inmediasres' dragon Kyros

Personal Style

Apparel

Skin

Scene

Physical Attributes

Battle Stats

Measurements

Length

12.66 m

Wingspan

16.29 m

Weight

13379.78 kg

Genetics

Sable
Python

Grapefruit
Morph

Buttercup
Capsule

Hatchday

Jun 08, 2023
(11 months)

Breed

Adult
Guardian

Eye Type

Earth
Unusual

Level 25 Guardian

Max Level

STR

120

AGI

DEF

QCK

INT

VIT

MND

Lineage

Parents

none

Offspring

none

Biography

.........................

kyros
FOUNDER of DUSTHAVEN

made with
crowesn's tiefling maker

role
clan founder / exarch
- - -
pronouns
he/him
- - -
relations
agapios, husband
khafara, friend
- - -
art

pixel tarot card
by RebelRai

It would have been a painful death, a shameful one. Dust choked his lungs, and between the thick layer of it that caked his eyes and the thin slivers of daylight that spilled through newly-formed cracks in the ceiling of the mineshaft, Kyros couldn't see much of anything. Rocks pinned his wings, his arms, his neck to the stone floor beneath him, and he could barely muster the strength to call for his long-gone clanmates. It wouldn't be until hours later, when the rays of light above faded into the blackness of night, that anyone would come looking for him. By then his body was stiff and battered from his feeble struggling against the rocks that pined him during the cave-in, and his breath would only come in shallow pants. He was dragged unceremoniously from the rubble, laid up in the clan's infirmary, and given no more thought than what could be spared to ensure that he was brought the occasional draught of water and bit of leathery jerky. When he was told that he was to return to the mines after just two days of rest, Kyros finally decided he would bare such shame no more. On still-bruised and bandaged wings he stole off into the night, on a Search for... something. What it was, he could not fathom, but it could be no worse than what life had allotted him so far.

- - -

He was nothing short of radiant. Kyros had spied the Pearlcatcher curled beneath the boughs of a golden conifer, studying a scroll beneath the shimmering sunlight that filtered down between branches laden with glimmering pine needles. Perhaps it was the way the sunlight haloed his face just so, like something pulled straight from one of the lavish portraits often sold in the marketplaces of The Colonnades of Antiquity. Or maybe it was the way his flaxen hair looked so impossibly soft even from where Kyros was standing, and hung about the Pearlcatcher's face like swathes of fine silk. Or maybe it was his molten, golden eyes, with all the warmth and fire of the sun. Those eyes flicked up from the scroll the Pearlcatcher was reading, and narrowed at Kyros from over a set of wire-framed spectacles,

“Yes? Is there something I can help you with?”

By the Eleven, even his voice was wonderful. Soft, kind, light - even if it was hardened somewhat by the air of skepticism that punctuated the Pearlcatcher's words. The firing synapses that normally governed the Guardian's brain must have momentarily ceased functioning, for all he could think to blurt out in response was,

“You're beautiful.”

The two stood in dumbstruck silence for a moment, both faces flushed in the mutual tide of embarrassment they found themselves swept up in. Kyros hoped his heart would simply stop beating there on the spot, to save the both of them any further misery.

“I – ahem,” the Pearlcatcher cleared his throat, “Am Agapios. And I would like to know my flatterer's name before he goes spouting any other such nonsense.”

“I am Kyros,” the Guardian responded with a bow and a fanning of the wings, “And it was not nonsense. I'm a man of my word.”

When Kyros lifted his head, he saw that the Pearlcatcher's blush had only deepened, to the point that the tips of his ears burned a bright pink. He felt his heart race when he contemplated what else he may come to learn of this Agapios.

- - -

“I can assure you, this stuff's really special!”

Kyros felt his stomach lurch as he trailed cautiously behind the Ridgeback leading him through a particularly narrow shaft of the cold, dank cave they were traversing. The jagged walls scraping against his skin and the delicate webbing of his wings sent a shiver down his spine; it was harrowing to think that the mines and caves that had once been his home and workplace now filled him with such dread. But maybe it was just this lonely cavern in particular, the darkness of its winding tunnels stretching out like writhing limbs, ready to snatch him up and drag him screaming into their depths. Thankfully, it wasn't much longer until the pair found themselves at a particular wall, the Ridgeback holding up his lantern to illuminate an oily substance seeping from a deeply set crack,

“Get a load of this; it's a powerful magical conduit!” the Ridgeback exclaimed, smearing the substance on his fingers. The errant streaks of the viscous goo exploded into a shower of sparks at the snap of his claws, sending tiny comets whirling every which way. He leaned down, shining the lantern onto some sort of jagged formation that looked like it was emerging from where the oil-like substance had begun to pool where the wall met the cavern floor,

“And when it crystalizes, this stuff gets REAL potent! Here, take a gander!”

The Ridgeback reached down, snapping a chunk of smoky black crystal from the formation. He pressed the small chunk into Kyros' hands, and the Guardian was shocked to feel the object begin to hum. It was an almost indescribable sensation, really; there was a consistent thrumming, like the reverberation of a grasshopper's wings. But in shallow, regular intervals, the hum would intensify for a brief moment, rising and falling like the pulse of a heartbeat,

“Potent indeed,” Kyros mused, turning over the chunk of crystal in his hand. Surely this strange substance would fetch a high price in Terraclae, and maybe even venues beyond. It was a shame that he would have to split the profits with the dragon who'd led him here.

'A shame indeed.'

The voice had come from somewhere in the yawning blackness behind him, Kyros was sure of it. There was barely enough room to spin around in the claustrophobic space, but he strained his eyes against the darkness to determine where the voice came from,

“You alright there?” the Ridgeback called, drawing back Kyros' attention. That's when the Guardian saw it; a pair of gleaming amber eyes, from a craggy outcropping just above the seam in the wall from which the dark liquid wept.

'Be silent and still, and I promise you shall not be harmed.'

Kyros clenched his jaw, his eyes darting from the amber gaze to the Ridgeback and back again. The Ridgeback cocked his head quizzically, having apparently not heard what Kyros had just been made privy to,

“Ya'll right there, boss-man? Look, if you're gettin' antsy down here, we can make our way back topside-”

The Ridgeback was cut off with a yelp. The seam in the wall behind him had split open like a hungry maw, dark liquid pouring out in thick, viscous trails. What looked like clawed hands made of the substance – one, then two, then four, then too many to count – shot out from the newly-expanded opening, grabbing at the Ridgeback,

“Kyros- HELP!” the Ridgeback screamed, until a clawed hand, black as pitch, slapped itself over his mouth. More limbs emerged from the wall, gripping and dragging him into a waterfall of liquid darkness. He thrashed and cried muffled pleas, but Kyros was frozen in place. Those amber eyes were still glittering at him from above, watching him with a predatory curiosity. Kyros wasn't sure how long he'd been staring back at those eyes, but when he tore his gaze away, he found the Ridgeback had vanished. The wall had returned to what it was before; an unremarkable slab of rock, only made distinct by the deep crack of thick oil that trailed down its face. The only indication that the Ridgeback had ever been there at all was the presence of his lantern, left on its side in a pool of oily muck.

The amber-eyed creature emerged from the rocky outcropping it had apparently been perched upon, revealing itself to be a slate-colored nymph. The nymph offered a small smile and a round of sardonic applause that made Kyros feel ill,

'Well done,' the creature said without speaking, 'Now, we have much to discuss. I have a business proposal that you can't possibly refuse.'

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