Dyrva
(#68377132)
Level 25 Wildclaw
Click or tap to view this dragon in Predict Morphology.
Energy: 50/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Shadow.
Male Wildclaw
This dragon is hibernating.
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
4.75 m
Wingspan
6.66 m
Weight
433.51 kg
Genetics
Splash
Iridescent
Iridescent
Midnight
Shimmer
Shimmer
Midnight
Thylacine
Thylacine
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 25 Wildclaw
Max Level
STR
8
AGI
9
DEF
6
QCK
5
INT
5
VIT
6
MND
6
Biography
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Dyrva
"Is it not our birthright to turn away from Plague? We who were born to Shadow. No matter how thinly the line is drawn."
Dyrva was reluctant to become a Lich at first, wary of the influence of the Shade and what it might bring, but circumstances left him with no choice but to accept it. It is a decision he does not regret, for all that it was one he was forced to make, as it has given him the ability to stand for himself. To be himself in a way that he has never been able to. There is no pressure to be what someone else wants you to be, you simply are. It is a lesson he learned quickly, one of the few not imparted by his mentor, Izzys. He knows she is manipulating him into doing what she wants, but he has never really minded. His goals with his own life he has yet to decide. For the moment, he contents himself with learning about the Shade and about what he can do with the power he has gained. Though he hunts Necromancers and other opponents of the Shade with his mentor, he does not share her hate for them, merely harboring a wariness stemming more from self preservation than anything else. |
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"It is a matter of choice. The unwilling do not take the Trails, not of their own will. And turning from that to a greater power cannot be done without a sacrifice given freely. They teach that for some it is an inevitable evil, that it cannot be avoided, but that is because they want their recruits to be afraid and cautious, to turn from anything that remotely looks like the Shade. But you and I know better. It will not take what you do not offer, no matter how many times it asks." Dyrva remembers the day he became a Lich very clearly. He had returned to Shadow after failing his Trial and walking away a disgraced Wraith, neither gifted power nor doomed to virulence and death. His parents had held high hopes for him since he had shown the aptitude very early in life. Even the clan's snarky old Necromancer had taken him as an unofficial apprentice when he was young and taught him everything he could need to know. Everyone had been so sure he would return at the end of the month with blazing markings on a pale tan hide. But he had failed them, and walking under the pines of his homeland, he had been unable to bear the thought of facing them. By then, the Shade had already been poking around his mind, dangling promises of power and freedom in exchange for his service, his magic, his soul. At first, he knew it was an abomination, and had been afraid. The old Necromancer had always said that anyone who lived through the Trials could become a Lich, and that for some it was unavoidable, that they had been Lichs in all but name long before they took the Trials. It whispered sweetly, growing more tempting by the day. But Dyrva had pushed it to the back of his mind to focus on surviving. He had never truly been without a clan before, without someone else to depend on, and it was harder to support himself than he had thought it would be. The weather and game trails had been more important, and the darkness at the edges of his senses had faded, leaving him mostly on his own as if it had finally taken his refusal seriously and lost interest. Then winter came, and brought with it the cold and things far worse. Winter in Shadow was always wet. The lakes and rivers froze over, sure, but it was misty and snow and sleet fell more days than not. He had found an abandoned bear den of some sort to hide out in, and only ventured out when he needed to hunt or search for supplies. Even then he had been half-starved and nearly frozen when the bandits showed up. They had been in not much better condition than he was, but he had shelter while they did not, and they had numbers. He might have taken the loss and tried to find somewhere else had the circumstances not been what they were. The snowstorm had been raging outside for three days by then, with no signs of letting up anytime soon. To go out in that would have been no better than a death sentence, and despite all his failures and shame, Dyrva still had wanted to live. Whispers that he had not heard in months were suddenly screaming in his ears as he fought them. He had been combat-trained of course, but they were bigger, more experienced, and he was lethally outnumbered. Claws and fangs and what little magic he did have were nowhere near enough, and the calls had been loud in his head, begging him to save his own life, to give over what they both wanted. It wasn't a difficult choice to make, not then. Later, when the bodies had been shoved outside to freeze where he wouldn't have to see them and he had had time to calm down, he still had not regretted his decision. So much power had he used to win that fight that already the red in his wings and the distinctive stripes was beginning to fade, and he had been able to see glimmers of blue-green through the coppery red the Trials had given him. He left early that spring, before the snow had melted enough to expose to the light his crimes. When he found Izzys days later, she congratulated him for making the right choice. He has walked at her side ever since. |
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This dragon doesn't eat Seafood.
This dragon doesn't eat Plants.
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Exalting Dyrva 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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