Abysea's dragon Epsilon

Personal Style

Apparel

Skin

Scene

Physical Attributes

Battle Stats

Measurements

Length

3.72 m

Wingspan

7.03 m

Weight

539.66 kg

Genetics

Pearl
Wasp

Pistachio
Bee

Sand
Filigree

Hatchday

Jun 18, 2021
(2 years)

Breed

Adult
Wildclaw

Eye Type

Water
Bright

Level 1 Wildclaw

EXP: 0 / 245

STR

AGI

DEF

QCK

INT

VIT

MND

Lineage

Parents

Offspring

none

Biography

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EPSILON Palace Resident

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Epsilon woke to an assassin in his room. In his nest, even. Poised over him, waiting for him to die.

“Oh, love,” he purred, wrapping his claws around the hilt of the dagger driven point-first through his chest. “Now that’s just silly.”

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The pearlcatcher stumbled back in shock as Epsilon pulled the blade out and tossed it casually to the side while getting to his feet. The assassin dove for the open window and Epsilon sent a bolt of lightning at the shutters, slamming them shut and transferring an electric zap to his would-be killer, making them yelp in pain.

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HOUSE: Wavecaller
JOINED: Y24
DEMIGOD: Yes
MAGIC: Divine

HATCHDAY: Jun 18, 2021
ELEMENT: Water
DEITY ALIGNMENT: Tidelord

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STORY Everyone has one to tell.

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Epsilon

“No need to be hasty,” he tsk-ed, running his claws down his chest to smooth the ruffled fur and stretching his wings; flexing them threw off small blue sparks of electricity, creating a soft buzz in the air. Observing the fear in the pearlcatcher’s eyes as they retreated into the far corner, he thought, Why not a little more? and let his eyes suddenly blaze with crackling lines of pale fractals.

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The assassin cowered as Epsilon stepped forward into the center of the room, his wings spread wide to allow the dancing lightning to flare and jump into the air, throwing strange misshapen shapes of light against the shadowy walls.

Epsilon let the moment stretch, then closed his wings and cut off his power, plunging the room into the previous dark of night. All dark but for his eyes, softly glowing blue still. He yawned and stretched, and with a twitch of his tail, unlatched his door to open access to the hallway.

“I should hardly be your first target,” he informed the assassin. “Third generation royalty—” he laughed— “I hardly have political significance. Your best bet would be at least my cousin, two rooms down, on the left, cough cough, and besides, I’m hardly as annoying as them.” He gestured with his tail again, as if shooing a servant. “Go on, then. Trot along.”

The pearlcatcher remained stuck to the corner, hardly seeming to breathe. “So it’s true,” they whispered, staring at him. “You are immortal. A god.”

“Demigod,” Epsilon corrected, then grinned. “But yes. Immortal. It’d take a lot more than that little kitchen knife to slay one such as I.” He paused, considering. “Alas, my cousin as well. More’s the pity.” He grinned again, to let the assassin in on the joke.

But they only continued to stare.

“There would have been easier ways to find out,” Epsilon said, to fill the silence. “Like, taking our word for it. Is this how you usually get answers to things? Stab them?”

“That is Shade-born metal,” they hissed suddenly. “A blade forged by the blacksmith elders of the Tangled Wood. It is poison to every living thing.”

Epsilon dismissed that. “Every mortal thing.”

“Every living thing,” the pearlcatcher insisted. “Give me a Deity, and I could slay them with that dagger.” Their voice was shaky with impassioned belief, and the threat spoken with an intensity and desire that made Epsilon twitch with concern.

He stepped closer, leaning down to examine the assassin closer. “You need help,” he observed. Their lip curled, but he pushed past whatever snarled objection they’d been about to say. “No, really, like some real help. Yikes.”

He moved to the entrance and called for a page. He gave the young dragonet a set of instructions, sent her on her way, then turned back to find the pearlcatcher trying to sneak around him to get at the dagger. He slammed a clawed foot down on their forelimb, pinning it to the floor. They moved as if to attack with their free claws, and Epsilon tutted a warning, tapping the sharp tip of his long raptor claw against a tendon in their wrist.

“One wrong move, and a quick slice, and you’ll never wield a blade again,” he said quietly. “Neither that dagger nor any other. If you tell me you’re ambidextrous, then I might as well just do it for fun.”

They locked eyes with him, malice in their gaze, but uncertainty too. Slowly, their claws lowered back to their side. Epsilon used his tail to sweep the dagger around to his right, away from the assassin, and picked it up with his other foot, transferring it to his foreclaws. He twirled it a bit, watching how the pearlcatcher’s eyes darted to follow it, then held it point-down over their head.

“How about a deal,” he invited. “Consider this: either I kill you now, with your own blade. I love an ironic twist. Or. You become part of the household.”

Though they must have heard his orders to the page to have a room on the servant’s level prepared for a guest, the pearlcatcher’s ears still twitched in surprise.

“Join you? Why . . . ?”

Epsilon tilted his head, a rush of electricity flaring the feathers of his crest and making them stick out alarmingly. “I’m getting rather sick of ill-informed assassins running amok in our palace. You’re the furthest any have ever got. I’d like to make use of that talent, point your blade away from us.”

“Even your cousin.”

He sighed. “Yes,” he agreed heavily. “Even them. Well?” He readjusted his grip on the dagger hilt, lowering it so its tip just ever so barely didn’t graze their scales. “What’ll it be?”

They held his gaze and didn’t flinch. “One condition.”

Epsilon liked a little impertinence, to argue with the one who held your life in his claws. “Hmm?”

“That dagger. It’s mine. That is the one thing I’ll require.”

Not even food? Epsilon thought, amused, but kept the comment to himself. “Condition on your condition.”

Their eyes narrowed, and they all but spat, “What?”

Oh, they wanted this little trinket bad. Epsilon made a mental note to look up the definition of Shade-born in the royal library. He leaned in close. “Earn it,” he purred into their ear, then straightened, whirling the dagger away and stepping clear of his new acquisition to let them stand up.

His page returned, and Epsilon handed the pearlcatcher off to her to be escorted to their new quarters. They followed her out of the door quietly enough, though they did throw one last dark glare over their shoulder before departing. Epsilon recalled he’d forgotten to even ask their name.

He returned to his nest, flopping down and curling up with a huff. Maybe, finally, he could now get some sleep. One night of undisturbed rest. That would be a nice change.

by foureclipse

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ART and other info

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^{Pure Gen 3}

by me (Abysea)

Bio graphics from here. Adopt lineart from here. Familiar pixels from here

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Exalting Epsilon to the service of the Tidelord 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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