Baines
(#66898429)
You can take it out on me if you like
Familiar
Ashscale Ophiotaurus
Click or tap to view this dragon in Predict Morphology.
Energy: 50/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Earth.
Male Imperial
This dragon is hibernating.
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
29.01 m
Wingspan
22.27 m
Weight
8162.39 kg
Genetics
Abyss
Basic
Basic
Copper
Butterfly
Butterfly
Cinnamon
Glimmer
Glimmer
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 25 Imperial
Max Level
STR
101
AGI
29
DEF
10
QCK
50
INT
8
VIT
30
MND
10
Biography
| __._ |
 Another roll of the dice, one more card. The Debt doesn’t matter. He is addicted to the click of the dice, to the roll of luck and the rush of losing everything or winning all. He also is a paradox in the flesh. Watchers are supposed to be rich, to be the moral compass of the city. He is anything but, anything but upstanding, but honorable. He is a caricature of what Watchers are made out to be. What the populus believes. And he feels no shame. Put it on the tab, who cares? Let’s play another round. In a hollow life filled with hollow people, was it that unusual to search for something, anything that would fill this hole in his chest? He found a solution, barely functional but there, found it in smoke filled rooms, on tables clothed with worn down velvet and in the chime of clinking coin. It was rotten, to the core just like him! The debts grew and grew but he was untouchable anyways. What would they do to him anyways? Start a smear campaign to bring down his reputation? Excuse him while he chokes on his laughter. He hasn’t paid rent for his run down little room in months but what can the landlord do? Kick him out? He knows of the little skeletons in their closet. He knows of their wanton desire ravaging them while their spouse sleeps peacefully. And when the landlord tried, one last time, to make him pay or make him move, he told him. In slurred words and a smug smile over his face, he had leaned in close, so close that the gleam of his golden fang was all they saw. So close they could count the petals of the sunflowers, inked under his skin and watch centipedes crawl over broken bones. And he told them. Recounted every little thing they wished to stay hidden. So whatcha think? Wanna take ya chance? No, they didn’t. They scurried away with their thoughts fragmented by fear and eyes wide from panic. Just because the skin under his eyes was darker than night from nights gambled away, they thought of him as a fool? Watchers can’t afford to be stupid, they can be greedy, they can be sadistic, hells, they even can be corrupt to the marrow of their bones. But stupidity was not a trait found within their ranks. Fools, they hailed Watchers as the pinnacle of justice but in all his years serving, he only ever met one free of taint, of greed and corruption. On the other hand, warming the General’s bed must have opened all kinds of doors. This was why he resorted back to gambling away every coin he ever won and earned. Three times over, his mountain of debt grows and grows and he knows he should start to at least fake it, to care for the sake of it alone. But what can they do to him? The last one they sent to make him cough up gold instead coughed up their own lungs. He looks sleazy, he looks thoroughly unimpressive, inked and hair in wooly dreadlocks, with his missing fang, replaced by one out of gold and his bedroom eyes. Too wiry, almost skinny and with his chapped lips and bruised knuckles, of course he’s not an intimidating sight. But that's alright, makes digging in the dirt easier. I paid your debts and your outstanding rent. Now you belong to me. He should have known, the sum too great to be left to rot. They sent someone else and this one knew his game. He threw him for a loop that he could not break out of for months. A true shame, given how easily he usually dug out the little secrets of others. But Luryl? That one was a puzzle. As smart as he was ugly, barely reaching his chest, yet carrying an authority he only ever saw with the Royals. Hints were sparse and work was plentiful. The jobs Luryl gave him weren’t even that different to what he was doing daily too. Beat someone into submission. Break a few bones to drive home a message. Hurt but don’t kill. And then there was the money. Luryl wasn’t a fool, he established that from the get go, yet, when his pockets hit rock bottom and nothing but dust gathered in them, when the cards and dices and bets were not in his favor anymore, Luryl was there, pockets lined with Wishes and Dreams and Hopes, giving out freely. Of course, there was a catch, there always was, but empty people and empty lives barely made him care. You are back again? Fine, I will give you your metal Dreams. But you have to earn them first, by a kiss. Did he mention that Luryl was ugly? The ugliness didn’t come naturally, he suspected a curse went havoc, but who was he to judge with his gaunt cheeks and centipede riddled sunflowers stretching over his back, his neck, his arms. So of course he kissed jagged, fang rich lips. Of course he touched skin boiling with who knows what. In between each kiss, each touch, he heard a whimper of a plea, not sure if it was him or the other, but who cared? Swinging in the wind with the rest of the swallows, he even earned an adorable little nickname. The wolfdog of the loan shark. And didn’t they make the most lovely, disgustingly ugly pair? Oh look, tis the pot callin’ ta cattle black. 
| ___ |
code & assets by archaic #19153
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