BlackMist
(#5905326)
Level 1 Guardian
Familiar
Shadow Sprite
Click or tap to view this dragon in Predict Morphology.
Energy: 50/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Shadow.
Female Guardian
This dragon is hibernating.
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
12.82 m
Wingspan
12.64 m
Weight
6387.93 kg
Genetics
Shadow
Vipera
Vipera
Shadow
Seraph
Seraph
Ivory
Underbelly
Underbelly
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 1 Guardian
EXP: 0 / 245
STR
7
AGI
6
DEF
8
QCK
5
INT
5
VIT
8
MND
6
Lineage
Biography
B L A C K M I S T
|| Malevolent || Mysterious || Malicious || Mana Master ||
 
|
“….the cauldron bubbled dangerously, turning a violent shade of chartreuse, spitting acid. I was halfway there! A few newt eyes, a tail for good measure, some southmarsh podid claws, a sprinkle of cerdae sparkle, and a small stuffed doll of the Shadowbinder...it was my childhood toy, yes, but childhood was long gone and long overrated.” She stopped to scoff disdainfully at her audience, the pathetic little creatures that practically lived on thrones. One day…one day. “I tossed everything in, stirring eagerly. It was almost done. Almost. Then, the final ingredient.” A maniacal, murderous look possessed her eyes, her fins going rigid and nearly cuffing a hatchling over the head. The guardian cackled darkly, living the story she told with such vigor. “Oh, it had taken me many days to find the perfect one, many days to prepare it, many days to wash off the blood…” At this statement, the young dragons shied away, nervous for their own safety. Was she mad? More importantly, was she going to eat them? “I quickly snatched a sack near the cauldron as the brew turned vermillion, boiling intensely, and dumped the contents in” —the storyteller paused to smirk at the terrified eyes before her— “to complete the recipe. There, before my eyes, the volatile concoction turned a deep crimson, mixing with the thick, heavy liquid oozing from the severed neck of my most recent victim.” An innocent smile graced her face as the gruesome tale concluded, sharply contrasting the horrified expressions of the hatchlings. Quickly, they scurried away, hurrying off to the safe embrace of their mothers, who glared at the storyteller. “What?” she exclaimed irritably, casting her deep violet gaze around the room, her smile souring. “Honestly! Are you going to pamper them for the rest of their lives? Keep them safe in a fluffy nest and adorn them with fur coats? Hide them from the terror that defines reality?” “You, BlackMist, are the terror that defines reality.” BlackMist suddenly smiled once more, but a dangerous one graced her snout this time. She turned around slowly, agonizingly, facing the quiet but firm voice of Brightshine, the small, rather pitiable little fae. There was a long, exaggerated pause, tension crackling in the air. Finally the guardian spoke, but little, and with much sarcasm dripping from her voice. “Thank you,” she remarked snidely, her grim grin growing vicious as she bared her unnaturally sharpened teeth. A few of the watching hatchlings squeaked and turned away quickly. BlackMist neatly collapsed her tri-color wings and flung her scarf over her shoulder, the birdskull legband she wore clattering ominously. “I appreciate the compliment, but no need to flatter me so, dear.” Motto: “Life is a long, dark tunnel of misery and pain, with a little speck of light at the very end called death. Once you get there, your reward is to start all over again from the very beginning. Have a nice round trip, because that’s all the freedom you’ll get.” Of course, the first thing you’d probably think (and probably ask) about a guardian is, “What’s your charge?” In most cases, they’d tell you, and with a dash of pride as well, for they care so much for their chosen protégé, their most important cause in life. In this case, the dragon in question would most likely snap at you and ruin everyone else’s day if she hasn’t already. Her eyes would betray no tears but spark with a hint of emotion, and you would see the pain inside, the pain hidden within, the pain shoved where it would not arise for a long time. Until you asked the one question you did, however, and the pain would rumble and churn and torment her mind for another while, endlessly reminding her of how she failed to protect the one she loved, and how he betrayed her. A grey, murky-looking egg sat in an abandoned nest, the patches of bright aqua pulsating vaguely. The round object began to shake, glowing violet, and a defined, dark form inside writhed violently. Slowly, the shell began to crack, finally splitting open to reveal a small, purple guardian, with a dash of ivory on her belly. Her eyes snapped open, and she gazed around blearily, wondering if there was anyone there. However, there were none to watch the birth of this delicate creature, none to watch another life emerge, none to watch the beginning of something dangerous. Alone and quite cold, being close to shore, the hatchling raced (or stumbled, really) to a cave not far away, sensing the small amount of warmth it held. There she huddled for a long time, hungrily scavenging anything she could lay her claws on, knowing it could be the last thing she could’ve eaten. She didn’t know how many weeks, months, years she had stayed in that cave, all alone, without company of her kind. All she knew was to survive, and survive she did. In this time, she decided to call herself Shadow, figuring that there should be a name for everything, including herself. Eventually she left her childhood home to seek another, for she knew she couldn’t have been the only one of her kind. Shadow aimlessly wandered from clan to clan, seeking her true home, and inside her true goal was to find her parents, where she came from, and her family. This trek ended up symbolizing the guardian’s Search, though Shadow knew not of this tradition. Her instincts drove her on, seeking something that would make her feel whole, loved, and worthy. But what could it be? Finally, after three year of being a lonely nomad and finding nothing, she came across a group of dragons. Oh, it was ordinary alright, just like any other, but what kept her there was a single dragon, unlike the others, a shocking tomato shade with deep blood wings. His name was Kuiper, a small fae, and he was a good friend; in fact, he was her best and only friend. You could always see them together, chattering, chasing, or just enjoying each other’s company. Oftentimes they went unnoticed, simply two dragons in a clan of many, but they each knew how important they were to the other. Eventually their close friendship blossomed into something more, and Kuiper took Shadow as his mate. The guardian bore the fae three eggs, and for a long time they were content. A mother, a father, and a trio of children – a family, and there was nothing Shadow wanted more. Finally she settled down, and it was assumed that her charge was Kuiper, who she protected with her life, guarding him. It was a perfect match, and he was a perfect mate. Or so she thought. Years after their children had long grown up and left to serve under the Flamecaller for a higher cause, Kuiper and Shadow lived contently together, and were still mates – as far as Shadow was concerned, at least. They went about their own business, and though the guardian still reminisced about her long gone hatchlings, Shadow knew not that her significant other neither cared nor loved any of the family. And when Shadow went to fetch Kuiper after he had taken so long to come home, she came across a terrible truth to their relationship. He was found with another dragon, and Shadow was horrified to find that her beloved had sired thirty-six more offspring that were not hers. He had not told her about any of his affairs, past or present, and he had left her in love with someone who never truly loved her the same way. He had betrayed her, and it was in this time that she changed. The realization was a smack to the snout. Shadow had respected and cherished their love for so many years, for so long, and it was all a lie. It broke her heart to know that her mate was the mate of many others, and that her devotion was absolutely worthless. Kuiper’s deceit killed any love she had inside her, and she became distant and cold, empty and cut off from reality. In time she came to her surroundings, but her heart was bitter and wounded, having never fully healed, and she came to be the terrible witch you now see. She renamed herself BlackMist, adorning a figure of darkness and spite, becoming the ultimate representative of all things shadow and void. In the beginning, she struggled to cope with her emotions, striking out viciously and lapsing into unresponsive states, killing for pleasure and toying with her victims. Since then, she has by far improved, but was unable to leave Kuiper’s home due to her strong charge ties, despite the fact that he had already left to serve the Flamecaller. Eventually BlackMist learned that her charge was not the fae, but the clan she was in, and instinct kept her from leaving try as she might to escape from the pain that hollowed her soul. Though she certainly never shows it, the shadow guardian has never failed to defend her clan from outside invaders – instead, she brings her own little monsters to play from within. Yet her malevolent mind does have limits; she would never fatally put any of her clanmates in harm’s way. Yes, she was a coldblooded murderer, but she had a heart (of some sort). Of course, it doesn’t hurt to have some wicked fun now and then, right? Today she is called the Clan Witch, but it’s more of a disdainful nickname than an actual occupation. BlackMist has a larger inner reserve of magic than most guardians, but she uses it more to scare the hatchlings than anything. Much of her history is known throughout the clan, but how much of it has been twisted and warped is far beyond comprehension. Tales of war and malice that never occurred reach the ears of hatchlings, bending reality more than BlackMist’s tales could ever do. It might even be said that only BlackMist herself knows what truly went on so long ago, and after such mental torment even she may not remember the entire truth. The sad story of this dragon has been trivially turned into a laughing gossip matter, but nobody would dare to not take her seriously; after all, she’s still got draconic bloodstains on her claws. |
Written by heartcrusher1
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Exalting BlackMist 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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