Savage
(#63391038)
Infected
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Energy: 50
out of
50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Light.
Male Ridgeback
This dragon is hibernating.
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Effect
Scene
Measurements
Length
15.31 m
Wingspan
20.61 m
Weight
6659.82 kg
Genetics
Driftwood
Iridescent
Iridescent
Sanguine
Current
Current
Blood
Thylacine
Thylacine
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 1 Ridgeback
EXP: 0 / 245
STR
8
AGI
7
DEF
7
QCK
6
INT
5
VIT
7
MND
5
Biography
@Gryym
Kids = 40kt/g
Kids = 40kt/g
The Awakening
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His clearest memory is of being chased off from his birth clan, stumbling on short legs as a cacophony of voices hurl words that would follow him all his life: Killer! Plague-bearer! Begone, savage, and bring your curse elsewhere! Only a few days old, the Ridgeback hatchling barely understood what the words meant, but the hostility behind them was viscerally clear. He remembered the feeling of warmth and love when he first hatched, then a sense of fear and despair as the gentle dragons he would later realize were his parents wasted away, and finally grief-turned-anger as the clan that had welcomed him into the world cast him out. Nameless and clanless the young dragon roamed, but he was met by looks of fear and disdain wherever he went. And always he encountered that same word: savage. That must be my name, if everyone calls me by it, he thought, for he was old enough to know that dragons called each other by name. So Savage found his very first possession. The Sunbeam Ruins were not the worst place to wander, in all honesty. The weather was always clear, the temperature pleasantly warm, and its seaside location was a blessing for a dragon whose sole diet was seafood. Savage slowly absorbed Light culture by listening to snatches of conversations and reading the ever-present scroll or inscription left by absentminded scholars (the reading guide for children was his single most precious discovery in those early days). He learnt of Plague dragons and their less-than-savoury reputation; more importantly, he realized that he had somehow been hatched bearing some sort of plague-like essence in his blood, despite being Light-born. It was strong enough that it wafted from him like the scent of rot from a corpse, repelling dragons and beasts alike. The names his old clan called him made sense, then. Savage spent his days as he imagined a typical Light acolyte would; by learning all he could of the world. And if he put a little more effort into understanding Plague magic, well. It’s only normal for a dragon to have a personal passion, that’s all. He collected bits and pieces of literature, scavenged from careless hatchlings and unobservant researchers. The Ridgeback was able to gather a decent chunk of knowledge this way, although nothing that helped him understand his own affliction – the constant aura of death that surrounded him and killed his family. As he grew, however, Savage noticed that he was losing time. He would go to sleep in an abandoned campsite somewhere and awaken in one of the many ruins that dotted Light territory, with absolutely no idea how he got there. These episodes steadily grew worse, with the Ridgeback losing track of hours, then day, then weeks. He began to avoid sleeping, but it made no difference – once he blinked and found a month had passed without him knowing. It was as baffling as it was terrifying, because he swore that on one occasion he spent an entire week stuck in a dilapidated temple with a particularly tricky puzzle door yet somehow didn’t starve to death (he knew a week had passed because it has the start of Brightshine Jubilee when he entered, and when he left the holiday was over). This mysterious illness nearly sent Savage into despair. Was the Plaguebringer herself cursing him, using his diseased blood as a conduit? Or was it the Lightweaver herself, revolted at the taint of another deity in one of her own? Was his existence not miserable enough? He raged at the unfairness of it all. Why me? Why am I so wretched? |
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It was during one such bout of self-pity that an Acolyte found him, alone in some dark corner in the Hewn City. Why do you grieve, young one? The old Pearlcatcher asked. I mourn for my future, torn from me by cruel fate, Savage replied, utterly drained. The other dragon hummed, cream scales still faintly glittering despite the deepening shadows. Why, you look like a perfectly healthy Ridgeback to me, she said, a sling bag carrying the single largest pearl the Ridgeback had ever seen. Savage was too weary to put up with patronizing from a random stranger. That’s not the problem, lady, he snapped. Can’t you tell that I’m – he paused mid-sentence, realizing that this Pearlcatcher had approached him without reluctance and had made no indication she noticed anything amiss with him. This close, his Plague aura should be blindingly obvious to even the most magically stunted dragon, but the elderly female seemed entirely unaffected, despite her attire declaring her status as an enchanter. You… really don’t think anything’s wrong with me? He was almost afraid to hope. Besides brooding in one of the danger zones of the Hewn City? Not at all! The Acolyte answered. She fixed him with a stern glare. Whatever troubles you, young one, tempting fate by staying here will do you no good, she shook her head. Too many dragons have vanished here, and it would be remiss of me to allow a dragon to suffer the same fate, a Light child no less! It seemed to good to be true, but Savage knew Acolytes treasured truth above all – she would not lie to him. He was so overcome with emotion that he could only nod wordlessly and follow her like a duckling as she led him away from the shadowed ruins. He spent that evening approaching groups of travelers, mentally prepared to be rejected as always. But they all treated him like any other, save a few Plague dragons who eyed him a little strangely but otherwise didn’t react. Somehow the curse that had haunted his entire life had disappeared, or at least receded enough it might as well have. That it seemed to have given him an unusual case of sleepwalking barely mattered – he could talk to others now! A miserable existence of constant rejected was no longer the only future open to him. The next months passed by in a blur. He lost ever larger swathes of time, but was eventually able to determine that October was free of the episodes, for whatever reason. Perhaps it was the Plaguebringer’s doing, after all, he mused. It surely couldn’t be a coincidence that her festival was celebrated that same month. Just in case, the Ridgeback gave an offering to the deity of disease. He made an effort to not resent the fact that he had such a curse in the first place, and instead thanked her for a brighter future. Brighter. Now that he was (comparatively) curse-free, Savage pondered his next course of action. The Sunbeam Ruins held too many bitter memories, but neither did he dare venture too far with his condition. A dark fog in the horizon drew his eyes. Well, he thought, there’s no better place to escape memories of Light than the lands of Shadow, I suppose. It didn’t take long to reach the first of the gloomy pines. The ever-present murk around the Tangled Wood seemed to invite him in, a stark contrast to the striking white stone of the Ruins. Savage wandered the dark forest for an indeterminable time until one day he woke up to a full body shudder, as if lightning had entered his veins. Something pulled him ever deeper into the woods, to one dragon in particular. When he stumbled closer to her his blood sang recognizing its like, and when she asked him to follow her it truly seemed like fate. Who was he to refuse? My name is Savage, he said, near breathlessly, and I would very much like to join you. Her – Fragment’s – answering smile as the most glorious sight he’d ever witnessed, and he looked forward to it every October, for that single month when two cursed dragons would live enough for all the months after. - Lore by Lykantos |
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Exalting Savage to the service of the Shadowbinder 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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