Svadilfaris
(#34266750)
Plague Flight Ambassador | He/It
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Energy: 49/50
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
6.57 m
Wingspan
7.29 m
Weight
627.37 kg
Genetics
Blood
Crystal
Crystal
Blood
Shimmer
Shimmer
Sanguine
Underbelly
Underbelly
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 5 Mirror
EXP: 1851 / 5545
STR
14
AGI
14
DEF
12
QCK
12
INT
6
VIT
14
MND
12
Biography
Svadilfaris
{ Svad-il-far-i } Nicknames: Svad, Ifari • Plague Ambassador for Clan Escalon ╭━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━╮ Spoken Words and Sweet Songs ♫ (artist) - (song) ♫ Voice Claim -(Example) ╰━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━╯ |
It shouldn’t have happened that way. They’d wanted to visit an allied clan, nothing more. Instead, the two Mirrors and their son had fallen into an ambush set by bandits. The thieves’ leader ordered the parents killed— “But your son’s a lovely little boy, and he’ll fetch a hefty sum,” she declared with a chilling grin. She grasped the hatchling’s head so he was forced to watch. “Look, boy. This is how weaklings die!”
They cut his parents down then, and something within the child died along with them. His face and eyes went blank, and he made no sound. Later on, the bandits asked for his name. But he would not respond.
“We’ll give you one, then,” they declared, laughing drunkenly. “You were on your way t’ visit kinsdrakes, were ya? A sad, sad journey...” And thus the hatchling was renamed Svadilfaris, meaning “unfortunate traveler”.
Svadilfaris was sold to a gang of slavers. Much was made of his beauty, his crystalline hide and clear red eyes. The dragon who purchased him wasn’t interested in his beauty, however. She grasped his chin so she could glare into his four eyes, and he stared back, calm and unmoved. A hint of a smile flickered across the dragoness’ face.
Svadilfaris came home with her. He soon learned that she, too, was an outlaw—an iron-fisted leader of a group of Lightning bandits. She was efficient and ruthless: When her own children had proven unfit for leadership, she had disposed of them. No one else among the band was suitable; they were all troubled by petty emotions. But she had seen herself within Svadilfaris: the same ruthlessness, the same cutthroat efficiency.
She raised Svadilfaris as her successor. He grew up among the bandits, learning their lawless ways, sharpening his killer instincts. When the time came, he slew his mentor in single combat, as he’d been trained to do, and took control of the clan.
Under Svadilfaris, the clan flourished. Their raids were always successful, for each attack was planned and executed with utmost precision. It was true that their new leader had some peculiar quirks—his viciousness was all the more chilling because of how quiet and civil he was, and he also had peculiar notions about fortune, small rituals he did to keep their luck from turning sour. But in this inhospitable land, viciousness was an asset, not a flaw. And as for those superstitions, well, outlaws needed all the luck they could get!
But it couldn’t save them from their leader—for in time, Svadilfaris grew bored. Locating targets, planning raids, and executing them grew more tedious with each passing year. So what if the clan prospered? Some of the bandits spoke about retiring to island paradises and living their days out in luxury, but Svadilfaris sneered at such quaint notions. Idleness and luxury...How boring! He needed something that would make him feel alive....
The clan wouldn’t let him go. He was their leader, and they reminded him that he was oath-bound to find and train a successor—and fight to the death with them. Svadilfaris knew he could easily abscond, but looking at his bandits now, how they’d tried to stop him, their leader, from leaving...It irked him. He now realized what troublesome creatures they were. The world would be much better off without them....
He told them he had located a lucrative target: a large caravan was crossing the desert. It would be under heavy guard, so Svadilfaris decreed that all the bandits participate in the attack. Once the guards were slaughtered, they would have to burn the caravan to the ground so they could take the precious jewels inside.
The bandits launched their raid with a will. Their leader had never led them wrong, and they had no reason to suspect that it’d be different this time. They massacred the guards and then set fire to the caravan as instructed. However, the cargo wasn’t precious jewels, as Svadilfaris had claimed—it was packed full of industrial-grade explosives.
The resulting blast shook the ground and and sent plumes of white sand into the air. They fell back to the earth like rain, along with pieces of debris and worse. Svadilfaris didn’t see any of it, though. He had already gone on his way.
Svadilfaris drifted for a while before finding a clan that intrigued him: Clan Escalon was rumored to have challenged the Stormcatcher and formed a truce with him. Svadilfaris had come near the lair a few times and felt something odd about it, a strange power humming within. His curiosity was piqued; he decided to get inside.
He played upon the clan’s sympathies: He took a jagged piece of bone and wounded himself with it, opening gashes upon his limbs and sides. Many drakes would’ve fainted to see those injuries, but Svadilfaris remained stoic even as he carved himself open, for he’d ceased feeling pain a long time ago. He then took to the air, flapping for Escalon, and then hurled himself to the ground in full view of the sentries. Only when they reached him did his face contort in agony.
“Monsters...in the desert...Help...me...” he whispered, allowing his eyes to glaze over. The sentries shouted back at the lair for help even as they carried him towards it, and the gates opened to let Svadilfaris inside.
Clan Escalon, so unlike the bandits’ lair, immediately captivated Svadilfaris. As he recovered, he took in the sights and sounds of the new society. His eyes narrowed as he began picking out clan roles and responsibilities. No matter how chaotic it seemed at first, the clan was really just another machine to him. Under the brightly-colored exterior, the same cogs clicked and turned together.
The driver of this incredible machine was the mysterious Raiden. Svadilfaris had met him once or twice. The Guardian was not inclined to speak, but that suited Svadilfaris just fine. As time passed and Svadilfaris and the clan grew used to each other, the Mirror noticed things that began to irk him: how much free time the clan had...how they wasted hours idly chattering to each other....They spent time on useless hobbies, like music and painting. Hatchlings were allowed to play; why was that so?! In the bandit lair, they had been made to work as soon as they could walk, and the clan had prospered for it! Escalon was rich enough, but once these defects were remedied, it could soar to even greater heights. It would be able to challenge the Stormcatcher again...and this time, it might even win. Such a tremendous dream, but with this clan, Svadilfaris thought it was quite feasible. Raiding caravans and slaughtering merchants—pitiful! But this was a goal worthy of his intellect and skills!
Raiden would never stand for it. The Guardian seemed quite content to let his clan reach for the stars and then fall short all day, every day. He would have to be removed. The others would then acknowledge Svadilfaris’ power and fall in line behind his schemes.
In the bandit lair, Svadilfaris had never known failure. And no one had dared challenge him. Not once did he think that he might fail, for how could he consider what he’d never experienced?
His plan was to sneak into Raiden’s chamber and then dispatch the Guardian with a single stroke. He’d acquired a glass blade for this task, one resistant to Lightning dragons’ magic. But as it turned out, Raiden was no dragon....
As soon as the blade was close enough to him, it froze. Svadilfaris cringed as an odd feeling crept up his arm, immobilizing him. The air began to hum.
And then the glass blade broke. The sound split the silence like an explosion. Raiden’s eyes opened, and they focused on Svadilfaris. The recognition in them was terrible to behold.
“Traitor!” —The Guardian’s shout roused the entire lair. Dragons came pouring out to apprehend the villain. Svadilfaris managed to wrench away as Raiden spread his wings, alien lights flickering beneath his skin.
Svadilfaris considered fleeing then, for Raiden’s rage was incredible, and he now understood that this was no ordinary being. But when the clan mage, Sehimena, burst inside, Svadilfaris took it as an opportunity. He seized the Aberration, taking her hostage.
Sehimena’s eyes flashed. In a trice, she’d teleported herself out of his grasp. Raiden slammed a paw into him then, lifting him off his feet. “Traitor!” he bellowed again. His voice was cavernously deep, like thunder echoing over the horizon. “You dared to raise your sword against me?!”
Svadilfaris managed to twist out of that grasp. He wheeled on Raiden, determined to at least score a hit upon the Guardian.
He didn’t even manage to close the gap. Raiden suddenly lit up, as white as lightning. He roared—a terrifying sound, an endless peal of thunder, frighteningly close and impossibly sustained. It smashed Svadilfaris’ head like a hammer, and he screamed as his vision fractured into brilliant bursts. Such awful pressure...a vast weight upon his senses....
As Raiden raged, Svadilfaris saw cracks radiate across the ceiling and walls. The pressure wasn’t just within his mind—it was battering the lair, too. Slowly, the floor began to crumble beneath his feet. He glimpsed Sehimena out of the corner of his eye, droning incomprehensible spells. There was a tremendous crash as Raiden reared up, shucking his shape like an old cloak, reaching to the sky.
The entire level collapsed. Svadilfaris heard the shocked cries of the other dragons, then their screams as they beheld their leader. They didn’t call out his name, but instead they spoke another word, one redolent of power and terror.
“Surgeling,” Svadilfaris recalled the ancient epithet. He tumbled down; his vision was growing dark, but Raiden stood out against the dimness—Raiden, who wasn’t a dragon at all, shining like a star.
When Svadilfaris awoke some days later, Raiden was glaring down at him, obviously waiting for him to open his eyes. The Guardian had once again assumed his draconian shape. Nonetheless, Svadilfaris remembered his true form, the true name for it: “Surgeling,” he growled.
“Traitor,” Raiden hissed back, and his face darkened like a thundercloud as lightning crackled in his eyes. As he lumbered aside, Svadilfaris saw Sehimena hovering behind him. The Aberration was quite unharmed, and she gave him a disdainful sniff.
Svadilfaris was left to recuperate. He was sure he would be executed or imprisoned, and he quickly began plotting his escape. He could find another clan to take him in, denounce Raiden as an impostor. Yes...All he needed to do was wait for the moment of his execution....
But nothing of the sort happened. Instead, they promoted him. As soon as he was fully recovered, a Plague Runestone was pressed into his paw, and with Raiden standing threateningly by, he was made to recite the oath that elevated him to the role of Plague Ambassador. Svadilfaris was bewildered, and not only by this. He knew the other dragons had witnessed Raiden’s eruption, yet nobody mentioned it, and they addressed Svadilfaris with the same cheeriness as before. A few well-placed inquiries established that they remembered neither Svadilfaris’ treachery nor Raiden’s true form.
“The upper level. It was destroyed by Raiden,” Svadilfaris recalled. As he was led to the celebratory feast, he turned, ostensibly to comment on how renovations were going. But the words quickly died in his throat.
The lair had been completely restored. There was no trace that it had ever been damaged, let alone destroyed. Svadilfaris’ eyes narrowed as he regarded Raiden. The Guardian’s face remained steady, but beside him, Sehimena managed a demure smile.
“Why did you promote me, Surgeling?” Svadilfaris asked some days later, when he was expected to begin official duties as Plague Ambassador.
“Just ‘Raiden’, please.” Raiden’s tone was light, but his eyes were frigid. He fixed Svadilfaris with a perfectly steady gaze. Eventually, the Mirror had to look away.
It was then that Raiden calmly inquired, “Do you know what the role of Plague Ambassador entails, Svadilfaris?”
Svadilfaris thought it over. He’d seen ambassadors before. They left the lair only rarely. More often than not, they interacted with visitors from abroad and relayed news to Raiden. In fact, they reported directly to Raiden himself....He growled as he realized the reason: “You’re trying to confine me.”
“It’s more than you deserve. We took you in and healed you, and you repaid us with deceit.” A chilling smile rippled across Raiden’s face. “Other clans would have executed or exiled you but believe me—we are more than capable of handling slippery characters such as yourself. Better for other clans that you are kept here, where we can monitor your machinations.”
“Why not kill me, then? Make it look like an accident.” It was almost a challenge. Svadilfaris bared his teeth.
The look Raiden gave him was one of withering contempt. “That’s what you would do,” he commented dryly, “but Svadilfaris, I am not you. You may be a treacherous drake, but you’re a highly competent one, and your talents can still be put to good use. You may want to work on your attitude, however. If you don’t care to moderate it, we may grow irritated with you and then find someone else, someone easier to work with....And who knows what may happen to you then? We shall see, Svadilfaris.” He rose to his feet, stalked towards the exit. “We shall see.”
Svadilfaris turned to address him one last time: “Is anyone else aware of this?”
“Hmph. I don’t see why I should tell you that,” Raiden grunted. And with a flick of his tail, he was gone.
Svadilfaris settled back, mulling over his situation. Other dragons would have been pleased with this amnesty, but he remained wary. He now knew that Raiden was a Surgeling—one with incredible power. Svadilfaris had been promoted, but then, so what? Raiden had given him that promotion, and he could also take it away—and strike Svadilfaris down for good.
Challenging the Stormcatcher was no longer on the table, but Svadilfaris did not doubt there would be other things to keep him occupied. Once the rancor had worn off, he would be sure to test the boundaries of his new role. “New” usually meant “interesting”, and he would be willing to settle for that...for now.
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Exalting Svadilfaris to the service of the Stormcatcher 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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