Blacknovelist » Lair » SilverMantis

SilverMantis

(#61357687)

nameless/champion/pest

Familiar

Steelhound

Energy: 45/50

Personal Style

Apparel

Skin

Scene

Physical Attributes

Battle Stats

Measurements

Length

11 m

Wingspan

13.3 m

Weight

6786.69 kg

Genetics

Amber
Clown

Sanddollar
Edged

Sanddollar
Scales

Hatchday

May 15, 2020
(3 years)

Breed

Adult
Guardian

Eye Type

Lightning
Uncommon

Level 13 Guardian

EXP: 28105 / 45676

STR

AGI

DEF

QCK

INT

VIT

MND

Lineage

Parents

Offspring

Biography

oc/dnd dragon, he/him
paladin of conquest — ~~fighting style: defense~~
he dreams of the day he might break this cursed oath

(for the purpose of ask games,
feel free to ask questions pertaining
to any point of his character/storyline!)

Edited using resources from Drytil's Art Resource and FR art assets (obtained here).
No aspects or elements of this image - save the dragon it was based on - are owned by Blacknovelist

____________

_______
Nameless

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

____________
There was blood in the air,
I was on all fours,
Screaming life isn't fair,
Break down these walls,
As the marksmen hit their mark,
And their cloaks of justice are only clothes, after all.

_______________

Stay awake, oh,
From the wolves you run, barefoot,
With their libelous venomous words, they shoot,
Pulled and panicked, the door is locked,
You're trapped inside of your own heart,
It's a spectator's sport,

Just play your part.
Just play your part.

- Wolves of the Revolution by The Arcadian Wild

__________

______

"oh, hello there, sir."

On the outskirts of Clan Novalis occasionally lives a strange but handsome dragon. He has no given name, no family, and no affiliation, save for the strange one arranged with the clan's leader, Yasmine, and earns his keep with the clan — in what windows of time he spends dwelling there — defending a portion of the borders, often entirely by himself. Those who have had the chance to witness him in action note well his ferocity and skill, but also his willingness and ability to take a good hit that could easily fell most other dragons in a heartbeat. Though he doesn't do it often, there aren't many better to fight alongside than he.

The clan recognizes him most easily by his dotted-amber scales and pale wings, his gleaming armor, the worn shield at his hip and the trident strapped to his back. Though he doesn't enter the marketplace or main areas often, he's known for his chivalrous and friendly attitude -- few are those who don't think positively of him. What it is he does in his free time, as well as his history, are hotly debated subjects in the rumor mills. That said, not many realize that he actively lives within Novalis' territory and instead believe him to be a frequent visitor. Fewer still know where it is his lair lies.

It's not an uncommon sight on what few days he makes himself known for passing strangers to give a flirt and a wink that he has no qualms about returning, though whether he means it -- or is indeed looking for a partner of any kind -- has yet to be seen.

[ notes ]
» Though he has no official name and ferociously resists any attempts to ascribe him one — not that this stops others in the clan from coming up with their own nicknames and titles for him nonetheless — he has divulged to a few insistent individuals a particular nickname, bestowed on him by a distant friend: "Bug."

» He often becomes uncomfortable if the subject of conversation turns to him for long periods of time. Part of the reason his history and general information remain on the rumor mill is because no one is willing to spend what little time he has with the clan needling him about details.

» Often carries with him a particularly large feather, old and worn but well-cared for. He seldom allows it out of his sight or off his person.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

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bio code source from archaic

COMBAT DETAILS:

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STATISTICS:

_{STR

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DEX

|▓▓▓▓▓▓░░░░|

CON

|▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓░░|

INT

|▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓░░|

WIS

|▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓░|

CHA

|▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓░|}

source: mibella

ELIMINATE

SCRATCH

CLOBBER

~~. guard .~~

SAP

top/bottom dividers source: archaic | layout code by blacknovelist

by Drytil

When the fires, when the fires
are consumin' you,
And your sacred stars
won't be guiding you,
I've got blood,
Blood on my name.

Not a spell gonna be broken,
With a potion or a priest,
When you're cursed you're always hopin',
That a prophet would be grieved,

Oh, Lazarus,
How did your debts get paid?

- Blood On My Name by The Brothers Bright

Heralded as a king_
before I had a birthday,
With double digits,
Fit the crown to my head_
but I was only a kid,
Yeah I was only a kid,

Hey, I'm just the man_
on the balcony, singing_
"nobody will ever remember me,"

A composer, but never composed,
Singing, "I only want_
what I can't have."

- "From Now On We Are Enemies" by Fall Out Boy

___

The Silver Mantis
↠ crime lord
↠ false god's champion
↠ fate's plaything

Memories of prophecy -- unfaded despite the years that have passed since its first deliverance -- spring forward, his ears filling with whispers.

"The Nameless One sees. He hears the words of the sealed Pariah and those who serve beneath, and he understands. The Nameless One, standing upon the threshold to new life, takes upon a title of his own choosing and, with honor and pride, steps forth into this creature's regard and becomes His, wholly and utterly. Never again will Hand and Master be apart."

_. . . . ._

The child who would become the Silver Mantis takes up the mask and places it upon his face.

Where it is that civilization exists, crime so too has an unfortunate penchant for blossoming. Some take up the daggers of lawbreaking as a means to survive, others to line their pockets, more still just for the thrill. Others take up a different blade, cut themselves a mantle of command so they might build their way up in this underworld as the ruling minds behind.

Of these figures, few names strike as much fear in one's heart as the dragon who goes only by "the Silver Mantis". Self-assured, brilliant, and known far and wide for his ruthlessness and paranoia, the Mantis has ruled over his empire and territories with an iron fist for decades. That he refuses to take on certain... more unsavory and line-crossing jobs that other underworld moguls might — and indeed, occasionally foils his rivals' endeavors to those ends — does little to hamper his group's growth and strength.

Species, undetermined. Age, unknown. Name, a mystery. He has a million representatives, and hides himself among the ever-shifting masses. Even the true breadth of his criminal empire is an oft-argued subject among those in charge of trying to put a stop to it — and, occasionally, among those who are trying to avoid attracting the dread dragon's attention. The only known feature of the Mantis is the elegant insectoid mask he's rumored to don, the visage of which also composes the emblem that marks his people and work.

But the underworld is not the only place his name echoes.

Long ago, a creature of bloodshed and malice and shieldbreaking tried to stake its claim upon the world. In its failure, it was sealed deep and far in the void between realms, but from Sorineth its influence never fully faded. In the modern day, it hoped to gain the power and followers necessary for it to be freed once more. In order to achieve that, it needed an avatar.

He needed a champion.

By prophetic vision, the young dragon who would one day become the Silver Mantis was chosen. Now the Mantis sows death and destruction in his wake -- using his extensive criminal network, he gathers supplies, sets events into motion and, above all, executes his Master's will as he is commanded, whether directly or by the old predictions. Though he rarely works with his fellow followers and occasionally makes decisions that seem, on the surface, questionable towards his goals, he always has a plan and reason. All his efforts go, unfailingly, towards the eventual release of his liege.

It is his destiny, after all.

master

___

bio code & non FR assets source: archaic #19153

By Chakra (and Emberglo)

The noble are weary, the noble are weary,
This cradle still burns like a hole in my chest,
Can anyone hear me? Can anyone hear me?
The crooked are smiling, they know me the best.

If mercy's abound, I'll be safe, I'll be sound,
And the devil won't know all the love I just couldn't let go,
I won't pretend my season won't end,

But I pray,

When it's done, when it's through,
I'll have something left for you.

- The Crooked, The Cradle by The Crane Wives

xxxx

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬xxbug
▬▬▬▬▬▬▬↠a pest.

It strikes her, abruptly, how different this Mantis is to the one she’s fought for so many years. The one she knows is confident, shrewd, so composed and sure of himself he could probably hoist all the Shifting Expanse into the air and hold it there with the force of his ego alone. Teel has never seen this side of him before -- subservient, unsure… afraid. Here, out of all sights but her own, she can see his tail twitching.

Above them both, the faded projection of his Master looms. And eventually; "do as you please," he says. "You protect your foe and request her unharmed for these plots of yours, and I grant it." The Mantis' liege raises one of its almost-formless appendages and reaches forward. "But interruption, as you know, requires punishment."

Moments before burning light fills her vision, she sees the Silver Mantis' shoulders slump. But his wings, still outstretched from when he'd entered the room to shield her, do not falter.

"a turning point"

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬__________________________________▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

"though he doesn't wish for it, he would not say no to death if it came to meet him."

Things in life are rarely ever so black and white, and the same goes for the dragon who, in what time he doesn't spent plotting or earning his keep at Novalis, goes by the Silver Mantis.

As a youngling, he had an encounter with a seer who served under the Pariah, a creature long ago sealed away for its wicked intentions and aspirations to become godlike. The prophecy spoke of power in exchange for servitude, but also detailed many of the things that the champion would someday achieve, each one worse than the last.

He tried to escape it once, when his destiny first found him. He failed, and as foretold, his home burned and the blame placed upon his shoulders.

Disowned from his birthclan and family, he found himself on the streets. There, he had an encounter with another young dragon -- with her words she inspired him to keep trying, and left with him a single feather which he still carries to this day. Not wanting to sully his name any further, he abandoned it altogether and has sworn to take no new one until the chains that bind him to this unwilling fate are gone. Then, with feather and renewed hope in hand, he returned to the acolytes of the Pariah. The gears of his plot have been turning ever since.

The Silver Mantis threw himself into serving his Master with one goal in particular: to prevent as much of the damage and destruction that would inevitably be wreaked as possible without being revealed to the cult as unloyal. He secretly uses the resources granted to him through his status as the Silver Mantis and the Pariah's Champion to research and train in the time between his "jobs", hoping frantically that someday he will become powerful enough or uncover just the secret he needs in order to sever the prophecy and stop the monster he calls his liege once and for all.

Unless, of course, one of the countless people he has wronged comes to finish things first. How he goes, in the end, makes no difference to the Mantis — he just wants to do everything he can before he does.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬__________________________________▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

_. . . . ._

In another lifetime, the child knows, he would take that seer's words to heart. Another him would succumb to sentiment and a desire to be wanted. In that world, surely, he thinks, the world ends.

But there's a feather on his bedside, soft and grey. A hope, given freely though he doesn't deserve it -- will not deserve it with the life he is about to lead. It reminds him that someday, perhaps, he still has a chance.

To turn his back on the prophecy, to let the tragedies and events happen without restraint or remorse just like the fire that destroyed his home and saw him exiled, or to take part in terrible acts in the hopes that his interference might keep it from becoming the worst possible outcome...

Even when all of the choices are bad, one must still choose. Unto death, or unto freedom -- whichever found him first.

_. . . . ._

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬xx~~relations~~ associates

__________

Teel Farlight ✦
Arch Nemesis ~~/only hope~~

A bold and brave coatl who Mantis has earned the ire and hatred of through his actions. She has sworn death and ruin upon him and all his endeavors, and is perhaps the only dragon alive who has not only seen him, but who has seen him without his mask on. Many of the known scars that dot his scales are from her.

The one who bestowed the "nickname" of Bug onto him. Despite the intense animosity between them, he holds an immense respect for Teel. She is, perhaps, the closest one he could ever come to trusting. If nothing else, he knows that she has what it takes to kill him should his contingencies go wrong.

✦

_______________________

"The little bird... she's a great and brave warrior. There's no doubt in my mind her name might one day echo into the heavens, whether she intended it or just as a side effect of being herself. Quite frankly, it would be an honor to fall to her arrow. Should the time come... there's no one I'd trust more to get the job done."

"The nickname she calls me? Well, there's no hiding that it's really more of an insulting moniker. An apt one, don't get me wrong. After all, regardless of the form I take and what I call myself, a bug is a bug. When all I do is cause trouble, even if my intentions or purpose are necessary and good, what else can I be but a pest like one? But I've become fond, I'll admit. Perhaps because of how fitting it is? Or perhaps simply because it is Teel and she has been calling me that for years."

xxx

code by archaic #19153

~~to mourn~~

There’s an old hag sitting at the corner of the street.

She sits like a statue, all un-seeing eyes and gnarled hands and rough skin. The townsfolk all give her a wide berth, kids included, though the most daring like to dart a few steps closer before rushing off, giggling about curses.

You don't much understand all the fuss yourself, but think it might be a city thing. It isn’t often you wander from the safety of the trees towards the broad cobblestone streets, after all. Still, the prospect of being cursed scares you less, perhaps, than most others. As well, you are but a child. There is so much you do not know you don't know.

So it isn’t much of a surprise when you stumble forward one day, oversized feet carrying you through the setting sunlight until you find yourself standing not far from the hag and her blank eyes. You breathe easy when you realize, closer to her than anyone has dared go before, and begin to step away.

And then the hag moves, and she turns, and she looks at you.

And she says, “Woe, oh, it is, that such a child as you might be burdened with such a thing.”

And you freeze, pinned by those cold white eyes seeing far beyond you, gaze locked on something you don't realize (yet) and will never fully comprehend.

“…what?” you ask, because you are a child and do not know some mysteries are better that way.

“Little one, heir to the earth, you are blessed,” the hag says, reaching out one long twisted claw towards your immobile form. Her fingers feel like branches and bark on your scales. “By the gods, a false one, almighty but not, a great and terrible path laid out for you and you alone. The scion comes by twelve fortnight’s and one moon, and with their coming decrees the progression of destiny.” She trembles, even as she grasps at your face and shoulder with the gentlest touch. “To you the scion brings suffering and power, as by the scion comes the end of what you know – by the scion comes knowledge of that which will give the strength you will seek.” The hag shifts and moves to take your hands in her own, forcing you to sit back as she cradles them together. They are twice the size of yours.

“Weal and woe, young one, little heir,” she says, twisting her grip until your open palms are covered by her single massive one, the other one cupped beneath. “My words to you are a burden you asked not for but will take on, nonetheless. May you someday find mercy enough in your heart to forgive.” Her grip tightens for just a moment. “Never forget that you are blessed.”

When she lets go, a small, swirling silver stone is resting in your cupped hands. You lift your head to ask her of it, but she is gone.

(When you return to the woods that night, stone clutched close, the hag’s words whisper themselves along with the fragments of a story that, someday, is supposed to be yours. You think you should be excited, proud, maybe even happy at the prospect of a destiny – a fate so special that some other force has sought you out for it –

'destruction, strength, inheritance’

–but all you can be is afraid.)

banner+divider source: archaic

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Playlist
(warnings for: strong language in some songs, click/listen at your discretion)

____

________________

Playlist (Clean Version)
(the playlist, but without the songs that warrant warning)

__________

By GuardianLioness <333

By SquishiestPanda

By ironical

by smithsonian

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Click or tap a food type to individually feed this dragon only. The other dragons in your lair will not have their energy replenished.

Exalting SilverMantis to the service of the Windsinger 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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