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Familiar
Mottled Sea Serpent
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A menacing engraving of the Plaguebringer. It is scrawled on the side of a large bonespike and reeks of decay.
105
Vial of Mysterious Toxin
Organics
The label on this bottle was never filled out.
28
Shadow Serpent
Familiar
A rattle heard in the darkness.
1950
Shimmering Cloth
Dragonmade
Dragons without bright colors will sometimes adorn their wings with bits of shimmering cloth.
26
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STR ▓▓▓▓░░░░░ INT ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓░ AGI ▓▓▓▓▓░░░░
MAG ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓░ CHA ▓▓▓▓▓▓░░░ VIT ▓▓▓░░░░░░
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Aesthetic: poison dart frogs, bleached bones in white sand, seashells, sunken in eyes on a smiling face, the feeling that something is not quiet right. Likes: making friends, sewing, telling stories, strawberries, making others smile. Dislikes: being judged for his parentage, being coddled, others being afraid of him, scorpions, thread that doesn't quite match.
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"i don't want to hurt you."
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origins. Death returned to her nest after many, many years, and brought Sarin and his sister into the world.
Death loves all her children, and Sarin is no different. He was observed under her watchful eye, and protected by his father's sword. Little Sarin grew up happy in Hellreek's halls, content with the quaint life seemingly layed out in front of him.
When he hit adolescence, though, something strange happened. The gift his mother's side bestows upon all her children finally grew in, and it wasn't much of a gift at all.
Another young dragon was roughhousing with Sarin, when he dropped dead without a cough or choke. Sarin was horrified.
After observation, Sarin's skin was found to hold enough toxin to fell even the most purebred of Plague dragons. No one would ever be able to touch him again.
Unable to look the deceased's parents in the eye, Sarin left Hellreek behind, ridden with guilt. He would rather face death in the Boneyard than kill someone else.
_______________
Life in the Hidden Haven had changed since the arrival of the Strangers. Most of the clan members accepted this development with equanimity. But many of the drakes remained suspicious and did their best to get as far away from the strange entities as possible. Tairialis and his Fae “brothers” were in this group.
“You can’t walk through the place without stepping on some weird and squishy thing!” Tairialis grumbled. His Fae brothers agreed; they didn’t like the Strangers much, either. They were largely protected by their own toxins, but didn’t know yet if the Strangers were immune to the poison. Nobody wanted to test if it worked.
Many Strangers manifested within the Haven itself: crawling from the stonework, twisting through the floor.... “Weird and squishy thing,” chattered one from its perch near the ceiling. Its long and gaping maw dangled towards Tairialis’ head. “Squishy thing.”
“Same to you, too!” Tairialis retorted. He stomped out, and the Skendrelli continued echoing his words: “You too, you too.” Faenamide and Asclepias had to smother giggles with their hands.
They sprawled outside in the garden, and Tairialis hunched down, his arms around his knees. “I can’t even yawn without inhaling like five of those bogey-looking things,” he grumbled. The Faes chuckled.
“They’re not so bad,” Faenamide said after Tairialis had silenced them with a glare. “Mostly they just float around.”
“I preferred it when it was just Procel batting about and giving Volco and Aki a case of the creeps. That reminds me, did we ever hear back from his clan? Dheosin’s, I mean.”
Asclepias snorted. “Why would we hear back from them? As far as they’re concerned, it’s not ‘Dheosin’ anymore, it’s ‘Procel’. And Procel’s kooky as heck. We don’t want Procel; what makes you think they’d want him, too?”
“It was worth asking,” Tairialis sighed. Faenamide ventured, “Still, you’re right—it was better when it was just Procel creeping about. Him and...what’s-her-name...from the Disillusionists.”
“I’m thinking about asking if I can take a vacation over at the Disillusionists’. Or maybe the Cathedral of Eyes would be a better choice. You think Sebastian would let us in?”
“But the Cathedral of Eyes is creepy,” gasped Faenamide, as if Tairialis had just confessed to a murder. (Well, he had committed murders, oodles of them, but that wasn’t unusual for a poisoner like him.)
“So is the Disillusionists’ lair.” Asclepias shivered. “Have you seen the dragons they keep down in their dungeons?”
“They’re catacombs.”
“Same difference.”
A shadow flitted overhead. Vernal descended to hover before them, and they looked up as he said, “Greetings, boys. Have you seen Tharwalda anywhere?”
Tairialis shrugged. “Probably inside, brewing plant food. What’s up? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“I’m quite used to ghosts already, thank you,” Vernal replied. The poisoners glumly mumbled “Same here” as he continued, “I was out gathering, and I noticed the strangest thing. Well, stranger than usual, anyway.” He turned and pointed westward. “The forest over there is dying at an unnaturally fast rate.” He looked curiously at the poisoners as he spoke. They shuffled uneasily, their boots digging into the toxins puddling around them.
“I’m off to consult your mother about it. This might be more her purview.” This was said with a faintly stern note. The Nocturne settled his crown more firmly upon his head, and then he rose above their heads and was gone.
The toxic trio exchanged looks. “Could it be...?” Faenamide breathed.
“Someone like us?” Asclepias scowled back. “Naw. There can’t be others like us....” He trailed off as he realized his sentence canceled itself out.
Tairialis smiled. “Yeah, you guys didn’t think there was another one like yourselves, either, but we found each other, didn’t we? We all did.”
“I’m not going to hug you for that,” Asclepias snorted, but a smile was tugging at the corners of his lips. Faenamide wrung his hands for a moment, obviously thinking about being scolded by Tharwalda. His shoulders slumped as his two brothers turned to look at him.
Tairialis began pushing him along. “We won’t be gone long, Faen! We’ll be back before Mom knows we’ve gone.”
“Mom knows,” Faenamide moaned, and his voice sounded like a death-knell. “She always knows!”
“Nonsense! Erm, what makes you say that?”
“Because she’s Mom!”
Whether Tharwalda was all-knowing or not was beside the point, though. They were going to investigate, and that was that. Asclepias fluttered ahead, and Tairialis stopped pushing Faenamide as the other Fae ambled along of his own accord. (“I’ll be able to keep them out of trouble!” he lied to himself.)
Soon Tairialis realized they didn’t know how far away this anomaly was. He pointed a stubby finger upwards. “Could one of you zip up there and check how far away it is? I wouldn’t want to camp out here.”
“Yeah, because then Mom would realize we’re gone,” Asclepias retorted. Faenamide shook his head and fluttered up to check.
“I didn’t hear you complaining earlier. Whose side are you on?”
“The side that doesn’t get smashed by the power of parental lecture.”
Before they could scuffled further, Faenamide dropped down between them. “Over there.” He pointed. “The decay is spreading pretty fast. Whoever it is must be moving very quickly.”
“Or very scared of something,” Tairialis murmured. The Faes looked gravely at him, all banter gone.
And then the Snapper smiled his warm and crooked smile again. He spread his hands. “Let’s go see if they need help, OK?”
~ ~ ~
He had come from the Scarred Wasteland, but that didn’t matter—death followed him wherever he went. His name was Sarin, and like the substance that shared his name, he was fatally toxic: a single touch of his skin could drop a full-grown Imperial. He had discovered his “talent” the hard way: a friendly tussle with a clanmate had resulted in the other boy dropping to the ground, stone-dead. Sarin had fled, haunted by the knowledge that he had slain an innocent youth. And the dreaded realization that he would never be able to come near anyone...He was doomed to a life of loneliness and hiding. He’d never be able to enjoy a friendly wrestling match, never know the warmth of a hug. Never...
Sarin looked up. He realized with dismay that the trees around him were starting to wither. He’d wrapped himself up in cloth before leaving the Wasteland, but the poison still seeped through. It always did.
He couldn’t stay here long. Other dragons would notice the trail of destruction he’d left; they’d come looking for him. He would be driven away or killed—or worse, he would be made to kill. And he couldn’t stand that. Just because he brought death didn’t mean he reveled in it. Or that it was OK to.
He crouched down and started digging through his rucksack, looking for clothes. He needed to wrap himself more carefully first—
“Oh, so that’s him. Hey, friend, you OK?”
Sarin froze. Very slowly, he turned around.
There were three of them: a large, stocky Snapper; two sprightly Faes. They were watching him curiously. He’d been discovered! “N...None of your business,” he stammered. He feverishly wound a bandage around his face, hiding himself from view. “Stay back....Stay away from me!”
“What’s he saying?”
“Dunno.” Tairialis shrugged. “I can’t hear him; he’s probably chewing on that wrap. Hey, speak a little more clearly, friend.”
“Maybe he’s sick.” Faenamide looked worried, but Asclepias only rolled his eyes. “Sick in the head, you mean,” he muttered.
They weren’t leaving. Sarin started to quail. If they came closer, they’d come into contact with his poison, and it would be over for them. All of them! “Don’t come near me,” he warned them. He held out his hands, stumbled away from them. “Just leave me alone!”
“You see, friend, we’re—HEY!” Tairialis’ voice rose into a shout as the Skydancer turned and bounded away, his wings whirring.
Asclepias hissed. “You scared him off!”
“He’s pretty rattled. Let’s go pick him up, hey?”
“Tai, you can’t fly.”
“Hah!” Tairialis wiggled his eyebrows. “Just watch me.” And away he went, crashing and blundering, flattening bushes and toppling small trees.
Sarin heard the Snapper chasing after him, and he swallowed hard. They wanted to catch him! He’d be imprisoned for his horrible crime; it would be the end! He zipped around trees as best as he could, but it was difficult—he was tired from his travels and the Tangled Wood was wholly unfamiliar to him. The Snapper gained on him with every passing breath.
“Don’t touch me!” he yelled. He turned around to see how close they were. “Don’t touch meeEEEEEK!”
The last word rose into a shriek as Tairialis tripped over a tree root and bashed heads with him. Both of them saw stars for a moment. Sarin wobbled backwards and collapsed onto the forest floor.
He groaned and waited for the Wood to stop spinning. A sudden chilling thought cleared his mind: They had touched his skin. They would die. He could do nothing for them except watch....He scrambled upright.
The Faes had caught up and were helping Tairialis to his feet. The Snapper, for his part, was brushing leaves from his clothing. He seemed all right. “Good thing we’ve got skulls like rocks, eh? Yo, friend, you all right? You kinda look like you saw a...Aw, you know what, that expression’s overused. You look flabbergastipated. There, I said it.”
“That word doesn’t even exist,” groaned Asclepias. Tairialis wiggled his eyebrows again. “It does now!”
“And that comeback’s overused, too.”
Sarin stared at them. He waited for the Snapper to choke and keel over...but he didn’t. Tairialis noticed he was being stared at, and he stuck his tongue out at the Skydancer.
“You’re alive.”
“Yes.” And the Snapper frowned. “Orrrr we both smashed our heads so hard we both died and went to heaven. That doesn’t explain why Asclepias is here with us, though.”
“HEY!”
“Why aren’t you dead?” Sarin choked out. It was horrendous, but it was the only thing he could get out.
“I’m sorry, wha—OW!”
“He’s just kidding,” said Faenamide, who’d given Tairialis a whack upside the head. “Hi, welcome to the Tangled Wood. I mean, really—you’re welcome! I’m Faenamide, and these are my brothers...well, adoptive brothers, really. This is Asclepias, and the big one’s Tairialis.”
“We’re poisoners.” Asclepias cut through a lot of nonsense. “We kill anything we touch; have been able to since Day One. Except maybe for Tairialis.” A sneaky grin crawled across his face. “He’s not exactly poisonous, but he ingests toxins on a daily basis, so now he’s immune. He kills mostly with his terrible toxic breath and body odor—”
“We’re just like you,” Faenamide continued gently. He ignored his siblings scuffling in the background. “We came from the Scarred Wasteland to the Tangled Wood, just as you did.”
Sarin was silent for a long time. It seemed too good to be true. But just because it seemed that way, that didn’t mean it was untrue. He watched Tairialis swatting at Asclepias; he saw the sheen on the two Faes’ skin. Poison. Just like his.
The three dragons helped Sarin gather his belongings. Tairialis offered to carry the rucksack for him. “Our home isn’t far.” And then his face blanched. “I think we’ve stayed out too long. Mother will be looking for us!”
“Wasn’t it your idea to come out here, anyway?”
“For the last time, whose side are you on?!”
Sarin still felt a bit lightheaded. Maybe he had a concussion...or perhaps he had died and gone to heaven. The question was, would he be able to stay there? Or would he be forced to leave, as he had left his birth clan? Only time would tell....
But right now, his chances looked good. For the first time in many weeks, he allowed himself to smile. He followed the three dragons back to their home....Perhaps soon, it would become his home, too.
~written by Disillusionist (254672)
all edits by later owners
about. While Sarin's past haunts him wherever he goes, there are times when he forgets what he has done and reverts back to the playful, bashful drake he was before. Sarin likes making friends of any sort, but does come off as a little shy. Once he has opened up though, he is full of boundless wit and has quite the sense of humour.
He is loyal to those who have deemed themselves worthy of it, to a fault. He will put himself in harm's way just to protect others. This may be because he knows others are not willing to touch him just to get in a little tussle Outside of this, he is gentle enough, and shies away from touch of any sort, even if the offending dragon is wearing gloves or other sorts of protective clothing.
His father's temper flares up when someone implies they can fix him, or that his condition can't be as bad as he says it is. When he's tried everything under the sun to cure himself and nothing works, another dragon saying they can is a blatant blow to his ego. He never attacks physically, but verbally he does. This could be a reaction to trauma, though.
He has nightmares about the dragon his skin killed. Luckily, all his siblings moved to other clans as well, and hopefully Sarin will never see any of the deceased's family ever again.
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profile code by saturne #101073 bio by Incalyscent
Meditate
Energy Stone
The caster will focus on the surrounding magical energies, generating a large amount of Breath. Reduces physical damage dealt by 75% for two turns.
25
Required Level: 1
Contuse
Ability Stone
Deals neutral magic damage and weakens the target, decreasing their offensive capabilities.
250
Required Level: 1
Aqua Birdskull Necklace
Apparel
A loose-hanging fetish of skulls and aqua charms. The feathers are said to have medicinal properties for the wearer if held close to the heart.
0
Golden Birdskull Wingpiece
Apparel
A long spindle of twine, beaded with golden baubles and trinkets. There are feathers strung along each thread.
1350
Gold Wolf Cape
Apparel
A thick, warm gold wolf pelt fashioned into a cape.
2000
Mottled Sea Serpent
Familiar
Maren schools have recently begun collecting Sea Serpent eggs in hopes of domesticating the species.
2350
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Exalting Sarin 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.
