WhisperingThief » Lair » Acho

Acho

(#68575003)

Level 4 Banescale

Familiar

Windcarve Harpy

Energy: 50/50

Personal Style

Skin

Scene

Physical Attributes

Battle Stats

Measurements

Length

5.2 m

Wingspan

6.07 m

Weight

789.82 kg

Genetics

Hatchday

Apr 09, 2021
(3 years)

Breed

Adult
Banescale

Eye Type

Earth
Common

Level 4 Banescale

EXP: 323 / 4027

STR

AGI

DEF

QCK

INT

VIT

MND

Lineage

Parents

none

Offspring

none

Biography

...

C O N Q U E R O R
{ cahn-kur-er }

The Warlord

Nicknames: N/A
f.
name origin: a person who conquers or vanquishes; victor.
Birthland:
Unknown

► CHARACTER
Conquerer growled, stalking through the halls of her home. A constant state of alertness had served her well throughout her long, long existence, and she wasn't about to let it slip now. She was aware of everything going on around her at all times. A clan of diplomats, traders, merchants. Some warriors of promise, but few that she would truly put her trust in.

Most would have called it a safe place, free from the wars for territory and resources that had shaped her youth. She couldn't help but think of it as a target-rich environment.

She walked into her cave chamber, carefully stepping over, around, and through the various and sundry traps protecting her resting area. She blinked and looked around, realizing this was probably one of the reasons Ire considered her paranoid. Was it worth an extended existence if every second of it was under guard?

Yes. Unquestionably. Better to be paranoid but alive, than careless and dead. Especially since she had so many of her clanmates relying on her for defense of the lair. They wouldn't survive long without her guidance. Extra caution was the natural reaction.

She picked up one of her tactical manuals and began reading. A bit of reading before sleeping made the information stick in her mind better. It calmed her as well. She dismissed the uncomfortable thoughts of being overly cautious and began reading for roughly the three-hundredth time advice on planning an ambush on an enemy force whose movement was not entirely predictable.

She awoke the next morning ready for war, as usual. Her dreams were awash with screams, the destructive streaks of elemental magic rending the sky and scarring the earth, creating furrows as if a gigantic dragon had tried to claw out a new den. As the bloody images faded, she got control of her breathing and remembered where she was.

Standing up and navigating her way through her cave chamber again, the reality of the day's planned events settled in. A council meeting, followed by training. A normal day for council days, since days that were free of council duties were generally entirely filled with training anyway. Too many people depended on her for her to not be at her best at all times.

She stalked her way through the cave's deepest layers, working her way towards the council chamber. The largest single chamber in the entire lair, and far closer to the surface than she would've liked. Ire's argument that the council chamber should be placed in an area convenient to the majority of council members – merchants – and therefore should be in the upper area, since they mostly lived there to facilitate trade, had been successful.

Conquerer's counterargument that it should be placed as deep as possible to minimize the chance of an invasion harming any of the council members, in addition to providing an assembly room for the clan's military commanders, had been summarily voted down. An invasion was so unlikely, they said, that to plan as though it was a certainty was foolishness. Conquerer couldn't prevent a snarl at the memory. Of course planning for the worst was the best idea.

She finally managed to get up to the council chamber, and took her seat. Per tradition, as the clan's military leader, she sat in the second-highest seat – ironic since she felt like she had the least say in any of the clan's decisions, unless the clan saw it as directly combat-related. As a clan of merchants and diplomats, they tended to think of things in terms of money and trade, not steel and claw.

The highest seat was, technically, Ire's. He was the leader of the council and the one trusted to break stalemates and offer advice on every proposal. However, Ire's insistence that he was not worth the leader position had resulted in him declining to be seated beside her, although tradition bound Conquerer to formally offer him the seat every council session.

They settled in, the proposal at hand being one regarding building additional guard towers on the surface of the clan's territory. Their defenses in the lair itself underground were passable, in Conquerer's estimation, but they had little ability to gather military intelligence above the ground. Building guard towers, with concealed entrances to the clan's tunnels in case the sentries needed a secret way in and out, would be an excellent means of gathering said intelligence.

The council argued back and forth, little of it gaining Conquerer's attention. She knew what side she was on, they needed these guard towers and that was that. She knew how it would go – Ire would recognize it as a matter of military importance, ask her opinion, and go with whatever she said as the council would inevitably argue itself to a stalemate. She tapped her claws impatiently on the arm of her council seat, a traditional chair of rough-hewn stone. The rest of the council lounged on pillows and cushions, comfortable chairs hand-crafted by the clan's best craftsmen. She had refused to have her chair replaced. It suited her, an ancient seat for an ancient dragon.

The conversation seemed to be winding down, as more and more of the clan looking to Ire for input. Finally, the last of the splintered debates about the pros and cons of defending the clan's territory died out, and every dragon, Conquerer included, were looking towards Ire.

He cleared his throat, and spoke, in his eloquent way. “Arguments have been made, and heard, on the merits of these guard towers. While the cost of the towers themselves is nowhere near prohibitive, there would be the consideration of salaries for the guards to man them. Our clan has been quite enriched by recent trade deals negotiated by the esteemed members of this council; even so, expenditure of resources at this level should be decided with great care and wisdom.”

The council hung on his every word – even Conquerer, to her surprise. Ire really had a way of drawing you in when he talked. She was reminded every time why he had been nominated the leader of the council. She sat back, knowing his next words before they even left his mouth.

“As with all matters of security and military importance, I would ask our resident Warlord for her input. She would be the one overseeing this endeavor, after all. I give the floor to Conquerer for her opinion.”

Conquerer leaned forward; this is where she would really sell her case, as Ire was sure to vote with her, but she wanted the council to understand as well. “Our defenses underground are good. Certainly could use improvement, true, but good. Our defenses above ground, however, are sorely lacking. And the first and best means of defense is being able to see an attack coming.”

“If we build these guard towers, not only are we giving ourselves eyes where we were previously blind, we are showing nearby clans and bandits that we will not tolerate encroachment on our territory. The surrounding clans are smart enough to realize this is not aggression on our part, rather us wanting to protect what is already ours. We are only wanting to see our own territory flourish, but we must ensure that we do not lose said territory. I wholeheartedly support the construction of these towers.”

She sat back. The proposal, as expected, passed with unanimous support, Ire's included. Her job, at least for the moment, was done. Time for training, then. Even a guard tower wouldn't make up for her slipping up at a critical moment for lack of practice. She walked out of the room, throwing a respectful nod Ire's way as the council adjourned.

INVENTORY

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