Morgan
(#75183089)
She/her | Detective
Familiar
Harlequin Stagwing
Click or tap to view this dragon in Predict Morphology.
Energy: 0/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Plague.
Female Pearlcatcher
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
4.04 m
Wingspan
6.17 m
Weight
418.02 kg
Genetics
Shadow
Stitched
Stitched
Cherry
Flair
Flair
Crimson
Capsule
Capsule
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 1 Pearlcatcher
EXP: 0 / 245
STR
7
AGI
6
DEF
8
QCK
5
INT
5
VIT
8
MND
6
Biography
THE INVESTIGATOR
∙ ∙ ∙ ∙
Morgan is a detective, and well-suited for it. Headstrong, yet rational and compassionate, she is the first dragon her clan turns to whenever something unexplainable happens. However, her personality often leads her to recklessness and disregard for her own safety.
Once, she disappeared for several days while on a case. Her clan set up a search, and when they got to the edge of the woods, they found her—bleeding and feverishly muttering about wolves and moonlight.
∙ ∙ ∙ ∙
Morgan had never seen Winnie’s workshop before, but with one glance she knew something was very wrong. Wooden puppets were strewn everywhere in splinters, or irreversibly tangled in their own strings. Winnie was attempting to untangle several puppets when Morgan arrived. Her pet strangle root was curled in her lap.
"Do you know what happened?"
Winnie shook one of her heads, while the other remained focused on the knot in her claws. "I came in this morning and found it like this." She nodded to the corner where her workbench sat. "And look, over there. The puppet I was working on is gone."
There were claw marks, all over the table, but none like Morgan had ever seen. They looked dull, but oozed with a burning black liquid. Morgan wrinkled her nose. It smelled suspiciously like Wormwood's mixtures.
She stepped closer, and winced in surprise when she stepped in some of the liquid. The stuff was tracked all over the floor, showing the frantic path the perpetrator must've taken.
"I'm on it," she assured the hermit, and followed the tracks outside. The footprints became clearer in the grass, having burned a clear path of ovals in the ground.
"I wouldn't go into the forest if I were you," Winnie said gruffly, following her out the door.
Morgan rubbed her bandaged neck, nodding. "I appreciate the concern. I'll be careful."
***
It didn't take long to find where the tracks led. She stopped just a few paces away from it, a scorched wooden puppet lying in a puddle of goo. It wasn't clear to Morgan what it was supposed to be. Or rather, what it used to be? It had a head and a body, but it wasn't clear if it had too many legs or too few.
Shaking her head, she bent to gather some leaves to bundle up the mess and return it to Winnie. From behind her, a strangled gurgle made her hair stand on end.
She whipped around. The puppet staggered to its feet. Its head twisted unnaturally, jolting every time the creature moved. Its eyes dripped with black ooze. Its mouth opened with a sickening crack and let out a screech that left her ears ringing.
Morgan watched for a horrified moment as the thing staggered towards her, screeching and rattling. Too many legs, for sure! was her last coherent thought before the puppet launched forward.
Frantic, she slapped at the wooden beast, but it held on tight. It clawed at her. The acid bit into her hide. With a terrified roar, she grabbed the thing with both foreclaws and smashed it against the ground, over and over, until it stopped moving. She gave it one more bash against the ground for good measure, ignoring the burn. Howling, a dusty specter launched out of the puppet's mouth, and skittered off into the dark.
Morgan shuddered as the specter's cries echoed among the trees.
"Case closed?" she murmured, then crumpled as her strength left her, and her vision faded to black.
∙ ∙ ∙ ∙
Morgan is a detective, and well-suited for it. Headstrong, yet rational and compassionate, she is the first dragon her clan turns to whenever something unexplainable happens. However, her personality often leads her to recklessness and disregard for her own safety.
Once, she disappeared for several days while on a case. Her clan set up a search, and when they got to the edge of the woods, they found her—bleeding and feverishly muttering about wolves and moonlight.
∙ ∙ ∙ ∙
Morgan had never seen Winnie’s workshop before, but with one glance she knew something was very wrong. Wooden puppets were strewn everywhere in splinters, or irreversibly tangled in their own strings. Winnie was attempting to untangle several puppets when Morgan arrived. Her pet strangle root was curled in her lap.
"Do you know what happened?"
Winnie shook one of her heads, while the other remained focused on the knot in her claws. "I came in this morning and found it like this." She nodded to the corner where her workbench sat. "And look, over there. The puppet I was working on is gone."
There were claw marks, all over the table, but none like Morgan had ever seen. They looked dull, but oozed with a burning black liquid. Morgan wrinkled her nose. It smelled suspiciously like Wormwood's mixtures.
She stepped closer, and winced in surprise when she stepped in some of the liquid. The stuff was tracked all over the floor, showing the frantic path the perpetrator must've taken.
"I'm on it," she assured the hermit, and followed the tracks outside. The footprints became clearer in the grass, having burned a clear path of ovals in the ground.
"I wouldn't go into the forest if I were you," Winnie said gruffly, following her out the door.
Morgan rubbed her bandaged neck, nodding. "I appreciate the concern. I'll be careful."
***
It didn't take long to find where the tracks led. She stopped just a few paces away from it, a scorched wooden puppet lying in a puddle of goo. It wasn't clear to Morgan what it was supposed to be. Or rather, what it used to be? It had a head and a body, but it wasn't clear if it had too many legs or too few.
Shaking her head, she bent to gather some leaves to bundle up the mess and return it to Winnie. From behind her, a strangled gurgle made her hair stand on end.
She whipped around. The puppet staggered to its feet. Its head twisted unnaturally, jolting every time the creature moved. Its eyes dripped with black ooze. Its mouth opened with a sickening crack and let out a screech that left her ears ringing.
Morgan watched for a horrified moment as the thing staggered towards her, screeching and rattling. Too many legs, for sure! was her last coherent thought before the puppet launched forward.
Frantic, she slapped at the wooden beast, but it held on tight. It clawed at her. The acid bit into her hide. With a terrified roar, she grabbed the thing with both foreclaws and smashed it against the ground, over and over, until it stopped moving. She gave it one more bash against the ground for good measure, ignoring the burn. Howling, a dusty specter launched out of the puppet's mouth, and skittered off into the dark.
Morgan shuddered as the specter's cries echoed among the trees.
"Case closed?" she murmured, then crumpled as her strength left her, and her vision faded to black.
Lore and playlist by ceruleansky
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Exalting Morgan 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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