“The seeds of evil spread forth
to corrupt the hearts and
souls of those such as thee."
《
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TREMENTA
P E R S O N A L I T Y
A child of evil... Dystrophy is one of the few Plague dragons who retains most of his sanity. However, he remains just as vulnerable to his own dark mind as any other. There are times when he looses this internal war. And as every dragon is burdened with a different form of disease, Dystrophy succumbs to his personal cannibalism every once in a while. He has used his cunning intelligence to produce a crystal that contains his deadly urge inside of it. However, the mantle's decor can only hold so much... and when it reaches its limit, his deranged nature wrenches out to wreak havoc and death among any who stand in his way. When he isn't dancing with his psychotic side, Dystrophy is a conniving snake of a dragon; sly and merciless, with a dark charm that makes him seem perfectly believable and trustworthy to outside eyes. He supports Blackdeath entirely by means of his corrupt mind and twisted heart.
These spores are a dangerous poison to smaller creatures, but present no hazard to larger dragons.
28
Golden Key
Dragonmade
A golden key fills a wind-up pocketmouse with energy!
50
Intact Parchment
Dragonmade
Perfect for diaries, manifestos, and shopping lists.
15
Staghorn Coral
Organics
Some dragons collect dried pieces of this coral for lair decorations.
35
A flash of scarlet pierces your eye. A rush of air, movement. But no sound accompanies it. Wait... no, there is a sound. All of the lights around you flicker out, and your body plummets into darkness. You can hear something... it sounds like wind whistling in your ears. It quickly turns harsher, until your brain feels like a hurricane. You want to scream, but no sound emerges from your lips. Without warning, the sound abruptly stops. You stumble in the darkness, unsure of what to do. Then, there's a woosh, and a boom - a ricochet of an explosion, right on the edge of hearing. You close your eyes tightly and hear a screaming sound pierce your body. You double over in pain, and begin to cough up blood. You start shaking violently, and come to realize that the screaming sound is coming from you. But you feel a sudden pressure around your throat, and flick open your eyes to see bloodred ones staring right back at you from a slender snout. You try to say something, but the dragon has its wickedly sharp talons curled around your neck and you can't breathe. It keeps staring at you as your vision slowly turns redder and redder. And then you're gone.
Freshly bloodied talons slide across the black tiled floor, and a long tail swishes through the air. The dragon puffs out a burst of fire, and peers around a corner with a faint smile on the trace of his lips. His... bloody lips. He stalks up to a giant pair of intricately patterned doors, and knocks twice to gain admittance into the chambers beyond. Another dragon answers, pulling the large ebony doors aside to allow the skydancer into the new hallway. The fae's crazed, bloodshot eyes narrow at him through a thick iron headpiece, but she must recognize him, for she lets him pass without a comment. "Corrupt..." he mumbles under his breath as he nods in her direction. The skydancer feels a fresh wave of terror sweep over himself as he lets his gaze travel to the curtain at the end of the empty hallway. The entirety of the long room is black marble, and is only lit by the faint glow of crimson mushrooms growing off the walls. The ceiling drips with a dark liquid, and the floor is marked by hundreds of deep gouges - likely left there by the screaming victims who clawed at the tile in a desperate attempt to escape. The skydancer smiles, and looks down at the crystal necklace hanging from his mantle. He gives it a little flick with his claws, finding himself instantly calmed as the panic he had felt only a moment ago is sucked into the gemstone. He draws in a giant breath, and the hallway smells of rot and decay. He starts forward, pulling the bloodstained curtain aside to enter into the final room beyond the hall.
A figure is sat, hunched over a dead body. It whips around and stares at the skydancer with eyes that glow through the thick fog that swirls around the room. The figure hunches over and moves with disjointed limbs, looking all too similar to a puppet being pulled by invisible strings. "Who dare enter my domain?!" a shrill, crackling voice demands. It sounds as though the sound was a part of the fog, swirling around the skydancer and vibrating through his bones. He takes three steps forward, then stretches into a deep bow, crossing his front talons in respect. "It is Dystrophy, your malice." The skydancer looks down at the tile beneath his arms, squeezing his eyes shut in anticipation. A rush of hot, choking air floods Dystrophy, and he tenses up, feeling a sudden presence looming right above him. "What... do you want?" The sound reverberates through the skydancer's skull, making his entire body pound with a sudden wrenching pain. Teeth clenched, Dystrophy lifts his body off the floor and leans back on his haunches, trying to look as presentable as he can.
"Your Malice... We have had another successful victory on the battlefield. I wished to inform you that nine of the insurgents were captured, interrogated, and met a terrible end at our claws. The rest of their forces fled once we had obtained a hold over the southern peaks, and now we have complete claim over that swathe of territory. They won't come running back again so easily this time."
"Hmmmm," the voice slithers creakily, sending tremors down Dystrophy's spine. He has to concentrate hard to withhold himself from fidgeting his tail on the floor in anxiety. "Aaaand... have we gained any new information from these... insipid insurgents?" The figure hisses right in Dystrophy's ear. The skydancer winces, almost imperceptibly. The figure simply scoffs at his display of weakness.
"My deepest apologies, your malice. We could not get them to talk - no matter what methods we tried."
Suddenly, the figure lashes out at Dystrophy, knocking him back against the floor. With a scream, the skydancer unsheathes his claws and rakes them across whatever material he can. One talon shears through a bubbling, fleshy mass, and the other scores into the black tile underfoot, wrenching Dystrophy's momentum to a halt. An abhorrent piercing shriek echoes off the walls, and for a single moment the fog clears. A deformed, writhing shape shrinks into the floor. Dystrophy can make out a small dragon body with torn and matted wings, and a mouth jacked open in rage. Golden paint on the matted wings catches in the red light, and bright crimson eyes flare behind a jester's mask. A jingling sound ricochets off the walls, but it isn't lighthearted. It's deadly. "You.... you DARE strike against... mee??" The wheezing voice proclaims in garish astonishment. "Dystrophy.... tsk tsk...." Suddenly, the dragon is pulled up - again by those invisible puppet strings - and regains its composure. The thick mist swirls together again, covering the shape of the pearlcatcher in a blanket of darkness once more. Dystrophy stares in fear as the Black Death looms over him, dripping blood and gore from its wound onto the skydancer's wings. "YOU RISK YOUR VERY POSITION IN MY COURT!!" The scratchy voice shrieks.
"I'm sorry! Your malice... I- I can make this right! I'll do anything!! Just spare me- PLEASE!!" Dystrophy bows his head until he's practically kissing the foul tiles. He trembles, but is too afraid even to attempt to soothe his emotions. He doesn't try to reach for his crystal, as he normally would. He just freezes in submission and waits for the sharp claws of death to inevitably crush him. Instead, a curious feeling of warmth spreads through his body. Dystrophy shifts ever so slightly as the warmth grows to a boiling and uncomfortable pain. Then, he hears a sound.
Laughter.
Incredibly puzzled, the skydancer risks a glance upward and sees a bizzare sight in front of him. Blackdeath is doubling over, shaking and seizing. The all-powerful being appears to be having a fit. Dystrophy rises to his feet in shock. "Your malice! Are you-" The skydancer is interrupted by a wheeze. "What is going on?! What are you... laughing about?" The Blackdeath whips around and lunges forward. Suddenly, Dystrophy is staring face-to-face with the all-powerful creature. He can smell the mold and decay coming off it in waves, and is instantly transfixed by the bright red glow. The mask it wears is fraying, broken. Its flesh is rotting away and its teeth glisten with blood. Bright. Red. Blood.
"Go back to the hole you crept out of...." Blackdeath half screeches, half growls. Dystrophy thought this was inappropriately humerus, considering how the creature in front of him smelled like ancient diseases and wasted life. However, since he had at least some sense of survival and respect, the skydancer simply bowed again and retreated slowly from the room. The creature did not make a move, and its bloody gaze followed Dystrophy out the door and down the hall.
And it seemed to follow him for the rest of his life.
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Exalting Trementa 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.