Havoc
(#74061111)
Level 25 Skydancer
Familiar
Noxious Coralclimber
Click or tap to view this dragon in Predict Morphology.
Energy: 0/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Plague.
Male Skydancer
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
5.12 m
Wingspan
6.83 m
Weight
484.35 kg
Genetics
Cream
Leopard
Leopard
Berry
Trail
Trail
Blood
Thylacine
Thylacine
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 25 Skydancer
Max Level
STR
133
AGI
8
DEF
5
QCK
40
INT
5
VIT
6
MND
5
Lineage
Biography
- especially powerful due to his multi-colored secondary
CRY HAVOC AND LET SLIP THE DOGS OF WAR
HELL IS EMPTY AND ALL THE DEVILS ARE HERE
THERE SHALL BE WEEPING AND GNASHING OF TEETH
key:
This text is the symbiont.
This text is the dragon.
This text is both of them.
H A V O C
CRY HAVOC AND LET SLIP THE DOGS OF WAR
PRIMORDIUS CARRIONIX
---
---
---
Whatever the creature luxuriating in the sun was, it wasn't a dragon. It couldn't have been, surely. The silhouette was almost Skydancer, but far too large and far too muscled. Where there should have been three short, keratinous growths on either side of its face, there were instead long, curling horns that branched and twisted together to look almost like brambles. Its feet each had an extra toe, or perhaps a talon, which matched the other dangerously long nails it bore. The tail split in two about halfway down, and if one looked especially closely, there seemed to be a stinger rather like a scorpion's disguised in the tuft of each. Not to even speak of the fact that the glassy gem in the center of its head looked ominously like an eye.
No, the pox-marked and well-scarred creature was not a dragon -- it was not even one creature. It was a Carrionix, the perfect bond of two, and it -- no, they -- were resting.
Havoc was sunbathing, in fact, with their head raised and their eyes closed, tails flicking lazily and legs tucked under their body. The day was lovely, and they weren't in the Plaguelands, so it was reasonably safe to just lie here. Especially considering that with both of their extra senses on alert, it would have been very difficult and very foolish to attack them.
She is going to attack us, the symbiont rumbled. It was a low, sub-bass sound, tinged by amusement. Only the dragon could hear it, but some types of animal became skittish whenever it spoke.
"That would be foolish," he murmured back, not bothering to fight the slight smirk that crept up onto his face.
She, of course, being Byrne -- or, Veil, these days. Their beloved daughter, still coming into her role as a Sire, and filled with the mischief of childhood. She hadn't yet achieved the same level of symbiosis that Havoc had, but she would get there one day.
I did not say she wasn't a fool, lover.
"No, you didn't."
Their tails flicked a buzzing insect away. Perhaps the stalking child would have noticed the way Havoc's antennae quivered once she crept within range, sensing her excitement and her focus -- feeling all through their jaw and throat the way her heartbeat hummed, the way her breath sat even.
Her stalking isn't bad. She is quiet.
"Mm."
Veil wouldn't be dissuaded by the soft sounds of the dragon speaking under his breath; while he could speak to the symbiont without having to open his mouth, they both rather liked to hear the other's voice. It was quite normal to hear Havoc speaking amongst themselves, and Byrne and her own symbiont certainly did not have hearing keen enough to hear them unless they wanted to be heard.
A slight breeze ruffled Havoc's feathers, and pushed the wind further in Veil's favor. They turned their face towards the source, drawing in a deep breath and savoring the feeling of full lungs. It had been untold centuries since the pair had bonded, but the terrible knowledge of what it was like to not be able to draw a breath wasn't something the dragon could ever forget.
Unless you wanted to forget it, lover. I could always keep it away from you.
"'S good to remember. Keeps me honest."
Alright.
Havoc fell silent again. One moment passed, and then another -- they felt Veil's heartrate pick up, and sensed the just barely-there vibration of the other symbiont speaking before their skin prickled with the feeling of being about to be struck. Havoc dug their talons into the dirt and pivoted before snatching Veil out of the air mid-leap and slamming them into the ground, hard. They knocked the wind out of them, and watched with a feeling somewhere between satisfaction and disdain as the red-blue stain of her wings seemed to ripple and fade, just a bit.
"Fear is weakness," they growled, keeping her pinned by the throat but not providing enough pressure to actually harm her. "And it is foolish to start a fight you cannot finish."
Byrne was still seeing stars. Finally though, she said, "I was just practicing."
Havoc's eyebrows raised. "That is a good way to get you both killed. And," they continued, prodding lightly at one of the darkest spots on her wings and watching its color suddenly retreat, "you do not protect your host by tucking your tail between your legs. You fight. Perhaps it even stuns your opponent enough to let you both flee."
CRY HAVOC AND LET SLIP THE DOGS OF WAR
HELL IS EMPTY AND ALL THE DEVILS ARE HERE
THERE SHALL BE WEEPING AND GNASHING OF TEETH
key:
This text is the symbiont.
This text is the dragon.
This text is both of them.
H A V O C
CRY HAVOC AND LET SLIP THE DOGS OF WAR
PRIMORDIUS CARRIONIX
|
Weren't you born sickly, lover? Hm? Yes, I was. It is for that reason I am fortunate to have been sheltered by the wing of Plague; the beasts of Nature might have been keener to cull me. As it were, my family simply cast me out into the wastes -- survive or die, they told me. Prove that you are worthy. Tell them how you met me. Right. There was the falling star -- the Arcanist's children saw it first, but others came, too. They accumulated in the Plaguelands to watch it fall, to see what they could see -- to discover its secrets, I suppose. I never really cared. I was drawn for the promise of food. You couldn't hunt. No. I was never able to catch a full breath, and never enough for a chase. I was always too weak from hunger to win a fight or plot an ambush. I survived by scavenging and scraping by, and that's what I'd planned to do -- all these beasts (some of them dragons, some of them not, most of them long forgotten) had brought food, of course. The foreigners didn't trust the meat of the Wasteland, and they'd brought their own. When they all were distracted, gawking and cooing up at the sky, I crept inside their camp. And then-- And then-- The world went white. Is it my turn, now? Yes, beloved. Alright. We were-- panicked, I suppose. Difficult to describe it, in dragon-words. Our world had ended, in a way, and we were desperate to survive. We were a dying breed; we were a creature of conquering, but now, we just needed to survive. I think there must be others, still, out there in your sky. But all I know now are those of us who landed. 'Landed' is a bit of an understatement, dear. Crashed, then. We left a smoking crater in the ground, should've killed all the creatures in the center. Really, I'm almost sure we did. The heat was so immense, it threatened to tear me apart -- so I took shelter in the coolest thing I found, and that was you, lover. Whether it was the death or the anemia, I don't think we'll ever know. But you were colder than the rest of them, and you were safe. The others must have been so jealous of my good luck! I crawled inside and knitted you back together -- I stained your pale flesh red and redder, and wove my own paleness in besides. They underestimate you now, lover -- they think your wings are light because we're weak, but what they don't know is that my cream colors simply match your own. We are soulmates, after all. A perfect match. I woke up afterward; I crawled out of that crater and I felt strong. I'd never felt strong before. I'd never known how to fly before. You had so much in your head, even then -- so much I wanted to see and do and feel and be. Ha! So much you wanted to eat, you mean. That too. Regardless, you saved me in more than one way, beloved. You knitted my skin and bones back together and knew every inch of my soul, but you also made me better than I had been before -- stronger, more powerful. I could run, now. I could breathe. I could hunt and kill and fight. I could stalk back to the place of my birth and look my family in the face, and I could make them rue having left me. "Just because it let me live doesn't mean it wasn't cruel," you'd said. 'Survival of the fittest' is a child's view of the world. But we were fitter, and so we thrived. You'd never believe it now, but we didn't get along, in the beginning. You were terrified, and I thought you were weak. The first time we found harmony... it was in a hunt, wasn't it? Yes. You were running, on those spindly, long legs of yours -- and I pulled your lungs open, I gave you the power to leap, I gave you the strength to shatter bone. The place where you stopped and I started wasn't real anymore -- we weren't a dragon and a symbiont, we were a Carrionix. And then I settled deep in your chest like a purring and contented thing while you ate, and for the first but not last time, you thanked me. That's right. After that, we were... A FORCE OF NATURE. CHAOS INCARNATE. We were unstoppable. We were Havoc, the harbinger of the apocalypse. We were going to consume the world. There was plenty, after the Pillar fell. Plenty to eat and to destroy. Plenty to try and kill us. Not that any of them ever could. But ages passed; years and years and years. Dragons dotted the land, the dragon-gods had their drama, and soon the mindless consumption became... Repetitive. Boring. We didn't want to kill anymore. We went home to the Plaguelands, first. To say goodbye, perhaps, or find a new purpose...? You wanted to say goodbye. I wanted to find something new. In a way, we both got what we wanted. We found Byrne. She was a child, cast out from her family, just like I had been. Gangly and weak and barely able to breathe while she fought for her survival. She'd found the crater on her own, though. That primordial spawning-pool. We watched her fight, we watched her bond -- we watched her nearly die from the force of what took her, and then she rose again, like she was meant to be a Sire. Together, they were Veil. I mentored the dragon, and you mentored the symbiont. Soon, they were... She was family. And she needed to go, so we went. Our daughter and her traveling brood -- and we traveled for a very long time, learning and growing together, forming our own bonds in kind. Becoming stronger, and stronger, and stronger. It was my idea to retire. But that's not what it was called. No, it wasn't. There were so many lineages linked to me and to her -- so many lineages linked to us, beloved, so it only seemed natural to start learning. We found a library. A home. A clan. A place to learn, where it wasn't so crucial for us to fight, and kill, and conquer. A place where we could enrich our children, and our children's children, and however many others came from there. We found Sanctuary. |
---
---
---
Whatever the creature luxuriating in the sun was, it wasn't a dragon. It couldn't have been, surely. The silhouette was almost Skydancer, but far too large and far too muscled. Where there should have been three short, keratinous growths on either side of its face, there were instead long, curling horns that branched and twisted together to look almost like brambles. Its feet each had an extra toe, or perhaps a talon, which matched the other dangerously long nails it bore. The tail split in two about halfway down, and if one looked especially closely, there seemed to be a stinger rather like a scorpion's disguised in the tuft of each. Not to even speak of the fact that the glassy gem in the center of its head looked ominously like an eye.
No, the pox-marked and well-scarred creature was not a dragon -- it was not even one creature. It was a Carrionix, the perfect bond of two, and it -- no, they -- were resting.
Havoc was sunbathing, in fact, with their head raised and their eyes closed, tails flicking lazily and legs tucked under their body. The day was lovely, and they weren't in the Plaguelands, so it was reasonably safe to just lie here. Especially considering that with both of their extra senses on alert, it would have been very difficult and very foolish to attack them.
She is going to attack us, the symbiont rumbled. It was a low, sub-bass sound, tinged by amusement. Only the dragon could hear it, but some types of animal became skittish whenever it spoke.
"That would be foolish," he murmured back, not bothering to fight the slight smirk that crept up onto his face.
She, of course, being Byrne -- or, Veil, these days. Their beloved daughter, still coming into her role as a Sire, and filled with the mischief of childhood. She hadn't yet achieved the same level of symbiosis that Havoc had, but she would get there one day.
I did not say she wasn't a fool, lover.
"No, you didn't."
Their tails flicked a buzzing insect away. Perhaps the stalking child would have noticed the way Havoc's antennae quivered once she crept within range, sensing her excitement and her focus -- feeling all through their jaw and throat the way her heartbeat hummed, the way her breath sat even.
Her stalking isn't bad. She is quiet.
"Mm."
Veil wouldn't be dissuaded by the soft sounds of the dragon speaking under his breath; while he could speak to the symbiont without having to open his mouth, they both rather liked to hear the other's voice. It was quite normal to hear Havoc speaking amongst themselves, and Byrne and her own symbiont certainly did not have hearing keen enough to hear them unless they wanted to be heard.
A slight breeze ruffled Havoc's feathers, and pushed the wind further in Veil's favor. They turned their face towards the source, drawing in a deep breath and savoring the feeling of full lungs. It had been untold centuries since the pair had bonded, but the terrible knowledge of what it was like to not be able to draw a breath wasn't something the dragon could ever forget.
Unless you wanted to forget it, lover. I could always keep it away from you.
"'S good to remember. Keeps me honest."
Alright.
Havoc fell silent again. One moment passed, and then another -- they felt Veil's heartrate pick up, and sensed the just barely-there vibration of the other symbiont speaking before their skin prickled with the feeling of being about to be struck. Havoc dug their talons into the dirt and pivoted before snatching Veil out of the air mid-leap and slamming them into the ground, hard. They knocked the wind out of them, and watched with a feeling somewhere between satisfaction and disdain as the red-blue stain of her wings seemed to ripple and fade, just a bit.
"Fear is weakness," they growled, keeping her pinned by the throat but not providing enough pressure to actually harm her. "And it is foolish to start a fight you cannot finish."
Byrne was still seeing stars. Finally though, she said, "I was just practicing."
Havoc's eyebrows raised. "That is a good way to get you both killed. And," they continued, prodding lightly at one of the darkest spots on her wings and watching its color suddenly retreat, "you do not protect your host by tucking your tail between your legs. You fight. Perhaps it even stuns your opponent enough to let you both flee."
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Exalting Havoc to the service of the Lightweaver 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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