Unnamed
(#59108606)
Level 1 Tundra
Click or tap to view this dragon in Predict Morphology.
Energy: 50/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Wind.
Female Tundra
This dragon is hibernating.
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
3.12 m
Wingspan
2.66 m
Weight
155.92 kg
Genetics
Charcoal
Savannah
Savannah
Shale
Morph
Morph
Black
Thylacine
Thylacine
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 1 Tundra
EXP: 0 / 245
STR
7
AGI
6
DEF
6
QCK
5
INT
7
VIT
7
MND
7
Lineage
Biography
Entry #3
Kiseru the Snaketongued
Kiseru the Snaketongued
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K I S E R U
[ki-seru]; weaponized smoking pipe
For the times to come
And of meeting what must be met All of our people Must be taught to walk along The path of sincerity
inventory
   snacks    flowers
weaponry
  
apparel
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As beautiful as blood, as unbreakable as garnet.
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Kiseru Akaneiro
与太者 | スパイ | 踊り子
wastrel | spy | dancer
"Far better to die,
An expert in lies, trickery and deceit, they are the kitsune that drapes crimson veil across the eclipsed moon. Kiseru is a cruel, dismissive creature and a whirlwind of kindness and warmth in equal measures.than to have your honor stripped away from you." Despite their slothful reputation of lethargy and excess, few things matter more to them than honor and the code of ethics inherited from watching the lives of their parents. The happiness of those regarded as family reigns paramount over an existence of dancing through the flickering shadows of the Akaneiro estate. The arts of performance and pretty paints enables this artistry as they step between the lives of whomever might most benefit their family name.
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"The liminal space between life and death is the most beautiful curse of all."
    
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snapshot ❧we were born with destiny, and I'm not gonna be nobody A trickster with ten thousand faces, Kiseru seems all but hand-crafted by mercurial whims of chaos. The flaring of a treacherous heart rivals with the detached ennui that isolates them from the world around them. The careful drag of kohl and viral paints helps hide them away from the world beyond their home, serving as armor or disguise alike. identity ❧ charming as a snake and I bite with a mouth like a sailor Kiseru is a strange, careful creature who lends themselves to social games of deceit, serving as an expert in alchemy and espionage for for the honor of their family. An intellectual rather than a warrior, they spent many of their early days curled by the window with a book, watching and learning how to imitate others. Kiseru is nonbinary, with masc-leaning identity and varying presentation. physical ❧ you can't stop me, my pain is gasoline Feathers are the pride and honor of an effluvial. A cacophony of soft feathers grace the swells of Kiseru's delicate frame, the garnet plumage rich with beads of darker hues scattered across their tips. Softer feathers dwell deeper, dark as stained sanguine blood, hidden beneath the beautiful exterior of gemstone gloss. The soft, thick feathers that trail down Kiseru's crown drape with an almost unnatural elegance, styled neatly with hidden needles flush with poison. The feathers carry trace remnants of paints carelessly smudged from androgynous features where dark kohl and vibrant hues were once decorations. The spiral of floral tattoos remain, sweeping in beguiling patterns that seem to melt with each sway of their delicate, powerful frame. It's a beautiful, elegant sight, that nearly hides the uneven creaking of a garnet wing, nestled up too close as though protective and ashamed of its damaged shape. A languid ennui dwells deep within their eyes, desperate to be sparked by something worthy of their time. The haughty tilt of their head suggests few things are so kindly judged. |
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goddess / ancestor
namesake
kitsune
tattoos
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########### (2)
"Life is a demon that makes you love people other than yourself."
modern theme
traditional theme
spring lantern festival
pisces / snake
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history ❧ you weren't born with venom in your veins, you learned that The rain slicking down the windows of the Akaneiro estate was Kiseru's constant companion growing up. It's not that they didn't want to play with their siblings, but their mind was always distracted with the strangest, most curious of puzzles. Such as following the chef to figure out where the dinners' meats came from, or listening after the suous gossiping about which trading shipment was coming into port next. All worthless things, to a child, but they were worthless treasures that Kiseru brought their family every night, telling the most exaggerated stories about their secret adventures. The little hatchling's bright wings shone like tiny gemstones, betraying their favorite hiding places. Until, as a young adult, their ever-curious mind drove them to the top of the Akaneiro estate to witness a private meeting and fell to the courtyard below, only saved by the desperate actions of their parents to cushion the fall. Their daring adventures became long afternoons pressed up against windowsills, covered in books as they eagerly awaited the return of their siblings every night to hear the kind of fantastical stories that they used to hear. Kiseru's intelligence turned inwards, bent on designing ways to keep up with their siblings and ways to keep their parents proud. Nothing simple was ever enough for them, and they turned to haunting the kouhaku for the skills of alchemy and all-too-rare magic held by the clan's priestesses. warfare ❧ I need a shock, I need a shot, I need a slap to the face From the beginning of a fight, Kiseru is already disadvantaged. The maiming of their wing has left them incapable of the usual agility of Akaneiro warriors, making (their traditional weapon) all but impossible to execute. It has led them to be easily underestimated on the battlefield, but that too can be an Akaneiro's greatest gift. The young crow considers themselves an alchemist as much as an spy, having closely watched the work of the kouhaku to study their ways of magic and herbal medicine. Ever since the loss of the mobility of their wing, Kiseru has collected phylacteries containing the viral strains of other effluvials and crows as well as other naturally poisonous or arcane-infected creatures found around the Akaneiro isles. These are mixed together with local herbal extracts to form toxic alchemical potions that can be used to empower and heal themselves and others, much like an effluvial might utilize their own viral strain to empower another during battle. While mainly skilled in stealth and deception, they can fight with war fans like their father, using their wounded wing as a shield against stronger blows as the nerves there are already ruined beyond repair. The spines of the war fans disguise throwing daggers coated in the strains of poison and paralytics, often mixed with the healing medicines of the kouhaku turned for war. The garnet feathers of their wounded shield-wing are almost always covered in venom-infused paints which become acidic when stripped off by claws or wings, becoming acidic and clinging to their enemies. |
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The Stories of Clan Akaneiro
Never Forget to Love the Flowers We've Buried Beneath the Smoke |
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The Legend of Biwa The legend below is inspired by the Japanese interpretation of the goddess of music, wealth, and all things that 'flow' in the Shichi-Fuku-Jin (Seven Lucky Gods). The ancestor referenced was given the name of the flute that was always used by that goddess, the Biwa. In the Akaneiro histories, the service of the kouhaku has long been venerated in the respect and prestige of the white-streaked jackdaws. The memories of commendable acts of service from the clan's kouhaku have become as entwined with the legends of the Akaneiro ancestors as the trails of virulence between the waltzing of courting smoke dancers. One particular tale widely remembered by the Akaneiro and its servants is that of a young kouhaku whose sacrifice purged the clan's territories from foreign virulence sown into the clan's croplands by an enemy so contemptible that its name has forgotten by time. The legends weave the vivid, descriptive tales of the ancestors that she served as they retaliated against that most hated foe, going so far as to strike all remembrance of the enemy clan's name from memory. But when the revered ancestors returned to their sacred territories, the soil still quaked with death, blackened pestilence flowing with the waters springing from beneath the earth. Little Biwa had made a reputation for her skills in medicine during the war, elevating herself to status of deviant crow with her fervent efforts to the lives of her masters. She had been accepted into the ranks of the kouhaku as a battle-orphaned foundling in her youth, brought into their ranks with the hospitality of a young effluvial, the fifthborn son of the reigning iro. Despite her every efforts to save him in the subsequent war, the young lord's blood had flowed crimson across the battlefields. Although whole legends have been written about the young lord's spirit of generosity and unexpected heroism, it was the sight of his broken feathers dangling off the ledge of a funerary palanquin that broke young Biwa's heart. The tears of her sorrow wet the blighted earth and her ornamental claws began to scratch out mournful prayers, the fluttering of berry feathers sweeping across the diseased soil. Everywhere the feathers touched sprang with new life, the splattering of young kouhaku's tears dripping the strength of her own reiki into the earth. The blackened rivers ran with berry-crimson waters for the next fortnight as Biwu's reikon was accepted beneath the wings of her deceased masters. |
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The Legacy of Biwa Benzaitan's status as the goddess of music, dance and musical performance led to legends that a hopeful dancer or vocalist could achieve greatness by venerating her before a performance using sacred gestures and incantations. This variation of smoke dancing is inspired by traditional ribbon dancing with the graceful movements of the ribbons replaced by the smoke dancer's wings. Whether the legend is a work of historical fact or a young historian's fanciful imagination is unknown, but its memory is upheld as an example of devotion and sacrifice to which all kouhaku should aspire and serves to justify the prominence of the kouhaku to young Akaneiro effluvials. The ancient tradition of smoke dancing is a long-storied tradition amongst the Akaneiro that largely remains a mystery to outsiders. What many do not know is that, as with all styles of dance, there are variations used within the family for different purposes. The furin style remains a legacy in honor of the ancient kouhaku and legends say that it was the power of the furin that plumed the fragrant smoke of her healing deep into the earth. This particular style is well-known amongst those in the clan who devote themselves to healing magic and is named after the bamboo wind chimes strung across the elegant feathers of its practitioners. The furin style of smoke dancing is accessible by kouhaku as well as the houses of the Akaneiro and therefore does not rely on the innate bending of viral smoke, although the use of such magics are often incorporated by effluvial practitioners. The whispering zephyrs that swirl about the smoke dancer are as delicate as the artful sweeps of their wings, the talons swirling beneath them in the dirt leaking with a mixture of viral toxins and herbal medicines. The little bamboo wind chimes hung along the garnet or berry fringes whisper soft songs with every movement, transforming the usually silent artform into a joyous twinkling of musical notes or a heartbreaking dirge of mourning. The furin style of smoke dancing is said to strengthen the traditional healing arts of the Akaneiro. It's not uncommon to hear the whispering of wind chimes when sickness blights the surrounding isles or when the clan has returned home from war with the wounded. The sight of smoke curling about a dancing crow's talons strikes fear into the hearts of the Akaneiro's enemies, but the accompaniment of wind chimes, however distant, have been known to prevent any fighting at all. Not because of its melodious singing, but because of the haunting rumors that the kouhaku who practice it can bring the fallen warriors of the Akaneiro back from the dead. The kouhaku are in no hurry to correct them. |
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The Lessons of Biwa In Shinto, everything must be purified before being brought before the spirits for supplication. The kouhaku sprinkle the feathers of the dead with holy water to ask for their permission to use their feathers and ancient healing powers. The kouhaku often imbue their magic with the power of the ancestors by stringing beautiful feathers that once belonged to the living across their wings. If the kouhaku are near enough to the isles, they will select feathers from the cabinets at the ancestor shrines, the precise feathers chosen and their origins dependent on the affliction needing to be cured. If they are in the field then they will ask for the feathers of the living, starting first with the most powerful of warriors and healers amongst them. There is a purpose for each feather entwined into their wings: the berry feathers of the kouhaku are known to help accelerate all manners of healing, the brilliant garnet of effluvials work best for lost causes and miracles, and the blood-hued feathers of the enji best for bringing down infections. These magical feathers are sprinkled with holy water, either from the streams beside the ancestor shrines or ritually purified for that specific purpose, before they are strung into long, corded strings of feathers and draped over their wings. These feathered ornaments flare gently with each movement of the ritual dance, making it seem as though the kouhaku has a multitude of ancestors dancing in time with them. Every graceful movement scatters holy water and rich, healing herbal mixtures across the ground, falling from the small twined bundles wrapped around their ankles as they dance. Kiseru has always been fascinated by the furin style of dancing, having greatly admired the elegant dancing of their parents. Although far from an expert, they were frequently seen avoiding more academic lessons to slowly trace smoke-laden clawtips across the earth while watching the elegant kouhaku dancing in their services of the sacred ancestral shrines. The lessons of music and the art of bending magic, both healing and destructive, from within its flow entranced the young crow, but the tragic disfigurement of their wing meant that all of their melodies would forever sound incomplete, unable to summon the dexterity needed for expert dancing. As such, they no longer string wind chimes over their wings, instead using the furin style's traditions for silent smoke dancing instead. |
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