Killunia » Lair » Riyah

Riyah

(#37497227)

she/her

Familiar

Sabrespine Hunter

Energy: 50/50

Personal Style

Apparel

Skin

Scene

Physical Attributes

Battle Stats

Measurements

Length

6.43 m

Wingspan

6.16 m

Weight

544.47 kg

Genetics

Obsidian
Metallic

Gloom
Alloy

Moon
Runes

Hatchday

Nov 21, 2017
(6 years)

Breed

Adult
Pearlcatcher

Eye Type

Lightning
Glowing

Level 1 Pearlcatcher

EXP: 0 / 245

STR

AGI

DEF

QCK

INT

VIT

MND

Lineage

Parents

Offspring

none

Biography

Theme music

Riyah

The Lost Soul
Some | Very | Prominent | Personality | Traits

Personality

This is the section that looks upon the personality of the dragon. So that you know them better and things like that. ;)

History

Cold. She felt so incredibly cold. So incredibly alone and cold. Yet she did not shiver.

She slowly opened her eyes. It hurt. Everything hurt. Her left wing was broken and twisted, she could feel that. She had a huge gash over her chest. She should be dead. Yet she wasn't.
She heard steps before her, which made her look up. She was met with a dark, furry dragon with long, white mane and pale blue eyes, glowing, burning into her soul. She could tell he was not a tundra, but what was he then? That question was hurting her head too much, so she put it aside for later.
"Rise, warrior," he commanded, his voice deep and distorted. Even though she didn't feel like listening at first, she stood up anyway. That was when she realised how cold she felt. And how weird this whole situation was. Slowly, a memory came to her. A huge battle, perhaps between clans, happened just a few hours ago. She was in the forefront as one of the main warriors, one of the first who clashed with her enemy. Her wing was torn first, then she was slashed with armoured claws at her chest, tearing apart her belly scales. She fell into the snow, colouring it dark red before darkness engulfed her.
She should be dead, she realised, but here she is, watching, standing, moving her body. But is she really alive? She realised she was holding her breath the whole time - and that shouldn't be possible. She took a deep breath, the cold air entering her lungs, yet... she didn't feel relief. She didn't feel anything, in fact.
What is wrong with me? she cried, completely confused, in her mind. Her sight fell on the dragon before her. Does he have anything to do with this? She wanted to ask him, but somehow she knew she wouldn't recieve an answer. At least not yet.
She looked around her. She realised she wasn't alone here. At all. There were many broken dragons around her with shining teal eyes, stoic like statues. She was pretty sure she killed some of them. And that not everyone was of Lightning flight. They should have different coloured eyes, yet they all shone the same colour. Do her eyes look the same as theirs? She didn't know. And then her eyes fell on the dragons behind the furry creature. There were dozens of them, all with the same look as the dragons around her. Broken. Empty.
Just like her now.

She was brought into an army, she realised as soon as she got into her new "home". An endless undead army. Made of ressurected dragons, beastclans and familiars in various stages of decay. She belonged to an elite group of dragons which were very... "fresh", you could say. While many had injuries they died from, most of them were only scars or torn body parts, not open wounds. Even her own chest wound healed slowly, although her wing membrane didn't.
She went through a gruesome training that no living dragon could survive. And over time, as she spent it with all these cold, unfeeling dragons, she was losing grasp of her emotions as well. At first she was scared, terrified of what she would become, but slowly she stopped caring.
And she didn't care about anyone and anything anymore.
She didn't see the weird dragon anymore, but during her training, she could always hear him in her head. He was talking to her, taunting her when she was failing and never praising her when she was doing well. Her head hurt a lot at first, from his voice echoing in her head. She got used to it quickly and slowly she found herself wanting to hear him.
"I think you are ready to join our ranks now," he told her one day. Her instructor must have gotten a similar announcement, as he stopped and nodded at her.
"Yes, you are ready for your last test," he said.

A hunt. That is what they called it. A hunt for the living was what it really was. Always seeking new subjects for their army. This time around she had the opportunity to join. And everyone would be watching her.
"We've found a small lair," a pearlcatcher by the name of Darion briefed her. "Mostly Faes, weak warriors, but dangerous magicians. Be on your guard and don't dare make any mistake or it might cost us our lives." The last sentence he almost growled and were she alive, she would shoot knives at him with her glare. But now she only offered him a blank stare.
And then they attacked.
It was a bloodbath. Most undead warriors didn't hold back. What she saw that night would upturn the stomachs of many living dragons. Yet she joined in on the slaughter. With her own claws and teeth and magic, she tore apart many Faes. They weren't prepared and soon they would join the endless army.
Soon.

Her superiors seemed to be satisfied with her behavior during the test. With that, her training was complete. And she finally knew what she would become, what she was training for this whole time.
Death knight.
That is what they called it. An armoured warrior, using swords as weapons. Elemental magic, whatever element they might have been, seemed to be related to their master, who only called himself "the Lich King". All death knights could only control ice, no matter what flight they belonged to before their deaths. They also knew some spell of lesser necromancy, being able to raise primitive undead like skeletons and ghouls, beings of no intelligence. Lastly, they could enchant weapons with rune magic to make them more powerful.
They were fueled by war and war only.
And she was one of them now.

The horde moved around the forgotten places of the Icefield, where not many dragons wandered. When they did leave their place, it was always to obliterate another smaller clan of dragons, other living around never even having an idea something like that happened. "Hunting" in smaller groups, always consisting of several Death Knights and many lesser undead Beastclans or dragons. The smaller the units were, the harder it was to track their movements.
She belonged to many different groups at many different times. Listening to the Lich King's voice in her head, heeding his words, going wherever he sent her.

Relationships

Trivia

She's based off of a World of Warcraft class of Death Knights.
Her left wing membrane was torn right before she died in battle. It gives her big trouble with flying, as it cannot heal. She can glide and fly shorter distances, but she can't soar. She's currently looking into a way to fix her wing.
trivia
trivia
trivia

The Lich King as a Gaoler

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Exalting Riyah to the service of the Icewarden 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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