ShadowWyvern15 » Hibernal Den » Chehehnessa

Chehehnessa

(#73479824)
Dance with us, oh spirits departed and present living!
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Familiar

Coursing Skira
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Energy: 50/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Plague.
Female Nocturne
This dragon is hibernating.
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Personal Style

Apparel

Igneous Iguana
Amber Flourish Necklace
Autumn Woodtrail
Autumn Woodwing
Fossil Facsimile
Boneyard Bard
Autumn Woodbasket
Conflagrant Kilt
Mystic Sage Tassel

Skin

Scene

Scene: 8th Anniversary

Measurements

Length
5.3 m
Wingspan
4.94 m
Weight
720.28 kg

Genetics

Primary Gene
Orchid
Poison
Orchid
Poison
Secondary Gene
Cream
Toxin
Cream
Toxin
Tertiary Gene
Antique
Ghost
Antique
Ghost

Hatchday

Hatchday
Nov 04, 2021
(2 years)

Breed

Breed
Adult
Nocturne

Eye Type

Eye Type
Plague
Uncommon
Level 1 Nocturne
EXP: 0 / 245
Meditate
Contuse
STR
4
AGI
5
DEF
4
QCK
9
INT
9
VIT
4
MND
9

Biography

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Old name: Deseche

New name: Chehehi Ruln'nessa (Happy death, laughing death) [Chehehnessa]
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Memorial of the dead
Night Flame
Somehow, by wandering the streets of the strange villages-- you find yourself standing in a clearing. It is surrounded by tall glowing weeping willows and densely packed pine trees. The paved dirt path of gravel and cobble stones that has led you here-- away from the Lone cottages and Dragons' roost-- has stopped here. Now the lines of sage lanterns softly glowing in the darkness guide you to the imposing monastery and the shrines built on either side within its yard.

The magics gently ripple and cascade over your scales, your feathers, fur and skin. Calming, sullen. Humble.
For some reason you feel compelled to remain silent, roaming the clearing and approaching the monastery.
Your exploration leading you to a....cemetary. The energies here forlorn and chilling. A small structure-- a sanctuary. It looks rebuilt recently, after falling to ruins and being overrun by ivy. Behind the graveyard. Slumped, hunched over. Awfully quiet.

Stepping inside the old sanctuary, you see....a never-ending meadow. The night skies clear of clouds, bathing the field in moonlight. Is this some kind of dimenssion? Is the sanctuary secret portal to this place? Looks like it. And it's lined up with gavestones. Portraits of those who passed away, burried beneath the sands of time. What catches your eye, is that none of the circular memorial stones etched into the gravestones are greyed. In fact-- the contrary. Coloful, the characters in them seeming to be still very much alive.

Looking back at you.


Wandering down the paved path, you sweep your eyes over the graves. Skimming over the words etched onto each one. Yet you don't quite dare traverse furthur, choosing to circle around this area. For now. At least until someone appears. A guide.
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Having had a troubled life, from his dawning to his demise-- let our former leader rest in peace with honor. His betrayal forgiven, may Derradén and Timewatcher welcome him into the afterlife.

May the Arbiter not judge his deeds harshly upon reaching her divine verdict.

May the Sunholder welcome him within his ranks, amidst the legion of glory eternal.


Farewell, Vulcan. May your soul and spirit be free and filled with joy forever.

On this one's right, you notice two more standing. Having finished reading over the text, you move on. And shiver.
Gods, it's so damn freezing around here. So melancholic and silent-- deafening. Gloomy, grim. Maybe stepping through was a mistake.
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From a young age he was forced to slaughter many, used as a mere pawn by the Organization. He and his two brothers, doing his best to watch over Vulcan and Clay. Ever the diligent responsible solder, ever the respectable leader. He did many a good deeds, yet suffered having to kill his own younger traitorous sibling--- to save the withering clan. Died at his hand. Now forever shall they three rest side by side, united to never again know pain.


Now rest, devout general. Your efforts were not in vain.

You three will forever be remembered.

Well. Next gravestone's etched inscription to read, then. Still, as boring as reading a bunch of random scripts of parting words to each of the dead dragons, you unwittingly begin to piece together a picture. A picture of this clan's history, before the Revolution. You can't help but notice how vastly different the three warriors appear from each other.
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