Hawktalon » Lair » Caiatis

Caiatis

(#20907358)

Plague Flight Representative | The Living Corpse | He/Him

Yersinia

Deadland Disciple

Energy: 49/50

Personal Style

Apparel

Skin

Scene

Physical Attributes

Battle Stats

Measurements

Length

7.74 m

Wingspan

3.69 m

Weight

595.91 kg

Genetics

Swamp
Clown

Crimson
Current

Crimson
Crackle

Hatchday

Feb 09, 2016
(8 years)

Breed

Adult
Mirror

Eye Type

Ice
Common

Level 2 Mirror

EXP: 94 / 641

STR

AGI

DEF

QCK

INT

VIT

MND

Lineage

Parents

Brains
Gruel

Offspring

Biography

"I'm waking up to ash and dust
I wipe my brow and I sweat my rust
I'm breathing in the chemicals

I'm breaking in, shaping up, then checking out on the prison bus
This is it, the apocalypse
Whoa

I'm waking up, I feel it in my bones
Enough to make my system blow
Welcome to the new age, to the new age
Welcome to the new age, to the new age
Whoa, oh, oh, oh, oh, whoa, oh, oh, oh, I'm radioactive, radioactive
Whoa, oh, oh, oh, oh, whoa, oh, oh, oh, I'm radioactive, radioactive

I raise my flag and dye my clothes
It's a revolution, I suppose
We're painted red to fit right in
Whoa

I'm breaking in, shaping up, then checking out on the prison bus
This is it, the apocalypse
Whoa

I'm waking up, I feel it in my bones
Enough to make my system blow
Welcome to the new age, to the new age
Welcome to the new age, to the new age
Whoa, oh, oh, oh, oh, whoa, oh, oh, oh, I'm radioactive, radioactive
Whoa, oh, oh, oh, oh, whoa, oh, oh, oh, I'm radioactive, radioactive

All systems go, the sun hasn't died
Deep in my bones, straight from inside"

CAIATIS

Apprentice Healer + Ambassador to the Plaguebringer + Undead
"I'm waking up, I feel it in my bones. Enough to make my system blow"

Caiatis was your ordinary Plague dragon. Born in Ice but adopted into a small can on the banks of the Wyrmwound, he had a family, friends… a life. Nothing special at the time, but now it feels like to be that ordinary dragon again would be nothing short of a miracle.

Plague dragons are born strong and live strong if they are to live at all. Survival of the fittest in its most literal sense. But in the end, his strength or lack thereof didn't matter. A new virus crawled its way from the pestilent depths of the Wyrmwound to where his clan camped nearby. Within a month almost everyone lay dead or near death, and the minds of those that were still alive were just as ravaged by disease as their bodies.

But as he lay on the cusp of death, barely conscious in a thick fevered haze, Caiatis saw some of the dead begin to rise from the sick-smelling earth. Their once bright eyes now dull, their emaciated bodies barely able to support their weight as they dragged themselves aimlessly around the camp. Many fell and didn't rise again, but one approached him as he drew his final breath. His final memory is of the skeletal face of his fallen mate filling his vision with a haunting look somewhere between pity and hunger.

And then he opened his eyes.

"I'm still alive..."

His sickness was gone, his limbs had found a new strength despite their weakened state. Suddenly filled with a strange, overwhelming hunger he tore through the withered bodies of his clanmates that littered the ground.

Then something hit him as he crouched over a half-devoured corpse. Something was missing. He couldn't really place it, but something that should be there... wasn't.

Startled, he recoiled from the corpse. He wasn't breathing, and there was no heartbeat. Caiatis craned his neck to study the rest of his body. His once bright scales had taken on a sickly green, mottled pallor and a fine web of scars crisscrossed over his back and sides. Not scars, cracks. His scales were flaking off from a result of... what? The disease that ravaged his clanmates and his own body? The rot and decay that seemed to emanate not from the corpses, but from his own skin? Underneath was deep red muscle, but there was no blood. No pain, either.

He looked dead. He carried the rank of decay. His heart no longer beat in his chest and breathing was no longer a necessity. That should mean he was dead. Yet his limbs still responded to command and his eyes were still quite capable of sight. His mind was reeling.

"Am I alive?"

He spent years wandering the Plaguelands looking for an answer to that question. Maybe even centuries. Time no longer had a meaning. At first he praised the Plaguebringer for giving him the ability to conquer death, but after a while his "gift" started to feel more like a curse. He wasn't living. He was killing mindlessly for the sake of satisfying the insatiable hunger that gripped his decaying stomach, ridding him of all thought and sanity itself until it was subdued. But it was never entirely gone. He wasn't living; he was watching those around him die while he continued on, plodding across the same lands he'd been walking for centuries.

He wasn't dead; he was Death itself. For a while after this revelation he took his persona to heart. Instead he preyed on the dying and the immoral, but even his new calling of "grim reaper" failed to give him what his aching, undead heart wanted: a normal life.

Nevanah and Riveros discovered Caiatis wading in the Wyrmwound as if it were a mountain pool, moaning sadly to himself as he bathed what remained of his body in the pestilence.

"We're supposed to be looking for new herbs and treatments, and you want to rescue a poor zombie? You're far too soft, Nevanah."

The pair managed to coax Caiatis into following them back to Ralakay Glen with the promise that there, he would be accepted. Tolerated is closer to the truth, but at least in the Glen he can live in a proper lair rather than a pile of bleached bones and old scraps. He took over the duties of tending to the clan's shrine to the Plaguebringer, finally finding sanity in prayer. She occasionally whispers to him on clouds of rancid smoke, telling him how proud she is of his strength and his ability to live even in death.

Strangely enough, he formed a close bond with Riveros on their long trek back to Arcanelands. The Coatl, Plagueborn himself, sensed the same great strength in Caiatis. How he could be nothing more than rotten muscle clinging to bone but still carry the quiet intelligence he'd possessed in life. He proved himself to be a dragon of few words, but put the weight of his many centuries into each one.

While Nevanah pitied the zombie, she refused to take him on as an apprentice as Riveros had wanted, but of course, Riveros ignored her. He began sharing every text and volume in the healers' lair with Caiatis, and giving him private lessons. Caiatis kept his mouth shut and learned fast, hoping to one day be fully accepted by the lead healer so that he may keep others from walking his own, painful path.

Role

Aliases
Alignment
Familiar

Apprentice
healer
None
Plague
Deadland Disciple

Likes

Dislikes

Hobby
Orientation

Gender

Meat, spiders
The undead
Alchemy
Asexual/ Straight
Cis Male

......……...........__....Relationships

Nevanah
Mentor

Navren
Ally

_{bio layout & coding by madmadsmadly with special thanks to Lazlee and edits by Hawktalon. art by Gabbitrabbit. art links to artist profiles.}

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Click or tap a food type to individually feed this dragon only. The other dragons in your lair will not have their energy replenished.

Exalting Caiatis 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.

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