Firedawn » Lair » Maddie

Maddie

(#71989892)

Level 11 Veilspun

Familiar

Slight Eyewing

Energy: 0/50

Personal Style

Skin

Scene

Physical Attributes

Battle Stats

Measurements

Length

0.47 m

Wingspan

0.9 m

Weight

2.11 kg

Genetics

Hatchday

Aug 28, 2021
(2 years)

Breed

Adult
Veilspun

Eye Type

Arcane
Common

Level 11 Veilspun

EXP: 15774 / 34264

STR

AGI

DEF

QCK

INT

VIT

MND

Lineage

Parents

Offspring

Biography

xxxxxx

THE MACHINE
AKA: Variable 2
Fettered | Kind | Empty

She was born into the world with a mouth full of red, and a perfect, piercing scream to attach to her sobs.

It was an ungodly birth: that is what he had crowed to her. A wretch, a shivering hatchling. Abandoned in the Arcanist’s domain. It was only sheer luck that he had stumbled upon her, taken a look at her crooked shell, and decided, against his own mind and the world’s judgement, to take her in. Despite the fact that he was a scientist, and had no use of a dragonling: or did he?

Don’t worry, said he, his mouth dripping pleasantries faux as a lie. I’ll find use of you yet.

And use he did. Threw into the metal cages of his Forges in the Great Furnace, tainted her with his experiments, tore her apart by her nameless-name. Day by day, he ensured misery was the sole sustenance she had to feed upon. For the duration of the days she has been alive, and for the duration of the days she has to come.

The only solace she had found were in the birds. First came the nightingale; she had always watched them sing, even out in the desolate scenery of the Ashfall Waste. If they would let themselves hope, then so would she.

Next came the crows. Harbingers of unluckiness, and of doom, so came their legends: but she has been subjected to too much misfortune, and too much tragedy, to be nonplussed by their presence. So they became friends: she would feed them the rats in her cages, and in return, they would keep her company.

Last came the cuckoos. They were almost transient, in their beings: so jubilant, so free, so mad, really, and she liked that quality within those creatures. One perched upon her bars, and the next did, and the rest followed. They’d taught her their song: and it was a soft one, till lunar night had touched their wings, and they’d become manic, frenzied. Alive and alive and she desired that quality within those creatures.

There comes a day, where pain is pain and she is done with pain. There comes a day where Levine tries, a little too hard, to shove her in her cage.

There comes a day, where her birds retaliate. Flocks of screeches. Tears of teeth. Rakes of red. Until he is nothing but a heap of a mess upon his workshop ground, and she is breathing, and red, but alive, alive, so mad and lively and alive.

Crow to me, she had whispered, bitter ecstasy leaking from her throat, after you’re dead.

She swipes the still-glowing sword from the counter, fresh from the Forges.

She slams down.

A snap. A cackle. A last breath, from the monster that has tormented her for the duration of her life.

A year after the deed is done, she visits his carcass in the Waste. His body grows hatchlings in Slavers’ Row, cradling the chirps of cuckoo birds, shivering in their eggs. For they are better suited to snow than the harsh crags of the Ashfall Waste, and Levine’s body is just metal enough for their protection.

Too cold. That is what plucks her lips, as she scoops the birds from their home.

They will live. As she does, now.

When they are strong enough, and when they are old enough, and when they are wise enough: she will let them go. But not from cages, no; they are her companions. They will not weep in a gilded cage, or cry like a canary. No: they will live in their cuckoosong, fuller than the fullest sound! They will live where she could not live. That is what she desires for them.

xxxxxx

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Click or tap a food type to individually feed this dragon only. The other dragons in your lair will not have their energy replenished.

Exalting Maddie 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.

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