Mesa
(#90199289)
One with the machine
Click or tap to view this dragon in Predict Morphology.
Energy: 0/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Shadow.
Female Guardian
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
16.34 m
Wingspan
16.77 m
Weight
11041.24 kg
Genetics
Umber
Pinstripe
Pinstripe
Terracotta
Trail
Trail
Driftwood
Runes
Runes
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
Note wrote:
I literally just noticed Mesa was a female right after I finished writing everything. Oh well. I hope no one minds lol, let's just say they're trans or something.
༻ M E S A ༺ - m e r c e n a r y
|
Mesa grew up in a fiery hellhole. As a naïve hatchling, that wasn't a great place to be. Unfortunately, he didn't have a say in the matter. He didn't remember being brought here, or left. What he was told by the orphanage owners was that a plain, somewhat dirty gold-colored dragon in a suit had come in and just... left him here. He believed it. After all, he'd seen someone leave with newfound parents and come back the next day, and he'd seen his friend, Flare, get dropped off by his own parents. Parents don't seem like a good investment, he thought. So Mesa decided to focus his efforts elsewhere.
྿ A few years later, Flare was adopted and never came back. It didn't stand as a surprise, he'd been expecting it for awhile actually. Since he had the ability to strike lightning into the air around him without being a lightning dragon, he would be invaluable on a combative force. It was just that usually, Flare refused to fight for some odd reason. Either way, he got returned until the next adopter came along. Mesa, at this point, had grown into quite the strong dragon, and he'd learned another thing about himself: he really liked fighting. And blood. Like really really liked blood. To Mesa and his environment, it was just another quirk of his that he knew a few others had as well. Anywhere else and he'd probably be exiled. Anyway, after his fight with some other dragon he'd forgotten the name of, some rather weak hatchlings started following him around, not unlike a litter of lost puppies. After cornering them and asking why, they'd said that he seemed strong, and if he was willing, they could be his "underlings", so to speak. They could do all the unimportant stuff, so he could do the important stuff. "However," they warned him, "you can't let anyone beat us up, or else we won't be able to do our jobs properly, and then you'd have to do unimportant stuff." Whatever, he didn't care. As long as he could be important. ྿ At some point, one of his underlings, Khazz, had found a map with some treasure marked on it, according to him. "So um... as you can see, we're here, at um, X 2640 and Y 3183. And we need to travel about... um, 1700 miles to get to the Great Furnace. From there, we'll navigate to the Blacksand Annex, and then a little further northwest is the mark, at X 2225, Y 3238." Khazz looked up at me. ྿ |
"So... um, we'll go, right? You, me, and Yax?" Mesa peered into his eyes, which were shaking slightly, considering if he was okay with leaving this place. They provided food, and water. Enough to get by.
"No. You guys go and get whatever it is and bring it back. You said you'd do the unimportant stuff, remember?"
"Wait, wait! What if whatever the item is is actually really valuable! Like, um, what if it could be used to get us a lot of money, and then you could eat as much as you want and... and we could set up an gladiator arena! Then you could see as much blood as you want, too! You'd be a king!"
"That's super important, right?" he added after a second. Mesa considered it again, his eyes unfocusing as he considered the variables. On one hand, the offer was very enticing. The item was super valuable, and if he could get his talons on it, he'd be a king! On the other hand... he didn't know. Ugh, now my head is throbbing.
"Alright, I'll go. That item better be valuable though, cause if it isn't..." Khazz nodded furiously, his head moving up and down at a surprising rate. Anyway, he didn't want to be tricked into going 1700 miles just to see some molten rocks. But, 1700 miles couldn't be that far away, could it? "We'll set off tomorrow." Mesa added, walking out of the bunks.
྿
It had been several years since that moment. Through trials and tribulations, he'd found it. The final resting place of... whatever was on the map. Thinking about it, there wasn't a guarantee that whatever it was was even there anymore. Someone else could've found it. He remembered saying to his underlings, who had at some point split paths with him. At this point he didn't even care, he just wanted whatever was there. He didn't care if he became a king, or a slave. He just wanted his purpose to be fulfilled, and then he'd be happy being exalted. He'd wizened up a bit since his juvenile days, realizing just how stupid he'd been back then. It was partially the reason he didn't care about his underlings anymore. Anyhow, he knew he was still pretty dumb, but at least he had a little bit more wisdom. In the time during his musings, his talons had carried him to the stone pillar where the item was said to lie. He paused, staring at the spire, towering into the sky, far above even the clouds. He then resumed walking, purposeful steps striding towards what was theirs all along. Reaching the entryway, Mesa looked to the side, seeing a staircase. His eyes followed it, followed the steps spiraling up, and up, and up as far as the eye could see, even a dragons'.
྿
It took at least 5 hours, but he'd reached what he thought was the final few sets of stairs. Finally, the stairs led up to a floor. An orange glow emanated from the room. Finally, his eyes lay on an altar. His eyes couldn't move fast enough, but finally he saw it.
྿
There was nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. WHY? He thought. WHY? After curling up into a ball on the floor, he finally managed to calm himself down a bit. Alright, alright, that's enough freaking out, Mesa. What's the next best thing to do... open your eyes. Look around. Maybe something else is here of importance. Forcing his eyes open, Mesa saw a helmet in the corner. It looked similar to the helmet he saw the welder's in the Great Furnace wear. It glowed orange, as if lava was flowing within the cracks. Mesa forced his body up, forced his limbs to obey him, and forced his snout to breath in air. He began walking. He reached the helmet, and picked it up. Turning it over, the first thing he noticed was little spikes on the inside. Wearing this would be pretty painful. Ah well, what did he have to lose at this point? He placed it on his head to see if anything would happen.
A second later unimaginable pain made him pass out, clutching his head, screaming in agony. His last thought was that he was glad no one else was here to hear him.
྿
Mesa woke up curled around his stomach, clutching his head with his foretalons. It wasn't a very comfortable position, so he unfurled himself and his wings, mindful of the little space within the room. He began testing himself, seeing if everything was OK. 5x5 is... 25, Nature's deity is the Gladekeeper, my name is Mesa. Mind is fine. He tested his limbs next, moving his arms and legs, jumping, and then he pat his head. He felt something, other than skin. A helmet. The welder helmet. The one that made him pass out. He cautiously tried lifting it from his head. He suddenly felt a large headache come on, as if the helmet was protesting. He immediately paused his endeavor and realized there was probably nothing he could do. He looked at the rest of himself. Wait, what? Why were there VENTS on his SKIN? It looked like he was a furnace! He curiously poked a claw into one of them. Ow ow ow ow. It felt like extending a q-tip too much in your ear. It hurt a lot. He exhaled a huff, and smoke came billowing out of the vents too. He was stuck with this, wasn't he?
྿
Years later, the tale of the automaton mercenary that roamed the land in search of work and purpose was a popular tale with both welders and merchants alike. The tales spoke of orange vents, a wolf cape, and a cleaver by it's side. None knew of the dragon on the inside, trapped for as long as it's life would last.
"No. You guys go and get whatever it is and bring it back. You said you'd do the unimportant stuff, remember?"
"Wait, wait! What if whatever the item is is actually really valuable! Like, um, what if it could be used to get us a lot of money, and then you could eat as much as you want and... and we could set up an gladiator arena! Then you could see as much blood as you want, too! You'd be a king!"
"That's super important, right?" he added after a second. Mesa considered it again, his eyes unfocusing as he considered the variables. On one hand, the offer was very enticing. The item was super valuable, and if he could get his talons on it, he'd be a king! On the other hand... he didn't know. Ugh, now my head is throbbing.
"Alright, I'll go. That item better be valuable though, cause if it isn't..." Khazz nodded furiously, his head moving up and down at a surprising rate. Anyway, he didn't want to be tricked into going 1700 miles just to see some molten rocks. But, 1700 miles couldn't be that far away, could it? "We'll set off tomorrow." Mesa added, walking out of the bunks.
྿
It had been several years since that moment. Through trials and tribulations, he'd found it. The final resting place of... whatever was on the map. Thinking about it, there wasn't a guarantee that whatever it was was even there anymore. Someone else could've found it. He remembered saying to his underlings, who had at some point split paths with him. At this point he didn't even care, he just wanted whatever was there. He didn't care if he became a king, or a slave. He just wanted his purpose to be fulfilled, and then he'd be happy being exalted. He'd wizened up a bit since his juvenile days, realizing just how stupid he'd been back then. It was partially the reason he didn't care about his underlings anymore. Anyhow, he knew he was still pretty dumb, but at least he had a little bit more wisdom. In the time during his musings, his talons had carried him to the stone pillar where the item was said to lie. He paused, staring at the spire, towering into the sky, far above even the clouds. He then resumed walking, purposeful steps striding towards what was theirs all along. Reaching the entryway, Mesa looked to the side, seeing a staircase. His eyes followed it, followed the steps spiraling up, and up, and up as far as the eye could see, even a dragons'.
྿
It took at least 5 hours, but he'd reached what he thought was the final few sets of stairs. Finally, the stairs led up to a floor. An orange glow emanated from the room. Finally, his eyes lay on an altar. His eyes couldn't move fast enough, but finally he saw it.
྿
There was nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. WHY? He thought. WHY? After curling up into a ball on the floor, he finally managed to calm himself down a bit. Alright, alright, that's enough freaking out, Mesa. What's the next best thing to do... open your eyes. Look around. Maybe something else is here of importance. Forcing his eyes open, Mesa saw a helmet in the corner. It looked similar to the helmet he saw the welder's in the Great Furnace wear. It glowed orange, as if lava was flowing within the cracks. Mesa forced his body up, forced his limbs to obey him, and forced his snout to breath in air. He began walking. He reached the helmet, and picked it up. Turning it over, the first thing he noticed was little spikes on the inside. Wearing this would be pretty painful. Ah well, what did he have to lose at this point? He placed it on his head to see if anything would happen.
A second later unimaginable pain made him pass out, clutching his head, screaming in agony. His last thought was that he was glad no one else was here to hear him.
྿
Mesa woke up curled around his stomach, clutching his head with his foretalons. It wasn't a very comfortable position, so he unfurled himself and his wings, mindful of the little space within the room. He began testing himself, seeing if everything was OK. 5x5 is... 25, Nature's deity is the Gladekeeper, my name is Mesa. Mind is fine. He tested his limbs next, moving his arms and legs, jumping, and then he pat his head. He felt something, other than skin. A helmet. The welder helmet. The one that made him pass out. He cautiously tried lifting it from his head. He suddenly felt a large headache come on, as if the helmet was protesting. He immediately paused his endeavor and realized there was probably nothing he could do. He looked at the rest of himself. Wait, what? Why were there VENTS on his SKIN? It looked like he was a furnace! He curiously poked a claw into one of them. Ow ow ow ow. It felt like extending a q-tip too much in your ear. It hurt a lot. He exhaled a huff, and smoke came billowing out of the vents too. He was stuck with this, wasn't he?
྿
Years later, the tale of the automaton mercenary that roamed the land in search of work and purpose was a popular tale with both welders and merchants alike. The tales spoke of orange vents, a wolf cape, and a cleaver by it's side. None knew of the dragon on the inside, trapped for as long as it's life would last.
base code by dystopisaurus
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Exalting Mesa 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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