Moribund
(#41054108)
Level 12 Pearlcatcher
Familiar
Vigorous Goblet
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Energy: 0/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Plague.
Male Pearlcatcher
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
5.63 m
Wingspan
6.45 m
Weight
550.12 kg
Genetics
Sanguine
Iridescent
Iridescent
Blood
Saturn
Saturn
Sanguine
Thylacine
Thylacine
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 12 Pearlcatcher
EXP: 5606 / 38956
STR
6
AGI
6
DEF
6
QCK
7
INT
7
VIT
6
MND
7
Biography
Moribund
Virulent Ghoul | Infiltrator| *Flavor
Lives with Radium/Astatine, is secretly studying them for Sigil, who promised to help find a cure for his condition (also he's kinda scared of Sigil). Moribund probably wasn't his given name, but one he picked up after failing the Trials. Covers himself in apparel in an attempt to hide the signs of said failure, and to prevent himself from infecting others.
Virulent Ghoul | Infiltrator| *Flavor
Birth Flight
|
4/21/18 The young dragon heralded from a large lair of Pearlcatchers that had migrated from the Sunbeam Ruins. They had made their home along the fringes of the Wandering Contagion, bordering the Tangled Wood. His clan and several others in the vicinity were mushroom growers, cultivating fungus from the Scarred Wastland on rotted logs procured from the Shadow territory's Driftwood Drag. The son of the clan's alpha dragons, he was often paraded around his mother and father's lands as a symbol of success and prosperity, for thriving agriculture was rare among the pitiless wastes of the Plaguelands. The clan of farmers were thus quite proud of their accomplishments and ingenuity in eking out a livelihood.
One day, however, as they patrolled the grounds with their young son in tow, they were approached by a diminutive Skydancer. He was a violent sanguine color with veins that bulged in his wings and a vapid stare. He froze as the family caught sight of him. Saying nothing, he sat on his haunches and looked upon them. With a slow movement, he pointed to his shoulder. The young Pearlcatcher glimpsed that he had mushrooms sprouting from his body. The creature smiled as they studied him. |
 Left for the Wyrmwound at 3 days old |
"Don't get near," the dragon's mother instructed, "It's a Ghoul. We must call the guards so as it does not blight the gardens." For a long moment no one moved or uttered a word. A simultaneous notion had been shared yet unspoken among them. What guards? What dragon of their land was strong enough to combat such a vile beast?
The following morning, it was decided that the alpha dragons would send off their precious child to attempt the Necromancer Trials at the perilous Wyrmwound. They had only heard tales of the Plaguebringer's anointed warriors, illustrious spreaders and curers of contagion, but both parents alongside their trusted counsel and community agreed that such a hero would serve as a boon to their lands and way of life. That afternoon, after a grand ceremony of well wishes and goodbyes, he would take his leave with an elder dragon known only as,"Nanny," a weathered Snapper who, having explored vehemently in her youth had glimpsed the Wyrmwound firsthand. Accompanying them were two sizable Pearlcatchers. Hunters and the boldest of the clan, they had learned to efficiently extricate the opportunistic vermin and insects that oftentimes invaded their storehouses and nesting grounds.
The young hatchling, while saddened and confounded by his evolving circumstances was reassured by insistence of his courage and gallantry.
"Please don't fret! You'll return to us a champion."
04/25/18 The little Pearlcatcher bolted at a full gallop towards the noxious glow of the Wyrmwound, his gangling limbs threatening to trip him with every fevered step. There was a fresh wound that hampered his gait, placed where the bone of his shoulder met the base of his neck. His eyes were saucers. In his wake, were the arrow-ridden bodies of the two hunters. One, with a contorted frame still wrenching for breath, bellowed for him to run with the last of his vanishing efforts. As the hatchling fled, a large, pale Serthis rose up behind his steward with blades drawn. On either side of him, red-eyed Mirror dragons dashed passed. He ducked between their feet and a loud clamor erupted behind him. He pushed forward, fear more than any glimmer of valor drawing him closer and closer to the core of the Wasteland. When at long last he reached the edge of the Plaguebringer's smoldering, disease-ridden cauldron, he collapsed and slept, his dreams fraught with angst.
When he awoke two days later, Rot had already taken to his skin. He dragged himself about the Wyrmwound searching for a spot to meditate on Her teachings and recover. He curled up beneath a crag, the heat coming off of the pustule lake comforting him as an embrace, though he found it difficult to concentrate wholly on Her gifts, his mind wandering to the plight of his clan and the fate of his custodians...
Nanny had taken them a little more than halfway to the Wyrmwound when she suddenly balked.
"This is an ill fated idea. I refuse to take him any further."
He hadn't understood at the time. He wished very much to return as the protector of his clan and no dragon until now had expressed a syllable counter to such a venerable narrative. The Pearlcatchers had battled her off, however, fortifying him against her doubt. She turned tail towards home, vowing to secure a party to retrieve him. He wondered if she had made it back alive, and if she had, if she encouraged others to set out after him as promised. He hoped dearly that she hadn't induced such a movement, that everyone would stay put and stay safe at the lair. He sighed deeply, his lungs throbbing and breath taxing.
5/06/18 A week passed, and then half of another and he grew no stronger. Instead only the infection raged on, sprouting from his neck and decaying every slice of his skin. His thoughts were muddled. They couldn't find him here like this, he reasoned as he rose from the ground in a stupor, nor did he wish to return to them, too afraid of blighting the crops with the ails of his condition. He pictured the ruddy face of the Skydancer Ghoul who had set off such an extraordinary and harrowing series of events, his own expression just as reddened by the gripping plague.
The following morning, it was decided that the alpha dragons would send off their precious child to attempt the Necromancer Trials at the perilous Wyrmwound. They had only heard tales of the Plaguebringer's anointed warriors, illustrious spreaders and curers of contagion, but both parents alongside their trusted counsel and community agreed that such a hero would serve as a boon to their lands and way of life. That afternoon, after a grand ceremony of well wishes and goodbyes, he would take his leave with an elder dragon known only as,"Nanny," a weathered Snapper who, having explored vehemently in her youth had glimpsed the Wyrmwound firsthand. Accompanying them were two sizable Pearlcatchers. Hunters and the boldest of the clan, they had learned to efficiently extricate the opportunistic vermin and insects that oftentimes invaded their storehouses and nesting grounds.
The young hatchling, while saddened and confounded by his evolving circumstances was reassured by insistence of his courage and gallantry.
"Please don't fret! You'll return to us a champion."
04/25/18 The little Pearlcatcher bolted at a full gallop towards the noxious glow of the Wyrmwound, his gangling limbs threatening to trip him with every fevered step. There was a fresh wound that hampered his gait, placed where the bone of his shoulder met the base of his neck. His eyes were saucers. In his wake, were the arrow-ridden bodies of the two hunters. One, with a contorted frame still wrenching for breath, bellowed for him to run with the last of his vanishing efforts. As the hatchling fled, a large, pale Serthis rose up behind his steward with blades drawn. On either side of him, red-eyed Mirror dragons dashed passed. He ducked between their feet and a loud clamor erupted behind him. He pushed forward, fear more than any glimmer of valor drawing him closer and closer to the core of the Wasteland. When at long last he reached the edge of the Plaguebringer's smoldering, disease-ridden cauldron, he collapsed and slept, his dreams fraught with angst.
When he awoke two days later, Rot had already taken to his skin. He dragged himself about the Wyrmwound searching for a spot to meditate on Her teachings and recover. He curled up beneath a crag, the heat coming off of the pustule lake comforting him as an embrace, though he found it difficult to concentrate wholly on Her gifts, his mind wandering to the plight of his clan and the fate of his custodians...
Nanny had taken them a little more than halfway to the Wyrmwound when she suddenly balked.
"This is an ill fated idea. I refuse to take him any further."
He hadn't understood at the time. He wished very much to return as the protector of his clan and no dragon until now had expressed a syllable counter to such a venerable narrative. The Pearlcatchers had battled her off, however, fortifying him against her doubt. She turned tail towards home, vowing to secure a party to retrieve him. He wondered if she had made it back alive, and if she had, if she encouraged others to set out after him as promised. He hoped dearly that she hadn't induced such a movement, that everyone would stay put and stay safe at the lair. He sighed deeply, his lungs throbbing and breath taxing.
5/06/18 A week passed, and then half of another and he grew no stronger. Instead only the infection raged on, sprouting from his neck and decaying every slice of his skin. His thoughts were muddled. They couldn't find him here like this, he reasoned as he rose from the ground in a stupor, nor did he wish to return to them, too afraid of blighting the crops with the ails of his condition. He pictured the ruddy face of the Skydancer Ghoul who had set off such an extraordinary and harrowing series of events, his own expression just as reddened by the gripping plague.
Lives with Radium/Astatine, is secretly studying them for Sigil, who promised to help find a cure for his condition (also he's kinda scared of Sigil). Moribund probably wasn't his given name, but one he picked up after failing the Trials. Covers himself in apparel in an attempt to hide the signs of said failure, and to prevent himself from infecting others.
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Exalting Moribund to the service of the Plaguebringer 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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