leoxx » Lair » pseidolakei

pseidolakei

(#86001185)

seeking, finding

lucarus

Serthis Support

Energy: 0/50

Personal Style

Skin

Scene

Physical Attributes

Battle Stats

Measurements

Length

10.05 m

Wingspan

8 m

Weight

7128.26 kg

Genetics

Royal
Bee (Gaoler)

Violet
Opal (Gaoler)

Hatchday

May 05, 2023
(1 year)

Breed

Adult
Gaoler

Eye Type

Shadow
Common

Level 1 Gaoler

EXP: 0 / 245

STR

AGI

DEF

QCK

INT

VIT

MND

Lineage

Parents

Offspring

Biography

P S E I D O
L A K E I

(sai-dough-lah-kay) • sentry • he/him

GUARDING

"the plague is spreading too quickly."

SEARCHING

S C R A P T O W N

____________________________

BETWEEN the three gnawing regions of plague, shadow and water lies a strange area. Here, shadow's muddy silt is churned into foam by the sea's waves, and baked into rock by the desert sun; leaving behind a flat, lifeless plain where the ground feels almost as hot as actually walking on the sun itself.

You'd think nothing would survive here, but it seems life always prevails, even in the domain of death and rot itself. A scrubby settling of tents and canvas-draped stalls buzzes sleepily with life as the sun sets. Food stall owners uncurl from their siestas and light fires under their great braziers, splashing oil into wide, rusted pans and tossing in scraps of questionable meat. Trinket sellers and wandering salesdragons pack up their wares and head into the desert, to hide them away lest they are stolen in the darkness. Gambling-masters and bartenders get to work setting up rickety tables on the rocky ground.

Most of the dragons who live or squat or pass by here are small, scrawny and tough, wisened adventurers with no time for nonsense and wicked glints in their red-blue-purple eyes. It's the big ones who don't survive here, their musclebound physiques ultimately working against them in the burning climate. For that very reason it's hard to ever see something like a Gaoler in this scrappy little border town.

And yet here he is, a miserably-slouched purple and gold figure slumped over a table that looks liable to give out at any moment. Surprise! A Gaoler in the flesh, glittering in the dying sunset. Sipping some disgusting-looking beverage out of a tin can with a hole in the side. Ah, he's attracting so many looks, but his aura is so gloomy that nobody dares approach him.
________________________________________

WATCHING

"that's why they sent me here, after all..."

PROTECTING

SHE

"seems a little foolish. you don't just talk to a god."

AZAHETH

M E E T I N G

____________________________

ALL but one. Pseidolakei takes another sip of the (frankly disgusting) beverage in his talons and thinks of his home, with its steady, cool mud and glimmering darkness. The land of plague is nothing like it, despite its proximity. The biggest difference is the heat, the endless sizzling wickedness. There's no respite from it.

And suddenly, with a screech and an alarming creak, the empty seat next to him is pulled out and taken by... hm. He doesn't process it for a moment (what do they put in the spirits here?), but once his head clears he finds himself staring into blood-jewel eyes that look exactly like his. Another gaoler.

She seems completely at home here - of course she does. Her eyes are proof enough. She has her own rusty mug of bitter drink, and in the talons of her other hand she holds a pair of dice. She speaks, and it's strangely disarming, which puts him on edge right away.

"Hey there. Are you one of us?" She tilts her head to the side slightly, and a wink of red flashes from her ear. He frowns, confused, and that seems to be answer enough for her.
"Ah, I see. Let me rephrase. What Order are you from?"

That, he can answer. "I'm a Sentry. I'm from the prison due east of here." He's never been one for travelling: he grew up near the prison, and so he became a guard for the prison. It didn't matter how much his mother told him he could have been more. That had always been his goal. Sometimes, though, he wonders... "And you?"

She hums. "Mm... that's not really important. My name's Azaheth."

"Pseidolakei."

"Well!" Azaheth takes a long sip of her drink, and then grins at him. "It's nice to meet you, Pseidolakei," (and she pronounces it right the first time around, which is rare). "Why don't you tell me what you're doing all the way out here over a game of Luck?" The dice clink together as she tosses them on the table: double snake-eyes. Lucky.

He doesn't really have anything else to do, really. Why not?
________________________________________

PLAGUE

"it was nice meeting you. i doubt we'll ever meet again."

A STORY

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Exalting pseidolakei to the service of the Plaguebringer 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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