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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
7.63 m
Wingspan
3.84 m
Weight
500.27 kg
Genetics
Obsidian
Wasp
Wasp
Obsidian
Bee
Bee
Iris
Basic
Basic
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 6 Mirror
EXP: 1045 / 8380
STR
32
AGI
9
DEF
6
QCK
13
INT
5
VIT
8
MND
5
Lineage
Parents
Offspring
- Onyx
- Shard
- Shard
- Shadow
- Shard
- Atarangi
- Cassiel
- Chronicler
- Etory
- Dread
- Noy
- Ellipsis
- Bora
- Vestrit
- Anya
- Mover
- Nightweaver
- Ezreal
- Darold
- Dierri
- Nafisa
- Orthorn
- Badeaux
- Cabernet
- Lether
- Vachel
- Apt
- Ulixes
- Darshay
- Aerope
- Mace
- Jones
- Constant
- Constant
- Constant
- Yan
- Windmourne
- Savil
- Javiar
- Faux
- Elpihas
- Bladehonkai
- AOthree
- TwoHA
- ReferenceTool
- BladesBlade
- Sacabambaspis
- DoubleDeckerBus
- Tacobell
- Milton
- Nida
- Kazu
- Scara
- Clomper
Biography
FAERIIES wrote:
There is always a worse fate to come.
In a quieter part of the city, far from the mad inventors with their mechanical augments and the sorcerers seeking the indecipherable truth, walks Death.
Death is not a skeleton in a tattered black cloak, clutching with fingers of bone at its scythe. Nor is it a beautiful lady in luxurious robes, reaching out from across a roaring river of no return. Here where sickness and plague run rampant, here where barely a soul ever dares to open their doors to the outside world, is Death. Or at least, a manifestation of it.
None are sure when he first appeared, this wild Mirror with strips of cloth on his wings and bones stabbing through the gaps in his scales. None know when he'll leave. All they know is that when he came, he brought something unspeakable with him. And they know that it would be in their best interests to avoid him, to stay silent in their own homes while the claws of starvation scratch at their frail bodies.
For a silent death alone and free is better than whatever false salvation the devil offers.
At night in that rotten place, dragons silently pray to long-dead gods. The wind does not howl its fury any longer, giving way to a deadly silence periodically interrupted by distorted growls and an odd scratching noise. They are not allowed to open the windows, not after what happened to her, but they know who it is. They know the horned monster that lurks outside in the pitch-dark, hunting for its next victim. Each night its claws of bone grow sharper, each night it lingers outside a door just a little longer.
They still won't open the doors to him, won't let him in. The sunlight has long stopped shining through the drawn curtains, time ticks ever faster. The feeling of dread grows heavier and heavier, pushing down like a boulder on their backs. The monster can sense it too, and it grows hungry. The scratching becomes louder and faster, more insistent. Let me in, the Mirror screams in a tortured voice. The voice of a child. The sound of crying can be heard from inside one of the homes.
Someone is going to break soon.
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Exalting Gnaver to the service of the Plaguebringer 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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