Ire
(#58603678)
The fog comes | he/him
Familiar
Snowfall Elk
Click or tap to view this dragon in Predict Morphology.
Energy: 50/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Shadow.
Male Imperial
This dragon is hibernating.
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
28.26 m
Wingspan
21.33 m
Weight
6108.37 kg
Genetics
Grey
Savannah
Savannah
Dust
Noxtide
Noxtide
Lead
Smirch
Smirch
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
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 I R E 
BARGHEST LORE AND LINEAGE PROJECT
GENERATION I FOUNDER 
"The Fog comes
On little cat feet It sits looking Over harbor and city On silent haunches And then moves on. . ." Villagers go missing in the night, their disappearance shrouded by an eerie fog that settles upon the lands. Only scraps of tattered cloth remain in their wake, as if the missing were stolen away by something that lurks amidst the mist. This is the tale of the Barghest, Ire. |
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The chatter of gulls overhead and the scent of brine mark a certain proximity to the sea. There are villages all along the coast of the Sunbeam Ruins, small port towns immersed in a life of seafaring and trade. The lap of waves against wooden docks echoes through these harbors, long stretches of beach fanning out for miles around them, their sands ever changing with the rolling tide. These towns have many rumors. Tales of sea monsters that lurk within the dark waters or spirits whose moans echo with the wind in the night. Superstition runs high in such places. . . But everyone knows that even stories must begin with a grain of truth. Father Herald slumped under the weight of his packs, his mane and feathers in a state of wind-whipped disarray as they were tousled in the turbulent air. The path he followed wound through a myriad of sand banks, the tall dunes shifting in the wind where they weren’t tacked down by ice plants. The traveling priest huffed as he leaned against the twisted trunk of a cypress, the tree's canopy nearly bent to the ground beneath years of wind. It was a story that drew Herald to this place. Rumor of a strange fog that had settled upon one of the villages here. Such tales always caught his ear, and he followed them, perhaps hoping to reclaim something that he’d lost years ago. Perhaps, simply to offer help. Regardless, the priest rested for only a moment against the tree before slinging the packs he carried back upon his shoulder and trudging onwards. The narrow path eventually effaced with a cliff of ragged white stone that helped block the wind, winding onwards until it opened to the sea. It was here, hidden by the cliffs that the port town of Abalone Bay looked out over an open ocean. Herald inhaled, the air thick with the tang of salt and drying kelp. His golden claws tapped against cobblestone streets as he wandered, observing the numerous cracks that lined these roads and the dark spots of mildew that ate away at many of the buildings. The residents saw many visitors here and few of them took notice of Father Herald. Still, he found the church with ease, a humble structure of white stone and diamond slatted windows perched at the edge of the town. Father Herald pushed open the oaken door. The priest of Abalone Bay was a shrewd Spiral, a set of crooked spectacles sitting upon the bridge of his nose. He was praying before the Lightweaver's alter when Herald arrived, turning when he was finished to greet the other priest. “Ah, you must be Father Herald. It is good of you to come during this troubling time... for our village seems to be cursed.” Herald took a seat on one of the pews beside the Spiral. “Please, let me hear of it too so that I may share in this burden”. The Spiral nodded and it was with haste that the priest of Abalone Bay began his tale. Herald listened with intent, images rolling through his mind as he sat upon the wooden pew. Indeed a strange fog would settle upon this town and with it villagers went missing in the night. The Spiral priest continued solemnly. “I’ve seen footprints down on the beach - the marks of a massive beast. They roll away with the tide but leave the sand beneath blackened in their wake. And there’s more...” It was then that the two priests stood, wandering outside to a small garden planted behind the church. “Little grows here to begin with, but now our crops are all failing completely”. Indeed, Herald leaned down to inspect a sickly head of cabbage, prying the leaves apart to reveal hundreds of caterpillar larvae. Herald looked back to the other priest with a quizzical gaze. “Moths” he said simply. “They’re moths”. Herald slept fitfully that night, his dreams haunted by an unyielding fog that blanketed the Bay. He was walking then, back through the cobblestone streets of the town. The priest's path was lit only dimly by torches lining the roads, but he became aware of an odd sound, like a finger tapping incessantly against glass. It was down by the docks that Herald spotted a young maiden - a Pearlcatcher dressed in tavern clothes. She seemed frightened, staring with wide eyes at one of the street lights. Her pearl sat discarded beside her, a hairline crack marring it’s surface as if it had been dropped. Herald approached and picked it up, but the Pearlcatcher seemed unaware of his presence, so unaware that it was as if the priest simply didn’t exist. He attempted to speak, but it seemed that none of his words could reach her. The sound of tapping grew louder and it was then that Herald followed the maiden's gaze up to the light. Moths. Hundreds of them swarmed around the street light, their bodies hitting the glass as they clamored closer to the flame. More and more of them appeared until they had blocked out the light completely. Then, the docks were cast suddenly into darkness. Herald awoke with a start. He was in the church, the candle sitting beside his bed smoking lightly as if it had recently gone out. He shifted uncomfortably before realizing that he held something in his hand. It was round and smooth with a hairline crack running along its surface. Herald didn’t even need to look to know what it was and a sense of dread filled him as he clamored from his bed. The fog was still thick as Harold raced down the winding path from the church and through the town. He carried a single candle with him, its light casting out in a circle around the priest. He came to the docks but found no sign of the maiden. The priest panted, his breath mingling with the fog as it billowed through the air. All was quiet, the silence broken only by a gentle echo of waves washing against the shore. Daybreak illuminated truths hidden by the darkness. The sky above the town was a steel grey, heavy with the promise of rain as Father Herald traversed the beach, watching the tide drawl in to cover dark footprints. Even as their shape became contorted and obscured by the waves, the prints still marred the earth beneath them, sand turned a dark obsidian in their wake. It was as the priest of Abalone Bay had said. At the end of the stride, tucked away in a secluded cove of ragged white stone, Father Herald found the tattered scraps of cloth. He recognized them immediately as the clothes that the Pearlcatcher maiden had worn in the waking dream they'd shared and he signed a cross, knowing that she was gone. Herald meandered back to the town after his discovery, his feet and tail dragging heavily through the sand as he made his way across the beach. Even from a distance, he could hear the clamor of the village awakening, merchants opening their doors and crews hoisting supplies onboard their ships as they prepared to leave the docks. Herald heard the wails of grief too. He followed the sound to find an aged Pearlcatcher sitting on the beach and the priest approached, settling quietly beside her. He didn't need to speak to know what she was grieving and Herald instead pulled the pearl from his robes, offering it with a look of sympathy. "I came across this on the docks" he said, "I tried to find its owner, but. . . I fear that my search has been fruitless". The Pearlcatcher looked to him with a solemn nod, taking the luminescent orb from him carefully and cradling it close to her chest. "She was my daughter. Sadie. Her name was Sadie. . . and I already know that she is gone“. Herald resolved that he would be ready the next time the beast appeared. He’d seen evidence of its existence, but he had yet to behold the creature with his own eyes, instead relying on the stories of the villagers to guide his preparations. Few of them had glimpsed the monster, most only able to describe the thick fog that settled upon their town and the strange dreams that plagued them as the moon waxed high on the horizon. There was one villager, however, a young Skydancer who claimed he’d seen the beast. “It’s a dog,” he said quietly. “A giant dog that took my sister away. . .” The priest compiled all of these tales, learning that the monster came only on nights of the full moon, its form that of a massive hound appearing from the fog as it stole away villagers in the night. It was to this image that Herald unbuckled the leather straps holding his packs closed and began to withdraw their contents. His claws carded across a series of silver blades and rosary beads as he pulled the items free and set them onto the church’s wooden floor. Enchanted candles and bottles of iridescent liquid came after followed by a heavy set of chains that gleamed darkly under the candle light and a silver iron collar. Finally, the priest produced a small glass vial filled with a fine black powder. By the time the next full moon came, Herald was ready. The moon glowed, pale and deadly like an opaque eye staring down upon the world. Still, its light barely touched the town, blotted out by the heavy blanket of fog that settled over the harbor. Despite the darkness, the lights of the town went unlit that night, the entire village dark and silent save for the faint flicker of candles that flowed through the diamond slatted windows of the church. At the edge of the village, it stood as the sole beacon of light in the darkness. Father Herald stayed awake that night, crouched over a wooden pew before a circle of black ash that lined the floor. He heard the soft toll of midnight as the bell above the church echoed to life. Then the hours of one and two and three in the morning. Eventually, Father Herald lost track of the bells, his eyelids drooping as he fought the urge to sleep. It was then that a knock came upon the door. It was faint at first, a dull rapping that roused Herald from his slumber. The candles he had lit burnt low, puddles of wax dripping around the last several millimeters of wick. The priest rose from the pews as the knocking grew louder and more incessant as if numerous fists now pounded against the door. He heard the wood creak, the iron lock straining to hold the door closed as something thumped against it. The sound came again and again until the door could no longer hold. It was then that it erupted open. The door gaped open to the night, still for only a moment before a stream of movement burst through the threshold. Moths. Thousands of them piled into the church, their wings churning the still air as they swarmed. Disturbed by the sudden turbulence, the candles finally blew out, faint wisps of smoke leaving them as their flames were extinguished. Father Herald clutched the chains he held tight, unable to see in the darkness. Still, he heard the moths fluttering loudly in the air as they coalesced into a mass before the doorway. The priest backed away as the faint flutter of wings gave way to the sounds of flesh and bone shifting wetly before a low growl echoed through the church. "Lumos" At Herald's words, the candles sprung back to life, their faint glow illuminating the church enough for the priest to see. The swarm of moths no longer stood before him, instead replaced by the form of a massive hound. Its shaggy fur hung long and matted against its hide, jagged yellow teeth lining its mouth as it turned its head toward the priest. The creature had no eyes, only empty sockets that leaked something foul and dark onto its fur. The beast snarled and reared away from the sudden light, but Herald was quick. He flung the chains toward it, ensnaring the creature as he pulled the leads taught in his grasp. Still, the monster was strong, tossing its great head and dragging Herald across the church as it attempted to throw off its restraints. The priest landed with a crack amidst the pews, breaking several of them as he fought to pull the creature towards the ring of ash drawn upon the floor. He was taken aback when the tension on the restraints slacked, realizing too late that the beast had stopped resisting his pull choosing instead to leap towards the priest. Pain blossomed across Herald's shoulder as the hound's teeth came down in a snap, skidding across several scales before sinking deep into his underlaying flesh. He felt blood pool around the wound, staining his robes as it saturated the tattered cloth before dripping to the floor. With a grimace, Herald grabbed ahold of the beast before it could dislodge its fangs, dragging it into the circle of ash. The monster yowled as it released Herald, its maw coming away blood stained and filled with a tattered mix of cloth and flesh. Herald backed away, a smear of red following him as he dragged himself across the floor to rest against the remains of several broken pews. He was badly injured, panting to catch his breath as the beast paced within the circle, staring towards him with its empty eyes. Despite his fatigue, Herald mustered the strength to begin his chant. A string of exorcisms memorized out of the pages of the many books he'd read over the years. The monster hissed as his words echoed through the church, its fur beginning to dissolve into black flecks of ash that disintegrated upon the air. Then, a voice came, a distorted whisper that reverberated from the beast's throat. "F̸̧͇̱͖̏̕͜a̴̢̛͑̏̐͝ţ̴̩̮́̀͂ḩ̷͔̤̙̜̔̊́̈́e̵̖̼͊̿̔́͋r̴͔͙͖̗̬̓̅͊ ̸̻͊͝ͅȞ̷̦̯͔̬̰͝e̸̪̗̬͂̄̃r̶̛̭̀̈̉̀ą̷̧̪̲͖͐̽̚l̴̺̫̊ḑ̶̛̭̠̰̝̓͛̕: Ỵ̴̯̳͗̊o̴̢̡̲̟̖͌̓ȗ̴͖̭͎́͝ͅ ̵̥̎w̷͎͌͝ĭ̸̺͕̭̘͇l̷͔̲͇̐ͅl̸̫̰̪̈́̎ ̶̹̫̼̖̼̈̊͐n̷̰̺̊̀̍̎o̵͇̩͈̟͐̎̔̈́͑ṯ̴̓͛ ̸̦̮̋̊̔e̶̯̜̮͒́̔͜͝x̵̤̝̥̆̆͠ơ̴̧̟̣̥͗̃͗͜͠r̵͚̖̰͍̍̈́̋͌c̴̫̝̉̏̌̈́͝ͅí̵͎̻͉̐͊̚s̵̨̩̭͍̄̆͋ͅḛ̵̍ ̷̰̠̠̈́̌m̴͉̈́̎́e̷̬̩̓͑͊̈́͊ ̴̪̈̕s̷̪̳̋͛̅̚ơ̶̠͍̭͙̄̈́͑͠ ̸͉̳̪̔͗͛́́e̵̠͎͇̎̚ͅḁ̴̩̓̕s̶̲̣̯̈́ͅi̵͕̲̓͛͒̐l̴̨̙̯̠̒y̶̦͇͂̇͘. T̷̢̡̼̏͋͗̐͊h̷̢͈̭̓̐̈̆ì̵͖͈̲̯̕ŝ̸͓̩͋ ̸̤͔̯̮̿̈̓͋͗c̴̛͓͉̗͌̆̚ú̴̢͚̪͔̬̊̄ṛ̴̘̼̓͊̌̍s̴̹͓̾̍̄̈͝ę̶̡̝̠̘̐̒̀̒̂ ̷̭̀̓i̶̛͇̦͗s̷̘͎̲̜̻̏͐́͠ ̸͖͔͎̥́̚͠y̴̩̰̹̳̿̓͗̾o̸̮̊́͆͝ȕ̵̜̿̓r̷̻͈̝͂͂s̷̜̹͊̄̿̀͝ ̸̜̖̖̋ẗ̴̯̈͗̇̏ọ̵̈́̓͝ͅo̵͎̞͂͑,̶̲̖̼̔̐͐̑̌ ̷̧̮̠̲͔̍͒a̷̱͚͒̈́̓̏̈f̶̛͖͖͕̌̊ͅt̸̞̺̿ẽ̸̜̹͔͔̕͜r̴̡̽̑͘ ̶̢̛͔̿͆͛̈́a̷̩͎̙̱̐͋̆̀̀l̶̯̣̪̻̅̒̄͌̕ḷ̶̨͐̓͌͘" The creature laughed then, a horrible sound that lingered on the air. Herald ignored its words, focusing on his own chanting. It was then that the ring of ash restraining the creature caught aflame, tendrils of fire igniting the monster's tangled fur as it growled. Herald presumed that it would combust as was the typical end of his exorcisms, but the moment the circle of ash dissipated, the beast leapt away, its flaming form darting through the church's open door as it yowled and ran into the night. Herald dragged himself up off the floor to follow the beast, catching himself on the frame of the open door as he stared after its smoldering form. The fog it brought was already dissipating and he watched the creature dart towards the end of the piers and out onto the sea before it disappeared over the horizon. It was then that the priest lost consciousness. Herald awoke to sunlight streaming in through the windows of the church and the priest of Abalone Bay staring worriedly at his crumpled form. Herald winced as he arose, his shoulder burning furiously with the movement despite the support of the bandages that the other priest had presumably wrapped around his form. "Ah, good! You're awake!" The Spiral chortled with glee. Father Herald glanced around him, surprised by the other priest's cheer. The church was in ruins, shattered glass and pews littered across the floor and several of the support beams on the ceiling badly burned. "You've done it, my friend! Look! The fog has lifted and the sun shines brightly upon our town once more. Even our crops now flourish!" Herald sat in silent confusion. He had failed in subduing the beast, but still its influence was gone from the town. Indeed, there were no signs of the brittle grey moths or their larvae and even the beach now sparkled, its sands shimmering white under the sun. The priest opted to stay until the next full moon in case of the beast's return, but even then there were no signs of the creature. Still, Herald knew that it remained at large and he carded a claw gently across the scars that marred his shoulder. They continued to burn, especially under the moon's light - a reminder that the beast still haunted the world. A name came then to Herald's lips and he spoke it softly to the night, his words a faint whisper carried upon the air. "Ire".
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