Nightmare

(#68118617)
it's behind you
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Familiar

Poultrygeist
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Energy: 0/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Light.
Female Banescale
This dragon is an ancient breed.
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Personal Style

Ancient dragons cannot wear apparel.

Skin

Accent: Mindless Flight

Scene

Scene: Strange Chests

Measurements

Length
6.5 m
Wingspan
5.77 m
Weight
430.33 kg

Genetics

Primary Gene
Midnight
Savannah (Banescale)
Midnight
Savannah (Banescale)
Secondary Gene
Midnight
Tear (Banescale)
Midnight
Tear (Banescale)
Tertiary Gene
Pistachio
Wraith (Banescale)
Pistachio
Wraith (Banescale)

Hatchday

Hatchday
Mar 20, 2021
(3 years)

Breed

Breed
Adult
Banescale

Eye Type

Special Eye Type
Light
Faceted
Level 1 Banescale
EXP: 0 / 245
Scratch
Shred
STR
6
AGI
6
DEF
6
QCK
5
INT
8
VIT
8
MND
6

Lineage

Parents

Offspring

  • none

Biography

NIGHTMARE
VENGEFUL SPIRIT

"take this to heart."


╭━━━━━━━━━━━━━╮
Fascinator Sparksylph Husk
Wisp Fruit Ghostly Aura
╰━━━━━━━━━━━━━╯


Partner: n/a
Family: n/a
Notable Offspring: n/a

THEMESONG: TBA
”On moonless nights, those foreign travelers who do not stop to wait out the dark should beware the fog. A wraith haunts the old roads through the bramble-bogs, materializing out of the whispering mist and assailing the minds and bodies of the weary. Whatever name she may have held as a mortal dragon, if she ever drew breath, is long lost, for now she is only known as a nightmare.

Her presence is marked by the point when tired eyes begin to see things in the swirling fog that drifts out of the water. Vague shapes form into lashing tails, into beating wings, into sharpened fangs. Once she has taken form, the ectoplasm becomes impossible to see through beyond a few feet. At this point she will begin her assault from beyond the veil, taking with the glancing blows of her talons the very life force of dragons. As she consumes more she will become more corporeal, until she years her prey asunder. All that will be left when the fog lifts in the morning are the ribbon-torn bodies of the night's victims.

Take this to heart, traveller, and do not go out after dusk. Neither the Shadowbinder nor your own wits will save you out there.”


All it can take to lose everything is a wrong move, a lie believed, a soul led astray. When you took the dirt road into the empty expanse of the marshes, this was the lot you drew. When the miles of wetland gave way to nothing more than lonely waystones and the rare tree, you were left without substantial shelter from the dangers brought on by night. The thin tent you brought did little to save you from what you had brushed off as a story from superstitious locals. The mist poured through the pores of the canvas, followed by talons larger than your head.

Left with no other option, you rushed out into mounting rain, finding yourself face to face with the phantom that had claimed so many ignorant fools like yourself. She dove forwards, and you barely rolled out of the way. A gash down your back made its presence known, threatening to be infected from contact with wet earth. You collected yourself hastily and chose a direction. Your only chance was to outrun the fog.

She was at an advantage, moving effortlessly behind you as you stumbled blindly through the marsh. You could see nothing, fighting the mud and reeds in vain. Lightning arced across the sky just as you pulled yourself onto a patch of dry land. Where in the daylight there had been nothing more than a pile of stone, a massive, dark shape reached into the sky in front of you. Your pursuer once again struck towards you, barely missing as you found one final burst of strength within you. You scrambled towards the structure, conveniently finding yourself placed near a massive stone bridge leading within. You ran across faster than your legs had ever carried you before and crossed its great length with ease. The ghost made one final attempt, circling and diving as you hit the threshold of the building. But as she came down, a massive stone door slammed shut, and what had been a force of death was suddenly little more than a puff of green mist, dissipating in the once-stale air of the room. Before you could feel relief, you fell over panting, your vision going in and out from the amount of blood you had lost, then everything went silent.


━━━━━━━━

• perished a very long time ago, left in a barely-marked grave identical to the waystones that mark the roads.
• smells damp and sulfuric, like one would expect of a bog zombie.
• the jewelry she wears does not match any known to have been made by any living culture.
• did she perish at the castle? is she the reason it was abandoned? which came first?
(original layout by mask)
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Exalting Nightmare 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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