Peregri
(#24109136)
Level 1 Wildclaw
Familiar
Somber Spirit
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Energy: 0
out of
50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Wind.
Male Wildclaw
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
4.16 m
Wingspan
5.28 m
Weight
662.49 kg
Genetics
Thistle
Cherub
Cherub
Thistle
Shimmer
Shimmer
Platinum
Runes
Runes
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 1 Wildclaw
EXP: 105 / 245
STR
8
AGI
9
DEF
6
QCK
5
INT
5
VIT
6
MND
6
Biography
Peregri
| ……. |
Strength ██████████ |
Defense ██████████ |
Charisma ██████████ |
Intelligence ██████████ |
Peregri was orphaned as a child near the base of the writhing Wyrmwound. Fascinated by the plagues and contagions of the scarred wasteland, he quickly learned what everything did and how to cure them. He was made fun of as a child for his weird tendencies and overall strange personality, but often thought nothing of what others made fun of him for.
Peregri initially came to revere everything the writhing eyesore of land the Plague territory had to offer and wanted to be a harbinger of disease – a tall feat for a Wind dragon. However, after an unfortunate incident accidentally killed one of his former tormentors, Peregri came to regret what he’d done despite being revered for it by other aspiring contagions.
He fled his “home” near the Wyrmwound and decided that he would devote his life to curing such vile diseases instead. While this would normally have aroused the ire of other contagions, Peregri was found to be a prodigy of sorts, curing anything and everything that ailed others. On a couple notable occasions, Peregri had cured the diseases that nearly took the lives of contagions unable to control their own deadly plague magic.
Peregri these days is revered as a prodigy that many dragons often forget exist until he manages to perform a miracle. He sometimes lies about his cures and has adapted a certain way of speaking in order to deter the attention he receives. His talent is fostered by frequent isolation from others and consistent testing that can sometimes come at the expense of his own health – although he’s never contracted anything too serious. Aside from his testing, he often spends a lot of time decorating his extra pair of wings.
_______
The winds howled with the signs of a new red dawn. The skies were empty, save for the few disdainful cries of a couple Death Seekers flying overhead. A dragon trudges along the spongy ground, coughing and barely able to stand. He thought, maybe if he could he just keep going, unable to keep himself from lurching up the goop from his body, then maybe, just maybe…
He begins to collapse, his legs buckling like the bread being cracked before being served, grains snapping before sorting and baking. What was eating him now? How did he manage to land himself in such a terrible situation, one that would strip him of his life almost entirely, one that would make it so that he never could return to Nature, to the Shrieking Wilds…?
“Gah!”
He awoke with a start, finding himself tied down to a wooden plank. He didn’t feel like he was dying on the inside or decomposing onto the soft ground anymore, but the fact that he was restrained made his concern peak, perhaps even moreso when his “savior” took a sharp inhale through his mask, his piercing green eyes focused on his “captive”. He seemed to be a Wildclaw, much like himself, but the savageness of his own type seemed to not be present at all here.
The plague-masked dragon returned to a dimly lit mask for a couple seconds to scrawl out a few quick notes before returning to the side of his patient. “Let’s see…” he mumbled, “…fadin’ in’n out of consciousness, wild flailin’ during coma… soft to the touch and coughin’ up fluid…” While the Wildclaw fiddled with his claws, recounting what seemed to be symptoms, he was interrupted.
“Excuse me, WHAT are you doing?” said his patient, straining impatiently against the plank. The Wildclaw seemed to not realize he was being addressed at first but then pulled off the front section of his face to reveal his muzzle, hidden behind mask mesh to protect him from breathing in infection. “I found you collapsed in Plague territory the other day,” he mumbled softly, “you were sick somethin’ awful with may’b ten diffr’nt things, but you should be bett’r in about a week’s time.” His voice was marred with a drawl, one that seemed like it had arisen more from eroded jaws and trying to save breath than an actual accent.
“WHY DO YOU HAVE ME TIED DOWN!?” his patient cried out, enraged, before shouting out “ONE MORE WEEK!? I NEED TO BE BACK TO SHRIEKING WILDS BY –“ He was quickly cut off once more by the strange doctor slapping a makeshift birdskull and mask on his face before retruning to his shoddily made desk to retrieve a flask of antidote. “Now, now, ye can’t get any bett’r without takin’ this medicin, so I’mma need ye to cooperate here, caphiche?” the Wildclaw mumbled, quickly sending the flask down the throat of his patient behind the mask. “Oh, an’ this mask disintegrates aft’r a week, so you can go back ther’ if you need to, but don’t get too close to nun body, or ye might make ‘im sick too.”
He unstrapped the patient from the table and gently nudged him towards the entrance of what his patient could only assume was some strangely constructed and dark tent. “Well… you’re kinda weird I guess, but you did save me from death, so I suppose I’m indebted to you and my hands are tied.” The nature Wildclaw bowed a bit. “Can I ask your name?”
“Ah, nah, that ain’t importn’t, son,” the Wildclaw replied. “Most’uhv the boys ‘round here know me as the ol’ prodigy, Peregri, but ye don’t go spreadin’ my name ‘round the Shriekin’ Wilds lest everyon’ comes around and starts askin’ me to fix’em right up agin’… I swear, y’all mistakin’ me for some kinda deity figure these days.” The Wildclaw gave a solemn nod and left, keeping his mask on as he trudged back home across the soft ground.
Peregri sighed, watching his patient disappear over the horizon with a seemingly endless hole in his heart. While preforming his life’s work had always brought him joy, it was heartbreaking that he had to keep hiding it so that those looking for a juicy scoop or an excuse to see a prodigy in action would not come looking for him. He’d come to admire the accent he’d set up in his ruses to deter others, but regardless it seemed like a fruitless errand. Why couldn’t he be somewhere where he would be treated as someone normal and not extraordinary?
There was a soft tapping at his tent’s entrance flaps, one that drew his attention. What now, someone seeking a story about his latest endeavors? Peregri was surpised to see a cream-colored Wildclaw a cleaver sheathed at his side. His visitor adjusted his glasses patiently. “What d’ye want, sir?” Peregrin asked, before getting an affirmed response from the Wildclaw.
“I’m going to ask you to come with me.”
Lore by Shadowforestdrag
Quote:
Q: "you're... the prodigy, yeah? i heard it's been tough for you to keep up with doing what you love because of the masses trying to get a hold of you for the wrong reasons. but since you do love curing people of their plagues... what is the toughest job you've ever had on your hands?"
A: The wildclaw seems to soften ever so slightly under his mask, taking a moment to collect his memories before speaking . His voice is a buttery-soft southern drawl, though it would normally be prickly and cracked, muffled by his mask.
"Yes, yes. Its always been a heap o' trouble ever since my apprenticeship upgraded to profession. One time, i came across a poor Fae almost completely liquified on the inside. Sadly, the poor thing did not make it, but it passed onto exaltation with what comforts i could offer."
A: The wildclaw seems to soften ever so slightly under his mask, taking a moment to collect his memories before speaking . His voice is a buttery-soft southern drawl, though it would normally be prickly and cracked, muffled by his mask.
"Yes, yes. Its always been a heap o' trouble ever since my apprenticeship upgraded to profession. One time, i came across a poor Fae almost completely liquified on the inside. Sadly, the poor thing did not make it, but it passed onto exaltation with what comforts i could offer."
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