Blackvine » Lair » Sihaya

Sihaya

(#72282137)

Level 21 Nocturne

Familiar

Barkskin Watcher

Energy: 37/50

Personal Style

Apparel

Skin

Scene

Physical Attributes

Battle Stats

Measurements

Length

4.94 m

Wingspan

4.7 m

Weight

483.65 kg

Genetics

Green
Basic

Garnet
Basic

Caribbean
Basic

Hatchday

Sep 10, 2021
(2 years)

Breed

Adult
Nocturne

Eye Type

Earth
Swirl

Level 21 Nocturne

EXP: 19531 / 127509

STR

103

AGI

DEF

QCK

INT

VIT

MND

Lineage

Parents

none

Offspring

none

Biography

Your name is Sihaya. You don't remember anything else.

Rules of the Challenge:
. Sihaya must fight alone, unless she finds and hatches an egg. Then she may fight with the hatchling.
. No items may be used unless they are either won in a fight, or bought on the market place with hoardsold loot. Preferably, stick to things won in fights.
. Food is an exception.

She fights constantly. For food. For safety. To keep them away.

She rarely wins.

She can fly faster than her enemies. That is why she is still alive.

Level 3
She is stronger, now. She wins most of her battles. She has grown. Her den in the meadow seems smaller.

Sometimes, she finds beautiful things. She keeps them with her.

Once, she found something precious. It hummed with power that she could not wield. Once, she found a carved stone so cold it burned her skin.

----
Level 4
Her den is too small to hold her. The forest looms ahead. She doesn't dare leave the path.

Level 5
She builds herself another den beneath the roots of a tree.
She remembers a scrap of her past. She makes ink. She writes with a talon.

Level 6
She finds a young coral basilisk in an empty nest. It follows her. She hadn't realized she was lonely.

Her basilisk seems to have befriended one of the vine-serpents. It follows at a distance.

Level 8
The forest burns. She flies fast and far. Smoke darkens the sky. The roar of of the fire drowns out every sound.
Even when the forest turns to ash, the crackle of flames never quiet. New predators move in. Beastclans scout the wreckage.
Her treasures burn. She finds new things. The Centaurs carry gold with them.

She takes out the owlcat journel. The script is familiar. The language is not.
Buried deeply in the roots of a burned tree, she finds an ancient chest.

She traces the carvings. Few words remain, but enough to go along with the pictures. Enough give her an idea of the story.
Level 9

She sees another dragon. It is dead. The camp has already been looted. Little remains.
She opens the book. She immedately understands why it was left behind.
It must be in code.
She can't make out a word.
She grabs a forgotten scrap of fabric from the camp and flees.

There is a river running through the forest. It is warm and sluggish and polluted by ash. It had fish, before.

_____
The ashen forest ends. The river splits into many. She hates the burning wood, but she knows it. The sand and light of the delta is new to her. She is naked beneath the unbroken sunlight.

Level 10
She will never return to the scorched forest. Never again.

She sleeps by the river. She dreams of ice. It clings to her waking memory.

Level 11
Beyond the delta is forest, but not the forest she knows. It blooms with color and the grass grows thick across the ground. The dryads walk this wood, and they are dangerous.

She finds a scroll. The words are powerful, and yet she can't comprehend them. Her eyes slide off the writing. She dreams of silken hair when she sleeps.

A sun polished stone. Too bright to look at in the sunlight. She brings it with her.
The blooming woodland is nothing like old forest, before or after it burned. Something of it reminds her of the fields where she lived before. (She hadn't hatched there. But she doesn't remember living anywhere before. But she must have. No one taught her how to read or write, and yet she can.)

Why does she keep wandering? She could stay here. In the blooming forest or the banks where the river splits. She doesn't hate them. She knows the delta like she knows her own blood. And yet she can't force herself to stop. There is something inside her that pushes her onward, towards ever darker and bloodier climes.

The dryads fade back when she defeats them, returning to their trees to heal themselves. One of them returns to her in peace, holding out her hands.

"How long has it been?" the dryad whispers to her. She doesn't understand. The dryad laughs.

Level 12
The grove is beautiful, and yet it will never be enough. She digs herself deeper and deeper into the flesh of the earth. There is something beneath. One day, she finds it. The caves are old and dangerous. She is careful.
The dryad returns. It laughs at her.

She's lost count of all the beautiful, useless trinkets she's collected. But this is different. It resonates, silent, strong. It is hers.

The caverns beyond are blank and empty. There is nothing else for her here. She can not find the way back to the flowering grove. She surfaces behind a waterfall, in a forest of leafy, branchless stalks.
Level 13

She does not remember a hatching, or a childhood. She has no way of measuring her age. She doesn't remember coming to those old meadows, but she remembers being unused to them. It gives her a headache to think about.

Another dream, this time of a sinking ship on an ocean.
She has never seen either an ocean or a ship. Why does she know what they are?

One day, she stares into a pool of water and her eyes are different. She doesn't understand. She doesn't understand.

Another scroll. Still she can not read it. But it feels like rough fur and cold duty beneath her talons, in a way she can't quite explain.
Level 15
Her days pass in a haze. She fights past a stormy-filled golden grassland. She collects nothing but scars. She keeps no permanent lair. There is nothing she can do but travel onward. No end. No rest.

It's the ocean that breaks her. She can not swim, and her wings are not strong enough to fly. It is jarring, a sudden barrier that shouldn't be there. She collapses upon the sand, burying herself beneath it, and when she wakes she feels almost like herself again.

She can not cross the ocean. But there must be a way around.

There is less that is beautiful, here. But collecting is a habit. It keeps her steady.

Sometimes the Maren try to talk to her, though she always keeps her distance. She can never understand them. It's odd. At least a few of them should know the language of dragons, shouldn't they?
Level 16

As she slowly makes her way along the coast, a memory- she thinks- comes to her. How to heal herself in the thick of battle, using the shed blood as power. How could she have ever forgotten?

Level 17
She travels onward. The earth splits open, bleeding light and heat. She is strong enough to withstand the heat.
(That forest fire seems like another lifetime ago.)

---
Vivi. Her basilisk, still with her after all this time. It brings her a gift, found who-knows-where. A pair of jeweled earrings, just slightly scorched.

Level 18
Past the burning mountain, plant life thrives, growing and spreading and strangling itself reaching for sunlight.

She travels though the rainforest for days. The air is clear and damp, and there is birdsong again.
She lingers for longer than she has in a long time.
And like an cruel omen, snow begins to fall.
Level 19

It's cold. Cold enough that she finds herself collecting furs more than anything else. Cold enough that she almost misses the smoke and magma. Almost.

Who has she seen?
One dragon, dead. A diary she could not read.
Beastclans, a multitude of them. Some aggressive. Some avoidant. Some seemingly friendly. None of them that could speak to her.
A dryad, laughing. "How long has it been?"

She hasn't had the time to think. Or maybe she's had too much time to think.

No other dragons. No beastclans that knew her language. Nothing written that she could understand, save for a carving that must be ancient.

She decides to stop thinking. She distracts herself in digging beneath the snow.

The gloves are dragonmade. They are like a salvation.

It's not that hard to make a teapot, given earth magic and inspiration. Hemlock needles make for a decent enough drink.
Tea is meant to be shared, though. Did she ever?

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0/1000

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 Sihaya to the service of the Shadowbinder 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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