Plasma

This is Prismus.


Prismus is a bit eccentric. Born in the heart of nature, he wandered his home forest restless and unfulfilled. Many nights were filled with long gazes into the stars, wondering when he would find something to funnel his energy into.

One night, while on a routine trek to a particularly stargazing-worthy hill, Prismus watched a small white-hot sphere shoot up into the sky.


It violently exploded, shattering its essence into dozens of colorful flares in vibrant hues of blues and greens and reds, before fizzling out moments later.


That moment filled Prismus with an energy previously unmatched. He knew what he wanted to do. It was his dream- no, his passion!- to flood the sleepy sky with such dazzling arrays, to throw wonder and awe underneath the stars to give to dragons just like him.


He learned fast, acquiring an apprenticeship in the Arcanist's domain under the tutelage of a few Arcane dragons. Though he couldn't directly channel the energies of the arcane into his work, with the assistance and blessing of his comrades, he was able to make a device or two to inject the magic emanating off of the Starwood Strand and the isles themselves into his creations.

That this practice tended to make unpredictable and unstable effects in the fireworks was not considered a setback to the passionate Ridgeback, but one of the core elements of his work. After all, why should such remarkably passionate flares be predictable?