Merk's dragon Antumbra

Personal Style

Apparel

Skin

Scene

Physical Attributes

Battle Stats

Measurements

Length

2.59 m

Wingspan

3.39 m

Weight

295.44 kg

Genetics

Shadow
Iridescent

Midnight
Shimmer

Midnight
Spines

Hatchday

Oct 13, 2014
(9 years)

Breed

Adult
Tundra

Eye Type

Nature
Common

Level 5 Tundra

EXP: 4311 / 5545

STR

AGI

DEF

QCK

INT

VIT

MND

Lineage

Parents

Offspring

Biography

A N T U M B R A

Scientist

Art by mokaicetea (artfight)

The room is dark for a laboratory. Shelves fashioned from bone and sinew line the space, each filled with vials, samples, bits and bobs of vaguely living things suspended in foul smelling fluids. The work Antumbra conducts with them is of a mysterious sort – for a time, he disappears into the oppressive air of his workplace, and emerges with potions of healing, of stamina, poultices that cure rotscale and molting and the first signs of gembond. Those of the Plaguebringer may relish the notion of survival, but Antumbra’s work is always appreciated, a little boost to help the young or the elderly from joining their gods too early.

How he creates his concoctions is left unsaid. A glance within his portion of the laboratory reveals only fur rustling along the shadowy outlines of his tools, the famed senses of his species allowing him to move through the darkness with an odd sense of grace. Questions of what he does or how he does it are few and far between these days; he’s deflected everything with a practiced air of his politeness since his arrival to the infested lands, keeping questions and conversations at arm’s length. Whatever social defects he has are overlooked by the value of his products, so he is allowed to work, unperturbed.

Unknown is the book tucked far into his desk. It smells of herbs and growing things, provoking a swell of memories each time he dares to draw it out. In the dark of night, he longs for the homeland it represents – the mind of a Tundra is a hazy thing, but when he breathes in the pages, he can imagine the towering trees, the fertile soil, the faces of his clanmates.

Yet the work of a spy is never done, so here he remains. Codes and secrets are scribbled, research is conducted, and through it all, he dreams of growing things, of the dizzying freshness of flowers.

Lore by Diamondsuits

Antumbra has always been too kind for his own good. It often gets in the way of his work, and is the biggest reason so many of his projects are left unfinished. Most of these projects involve test subjects, which he can't help but feel sorry for. He tries his best to make them comfortable and happy throughout the experience, but sometimes it just can't be helped.
He has become wary of open spaces due to the sheerly immense amount of time he has spent cramped in his lab. He recalls a time when he loved the outdoors and couldn't bare to be cooped up inside, but it seems to be a faded memory now. His love for nature has not died though, as one can find a few plants that grow best in darkness, most of them bioluminescent, that make up the entirety of the lighting. Unfortunately, instead of lighting the space properly, they just serve to make it look slightly creepier.
His current experiments are being rather tough in him now, as he is researching the symptoms of many diseases. This involves giving a subject the disease, and while most are simply uncomfortable or mildly painful, others make him feel he would rather out them out of their misery instead of forcing them to continue onward.
His tender heart annoys him greatly, but he knows that without it most would consider him cruel and soulless. He can't help but agree with him every time he works on his project or glances into a cage. Most times his observation notes are stained and wrinkled with tears.

He still remembers the first time he ever lost a test subject. It had been late into the night when he had awoken, the plants in the room glowing softly. He had been about to go back to sleep when he felt it. A horrible churning in his gut, as if something immensely tragic were about to happen. Sadly, this couldn't have been more correct.
He figured it wouldn't hurt to check up on his lab, standing and stretching. The sleep in his muscles made them weak as he padded toward his destination. Or at least, that's what he told himself. With bated breath, he peered into the room, and sighed when he found nothing out of the ordinary. He stood for a few moments, puzzled, and turned to plod back to his nest. But before he could leave, he was frozen in his tracks by a weak and piteous meow. He turned to stare wide eyed into the darkness of a wall lined with cages. He could only see inside one, as the subject inside was so startlingly white it seemed to nearly glow in almost any light, no matter how dim.
With a strangled swallow, he approached. Lying on its side in the cage, a single Winter Floracat looked up at him without moving her head. She croaked out another weak cry, this one hardly reaching his ears despite the reduced distance. He hurriedly opened the barred door and scooped her out, cradling her in one soft furry arm. She seemed to enjoy the soft rocking motion of him maneuvering through the darkness on three legs. He searched for an antidote frantically, but he knew it would do no good. When he found it, he cradled her head and offered it to her, a vial of liquid she could sniff. She just stared at him. He squeezed the hinge of her jaw to open her mouth, but she turned away quickly, not giving him the chance to treat her. After many repeated tries, she looked at him. Not like an animal looks at someone, no. She looked at him with an understanding he wasn't aware any animal had. She knew what it was, but sadly, she also knew it was too late. She snuggled deeper into the soft comfort of his embrace, and closed her eyes. He curled up on the ground around her and she adjusted herself, sleeping in the warmest spot she could find. he watched her as she slept, comforted by his presence in her last moments. She passed away hours later, curled in the arms of her Angel of Death, whom she had greeted like her savior.
Lore made by RinnaBear, who cried pathetically while doing so

^{neutral good}

art by CrankyCrew

Art by pheelthemoment

Art by Zerodas on tumblr

Arts by me

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Exalting Antumbra 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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