Iliad
(#58784001)
'I have a natural talent for being highly irrational.'
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Energy: 46/50
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
31.78 m
Wingspan
20.57 m
Weight
8121.67 kg
Genetics
Coal
Slime
Slime
Obsidian
Sludge
Sludge
Taupe
Capsule
Capsule
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
There is a time where one must take arms and fight in the name of your deity. Fight and die. The war between each deity had been long running and certainly predated Iliad’s own. The Imperial was only young when his parents informed him and his siblings of their duty to the Windsinger. The world is cruel but we must all do our part, they would say with the calmest of smiles as if they were not sentencing their own blood to die for a cause they did not understand. And yet they went. Iliad and his two sisters. When they had grown into their teeth and claws, they left the nest and went to claim victory for their god. Except, there was no victory nor glory to find. There was only bloodshed and the fangs of other dragons upon their hide-- And the days shifted to weeks. They were long and tiring and merciless. He watched as friend and foe fell; watched as eventually his sisters fell too. The thing about dying for your god as an Imperial among other Imperials, Iliad discovered, was that they did not stay dead. His allies and his sisters mutated into something much worse than this endless fight for a victory that would never come. Soft green hues that were never meant for battle bore witness to the fusing of flesh and the many dead becoming one singular monster across the battlefield; A beast that donned a face of a fallen sister. He fled. Fear rippled through the Imperial, striking him to the very core and as tides turned and enemies turned allies bonded to down this beast, Iliad took to the skies and dared not look back. His heart hammers wildly in his chest as his maw is sodden with tears, wings aching and scales torn from battle. Not once does he dare stop in his flight until the thrum of battle has dulled and his blood is the only thing echoing in his ears. Fatigue eventually makes Iliad’s mind up on where he is stopping; the tainted lands of plague that rot and fester-- His form collapses and the Imperial coils in on himself; slickened scales of sludge caked dry in blood from healing wounds. Sleep is too easy to claim and the young Imperial does not question whether he will awaken for he does not care what beasts come to claim him in the night. He has seen what a true monster looks like and the horrors of the night no longer scare him. It is only when the soft prodding of claws rouses Iliad that his eyes open once more and he is met with concerned eyes of a Mirror and Ridgeback; soft promises of aid spoken as he is helped to his feet by the larger dragon, the Mirror already skittering ahead through the diseased brush. Iliad would not claim to understand why the lands of plague took mercy on him when his own offered only death but he remained grateful to the odd clan of dragons that called it their home. There were no monsters here to plague his waking moments; only that of the ones that remained in his dreams. |
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Exalting Iliad 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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