Vitas
(#59804808)
Level 5 Ridgeback
Familiar
Southmarsh Podid
Click or tap to view this dragon in Predict Morphology.
Energy: 49/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Shadow.
Male Ridgeback
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
21.52 m
Wingspan
19.44 m
Weight
9303.26 kg
Genetics
Shadow
Metallic
Metallic
Shadow
Bee
Bee
Sapphire
Stained
Stained
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 5 Ridgeback
EXP: 701 / 5545
STR
8
AGI
7
DEF
7
QCK
6
INT
5
VIT
7
MND
5
Biography
V i t a s
|| River's Reaper ||
I'm not sure if it's love anymore,
But I've been thinking of you fondly for sure,
Remember what your heart is for.
By your hand is the only end I foresee,
I have been dreaming,
You've been dreaming about me.
It's a good night,
For a fist fight,
Because the dew will temper your fall,
You'll sing me lullabies in form of your cat-calls.
Vitas grumbled to himself as he picked bone shards out of his teeth. "Maren," he muttered. "Why is it always maren that get caught in here? I get it, it's big, but really..."
He looked down at the trap before him. He never liked going into the water, but that was where the food was - in the water off the cliffs of his new clan. Sure, there were the little ponds they kept their harvested food in, but it wasn't right to take someone else's kill - and he'd never get any stronger if he let someone else hunt for him, besides. Not like he was allowed death matches with members of his own clan.
Vitas settled back and sighed, wrapping his tail around his feet as he reflected on the past few days. He left his birth clan as soon as he'd fledged - more than that, he'd left his whole flight, crossing the border into another god's territory. Clan Scuridae had accepted him as soon as he turned up in their territory; their border party had been wary, but not so wary as to turn him away. That was interesting enough to him to warrant at least sticking around.
Settling in had been another challenge. It turned out most of the clan was extremely devoted to the Lightweaver - and that this was about the only thing everyone could agree on. He always got a little dizzy when he thought about the rapidly-shifting internal politics of the clan - the rogues, undead, and academics were easy enough, but when it got to the fuzzier outside factions and the dragons who fit into more than one, his head started spinning. Especially when it didn't seem to be written down anywhere.
His stomach grumbled and he sighed again, flopping onto his side. He could reset the trap and then rest here for a few minutes, take a nap under a cliffside tree. He could do more hunting when it was dark. Real, trap-free hunting, like he was supposed to.
|| River's Reaper ||
I'm not sure if it's love anymore,
But I've been thinking of you fondly for sure,
Remember what your heart is for.
By your hand is the only end I foresee,
I have been dreaming,
You've been dreaming about me.
It's a good night,
For a fist fight,
Because the dew will temper your fall,
You'll sing me lullabies in form of your cat-calls.
|
Hear me, dear wand'rer, for this tale so bloody and grim now; Hear me, you trav'ler, so helpless in lands all unknown; The Reaper, he hunts here; these woods, then, are no longer safer Than ale-dens and alleys in clans far more crowded than home. Listen, my dear one, for his brutal, blood-choking howling; Listen for this cry, so heart-wrenching awful is he; You, then, will know it when Death has come calling to claim you, For Death rides on scale-backs of Reapers with ease. |
Generation 2
|
Vitas grumbled to himself as he picked bone shards out of his teeth. "Maren," he muttered. "Why is it always maren that get caught in here? I get it, it's big, but really..."
He looked down at the trap before him. He never liked going into the water, but that was where the food was - in the water off the cliffs of his new clan. Sure, there were the little ponds they kept their harvested food in, but it wasn't right to take someone else's kill - and he'd never get any stronger if he let someone else hunt for him, besides. Not like he was allowed death matches with members of his own clan.
Vitas settled back and sighed, wrapping his tail around his feet as he reflected on the past few days. He left his birth clan as soon as he'd fledged - more than that, he'd left his whole flight, crossing the border into another god's territory. Clan Scuridae had accepted him as soon as he turned up in their territory; their border party had been wary, but not so wary as to turn him away. That was interesting enough to him to warrant at least sticking around.
Settling in had been another challenge. It turned out most of the clan was extremely devoted to the Lightweaver - and that this was about the only thing everyone could agree on. He always got a little dizzy when he thought about the rapidly-shifting internal politics of the clan - the rogues, undead, and academics were easy enough, but when it got to the fuzzier outside factions and the dragons who fit into more than one, his head started spinning. Especially when it didn't seem to be written down anywhere.
His stomach grumbled and he sighed again, flopping onto his side. He could reset the trap and then rest here for a few minutes, take a nap under a cliffside tree. He could do more hunting when it was dark. Real, trap-free hunting, like he was supposed to.
Click or tap a food type to individually feed this dragon only. The other dragons in your lair will not have their energy replenished.
This dragon doesn't eat Insects.
This dragon doesn't eat Meat.
Feed this dragon Seafood.
This dragon doesn't eat Plants.
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Exalting Vitas to the service of the Lightweaver 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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