Morpheus
(#79096945)
Of the endless | he/him
Familiar
Corvid Lamp
Click or tap to view this dragon in Predict Morphology.
Energy: 50/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Wind.
Male Imperial
This dragon is hibernating.
Expand the dragon details section.
Collapse the dragon details section.
Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
28.02 m
Wingspan
22.8 m
Weight
5857.65 kg
Genetics
Flint
Boulder
Boulder
Aqua
Bee
Bee
Grey
Stained
Stained
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
╭- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - ╮
⚔
M O R P H E U S
king of dreams
╰- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - ╯
bio template by squidragon
code mods by shanncrafter
⚔
M O R P H E U S
king of dreams
╰
bio template by squidragon
code mods by shanncrafter
|
Every realm has its dwellers, and among the dwellers, there are guardians. Morpheus was such a being. His purview, however, wasn’t a physical plane: It was the Dreamscape. He drifted through the realm, intangible, without form. He was a vast and knowing presence, completely aware of all that transpired in his domain. The Dreamscape was aptly named, for when other beings fell into slumber, all their dreams and nightmares tumbled freely through the realm. One might think of the universe as a beehive: each hexagonal cell a single vast world, and the waxen walls between them as the Dreamscape. It connected and separated every realm at once, and Morpheus’ awareness thrummed along it unceasingly. He was a lord with no subjects, but not a lonely one, for the dreams of reality’s denizens entertained and amused him. As each sleeper awoke, their dreams dissolved; Morpheus at times shepherded these half-awake minds back to their own worlds. He knew of the lands that lay beyond, but had no desire to explore them—here in the Dreamscape, after all, he was supreme. And the barriers between reality and dreams had to be guarded. To allow those walls to fall would be disastrous. Yes, the Dreamscape was safe while only dreams danced through its fields. Anything else would be considered a threat—and the Lord of Dreams would deal with them as he saw fit. ~ ~ ~ When mortal beings teetered on the edge of sleep, Morpheus could sense their minds. They fluttered just beyond the veil, like moths bouncing gently against a windowpane. But as the long years passed, the gentle flutter crescendoed into knocking—until it was a ceaseless drum of sound, each clamoring mind indistinguishable from the rest. They were myriad beings from equally varied worlds, but they all had this in common: They wanted to enter the Dreamscape even though they weren’t sleeping. Morpheus still recalled the soul who suddenly appeared, wide-eyed, in a cloud of glittering golden fish. The intruder’s eyes bulged even wider, and while they made no sound in the Dreamscape, the sudden force of their terror scythed through the plane like a hurricane. They screamed and screamed, writhing and contorting—and Morpheus felt their mind shatter just before they disappeared back to their world. “Insanity,” he sighed as he blew the fish scales away. “An excellent deterrent—no one will follow them now.” But in this, he was wrong. If anything, that brief glimpse of the Dreamscape, revealed in the babbling of that maddened soul, ignited the curiosity of their fellows. At times Morpheus wondered if their madness had spread, like a disease, into other realms. For this unfortunate soul was but the first of many intruders in the Dreamscape. Dreamers came from many different worlds and species; so too did these travelers. Some emerged as more adept—or obstinate—than the rest. Among them were the elves of Sornieth. Their dreams were often among the most vivid and wondrous, shot through with threads of glorious music or overflowing with scintillating colors. With their great mental and psychic prowess, many of them were able to consciously shape their visions. Morpheus permitted this, for the elves did so while they were asleep—and once they woke up, even the most carefully wrought dream-empire swiftly crumbled away. But there came a time when the elves’ dreams made Morpheus uneasy. In them, he glimpsed designs for vast, sorcerous devices called Star Scryers. “To draw energy from wishes...pull down knowledge from the stars...” “These devices won’t encroach upon my realm. All will be well,” Morpheus thought. But he couldn’t shake the feeling of unease. The elves used the scryers to move their cities. They crossed vast spaces in split-seconds, the cities disappearing and instantly reappearing elsewhere. One Star Scryer remained with the elves, and another was bestowed upon their dragon allies. For a long time, indeed, all was well...until the elves realized— “If we can cross this realm so easily, surely we can cross into other realms as well!” In the city of Civetta, the elves began drawing up new plans. They would craft another Star Scryer—but this one, Oneiric, would transport the elves into the world of dreams. Morpheus bridled at this. The Dreamscape had always been open to those who abided by its laws, but these elves still wanted more. He would not allow them to physically invade his realm. He could not. For however Morpheus felt about these travelers, the fact remained that if anybody invaded the Dreamscape—body and soul—then the veil between all the realms would be damaged, perhaps irreparably so. And who knew what would break through then? ~ ~ ~ Morpheus had some power over sleepers’ minds. He’d always been loath to exercise these abilities; he preferred to let dreams develop as the sleepers saw fit. Now, however, as the builders of the Star Scryers slept, he reached into their dreams. He twisted these visions into nightmares, poured feelings of dread and pessimism into them. He forced some of the elves back into wakefulness so that their sleep was intermittent. He buried certain memories, whispered words of incoherence... The result was that while awake, the builders struggled with their work. They complained of fatigue; many grew short-tempered and forgetful. Some declared that the project was a terrible idea, and they withdrew completely. Others, as time went on, inched slowly towards insensibility...or insanity. Morpheus took no joy in this. The nature of the Dreamscape was such that he couldn’t reveal himself wholly to these beings, couldn’t fully explain why such measures were necessary. To do so would drive the dreamers completely mad—and would thin the veil between worlds even further. Still, he reasoned, with enough small inconveniences, the elves would eventually tire of the endeavor, perhaps even forget about it. They could even believe that the project was cursed, for all he cared. But Morpheus hadn’t reckoned on the elves’ divination skills. They weren’t powerful enough to fully discern his name or nature, but they soon realized that something in the Dreamscape was actively undermining their work. And so they cast spells of shielding and protection, guarding their minds and their work from this mysterious, dream-dwelling presence. Morpheus was no longer able to peer into these sleepers’ minds, no longer able to erode their thoughts. He no longer knew what the elves would do. Would they continue building the Scryer? Or would they realize their folly, and end it before it truly began? It was a slim chance, but it was all Morpheus had, here in the ever-shifting expanse of the Dreamscape. His hopes, unfortunately, proved to be in vain. The elves’ realization that this unknown presence had been working against them only strengthened their curiosity. They became even more determined to enter the Dreamscape—and confront the presence that had dared to interfere with them. Their work remained arduous: Crossing space was one thing, but crossing realities was another. They conducted countless experiments, attempting to follow their people’s dreams into the Dreamscape. “Don’t think of it as yet another failure—think of it, instead, as another step closer to success,” counseled Nikephoros. A venerable Light elf, he was one of the heads of the project, and among the most ancient of the sorcerers. He pointed out how the scryer was brimming with energy. “It’s storing power...preparing for something,” he said, his eyes alight with anticipation. “Such devices are alive...and what a stalwart heart this one has! It wants to succeed as much as we do, and neither should we waver.” And one bright summer day, the Star Scryer opened a rip in the air. Just a small one, only a couple of feet long and a few inches wide. But through it, they glimpsed— It was wonder and delight, everything they’d dreamed of...everything they’d dreamed! And the shadowy presence on the other side could do naught against them now, for their minds remained armored and warded... “We’ve found it! We only need a little more power...and then we’ll open a portal large enough for all of us—” “No!” Morpheus’ bellow reverberated through the Dreamscape. Infused into that single shout was all his power, all his denial of the elves’ invasion. The whole realm trembled, and even the rip wavered just before it snapped shut.... The elves’ enchantments might have been faulty...or had the Dream King’s roar affected the scryer, somehow? Had it been damaged during that experiment? Whatever the reason, when the Star Scryer was deployed again, it ended in disaster. The elves compelled it to open a larger portal into the Dreamscape—and the device imploded. It collapsed into the rift it had opened, and as it did, it exerted a terrible pull on everything around itself. Most of the elves were able to get clear in time, but Nikephoros was not so lucky. He was not the only one drawn towards the Star Scryer. Morpheus felt the device’s pull as well, claws of invisible magic dragging him towards the rift, twisting and changing him. He fought to get loose even as it crushed him. He felt the panic from the elven architect, felt the same fear rising within himself as he became aware of the power brimming within the scryer. It was still active. And the magic contained within it needed to burst loose.... It exploded through the Dreamscape like an asteroid crashing into the sea, sending pieces of sorcery and machinery in innumerable directions. In the aftermath of the blast, there were new rips in the veil, places where reality blurred together with dreams...and nightmares. These passages stood unmended—and unguarded. Morpheus, the Dream King, was no more. ~ ~ ~ Morpheus did survive that disaster. But when he next awoke, he was no longer wholly the Dream King. The accursed Star Scryer had forced him out of the Dreamscape—and in the process, it had fused him into Nikephoros’ body. The elven architect’s awareness was still there, flickering like a candle. But Morpheus, using all his powers of somnolence, lulled him into slumber. Nikephoros’ mind went dormant...and now Morpheus himself shivered as he felt the sensations and emotions of a physical body permeate his mind. It was all so new and so strange—so vivid, so real, to the point of being painful. He lay there for a very long moment, slowly absorbing the sensations of this strange new... That was when he realized this world wasn’t new—he’d seen it in dreams before. “Sornieth,” slumbering Nikephoros sighed, deep within his mind. Morpheus took stock of his situation. Nikephoros’ body was at least intact—he didn’t want to consider what would happen if the architect expired. Would his awareness be forced out again? Or would he remain bound to the body even as it rotted away? Nikephoros himself would not be much help. Morpheus still recalled the panic that had flooded him, and knew that if the architect were allowed to regain full consciousness, he would likely go mad. The Dream King didn’t want to risk being overwhelmed by that madness as well. One thing was certain, though: The Dreamscape had to remain guarded. Morpheus would have to find a way to shed this body—and return to his realm. ~ ~ ~ A dark, mist-shrouded night. Outside the Cathedral, all was still, and the click of the doors opening seemed strangely loud. It took Sebastian a moment to separate the visitor from the fog: He seemed to be as pale and insubstantial as it was. But the invitation he carried blazed like a golden star. “Welcome to the Cathedral of Eyes,” growled Sebastian, standing aside for him. Morpheus murmured a reply. His countenance was calm, but inside, he was tense. Despite the invitation he held, he wasn’t really supposed to be here. It had been centuries since the star scryer had pulled him into Sornieth. Since then, he had searched for a way home, all the while struggling with the limitations of his mortal body. After dwelling in the Dreamscape for so long, in many ways, the latter had been a much greater challenge than the former. But he was not completely powerless: He still had some of his dream magic, though it was much diminished; he had mastered Nikephoros’ inborn elf magic, too. And he had persevered, despite numerous setbacks: attempting to reach the city of Civetta...finding it had fallen into ruin...searching for clues to that accursed scryer, any scryer... In the course of his wanderings, Morpheus had learned that other parties had become interested in the lost elvish scryers. These mysterious black-and-gold dragons scoured the continent, collecting notes and blueprints related to Oneiric. Morpheus had always been several steps behind them, but his persistence hadn’t been in vain: He had surprised one of them one day, a Nocturne combing through an old, ruined library. She had fluttered away like a startled bird, leaving this invitation behind. “So I might not have the device’s blueprints, but I know that they are here. Perhaps it was for the best that I couldn’t catch those dragons, after all.” Morpheus smiled into his whiskers. “They did all the work for me.” He and Sebastian reached a parlor, and the doorkeeper rumbled, “You may rest here. An attendant will be along to assist you shortly.” “Many thanks, doorkeeper.” The dark Imperial strode away. As soon as Morpheus was sure that he was alone, he cast spells of concealment and protection upon himself. Within the next hour, he would retrieve the blueprints and be off. He would rebuild the scryer himself—and he would return home at last. These were the thoughts uppermost in his mind when, many minutes later, he found the precious blueprints in a library. “At last,” he sighed, unrolling the first sheet. He reveled in the sight of all those complicated diagrams and incantations... And then he paused, startled. For the ink was disappearing, the lines rapidly crawling off the paper. In the light of the lamps, the suddenly-blank parchment gleamed like a panel of beaten gold. The inked lines crawled up Morpheus’ forearms; he felt them digging into his scales. Thickening, growing tighter, lengthening into chains.... The parchment burst apart like fireworks as something fountained up from it. Golden scales, a spade-tipped tail, brilliant yellow eyes— And the hiss of what could only be a demon, whispering in his ear: “Caught you.” ~ ~ ~ Morning dawned, quiet and hazy, over the Cathedral. Shilo rose early—she didn’t really want to, but her work beckoned, and she hoped that the sooner she started, the more she could accomplish. “It’s a good thing Cipher’s so patient.” She was aware that the golden Spiral had a bad reputation in some quarters, but it had been nothing but genial and understanding towards her. And this was only reaffirmed later when Cipher came to her study. “A moment of your time, Shilo...” “Yes, Cipher. Is there anything I can help you with?” “Actually, I’d like you to meet someone who can help you.” Shilo’s ears perked up. She followed Cipher to the library. As the doors opened before them, she felt something curling around her toes. She looked down and saw a strip of yellowed parchment, but it crumbled to dust as she shook it off— “This is Morpheus. He’s agreed to assist us in our endeavors.” The younger Imperial stammered a quick hello. Her new...assistant? Could she call Morpheus that? He was probably a few years older than her. Or wait—perhaps much older? There was something in the pallidness of his whiskers, the way his green eyes bored into her— She realized Cipher had been speaking, and she focused on his last sentence: “Shilo is one of my most loyal workers—as I trust you will be, too.” “That is...understood.” Morpheus’ mouth barely moved; he seemed to be having trouble enunciating. Shilo had heard that Cipher sometimes had that effect on people. She could sympathize; those golden eyes were disconcerting sometimes. “Now, Shilo, Morpheus has a great deal of knowledge that will be useful to you—you need only question him. And if he gives you trouble,” Cipher added with a slow smile, “let me know.” The Spiral glided away, and Shilo turned towards her new...perhaps the correct word for Morpheus in this case was mentor. He stood by a desk, as gray and gloomy as a gargoyle. “So...you’re from the Windswept Plateau?” It was banal, but it was a good place to start. Unfortunately, Morpheus did not seem interested in small talk. He stared grimly back at Shilo, his face expressionless. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry. Uh, I guess we’d better get started, then? This work is so esoteric...that is...It’s good you’re here. Help is always welcome. If we complete this project, we’ll be able to replicate the elves’ experiments, perhaps even surpass them. It would be incredible!” “Perhaps.” The voice was very quiet. Shilo looked towards Morpheus again, but his face remained impassive, and his gaze was focused on the rows of books before them. She considered prodding him further, getting him to talk about himself. But that wasn’t really her way, and it didn’t seem like he was willing to converse, either. Perhaps it was for the best.... Had Shilo been more persistent, or Morpheus more loquacious, it was entirely possible she would have learned of Cipher’s true designs right there and then, would even have disavowed them immediately. But Morpheus distrusted her, and he had every reason to do so. He didn’t know her, and after all, hadn’t the demon itself called her one of its most loyal workers? No, the Dream King decided it would not be prudent to confide in her so quickly. He would have to be more resolute and careful, for the Dreamscape—and indeed all the lands that lay beyond—were in even more danger now. He bleakly recalled Cipher’s words hours earlier, after the demon had bound him— “This Cathedral will be your prison, Dream King. The next door that opens onto the Dreamscape will be for me—and your realm, too, will be mine.” ~ written by Disillusionist (254672) all edits by other users |
Click or tap a food type to individually feed this dragon only. The other dragons in your lair will not have their energy replenished.
Feed this dragon Insects.
Feed this dragon Meat.
Feed this dragon Seafood.
Feed this dragon Plants.
You can share this dragon on the forums by either copying the browser URL manually, or using bbcode!
Exalting Morpheus to the service of the Lightweaver will remove them from your lair forever. They will leave behind a small sum of riches that they have accumulated. This action is irreversible.
Do you wish to continue?
- Names must be longer than 2 characters.
- Names must be no longer than 16 characters.
- Names can only contain letters.
- Names must be no longer than 16 characters.
- Names can only contain letters.