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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
4.62 m
Wingspan
5.65 m
Weight
672.9 kg
Genetics
Blood
Pharaoh
Pharaoh
Vermilion
Sarcophagus
Sarcophagus
Obsidian
Capsule
Capsule
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 13 Wildclaw
EXP: 7784 / 45676
STR
7
AGI
6
DEF
7
QCK
6
INT
6
VIT
6
MND
7
Lineage
Parents
- none
Offspring
- none
Biography
No, you do not realize...
...I'd kill to feel alive.
[R E C E N T A R T]
[Slate021]
Original Skin:
[Misplaced]
[vettel]
FuzzyMelon wrote:
The tale of Audenburgs eve:
Long ago, in a time of turmoil and waning hope. A little town lay nestled within the shadowbinders lands. The town of Audenburg.
A community of tradition and steadfast hope, they were a friendly light in a rather gloomy time.
And so each year at the fading of winter they held a festival. One of warmth and food made of citrus and tang. It was a celebration to honour those lost to the icy bite of winter just as much as it was a show of hope for the year to come.
And yet one year, upon the day of Audenburgs eve. Disaster struck.
The citizens seemed to go mad. Some fought and squabbled, their reasonings unknown beyond the desire to cause harm. Others ran and hid. They shunned visitors seeking shelter from the violence, threatening all those who came near.
And each day the chaos festered. Livestock was culled en masse, the farmers claimed they were acting strange, unnatural. They raved about how their precious cattle had been cursed, eerie red eyes peeling open on their hides.
Eggs were abandoned as their families claimed they warped and twisted, growing spines that radiated a haunting red glow, pulsing crimson veins bursting from their shells
The town was helpless as the next winter came, food seemed more scarce than a sane mind. The only remaining dragons seemed to be those with the least sense, locked in their homes as they screamed through the nights. Until finally, as Audenburgs eve came once again, the town fell completely silent. Not a soul left to breathe the now putrid air, the warmth of spring allowing for the townsfolk to rot.
Hope was never meant to last so long. It was simply inevitable really. The town had merely been helped along with its destiny.
At the edge of town stood a line figure, cloaked in a darkened shroud. A dense mist spilled out from their hood, pouring over the jagged Ruby smile that gleamed in the morning light.
This town's despair would keep them from hunger for a good few decades, a wonderful meal that they had let simmer for years.
Perhaps, one may wonder about the eggs. They needn’t worry, they weren’t so cruel as to steal an unborn life.
After all, why destroy livestock before it could be harvested.
Long ago, in a time of turmoil and waning hope. A little town lay nestled within the shadowbinders lands. The town of Audenburg.
A community of tradition and steadfast hope, they were a friendly light in a rather gloomy time.
And so each year at the fading of winter they held a festival. One of warmth and food made of citrus and tang. It was a celebration to honour those lost to the icy bite of winter just as much as it was a show of hope for the year to come.
And yet one year, upon the day of Audenburgs eve. Disaster struck.
The citizens seemed to go mad. Some fought and squabbled, their reasonings unknown beyond the desire to cause harm. Others ran and hid. They shunned visitors seeking shelter from the violence, threatening all those who came near.
And each day the chaos festered. Livestock was culled en masse, the farmers claimed they were acting strange, unnatural. They raved about how their precious cattle had been cursed, eerie red eyes peeling open on their hides.
Eggs were abandoned as their families claimed they warped and twisted, growing spines that radiated a haunting red glow, pulsing crimson veins bursting from their shells
The town was helpless as the next winter came, food seemed more scarce than a sane mind. The only remaining dragons seemed to be those with the least sense, locked in their homes as they screamed through the nights. Until finally, as Audenburgs eve came once again, the town fell completely silent. Not a soul left to breathe the now putrid air, the warmth of spring allowing for the townsfolk to rot.
Hope was never meant to last so long. It was simply inevitable really. The town had merely been helped along with its destiny.
At the edge of town stood a line figure, cloaked in a darkened shroud. A dense mist spilled out from their hood, pouring over the jagged Ruby smile that gleamed in the morning light.
This town's despair would keep them from hunger for a good few decades, a wonderful meal that they had let simmer for years.
Perhaps, one may wonder about the eggs. They needn’t worry, they weren’t so cruel as to steal an unborn life.
After all, why destroy livestock before it could be harvested.
Holding for @/opoponax!
5.5kg with skin!
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