Was she trying to steal his stuff? "Listen, if you think you're gonna run away with my candles, you've got another thing coming," he warned, squatting to gather as much of his stuff before that Mirror could touch it.

"I'm not trying to take your stuff," the Mirror replied breathlessly, dumping a double handful of gathered debris into Toro's satchel. "You won't be able to carry all this in that small bag. May I help you carry some?"

Toro narrowed his eyes at her, but he knew that he'd probably drop everything at least six more times on the way to his cavern. Bemoaning his own stupidity for trying to cram too much in a small satchel, he relented. "But walk beside me so I can see you."

"All right!" the Mirror agreed cheerfully, stuffing the last of Toro's spilled candles and bones into her own satchel. She quickly shouldered the bag and fell into step beside Toro.

The two walked silently for a moment or two before the Mirror spoke up. "I'm Tryopophobia, by the way. Just realized that I never gave you my name."

"Toro," Toro replied simply, trying to figure out why Trypophobia would give him her name if she was planning to run off with half of his stuff. He eventually surmised that she had given him a fake name.

"Toro, huh? Well, nice to meet you, Toro. How long have you lived here?"

"A while," Toro, replied vaguely, hoping Trypophobia would realize that he didn't want to talk. She didn't.

"Me too. I've lived here for a year now--or maybe two?--but I still get lost if I'm not following a path I've used several times before, like the path from my cavern to the food storage, or from my cavern to the bathroom, or from the bathroom to the entrance. I still have to pass the bathroom to find the entrance without getting lost." Trypophobia looked slightly embarrassed, but Toro wasn't buying her innocent act.

The rest of the walk was much the same, with Trypophobia chattering away and Toro giving as little input as possible. The Skydancer was enormously relieved when they'd reached his door. He opened it and gestured inside before entering and lighting a few candles. "Just drop everything on the floor."

For the first time, Trypophobia frowned. "Uh, no. That would be rude."

Toro was taken aback. “Not if I’m asking you to do it.”

“Your cavern is nice and tidy. If you won’t let me help, at least let me leave after you put them away. I need closure so I can sleep tonight without nightmares of messy caverns.”

“You’re weird.”

“Yeah.”

An awkward pause followed. Realizing that the Mirror was serious, Toro relented with a sigh. “Well, you might as well make yourself useful,” he relented. “See these shelves over here? It’s pretty clear where everything goes, right?”

“Yeah. I’ll put the candles with the candles, and the bones with the bones, and the salt with the—”

“Could you please do it without talking?”

“No. Well, maybe.” Trypophobia managed to stay silent for a solid twenty-two seconds before she admitted, “I actually have a reason for helping you out.”

Toro couldn’t resist letting out a triumphant “Aha!” and pointing an accusatory claw at the larger dragon, who looked somewhat embarrassed.

“I was just wondering if you could spare some hot wax next time you lit a candle.”

Toro feigned disappointment. “Oof, well, you know I’d love to, but the candles are for rituals, and it might seem odd to the spirits if your claws end up in the spell circle…” He trailed off when he saw that Trypophobia’s gaze was fixed on the candles he’d lit to illuminate the room. Toro let out another sigh. “Why do you need hot wax anyway?”

The Mirror silently adjusted a bag of salt, a pointless job that was only done to avoid meeting Toro’s eyes. “I’m sick,” she finally replied.

Toro let out a half-sarcastic laugh. “Aren’t we all?”

Trypophobia began unwrapping the cloth from her claw, and Toro felt a jolt of panic. “Hey—!”

“It’s not contagious,” Trypophobia interrupted, showing him her palm. Holes pocked the surface, continuing down her wrist and presumably all across her body. The brown cloth was holding her together better than her own skin.

“Does… does it hurt?” Toro finally asked in a small voice.

“No,” Trypophobia replied, flexing her claws. “It just leaves me weaker than most. Makes hunting a nightmare.”

She started rewrapping her claw, and Toro noticed a small amount of blood on the inside of the cloth. “You can’t put that back on!” he blurted, startling both Trypophobia and himself. “It’s not clean,” he whispered.

Trypophobia shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t have enough cloth to change it every day, and I can only get to the washing room every week or so. That’s why I want to plug the holes with wax.”

“I have some cloth,” Toro interrupted. “It’s not the same color, but you can borrow or keep it. I have plenty.” The Mirror opened her mouth to protest, but Toro turned and dashed to his chest of drawers before she could let out a word. He fished out a few maroon strips of cloth and held them up.

WIP

Lore/Layout by @Bibbit

cowbot wrote on 2020-11-09 13:40:11:

I memed Toro, hope that's okay

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Exalting Toro 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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