Peleyer
(#86345720)
He/Him | Second best.
Familiar
Radioactive Slime
Click or tap to view this dragon in Predict Morphology.
Energy: 38/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Plague.
Male Guardian
This dragon is hibernating.
This dragon is under the permanent effect of a Silhouette Scroll. A toggle on the dragon's profile allows swapping between the artwork poses available for the breed.
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
18.97 m
Wingspan
22.1 m
Weight
8280.55 kg
Genetics
Clay
Leopard
Leopard
Blood
Striation
Striation
Blood
Thylacine
Thylacine
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 1 Guardian
EXP: 0 / 245
STR
7
AGI
6
DEF
8
QCK
5
INT
5
VIT
8
MND
6
Biography
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PELEYER Khaladus invited him to work with her when he returned home. Awe still has its hold on him, disbelief running through his veins, as he relishes the strange sensation of realising she holds no ill will towards him, entirely absent compared to how disdain was levelled at his brothers and sisters who equally failed to prove themselves in their trials. Perhaps she sees something in him that transcends even his feeble ability to dampen rot’s curses, lingering on his gleaming eyes that see the world in ways he can barely begin to articulate. There is value to him, tangible value, that he can hold dear to his heart in a way he can’t with Kesper’s kind words about how he is still his brother and taking up the mantle of necroservi doesn’t change that. Despite the frequency of which the two of them retreat to her personal quarters, he still wears his warrior’s garb, the heft of the grimplate giving weight to his already significant bulk, and feels out of place among the scrolls and delicate equipment that Khaladus so often busies herself with when her duties to the necromantic order are done. It had been his choice, expressing his interest in devoting himself to eradicating those who displeased Plaguebringer, though this too is something he has worried over, fretting that one day he’ll falter at the last second when a lich bares its fangs or unholy magics work their way around him, though such thoughts do not haunt him in this sanctuum of research. Claws are used for fine work and turning pages, nothing more. He lacks the confidence to begin work without explict instruction, simply sitting and patiently awaiting the call for his assistance as he watches Khaladus work. “So- ” Her offer of idle chatter is surprising, as she prefers to keep her focus on her work, “- how is my little Peleyer?” He tries not to puff his chest out too much over her referring to it as shared, given how little he feels he is currently contributing. He doesn’t speak of how the spots where his scales gleam gold, shockingly vibrant against the dulled form that his failures granted him, itch in the heat or feel as though they crack in the cold. With her own body glittering with its metallic hue, manufactured colour running down the length of her throat, there is very little he can really tell her about the results of artificially manipulating their forms like this. His colours are slow to show, inconsistent, and he dare not bring attention to it lest her critical evaluations deem another aspect of him a failure, unwilling to sacrifice the bond they share. He summons all of his bravery - he is a warrior, even away from the battlefield! - and replies with all the enthusiasm he can muster, “I’m well. Always happy to spend time in the lab.” She grins beneath her skeletal mask, then begins probing him further about what exactly well means. She wants details that he is unwilling to surrender and it tests him to not spill every single one of his thoughts, stifling the sigh of relief when she just waves a claw, dismissing the topic entirely, and instructs him to organise the newest research material according to protocol. With equal stubborness, he resists the urge to scratch at his gold mottled fins. It is common knowledge among the necromantic order that Mother - blessed Plaguebringer, bringer of cataclysm to the unworthy, hand of knowledge and destuction - knows best, guiding Her children to their place in the world. He accepts this, of course, and expands on it as the two of them work: his mother must know best, too. |
Unable to quell the plague he and his siblings had wrought together, Peleyer owes his survival of his trials to his twin, Kesper - the sole dragon who could successfully manipulate disease in a way expected of a necromancer, earning him his title where his siblings did not. It is a secret kept between them, sparing Peleyer a possible fate as wraith. Wheeze and Khaladus are not the easiest dragons to get along with, leaving it entirely unsurprising that most the fledglings of their first clutch has long since scattered across the Wasteland, unwilling and unable to handle the venom they expected to experience when they proved themselves unable to call themselves necromancer as their father does. Peleyer avoided this fate through his absolute similarities to his mother, sparring from such ire and condemning him to her absolute attention. Born with scales of gleaming orange, Khaladus was always able to see herself in Peleyer - more so when his scaled darkened to the same earthly hues as hers, once vibrant wings drenched in tones of blood during his trials. Claiming his title of necroservi left the two of them wholely identical and she was quick to invite her uncertain son into the fold of her personal work, happy for another body that would allow her to test her manipulations of the physical form. |
TEMPLATE "WATERWAY" BY XEMRISS #44020;
PLAGUE BANNER BY OSIEM #30450;
PLAGUE BANNER BY OSIEM #30450;
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Exalting Peleyer to the service of the Arcanist 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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