Somnovem's dragon Unnamed

Personal Style

Apparel

Skin

Scene

Physical Attributes

Battle Stats

Measurements

Length

12.12 m

Wingspan

13.42 m

Weight

8237.27 kg

Genetics

Caramel
Leopard

Blood
Safari

Blood
Thylacine

Hatchday

Jun 26, 2021
(2 years)

Breed

Adult
Obelisk

Eye Type

Shadow
Faceted

Level 1 Obelisk

EXP: 0 / 245

STR

AGI

DEF

QCK

INT

VIT

MND

Lineage

Parents

Offspring

none

Biography

Alastrom sat on one of the mid-range ridges of the Wyrmwound, not too close for his comfort but close enough to be daring. He went through his supplies, and carved himself a comfortable nest to rest and meditate in. He meditated for many hours but felt no touch of infection. He guessed he'd try again the next morning.

Morning came and Alastrom stretched himself out and looked the sky. He then rummaged through his supplies. He had brought more than he thought he'd need, which meant he brought just enough supplies to last him the length of his trials. He then sat at the edge of his ridge and began his meditation for the day letting his eyes soft focus on the Wyrmwound before him.

When the sun rose on the third day of his vigil with no touch of the Plaguemother's gift, Alastrom grew frustrated. He'd heeded her call and returned to the land of his ancestors. The Abiding Boneyard was were The Plagubringer had let the first mirror dragons loose, and let them adapt and thrive, and yet here he sat frustrated and weary. He'd not slept the night before instead keeping a close watch over the Wyrmwound, and took note of a few of Mother's Left Hand, her Necromancers that wandered through the testing grounds. He continued to sit and gaze at the cauldron of disease before him. Praying to feel the burning touch of Mother's hand.

He felt the burning alright. A burning in his throat for a drink of water. He dug through his pack again, checking his supplies and took a long drink of his water. He then sat down at the edge of his ridge again a sour frown on his face. He still hadn't contracted his blessing from the Plaguemother yet. He still had plenty of time, but he couldn't help still feeling frustrated. He returned to his meditation and hoped that skipping another night's rest would help him grow closer to his goal.

Alastrom laid still at the edge of his perch, his body heavy and burning. Struggling he sat up and gazed at the Wrymwound, before looking over his shoulder at the stripes of infection forming across his scales. He thought about it for a moment and a grin crossed his muzzle. Mother had accepted him. Mother had blessed him. Now He'd wrestle with this new found power, until he stood tall and strong with it.

Summoning as much strength as he could, Alastrom began trying to force the plague burning through his body to calm it's self and work at his beck and call. He tried as much as he could but felt the plague stay unresponsive and still burning as brightly as it had started.

The scroll ends here, this dragon's fate must have ended poorly.

Mercenary settled himself far from other dragons taking the trials, he did not wish to have them influence or disrupt him during these sacred trials. He'd seen the power that was wielded by the Plaguebringer's Necromancers, and decided he wanted to try his hand at obtaining that same power for himself to use as a part of his kit and skills. What was adding to his portfolio but making him a much more sought after Merc?

Patience was a virtue that Mercenary had in spades. He waited for contracts, he waited for the most opportune moments, He waited for the touch of Plague. This was just a waiting game to him. A game he'd win and then continue moving forward with his career and his influence. He didn't mind this wait for he hoped the prize was worth it.

Three days had passed with no signs of infection. Mercenary looked at the nearest of the other trial-goers and frowned. Many of the ones he saw had already succumbed to infection, were they stronger than he was? Or were they infected sooner due to their faith in the Goddess of Plague? He did not need to ponder such things, he needed to focus on steeling his resolve for fighting the plague that would hopefully soon ravage his body and soul.

The morning of the fourth day came with a burning itch in his hindquarters. Mercenary scratched at it with vigor, only for it to spread and worsen. He turned his head to look at the offending itch expecting to see dry shed or something mundane but instead he found a rapidly spreading rash of red angry skin. Surely that had to be the Plaguebringer's touch. He was now a plague touched mercenary, and he couldn't help the smile that crossed his snout.

The Hazebeacon watched the Imperial's struggles for nearly 5 days before the great dragon stirred no more. Another scroll finished and ended.

The Hatchling squirmed in the claws of the adult that has snatched her from the edge of the territory she'd called home. She liked the feeling of the air rushing past her face and along her body, too young to take flight but thrilled in the sensation of mock flight as the adult carrying her ran through tunnels and caverns. Quickly they burst out onto the surface, and she marveled at the sights she'd never seen before. Then WOOSH! She was high in the air, in flight in the claws of her captor, or where they her Saviour? She didn't know, nor care, she was too amazed to think much on it.

Time passed and soon the young Imperial was grown enough she remembered the talks of the necromantic trials and of the blessing of the Plaguebringer and the embrace of the Shade. She quietly slipped from the camp and headed for the Wrymwound. It was a long journey but once she made it she found her a spot carved out a nest to lay in and began her vigil.

Days 1-5

The first few days went by quickly without much fanfare, a Tengu decided to perch nearby and watch.

Days 6-10

As the days wore on she messed with the things she found litter around her nest area. Seriously how hard was it to fall ill while so close to the Wyrmwound? The Tengu continued to perch nearby, never faltering in it's own vigil.

Days 11-15

She sat fustrated. 15 days had passed, and yet she still sat healthy. Scales unblemished and lungs clear. She swung her head to look towards the Tengu that had been her constant companion from the beginning. It looked to her and for the first time it spoke,

"Heh, Still clean I see." She blinked at the words and smacked her lips before responding.

"I am. Yet I wish I wasn't." her voice was raspy, dry and soft. She hated that she still hoped the infection would take her, but the odds were against her at this point.

"You can stay, or you can go. It's up to you. Either way I don't care."

Days 16-20

She had remained in her vigil and while her scales dried out and she itched, no infection started. The tengu hand continued to perch near-by as if waiting for something to happen. it spoke no more than it had before and she wished it would. She knew she only had a few more days. She'd see them through at least, maybe she'd get super lucky and pass with what little time remained.

Days 21-25

She stayed a few days beyond the eve of the 23rd disappointed and lost. The Tengu had left her that evening and she was alone. Slowly she picked herself up and left the Wyrmwound and wandering to realms unknown.

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Exalting Unnamed to the service of the Earthshaker 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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