Kudzu
(#59232507)
Level 25 Guardian
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Energy: 50/50
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
16.45 m
Wingspan
16.91 m
Weight
7704.03 kg
Genetics
Dirt
Leopard
Leopard
Sanguine
Foam
Foam
Blood
Thylacine
Thylacine
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 25 Guardian
Max Level
STR
7
AGI
6
DEF
8
QCK
5
INT
5
VIT
8
MND
6
Biography
Polyamorous. Mates: Fissure, Mortali, Venin, Vindica.
Had she ever wanted to take the Trials? She doesn't remember anymore.
But she came this far. The vines and disease in her veins shall spread.
Reginn relative, but not descendant (great-granddaughter of Aerugosanguis)
But she came this far. The vines and disease in her veins shall spread.
Reginn relative, but not descendant (great-granddaughter of Aerugosanguis)
They wanted to tame her.
To make her gentle. To make her quiescent.
To calm the growth of vine and call it virtue. Oh, they adored her for her plague, for the diseases she held mastery over like no other from her homeland, but they didn't want the reminder of where, exactly, she had come from.
Though of course all Necromancers were welcomed by their Mother, it remained a cruel truth that many held those who hailed from Nature to be below them, to be lesser. Her being a Necroservus, incapable of calling back the diseases she so skillfully inflicted, did not help this opinion of her.
Kudzu did not care for their scorn, nor their attempts to mold her into something more palatable to their close-mindedness. She had even won several duels, proving that neither Nature origin nor 'servus inability would render her a dragon worth crossing. Even at her weakest, when the fever-dreams took her and left her shivering in her den, claws gouging the ground as plague gouged her mind, she was more dangerous than any of them wanted her to be.
And they hated it. Every clan she ever visited tried to tame her, to scour the Labyrinth from her heart and flesh and magic, and every time she only smiled, eyes fever-bright and skin radiating heat to rival that of those born in Fire.
There is a kind of vine known as kudzu, from which she took her name. It is invasive in every territory but Nature, and even in its homeland its devouring spread will consume vast swaths of forest if left unchecked. It flourishes in the reclaimed Seedscar, out-competing what little native Plague plantlife there is, and it tests the boundaries of the land, ever seeking further spread, further dominion over every piece of land it touches.
And when she finds the new clan, when their precious Council members look upon her, daughter of glade and rot and all that festers in both vegetation and flesh, Kudzu only smiles and thinks of how far she, too, shall spread.
The Maimed Conclave doesn't try to tame her.
Suffice it to say that she does not know how to respond in the face of their acceptance. Maple is small, and quiet, and frankly seems far too shy to be a leader, but in time Kudzu learns she has a core of unbending steel hidden in that noodly body. She doesn't tolerate judgement or ostracizing, and for one who has spent her entire life fighting to prove herself, to show she is equal or better than any Plagueborn 'servus on Sornieth, Kudzu finds she is at a loss for what to do with herself in a clan where she is respected rather than merely tolerated.
Other 'servi and even Necromancers come to her for advice, and not one of them seems to do so begrudgingly. They come willingly, curious, genuinely seeking counsel, and she counts herself lucky none seem to notice the way vines nervously writhe upon her spine.
She is respected. She is wanted. Not a one of them tries to take clippers to her, to tame back the wild growth of her, to shape it to suit their needs. Not a one makes any attempt to control her.
At first, it is almost infuriating to have what she always dreamed of. Power. Respect. Acceptance. She fought for these things all her life and now they are simply given to her without struggle? Without a sneer?
Seven months into her time with the Conclave she lashes out, unable to take it any longer. Surely this is all a ruse, all a test, the clan just waiting for her to fail and show she isn't worthy of the freedom they have granted her! Surely their true faces will come to light now!
Adder only tilts his head in concern when she pins him down, seconds from clawing out all four of those Plague-blessed eyes of his. His voice is not cold, nor is it submissive. Only firm.
"What was done to you? What was done that you feel so unsettled by safety, by acceptance?"
Shuddering, she backs away, vines and blooms spreading over her scales. "Why don't you attack me?! Why don't you deride me and insult me and try to control me like every other clan I've lived with?"
Her gets to his feet with careful ease, testing the wing that was crumpled beneath him for fractured bones. "As you may have noticed," he begins calmly, giving himself a good shake, "we don't do that here. No one marked by Mother's claws is lesser, or a failure, or any other insult other Necromancers may see fit to bestow upon others in their arrogance. Maple and I don't allow Necromancers to stay with the Conclave for any significant length of time if we believe they won't uphold that ideal."
She growls, less anger and more instinct, more fear of what she is having difficulty understanding. On the other hand, the mirror watches her calmly, and the lack of judgement in his gaze does little to calm the storm within her.
"You need not prove yourself here, Kudzu," he continues with a slow blink. "You proved yourself worthy to our Mother of Plague, and she is the only one whose approval you need."
To make her gentle. To make her quiescent.
To calm the growth of vine and call it virtue. Oh, they adored her for her plague, for the diseases she held mastery over like no other from her homeland, but they didn't want the reminder of where, exactly, she had come from.
Though of course all Necromancers were welcomed by their Mother, it remained a cruel truth that many held those who hailed from Nature to be below them, to be lesser. Her being a Necroservus, incapable of calling back the diseases she so skillfully inflicted, did not help this opinion of her.
Kudzu did not care for their scorn, nor their attempts to mold her into something more palatable to their close-mindedness. She had even won several duels, proving that neither Nature origin nor 'servus inability would render her a dragon worth crossing. Even at her weakest, when the fever-dreams took her and left her shivering in her den, claws gouging the ground as plague gouged her mind, she was more dangerous than any of them wanted her to be.
And they hated it. Every clan she ever visited tried to tame her, to scour the Labyrinth from her heart and flesh and magic, and every time she only smiled, eyes fever-bright and skin radiating heat to rival that of those born in Fire.
There is a kind of vine known as kudzu, from which she took her name. It is invasive in every territory but Nature, and even in its homeland its devouring spread will consume vast swaths of forest if left unchecked. It flourishes in the reclaimed Seedscar, out-competing what little native Plague plantlife there is, and it tests the boundaries of the land, ever seeking further spread, further dominion over every piece of land it touches.
And when she finds the new clan, when their precious Council members look upon her, daughter of glade and rot and all that festers in both vegetation and flesh, Kudzu only smiles and thinks of how far she, too, shall spread.
The Maimed Conclave doesn't try to tame her.
Suffice it to say that she does not know how to respond in the face of their acceptance. Maple is small, and quiet, and frankly seems far too shy to be a leader, but in time Kudzu learns she has a core of unbending steel hidden in that noodly body. She doesn't tolerate judgement or ostracizing, and for one who has spent her entire life fighting to prove herself, to show she is equal or better than any Plagueborn 'servus on Sornieth, Kudzu finds she is at a loss for what to do with herself in a clan where she is respected rather than merely tolerated.
Other 'servi and even Necromancers come to her for advice, and not one of them seems to do so begrudgingly. They come willingly, curious, genuinely seeking counsel, and she counts herself lucky none seem to notice the way vines nervously writhe upon her spine.
She is respected. She is wanted. Not a one of them tries to take clippers to her, to tame back the wild growth of her, to shape it to suit their needs. Not a one makes any attempt to control her.
At first, it is almost infuriating to have what she always dreamed of. Power. Respect. Acceptance. She fought for these things all her life and now they are simply given to her without struggle? Without a sneer?
Seven months into her time with the Conclave she lashes out, unable to take it any longer. Surely this is all a ruse, all a test, the clan just waiting for her to fail and show she isn't worthy of the freedom they have granted her! Surely their true faces will come to light now!
Adder only tilts his head in concern when she pins him down, seconds from clawing out all four of those Plague-blessed eyes of his. His voice is not cold, nor is it submissive. Only firm.
"What was done to you? What was done that you feel so unsettled by safety, by acceptance?"
Shuddering, she backs away, vines and blooms spreading over her scales. "Why don't you attack me?! Why don't you deride me and insult me and try to control me like every other clan I've lived with?"
Her gets to his feet with careful ease, testing the wing that was crumpled beneath him for fractured bones. "As you may have noticed," he begins calmly, giving himself a good shake, "we don't do that here. No one marked by Mother's claws is lesser, or a failure, or any other insult other Necromancers may see fit to bestow upon others in their arrogance. Maple and I don't allow Necromancers to stay with the Conclave for any significant length of time if we believe they won't uphold that ideal."
She growls, less anger and more instinct, more fear of what she is having difficulty understanding. On the other hand, the mirror watches her calmly, and the lack of judgement in his gaze does little to calm the storm within her.
"You need not prove yourself here, Kudzu," he continues with a slow blink. "You proved yourself worthy to our Mother of Plague, and she is the only one whose approval you need."
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Exalting Kudzu to the service of the Tidelord 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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