Screech
(#87516128)
Screaming Spirits
Click or tap to view this dragon in Predict Morphology.
Energy: 50
out of
50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Plague.
Male Nocturne
This dragon is hibernating.
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Effect
Scene
Measurements
Length
4.26 m
Wingspan
6.52 m
Weight
374.14 kg
Genetics
Pistachio
Pinstripe
Pinstripe
Pistachio
Trail
Trail
Turquoise
Ghost
Ghost
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 1 Nocturne
EXP: 0 / 245
STR
5
AGI
8
DEF
5
QCK
6
INT
8
VIT
5
MND
8
Biography
@Gryym
Kids = 75g/equiv
Kids = 75g/equiv
SLIGHT GORE IN LORE PROCEED WITH CAUTION
The Awakening
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“What have you got there, my dear?” Screech asked, his brain prickled with disdain at the clay sculpture in his hands. Siren pulled the egg from her mouth, and offered it to him silently, a terrible smile upon her distorted face. The small dragonling inside was perhaps still too young to have formed, a mere spot in the yolk and that was the perfect time to snatch them for their work. Screech’s face lit up, “How wonderful!” he nearly screamed with joy, his heart racing as he held the tiny thing between cruel and unforgiving claws. The boredom that had plagued him immediately evaporated from his frame. Sometimes the house that he and Siren had holed themselves up in was lonely enough to drive him mad. Its falling apart sides were slowly being eaten by the forest around it. They had chosen a sanctum and there they were to stay until their art was perfect, until their vision was complete. Screech had worked tirelessly for days trying to capture what roamed around his mind, the half finished sculpture in the foyer of the house buckled the crumbling floorboards under its weight. |
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Its body of clay was twisted and warped, its flesh made of stolen dragon skin and wings torn from bodies that did not want to lose them. He had picked up shed dragon scales off the floor when he was in art school. He had tried to use them in his works, but something about them, how cast off they were, how unwanted made his heart ache. He needed the life and all he had then was lifelessness. He craved the warmth of creation in his hands, the breath of living on his canvas. It was why he moved out here now, he was too far in to stop his exploitation for his perfect piece. There was blood on his hands now. The empty hole in the sculpture’s chest had vexed him. He had wracked his brain for the answer of what to fill it with. Screech had wandered the mansion hallways like a ghost and it had brought him no solace in his ramblings. Siren had. She had been his only acolyte when he had sequestered himself from society. She had been the only one that understood his vision. “This shall be perfect, my love. Beautiful.” The egg pulsated in his hands. The cut upon it was quick and sure, careful so as not to shatter the shell. The insides of it drained into the floor, the glimmer of life slowly seeping from it. Screech began to carve. The pattern of his mind swirling onto its body, the images of things he couldn’t describe emblazoned upon it. This was it, this was going to be his finest work yet. This was to be his magnum opus. All Siren did was watch as he stole a life right in front of her, a smile on her face.
Lore by Geistlicher
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Template made by speedyturtle. Template graphics made by Delamire and Mibella and Nirwana.
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Exalting Screech to the service of the Shadowbinder 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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