Ague
(#70555787)
Level 15 Mirror
Darnel
Pinpush Mirror Doll
Click or tap to view this dragon in Predict Morphology.
Energy: 50/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Plague.
Female Mirror
This dragon is hibernating.
This dragon is under the permanent effect of a Silhouette Scroll. A toggle on the dragon's profile allows swapping between the artwork poses available for the breed.
Expand the dragon details section.
Collapse the dragon details section.
Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
4.14 m
Wingspan
7.8 m
Weight
429.21 kg
Genetics
Beige
Iridescent
Iridescent
Blood
Current
Current
Blood
Crackle
Crackle
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 15 Mirror
EXP: 657 / 60881
STR
62
AGI
6
DEF
8
QCK
33
INT
5
VIT
11
MND
6
Biography
PROFILE
Name: Petronius Lucillus Ague; Archivist Ague
Gender: Male Pronouns: He/Him Profession: Archivist, Researcher, Crotchety Old Git. Interests: Maintaining his archives. Pristine order. Not having to deal with idiotic, prideful Necros who think they know everything. The freedom to follow the true path of Plague, as the Plaguebringer tells it, and not as interpreted by corrupt, selfish, arrogant Councillors. TREASURES
Regardless of those who might call him heretic, he still bears the Plaguebringer's blessing. He bore it long before he chose any sect, after all.
Ague's personal journal, full of his notes, thoughts, records he deems important and essential correspondence. It is never far from him.
An old dragon needs a mobility aid - but his is far more than just that. Few know what magic he can wield with this staff. 
Ague has been failed by those who follow Plague before - but he has never been failed by Plague and the Plaguebringer herself. 
REPAIR TOOLS 
ARCHIVES 
FAVOURITE FOODS 
WHENCE HE HATCHED  There are tent cities in the Scarred Wastelands, where defeated clans, stripped of a home, settle to live. They are not, by any means, easy places to live. It was in one such that Ague hatched. It may, perhaps, have informed his view on some things. MILOSNICE  To this day Ague adores Milosnice and all he learned there; he is happy to have become its keeper. He wanted to learn more, he wanted to learn all he could of Plague and, though he took a detour, it was here that set him on his path. THE TRIALS  Everyone knows the Trials are hard. That hardly stopped Ague from walking to the brink of the Wyrmwound to take them, unminded by any mentor. And yet, he thought later, his independence in taking the Trials had not made him as arrogant as some. BELOVED ARCHIVES  He did love the Archives. He poured his heart and blood and soul into them, shaped them to the very sigil of their goddess. He took everything of use when he left. It was clear that the Council no longer cared for truth or facts, only their own egos. RETURN TO MILOSNICE  Milosnice was worn when he returned - tended, but worn. Likhoradka had been it's only visitor in some time. Likhoradka had known, of course. A vial of the True Strain waited for him in his old laboratory, ready for his choice. THE NEW WAY  Ague never expected to end up splitting his time between Milosnice and the Ashfall Wastes - and yet here he is. Without his old status, without his old sect - but with something new and better in the form of the Pathogenecytes, and the Order of the Broken Bone. FAMILIAR 
Familiar: Pinpush Mirror Doll
Name: Darnel. Personality: Stubborn but friendly. Very particular. Darnel was originally simply a pincushion Ague kept nearby for when he was re-binding old books. Sewn by his mother, it was one of a few tokens he had left. He had not expected how, one day, Darnel stood up, moved across the desk, and pinned something in place on his own. The two created an understanding, via sign language and stabbing pins, and now Darnel is rarely far from Ague's desk, a protector of his papers. No one is entirely sure how he came to life - not even Darnel himself - but no one cares anymore. They're just happy to have him with them. COMPANION  
Nature: Adorned Hollow
Name: The Bookmark History: The Bookmark's exact history is unknown. What is known is that he was lost to sense when Ague Hollowed him and has regained it in his company. Generally the Bookmark is tended by Ague, Verity or Acheronta, each taking it in turn. His primary job is his name, holding tomes open to a page - but not his only job. Despite being Hollowed he has an uncanny tracking sense, especially for Plague and items of beauty, and can follow most trails to their end if so asked. Otherwise, he enjoys shiny objects, though he does not collect them, unlike some Hollows. Instead, he prefers to stay nearby, admiring them and their contrast or complement to himself. Consequently, when Ague, Verity and Acheronta cannot keep an eye on him, they set him by a shiny artefact - though when travelling he usually wraps around Acheronta's wrist. NOTES FROM AGUE'S JOURNAL On Ambition: We cannot be if we do not strive - we will not survive nor grow nor become something new. But ambition can become our downfall. If set utterly on a path, if failing to consider others - other opinions, other dragons - our ambitions may distance us from not only one another, which we might survive alone, but from the Plaguebringer's miasma as well. Take not such a foolish choice. Consider your ambitions. Consider your faith. Consider your allies. Make sure all align before you tread your path. On Scars: Scars come in many forms. Most all who have endured trials are forever scarred by the experiences they went through. Most all warriors bear scars from the battle they fight. But it does not do to forget the other scars - the invisible scars - borne by those hurt, traumatised or abused. The cruelties, witting or not, by any dragon can leave a forever mark on any other, a scar that is not only invisible to most, but often far harder to heal and far beyond the simple disease-based scope of our kind. On Sacrifice: Sacrifice is an interesting thing. In the stubborn independence found in our kind, most eschew sacrifices entirely, believing them a waste: we must gather our own strength, after all, and to discard it in hope of benefit, well... why would the Plaguebringer accept such a weakness as hope? But I believe there is more to it than that. Many a Priest from another flight has found their birth magic limited or altered by their bond to the element they choose - a sacrifice many do not know of before their dedication and do not recognise even after. In those who do, it is accepted as the price of the bond they choose - a sacrifice, perhaps, by another name. On Entitlement & Arrogance: Many Plague dragons are the height of arrogance - some even with each other. They determine that they and only they know best, and that those who disagree should be scolded and berated into agreeing. Few seem willing to explain and argue in honest good faith; instead our flight's competitiveness creates confrontation where there doesn't need to be any. Worse is when these individuals feel a need to impress these ideas and ideals - not any facts behind them - upon the young and impressionable, scaring them out of their own opinions, no matter how justified. It is they, more than any, who drag us into the past, who refuse to accept new discoveries, who hold to one opinion no matter what and refuse to admit their error. I cannot stand it, those of such arrogance as to think their beliefs can override the truths that may yet be discovered. On Sacrilege, Heresy & Freedom of Information: Many claim that any heresy is sacrilege and, perhaps, they have a point. Others claim that even to listen to something to determine if it is a heresy is sacrilege and that, I think, is where my patience runs out. We alone are not arbiters of every truth or lie. Others will have perspectives we do not, will see things in ways we do not and be capable of things we cannot replicate. To assume that we, through naught but our own reason and what we may glean from a goddess who pushes for us to better ourselves - who does not hand down absolute fact and truth often - is folly. I find no sacrilege in listening to something. Be it ultimately a heresy and grand sacrilege to our goddess, or be it a new facet of her truth - we cannot know if we do not listen and if we do not investigate. Those who refuse to listen, who stay stubborn within their comfortable bubble of what they personally have determined to be true and never step a foot outside of it - those are the ones who commit the greater sacrilege in my eyes. We are challenged by Her, our Lady of Plague, to better ourselves. How can we not if we refuse to challenge ourselves, if we refuse listen to and study a heresy to ascertain that that is what it is? To refuse to listen is to refuse to learn, to refuse to learn is to refuse to change, to refuse to change is to refuse to better oneself. And that our Lady has taught us, that is sacrilege. |
Don't damage the books.
And put them back in the right place! PERSONALITY An absolute crotchety old man of a dragon who prefers to be left alone with his records and his cups of tea, Ague started studying Plague long before most modern sects were established. Though he, with Likhoradka, discovered the True Strain, he was too impatient to wait for full understanding of it, and so sought the Necromantic Trials as a means to further his understanding - he regretted that impatience ever after, and has since encouraged all who ask him to look at the facts and to seek firm facts rather than to leap on hope, possible ideas, and rumours. Ague loves his archives more than most anything else and, as the Head of the Necromantic ones, they were gutted when he left, as he took every text he could. He had created the Archives, after all, and maintained them, and the vast majority of texts there were ones he had obtained himself. Besides, he knew where every record was kept - and where every body was buried. Generally Ague is a taciturn dragon, preferring peace and quiet to socialising and noise. The only beings he is generally quiet or gentle with are hatchlings and his specific companions - Verity, Acheronta and the Bookmark - and he sees no reason for gentleness with Likhoradka, though he is friendly with her and a few others. A PRIOR CASE "You have been brought here today," Ague says, "In order to defend your keeping of not just one lich, but two." He looks down from his high position, looking down his nose and through the lenses of his glasses to where Aerugosanguis and Pleurisy sit, in deference to his rank, before he glances back to the parchments he holds. "A... Cuprica and a Ciamorz, I do believe." He sets the papers into his scrollcase, removes his glasses. "This is not a full jury case. This is not yet before the full Council. But this is a preliminary Trial to see if we need to intervene." At his side his quiet fae 'servus hovers, taking his scrollcase and setting it down with care. "How do you defend yourselves?"
--
"I don't have any touch of Shade left in me," Ciamorz said to Pleurisy, turning his teacup in nervous claws. Around them Xylon and Feronia bustled, tending their plants and sliding a plate of biscuits across the tabletop. "Pallida stripped it from me when we met. I- I don't know how she did it. I don't even know if she knows how she did it. She just... did." "You're still marked," Pleurisy said, gesturing at the dark slashes on Pleurisy's hide. "You're no regular Mercy, even if Dragana sired you-" "Dam," Ciamorz corrected. "She's my dam, not my sire." "Dam," Pleurisy agreed. "But even you must agree-" Ciamorz's gaze fell to his cup, still turning in his claws. In the early morning sunlight the steam shimmered softly, the blue-grey glaze of the teacup glistening softly with the small flakes of mica scattered through it. "The Shade leaves its marks." His words were quiet. "You- you accept it because you believe it. Whether it lies or tells the truth you have to accept it of your own will or- or you're something else. I don't know what the Shade-taken become, but those who accept willingly- we wanted it there, for one reason or another. We don't want to be alone or... or we don't want to be powerless, or to be so empty of any connection. Even if we manage to reject it or another manages to take it from us- we're still the person who accepted it in the first place." In the soft morning light the very edges of his mane shifted and shimmered into smoke before settling like soot against the rest. Slowly, his gaze rose. "I did this to myself," he said. "Even though Pallida saved me, I have to live with what it. She pulled me out of it, but its effects are still there. The reasons I did it are still there. I may be free of the Shade but I won't be free of what it did, or I did or- or anything else. I'll bear the marks, unless I decide I can't and beg Bilberrios to help me disguise my failings." The breath he let out then was quick and forceful and decisive all at once. "But I won't. I won't turn from or hide from or disguise that. I cannot be better if I do that. Pallida- Pallida seems to think I can be more than I was. That I can come to terms with who I am without turning to the comfort of something else. So I shall try to, and that means my flaws too. But- only me. Not anything else. There is no Shade left in me."
--
Ague hums, slow and steady, nodding thoughtfully. "Interesting," he says. "If a Paleblood can purify a lich from Shade-" "She is a Paleblood with no bond left to Plaguebringer," Aerugosanguis cuts in. "While she has faith I think she is- she is more connected to the Presence and I do not think many would welcome her here." Ague watches him, considering. "If I may add," Pleurisy says, staring up at his fellow mirror. "I would point out that Ciamorz was a Mercy Lich. His interaction with Plague is something altogether more lean than our own. I do not know if Pallida could do the same for a necromantic lich, let alone do so and leave their connection to Plague intact. Indeed, neither she nor Ciamorz are sure she can repeat what she did. She seems to treat it as a moment of magic and divine revelation. A miracle. Not something she can do as she wills." For a while there is silence. The blue-clad servus flutters up to her master's ear and whispers something, passing him a heavy tome almost as large as herself, a page marked by a shimmering bookmark in the shape of an even more minute fae dragon. Ague accepts the book but does not open it just yet. "I see," he says. "But you are sure he is clean of Shade and that this Pallida can keep him in check if not?" "She is touched by Moonlight," Aerugosanguis says simply. "The light that shines in the dark. She can bring it to bear when Shade or Shadow arises; it is effective against both. It is not the same as purifying, perhaps, but it does its work well enough. It helps Cuprica, when the Shade lashes." "Yes," Ague says quietly. "Cuprica. Why do you keep her?"
--
"I never wanted it!" Cuprica's cry was a pitiful thing, small and reedy even now she was grown. "I never wanted the Trials, I never wanted to- I was a child-" "I know, dear heart." Aerugosanguis' voice was soft. He'd had so much practice with his own offspring, it was almost easy to soothe the coatl. Around her a deep magenta feathercroak twisted and turned, its handlike forepaws patting and soothing as much as it was able, even as Cuprica hugged her cuddly toy to her like a lifeline. Gently, just as he would with Intestinum when he was younger, just as he had with Ondine, he stroked her skull, the feathers that emerged where on him there were horns. "The Shade preys on those weak - not weak in nature, but those who are in a position of weakness compared to it. We do not blame you." "I just wanted to live," she said. "I don't want-" she flicked her claws, let the barest wisp of Shade loose. "Don't," he said softly. "The more you use it-" "The more it consumes." There was something almost dead to her voice. "Pallida - you know her, our new companion?" Cuprica nodded. "She managed to strip the Shade from Ciamorz. We know now that it can be done. We will find a solution for you." For a while they were quiet. Cuprica's room was a small, cozy space, mimics that were immune to her magic keeping her company where most dragons were too fearful too. Even Necromancers rarely visited her, except to try to find a solution - though now Ciamorz was with them, he visited on occasion, to offer some little advice. "I never wanted to be a Necromancer." Cuprica's voice was small. "I don't- if that's what it takes. If that's what it takes to take the Shade from me, I'll give it up. I'll give up the Plague and-" She looked up at him, imploring. "I never wanted it," she said. "I just wanted to survive."
--
Ague's eyebrows have risen as the clan's first and second Necromancers explain. "I see," he says. "You are not the only ones to try to cure a lich, you know. There are researchers here-" "They treat their subjects as objects," Pleurisy objects. "And few of their subjects seek curing, as I was given to understand. They're captured dragons brought in by Crusaders and Holy Knights." "A few are volunteers," Ague replies. "But yes, in the most part." "I believe," and Aerugosanguis' voice is slow and clear and measured, "that treating them as objects or doing this against their will will not help. Pallida cleansed the Shade from Ciamorz by pushing him to realise how he'd been lied to, pushing him to reject it on his own before she brought down the Moonlight. I believe, if we are to cure Cuprica, we must ensure she continues to have a reason to want it gone herself, and a belief that there will be those who care about her on her own merits once it is gone." He shakes his head. "Denying her personhood in the goal of curing her regardless of her choices or nature will not help. If anything, I fear it will make her cling to the thing that, as far as she is concerned, saved her when she was forced to take the Trials she never wanted to take." Ague watches carefully before, slowly, opening his book. He moves the draconic bookmark, slowly moving it to wrap around his wrist while he looks over the page. "Ah, Verity," he says softly. "You are a clever dear. Yes." He looks down to the two Necromancers, absent their entourages. "You will be given researcher passes, to mark that you are allowed to keep a limited number of liches in your care - two, to be precise. Should the status of either change, you must notify the Council - a letter to me will suffice, or to one of the older instructors." When Aerugosanguis and Pleurisy nod and bow, Ague smiles and picks up his bone gavel before bringing it down once, twice on it's anvil. "I declare this Trial concluded." RECENT HISTORY He has given years to this. He gave his heart and soul and his self to this. He believes - he believes more than most, he knows - in what he has done all his life. But now, looking at the squabbling, looking at the refusal of those with rank to do anything to intervene... "Verity," he says, bundling up the last of his records and artefacts and placing them into the enchanted bag his assistant had brought for him. "Acheronta. Are you ready?" Verity tilts her head, blue eyes calm and watchful. "Always, master." Acheronta, when he looks, merely tilts her head back, laughing silently. The Bookmark has been carefully coiled around her neck. "We are ready, Archivist," she says. She does not say what more he knows she could. She is a Mercy, after all. She knows better than most the cruelty his kind have always been capable of. He appreciates her silence as he now finally moves to leave. "We go to Milosnice," he says. "Verity, you will keep up?" She flexes her wings, and her chitinous adaptations too, the coral crown atop her head and the kelp that flows from it following the motion. She repeats what she has always said, clear honesty and utter faith. "Always, master." It is a long trek they mean to make.
--
Milosnice is old. Milosnice is his childhood. Milosnice is long abandoned but when he brushes his claw over the door the enchantments fall away and let him enter. "Hmm," he says, sweeping away the dust that coats the hall - aside from a few great footprints, loosely scattered. "Likhoradka has visited, I think." Verity's eyes are wide watching him, Acheronta's curious. The Bookmark watches, but is otherwise still. Then again, the Bookmark rarely moves unless asked to. "Set him down," he says to Acheronta, and watches as she gently pries the minute, compacted Fae from her neck. "There is a lab here," he tells the Adorned. "It is full of crystal. It has been far too long since last I was here, but treasure is your goal. Find it for us, won't you?" The Bookmark stretches slowly, tiny wings - so tiny, even tinier than Verity's - shimmering like metal in the dim light. At his waved hand Acheronta breathes out flame and lights the candles that mark the space, illuminating them. "We have a choice to make," he calls as the Bookmark makes his darting way through the old and dusty halls. "Assuming Likhoradka was kind enough to leave me my samples. Acheronta I do not know if it can touch you. The Bookmark has always been of it. But Verity-" He sighs, and watches his quiet, careful companion. "You have ever been a loyal friend," he says. "But I will not ask you to leave what you chose to follow me. It is your choice, what comes to pass here for you. No matter what." There is what might be a smile playing around Verity's mouth as she follows him down the hall. "Master," she says, almost reproachfully. "Always."
--
The lab is old. The doorway is dusty. The glassware is pristine. "Likhoradka has been by recently," Ague murmurs, taken aback. He knew his old friend was prone to visiting, to making use of Milosnice in his long, long absence, but he had not thought she would have visited- But then Likhoradka had long ears, didn't she, given what she was. He should not be so surprised that she or her kin would know to visit and to prepare what he was most likely to seek first. There is a parchment sheet beside the rack of vials on the worktop. He resolves to read it after. "There will be a syringe," he says over his shoulder, lifting the vials and assessing them. "Verity, if you would?" Verity flutters off, Acheronta picks up the Bookmark, coiling him around her wrist before stepping near. "That's an unusual strain," she observes. "It- it does not appear to be food." Ague huffs a dry, dry laugh. "I would be surprised if you could consume it, child. No. This is... it is special. It is the True Strain. It can- it has the ability to make us more." Acheronta hums, tapping the vial he's holding up to the crystalline light of the room. "More," she says. "Necromancers claim to be more." "Yes," Ague says. "But you can eat them, if you choose." "If they don't fight back," she agrees. "But this-" "It only goes where it is willingly sent," Ague says. "Unless a Reaper claims it. Ah, thank you Verity." With care he draws the sample. With care he folds back his sleeve. With care he washes his skin. "Acheronta, I am going to ask you to do something," he says. "And I do not know how you will feel about it. But - and this is important - I ask you to trust me." He makes himself meet her burning eyes. "I do not do anything for no reason." "No," she agrees. "What do you want of me, Archivist?" This is it, he knows. This is the point of no return. "Devour me," he says. "Every drop but my own native magic. But make sure I remain alive."
--
It is agony. It is agony to feel the Plaguebringer's claws torn from his flesh, the Necromantic strain pulled free, that low-singing connection ripped from him - Neutralisation, that which only his rank is said to be capable of. Neutralisation inflicted on a Necromancer. As he watches, he sees his skin Tarnish. Dragons go through this every day, he knows. Dragons go through it against their will. Dragons are forced to endure it because another thinks they know the will of Plague better, thinks that they are superior - but will not do anything when it truly matters. His hands are shaking. "Verity," he says, and there is a tremble in his voice that has never been there before, no matter how tired, or starved, or old he has become. "Please-" Verity has yet to make her own choice. She has never denied him his. With careful practice she slides the needle into his flesh and depresses the plunger. And the new Strain - the True Strain - bursts forth.
--
His aches ease. The Tarnish vanishes. He knows this Strain, even if he has never made it his own, and he holds it close, guides its path as Pathokinesis and Pathogenesis awaken within him. He has had practice in sister arts, has he not? His skin brightens, then darkens, then softens, then settles back as it had been before. His Necromantic marks remain: he will have to alter that, once he has decided how he shall specialise. Blood, he thinks. Blood and fluid and this very Strain that he found, those years ago, but dared not make use of when still so new to everything. It would have been so easy to call him heretic, if he had then. Now, he has no care if he is; they are all heretics, one way or another. "Master-" Verity's voice is soft and uncertain and he meets her gaze. "This choice you must make for yourself," he tells her. "It is not the Plaguebringer. It is not Necromancers. But it is every disease and every possibility itself." "It is different," she says. "It is not what you sought," he corrects. "But with it, you could be everything you ever hoped." Verity's eyes fall to the syringe - empty now, and in need of cleaning, but Acheronta is there, raising it to her lips and draining what remains until it shines pristine. Verity's eyes return to him. "Master," she says. "Do you promise me?" She has given him such faith, over the years. Such utter honesty, true to her name. He cannot give her anything less in return. "Verity," he says. "Always." RELATIONSHIPS
|
Lore & Code by EssayOfThoughts. Graphics are hyperlinked. Colour codes from Mikann's Font Color Picker. Avatar icons from Starrlight's Icon BBCoder.
Click or tap a food type to individually feed this dragon only. The other dragons in your lair will not have their energy replenished.
This dragon doesn't eat Insects.
Feed this dragon Meat.
Feed this dragon Seafood.
This dragon doesn't eat Plants.
You can share this dragon on the forums by either copying the browser URL manually, or using bbcode!
Exalting Ague to the service of the Flamecaller will remove them from your lair forever. They will leave behind a small sum of riches that they have accumulated. This action is irreversible.
Do you wish to continue?
- Names must be longer than 2 characters.
- Names must be no longer than 16 characters.
- Names can only contain letters.
- Names must be no longer than 16 characters.
- Names can only contain letters.