SirCumspect
(#52239966)
Level 10 Nocturne
Click or tap to view this dragon in Predict Morphology.
Energy: 50/50
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
5.78 m
Wingspan
6.51 m
Weight
766.36 kg
Genetics
Beige
Starmap
Starmap
Pistachio
Bee
Bee
Antique
Runes
Runes
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 10 Nocturne
EXP: 1370 / 27676
STR
7
AGI
6
DEF
7
QCK
6
INT
6
VIT
6
MND
7
Biography
Once upon a time, in a land where ancient stone gleamed and the grass grew yellow under the bright sun, there was a glassmaker's hut. The hut had been made for a family, but all that remained was a single young coatl whose foreign eyes shone like fire. Every day she spent working on making it right, and every night she curled up alone next to the still-warm kiln.
The thing she was creating, piece by glittering piece, was a wondrous sight. Her mother had started it, way back when they'd still lived in a world of ashes and heat. A single piece of glass from a faulty vase of hers had broken into two perfect, wonderful dragon teeth. That was also when it had all started, the pull her whole family had felt and the journey they had followed.
As her family settled where the migratory pull had left them, more and more of their works shattered upon completion. Most were dull pieces that they'd melt again later, but a few had that same special feel to them as those two glass teeth. Soon, they had a full set, then a jaw, and after that perfect scales had been flaking off their glassware. Every scale was slightly different, and in no time -or was it several years?- they'd constructed a hollow Nocturne dragon's head.
This was when the family's children first noticed the wrongness. They hadn't grown much since the move, and yet their parents looked so much more worn. The mother, now obsessed with the dragon sculpture, spent her days at the kiln without exception. Her eyes were ringed by marks that hadn't been there before, her plumage faded and covered in soot. The father had also changed, and although he did leave their home to pull the nets for fish and dig up sands for the glass every day, his eyes were vacant.
Alarmed, the three young coatls tried to get their parents to see the wrongness. Ayla, the eldest, suggested she take a shift or two so their mother could have some time in the sun. The mother reluctantly agreed, and for a while, she did better. They went back to having a relatively nice life on their sunny cliff by the sea, until the fateful day when the first arm was completed, and Ayla started acting strange.
Worried about their sister, and with their mother's condition detoriating once more, the two remaining siblings decided it was time for their family to return to their homeland. Their father agreed, but weakly, his eyes glossy and translucent as a piece of their tinted glass. When had he turned blind? They couldn't remember. He had wounds, too, nothing serious except they wouldn't heal. He didn't seem to mind.
After packing silently in the night, as they knew Ayla wouldn't want to go anymore, the healthy brother and sister bundled her up in a blanket and tied the struggling bundle in a fishing net. Once Ayla had been thrown into the boat, they hurried to their father's bed to have him help them carry their mom. He did not wake up. Worried, they tried to shake him, but his body was cold and they retracted in shock. Panicking, they woke their feverish mother, and dragged her to the boat.
Greeting the morning sun on the glittering waves of the Sea of a Thousand Currents were four coatls. Two were young, barely of nesting age. One was old, and grey. The last one's age was anyone's guess, but her plumage was dull and she looked empty somehow. In the daylight, and far away, everything seemed so simple.
They discussed a bit as the cheerful ripples lapped against their boat, and agreed that they had probably lost track of time as the seasons were different here. The old mother apologized for being too absorbed in her artwork, promising to give it up and focus on recovering. Ayla agreed that she had taken the sculpture too seriously, but she still wanted to go back. In the end, they decided to turn the boat and bury the sculpture along with the father.
Back on shore, their father was waiting. The mother chided her children for scaring her like that, because see, he was fine! Wary, the younger hatchlings stayed back while their mother and sister disembarked to greet him, but he seemed to be his normal calm self. Relieved, they did something they hadn't done since hatchlinghood, and ran to hug him. Their father was warm as the sun-touched rocks, and smelled sweet. Had he always smelled this sweet? There was also a different scent, like fish left too long in the boat, so they laughed and told him he needed a bath.
Feeling silly for overreacting, the young coatls decided to help their sister out in the glass workshop that evening. They found her mounting a scale on the sculpture, which they reluctantly admitted was really pretty. The glass was almost clear, but the green and brown streaks and tints became obvious when the scales were layered correctly. Ayla showed them how to chip flakes off of glassware to "create" scales, but while her brother managed to make a few, the last little coatl by the name of Silica did not manage a single one that day.
After the boat incident, Silica spent her days exploring alone since her brother had started hanging out in the glass workshop. Close to their home was a large labyrinth of white stones that looked like they'd been shaped by somebody long ago, and it felt like the walls were always shifting because she could never remember where she'd been. She enjoyed her walks there, but only until the middle of the day, because whenever the shadows started growing longer she felt they were reaching for her.
Silica had been walking along on top of a crumbling wall, humming to herself and having a generally good day, when she saw a strangely intact circle of hewn stone. Curious, she glided onto it, only to find a puddle in the middle. She was about to turn away when she noticed the strangeness of it; the sun shone through the water entirely, not reflecting on its surface at all. Mystified, she took a sample with her trusty blown-glass flask. There was a strange rock at the bottom of the puddle, a circular flat one with a hole in the middle. Wanting the rock, she decided to take a dip while she was at it. The puddle wasn't really big enough, but rolling in it still felt refreshing. The rock fit on her flask strap, and it looked nice too.
The way home was different from before. Silica couldn't remember the scenery being so nice earlier, and wondered why she hadn't noticed. Everything was clear and detailed, like a fog had been lifted. Their hut was looking a bit worse for wear, she saw, and wondered if her mom or sister could fix it up a bit. Fixing it herself would probably make it worse. The boat looked like it could use a caring paw or two as well.
Entering the hut, she felt the wrongness again. It stunned her for a moment; she hadn't felt like that for a long time now. Or was it a long time? But the last time had just been her childish imagination, so she tried her best to brush it off. Still uneasy, Silica went out to where her father would usually be at this time, in the shadows fixing the nets.
He was there, and gave her a wave, but he looked all wrong and the nets were really smelly that day and the wrongness didn't disappear so she went back inside. Annoyed at herself for feeling such unease when her father was just looking a bit aged, she went to the glass workshop, where her siblings were creating the now almost completed beautiful glass sculpture under their mom's watchful eyes.
Except it wasn't beautiful at all.
Where the glass sculpture had been, there was a deep shadow with glowing stars for eyes. Long tendrils of missing light were fluttering all around it, but some were tightly anchored in her brother, sister, and mother. Seeing how the thing was parasitizing her family, forcing them to slave away at making it whole, Silica screamed in horror and hurled her only weapon at the thing; the strange water she had wanted to show her mom. The heavy glass flask hit the sculpture right between its eyes and shattered, making a shower of glass fragments and water.
The mother coatl slumped to the floor with a sigh and turned to dust. Ayla screamed, but even as the scream faded away, she too was a pile of ashes. Silica could only stare as the black tendrils retracted, not FROM her brother, but TO him. The blackness writhed around him, as if in pain, and then he took off towards the door. However, just as the tendrils pushed the door open, the flask strap which had been knocked flying by the explosion landed neatly around the brother's neck. The blackness made a sound that was not a sound and disappeared.
Silica and her brother later found their father still in his spot by the nets, the flesh and skin hanging from his bones. He was long dead, a fact they did not wish to dwell upon. They decided to bury their family at sea, and afterwards they sat in silence for a long, long time. Eventually, Silica got up, went to the glass workshop, and started picking up the pieces. Most of the scales were intact, they had merely fallen to the dirt floor.
Putting them back on the sculpture, one by one, she could feel no wrongness now. Only the loving craftmanship of her family. Silica silently wept as she reassembled it, the nocturne dragon made out of shattered glass. Half of both wings was missing, and a hind leg.
For years beyond count, two coatl dragons lived together in the hut by the sea, slowly building a glass sculpture out of their love for the family they lost. Even as disease claimed her brother, Silica worked on, but of her own free will. The resulting sculpture was a beauty beyond compare, and seemed like it would need but the tiniest push to come to life. Pulling her most special items forth, Silica gently laid the chain of her mother's locket around the sculpture's neck. In it, along with the memories, she put the special flat holed rock which had saved her brother that day. Having completed her family's life goal and masterpiece, Silica returned to her volcanic birthplace without looking back.
Once upon a time, in a land where ancient stone gleamed and the grass grew yellow under the bright sun, there was a glassmaker's hut. The hut was silent, except for the disused workshop, from which the gentle tinkling rustle of many miniscule glass scales could be heard. After raising its head slowly, a Nocturne dragon's eyes opened. Pulling aside the dusty veil of cobwebs covering its head, it becomes aware of its own glossy body. Unsure what exactly it is, it looks around for answers, but finds only a very worn workshop. It cannot remember this place, but it knows that it was loved here.
Exiting the hut, the new dragon of questionable biology was confused. The cliff, the beach... they were familiar, yet alien. The glass scales reflected the morning light in a cascade of tiny rainbows, making it hard to see clearly, but underfoot there was a worn path. Underneath the weeds and dust, in the middle of the old trail, hints of an older stone pathway could be felt. It was a path he knew. Confused, the dragon looked up. "He"? But yes, it felt right. He knew now that he was male, and definitely a dragon. Where he'd lost his body was still blank, but he intended to find out.
The beach was smooth, and littered with valuable driftwood left to pile up where the waves took it. No dragon had been there in a long, long time. Testing the water, he found to his delight that something kept the water outside his scales despite the gaps. He could float! Seeing the shadows of tiny fish dart away, a thought hit him; could he eat? What would he eat? He was quite sure he hadn't originally been a nocturne, and their diet was not part of his hazy recollections. Worried that he'd starve his new body, the dragon tugged up a clump of nice-looking seaweed from a rocky outcrop and tried to put it in his mouth. The same odd barrier that stopped the water also stopped the seaweed, so he guessed his new body was some sort of mana golem. That was fine, then, but the thought of never eating again called forth thoughts of how delicious this nice seaweed would be in a stir-fry... had he been a vegetarian breed?
Deep in thoughts and concentrating to remember, he didn't realize how far he had drifted until a wave crashed over him and made him look up. Shore was nowhere to be seen, and although he could feel which way he was going now, he would probably have been pulled by several different currents. Not really wanting to trust wings made out of glass shards, he decided to simply keep drifting until land came his way. Sure, the place he had been earlier was the only connection he'd had to who he had been, but by the state of it he would say too much time had passed for him to meet anyone who would have known him. Without a need for food, drifting about wasn't going to be an issue.
The thing she was creating, piece by glittering piece, was a wondrous sight. Her mother had started it, way back when they'd still lived in a world of ashes and heat. A single piece of glass from a faulty vase of hers had broken into two perfect, wonderful dragon teeth. That was also when it had all started, the pull her whole family had felt and the journey they had followed.
As her family settled where the migratory pull had left them, more and more of their works shattered upon completion. Most were dull pieces that they'd melt again later, but a few had that same special feel to them as those two glass teeth. Soon, they had a full set, then a jaw, and after that perfect scales had been flaking off their glassware. Every scale was slightly different, and in no time -or was it several years?- they'd constructed a hollow Nocturne dragon's head.
This was when the family's children first noticed the wrongness. They hadn't grown much since the move, and yet their parents looked so much more worn. The mother, now obsessed with the dragon sculpture, spent her days at the kiln without exception. Her eyes were ringed by marks that hadn't been there before, her plumage faded and covered in soot. The father had also changed, and although he did leave their home to pull the nets for fish and dig up sands for the glass every day, his eyes were vacant.
Alarmed, the three young coatls tried to get their parents to see the wrongness. Ayla, the eldest, suggested she take a shift or two so their mother could have some time in the sun. The mother reluctantly agreed, and for a while, she did better. They went back to having a relatively nice life on their sunny cliff by the sea, until the fateful day when the first arm was completed, and Ayla started acting strange.
Worried about their sister, and with their mother's condition detoriating once more, the two remaining siblings decided it was time for their family to return to their homeland. Their father agreed, but weakly, his eyes glossy and translucent as a piece of their tinted glass. When had he turned blind? They couldn't remember. He had wounds, too, nothing serious except they wouldn't heal. He didn't seem to mind.
After packing silently in the night, as they knew Ayla wouldn't want to go anymore, the healthy brother and sister bundled her up in a blanket and tied the struggling bundle in a fishing net. Once Ayla had been thrown into the boat, they hurried to their father's bed to have him help them carry their mom. He did not wake up. Worried, they tried to shake him, but his body was cold and they retracted in shock. Panicking, they woke their feverish mother, and dragged her to the boat.
Greeting the morning sun on the glittering waves of the Sea of a Thousand Currents were four coatls. Two were young, barely of nesting age. One was old, and grey. The last one's age was anyone's guess, but her plumage was dull and she looked empty somehow. In the daylight, and far away, everything seemed so simple.
They discussed a bit as the cheerful ripples lapped against their boat, and agreed that they had probably lost track of time as the seasons were different here. The old mother apologized for being too absorbed in her artwork, promising to give it up and focus on recovering. Ayla agreed that she had taken the sculpture too seriously, but she still wanted to go back. In the end, they decided to turn the boat and bury the sculpture along with the father.
Back on shore, their father was waiting. The mother chided her children for scaring her like that, because see, he was fine! Wary, the younger hatchlings stayed back while their mother and sister disembarked to greet him, but he seemed to be his normal calm self. Relieved, they did something they hadn't done since hatchlinghood, and ran to hug him. Their father was warm as the sun-touched rocks, and smelled sweet. Had he always smelled this sweet? There was also a different scent, like fish left too long in the boat, so they laughed and told him he needed a bath.
Feeling silly for overreacting, the young coatls decided to help their sister out in the glass workshop that evening. They found her mounting a scale on the sculpture, which they reluctantly admitted was really pretty. The glass was almost clear, but the green and brown streaks and tints became obvious when the scales were layered correctly. Ayla showed them how to chip flakes off of glassware to "create" scales, but while her brother managed to make a few, the last little coatl by the name of Silica did not manage a single one that day.
After the boat incident, Silica spent her days exploring alone since her brother had started hanging out in the glass workshop. Close to their home was a large labyrinth of white stones that looked like they'd been shaped by somebody long ago, and it felt like the walls were always shifting because she could never remember where she'd been. She enjoyed her walks there, but only until the middle of the day, because whenever the shadows started growing longer she felt they were reaching for her.
Silica had been walking along on top of a crumbling wall, humming to herself and having a generally good day, when she saw a strangely intact circle of hewn stone. Curious, she glided onto it, only to find a puddle in the middle. She was about to turn away when she noticed the strangeness of it; the sun shone through the water entirely, not reflecting on its surface at all. Mystified, she took a sample with her trusty blown-glass flask. There was a strange rock at the bottom of the puddle, a circular flat one with a hole in the middle. Wanting the rock, she decided to take a dip while she was at it. The puddle wasn't really big enough, but rolling in it still felt refreshing. The rock fit on her flask strap, and it looked nice too.
The way home was different from before. Silica couldn't remember the scenery being so nice earlier, and wondered why she hadn't noticed. Everything was clear and detailed, like a fog had been lifted. Their hut was looking a bit worse for wear, she saw, and wondered if her mom or sister could fix it up a bit. Fixing it herself would probably make it worse. The boat looked like it could use a caring paw or two as well.
Entering the hut, she felt the wrongness again. It stunned her for a moment; she hadn't felt like that for a long time now. Or was it a long time? But the last time had just been her childish imagination, so she tried her best to brush it off. Still uneasy, Silica went out to where her father would usually be at this time, in the shadows fixing the nets.
He was there, and gave her a wave, but he looked all wrong and the nets were really smelly that day and the wrongness didn't disappear so she went back inside. Annoyed at herself for feeling such unease when her father was just looking a bit aged, she went to the glass workshop, where her siblings were creating the now almost completed beautiful glass sculpture under their mom's watchful eyes.
Except it wasn't beautiful at all.
Where the glass sculpture had been, there was a deep shadow with glowing stars for eyes. Long tendrils of missing light were fluttering all around it, but some were tightly anchored in her brother, sister, and mother. Seeing how the thing was parasitizing her family, forcing them to slave away at making it whole, Silica screamed in horror and hurled her only weapon at the thing; the strange water she had wanted to show her mom. The heavy glass flask hit the sculpture right between its eyes and shattered, making a shower of glass fragments and water.
The mother coatl slumped to the floor with a sigh and turned to dust. Ayla screamed, but even as the scream faded away, she too was a pile of ashes. Silica could only stare as the black tendrils retracted, not FROM her brother, but TO him. The blackness writhed around him, as if in pain, and then he took off towards the door. However, just as the tendrils pushed the door open, the flask strap which had been knocked flying by the explosion landed neatly around the brother's neck. The blackness made a sound that was not a sound and disappeared.
Silica and her brother later found their father still in his spot by the nets, the flesh and skin hanging from his bones. He was long dead, a fact they did not wish to dwell upon. They decided to bury their family at sea, and afterwards they sat in silence for a long, long time. Eventually, Silica got up, went to the glass workshop, and started picking up the pieces. Most of the scales were intact, they had merely fallen to the dirt floor.
Putting them back on the sculpture, one by one, she could feel no wrongness now. Only the loving craftmanship of her family. Silica silently wept as she reassembled it, the nocturne dragon made out of shattered glass. Half of both wings was missing, and a hind leg.
For years beyond count, two coatl dragons lived together in the hut by the sea, slowly building a glass sculpture out of their love for the family they lost. Even as disease claimed her brother, Silica worked on, but of her own free will. The resulting sculpture was a beauty beyond compare, and seemed like it would need but the tiniest push to come to life. Pulling her most special items forth, Silica gently laid the chain of her mother's locket around the sculpture's neck. In it, along with the memories, she put the special flat holed rock which had saved her brother that day. Having completed her family's life goal and masterpiece, Silica returned to her volcanic birthplace without looking back.
Once upon a time, in a land where ancient stone gleamed and the grass grew yellow under the bright sun, there was a glassmaker's hut. The hut was silent, except for the disused workshop, from which the gentle tinkling rustle of many miniscule glass scales could be heard. After raising its head slowly, a Nocturne dragon's eyes opened. Pulling aside the dusty veil of cobwebs covering its head, it becomes aware of its own glossy body. Unsure what exactly it is, it looks around for answers, but finds only a very worn workshop. It cannot remember this place, but it knows that it was loved here.
Exiting the hut, the new dragon of questionable biology was confused. The cliff, the beach... they were familiar, yet alien. The glass scales reflected the morning light in a cascade of tiny rainbows, making it hard to see clearly, but underfoot there was a worn path. Underneath the weeds and dust, in the middle of the old trail, hints of an older stone pathway could be felt. It was a path he knew. Confused, the dragon looked up. "He"? But yes, it felt right. He knew now that he was male, and definitely a dragon. Where he'd lost his body was still blank, but he intended to find out.
The beach was smooth, and littered with valuable driftwood left to pile up where the waves took it. No dragon had been there in a long, long time. Testing the water, he found to his delight that something kept the water outside his scales despite the gaps. He could float! Seeing the shadows of tiny fish dart away, a thought hit him; could he eat? What would he eat? He was quite sure he hadn't originally been a nocturne, and their diet was not part of his hazy recollections. Worried that he'd starve his new body, the dragon tugged up a clump of nice-looking seaweed from a rocky outcrop and tried to put it in his mouth. The same odd barrier that stopped the water also stopped the seaweed, so he guessed his new body was some sort of mana golem. That was fine, then, but the thought of never eating again called forth thoughts of how delicious this nice seaweed would be in a stir-fry... had he been a vegetarian breed?
Deep in thoughts and concentrating to remember, he didn't realize how far he had drifted until a wave crashed over him and made him look up. Shore was nowhere to be seen, and although he could feel which way he was going now, he would probably have been pulled by several different currents. Not really wanting to trust wings made out of glass shards, he decided to simply keep drifting until land came his way. Sure, the place he had been earlier was the only connection he'd had to who he had been, but by the state of it he would say too much time had passed for him to meet anyone who would have known him. Without a need for food, drifting about wasn't going to be an issue.
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Exalting SirCumspect 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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