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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
21.2 m
Wingspan
18.51 m
Weight
8608.18 kg
Genetics
Red
Savannah
Savannah
Cottoncandy
Hex
Hex
Carmine
Firefly
Firefly
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 1 Imperial
EXP: 0 / 245
STR
6
AGI
6
DEF
6
QCK
5
INT
8
VIT
8
MND
6
Biography
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 A Z R A E L 
BARGHEST LORE AND LINEAGE PROJECT
GENERATION VI MORGANA'S LINE NAOMI G5 | IGNIS G5 
A compulsion to dance fills those ensnared by the traveling circus and its patrons. It is said to be run by beasts that feed upon the dances and minds dreamers until they are nothing more than mindless shells. This is the tale of the Barghest, Azrael |
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The Night Circus always appears at dusk. It unfurls amidst the dusty air, its tents spreading open like the wings of a great beast and its lights glittering like a thousand shining eyes. Among mortals, the Night Circus is a place of fairytale and most brush it off as a mirage. A simple trick of the last vestiges of light. Indeed, the Night Circus was never meant for mortals. It beckons instead to those who have already passed from life - a lure for those lost spirits who perished amidst the endless desert sands. It pulls them into its embrace - striped canvas parting to reveal its dark interior. It feeds upon these spirits, but on occasion a living mortal staggers in through the tents as well. The circus welcomes them all the same, for most of the living are not long for the world. Soon they pass and the circus devours them too. It is from the remains of such travelers that new life emerges. They are creatures crafted from the same dark magic that dwells within the tents, its tendrils reaching out and wrapping around the remains. . . yet the magic pulls other things in as well. The first of such creatures were not born beneath the full moon’s light, but they still inherited the curses of other beings that the circus swallowed. They were among the few things that emerged from the dark maw of the great tent, their forms concealed within a tangle of performer’s clothing and scraps of the same canvas material that comprises the circus itself. Like their mother, the beasts of the circus lure their prey with promises of spectacle and wonder. Perhaps a quiet voice beckons in the night or the soft chime of bells rings out from the darkness. “Come one, come all!” The circus’ children whisper. The entry is written in faded ink, a date scrawled at the top of the page next to a short title that reads “Masquerade”. It is the account of former dancer, Eloise Hardt regarding a strange dream. "I have always been a sleepwalker. Ever since I was a child, I’ve found myself wandering at night. I suppose I’ve been lucky that that the repercussions have never put me in any real danger, but they have certainly led to a number of bizarre and awkward experiences over the years. I’ve always dreamed vividly as I’ve wandered in the night, but even so, I've never strayed past the threshold of the front door. I presume that I sleep walked on the night that I found myself standing before an enormous circus tent. The thing was an expansive canopy of darkly striped leathery fabric that appeared to blend into the midnight sky above. There were others wandering about as well, the silhouettes of staggering dreamers drawn into the maw of that dark tent by the faint stream of light that glimmered from within. I too felt a strange compulsion to wander closer, not lucid enough to experience the sense of danger that such a place should have elicited. There was an eerie humming that echoed on the air, the tune of circus music emanating from somewhere deep within the tent. I wandered inside, filing in beside the other dark silhouettes. I realize that I could not make out the features of anyone around me, their forms were covered in extravagant layers of costumery and their faces obscured by masks. Was I wearing a mask as well? To be honest, I couldn’t be sure. We filed silently into the heart of the tent and I was surprised to find that it opened into a massive ballroom with a polished checkered floor of black and white tile. The room was already filled to the brim with dancers and I joined in naturally, moving as if entranced. I found myself grasping hands with a dance partner, but neither of us spoke a word and I couldn’t discern their identity past the mask that obscured their face. I just remember that their hands were strangely cold. I woke up after that feeling fatigued and remember that my feet were sore. Since I started having that dream, I’ve been back to that dance floor every night. I’ve had friends and family stay over, and none of them have seen me stray from home during my sleepwalking escapades. Still, whenever I close my eyes, that circus ballroom is waiting for another dance. I am not so sure anymore it is simply a dream, but it is becoming harder and harder to wake up.” We attempted to reach out to Ms. Hardt several months after this account and found that she had fallen into a coma. She has not regained consciousness, but at night she can be found dancing. Bystanders also report that her shadow appears misshapen, as if it were cast by a grotesque hound. - A. Rowan
Layout and artwork by awaicu
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