Tuhkat
(#23100745)
Level 7 Skydancer
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Energy: 0/50
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
3.58 m
Wingspan
6.43 m
Weight
458.86 kg
Genetics
Coal
Vipera
Vipera
Silver
Peregrine
Peregrine
Black
Thylacine
Thylacine
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 7 Skydancer
EXP: 3565 / 11881
STR
5
AGI
5
DEF
5
QCK
5
INT
9
VIT
5
MND
5
Biography
Tuhkat || The Trenchant Tyrant
"They would call him god."
___________________________________________________________________________________
The snow so white;
the ashes so black.
The hatchling left to die in the night.
Meant to die before morning's light,
never to come conquering back.
The snow so white.
He survived fight after fight,
and fended off every attack.
The hatchling left to die in the night.
He'd make things right;
force his fate's true track.
The snow so white.
He swore to take all in his sight.
a thousand cities to ruin and wrack.
The hatchling left to die in the night.
All would fall before his might.
Their kingdoms burned to ashes black
among those snows so white.
Black as the hatchling left to die in the night.
-
"You will call me your god," Tuhkat whispered with his grip on the unfavored's chin. They trembled, near to weeping as he cast them aside. The unfavored was wise enough not to move, cowering beneath him as stone-still as they could achieve. The corpse of one who had questioned his mandate to rule laid beside them, not wise enough to live. Obedience was what he demanded, what he expected. He would have no less from such whimpering curs as this.
"You will do all I say, for what am I to you?" he demanded. The unfavored struggled to get their courage together but met his demand.
"A god," they whimpered, unable to meet his gaze as they kept their head bowed low to the floor. Tuhkat smiled, another loyal mongrel in his service. Oh, to be a god, to think he'd settled for king, once.
-
"I am your lord, your liege, your king!" Tuhkat had boomed so many years ago, tossing a now-dead unfavored to the ground. A foolish creature that had tried to attack him. A foolish creature that was made an example of, who thought it was wise enough, fast enough, strong enough to call the bluff of the violence in his heart. The mountain had made him stronger, death too afraid to take him even as a child. The unfavored had lived a pathetic life and died just as shamefully as they lived. Upon the ground, cowering as Tuhkat delivered the final blow. Those wise enough to get into the king's good graces dragged the corpse from his view, another cleaning the blood behind it. They were not the first to call him foe, to call him the enemy; they would not be the last. They were not the first to die a cur's death; they would not be the last.
-
"You are my enemy!" the foolish clan leader once declared at the very beginning of his reign. They bled out, unable to crawl their way to Tuhkat for having been maimed. The skydancer kicked them, forced them to watch as their little tribe's lands burned, as their people became his people. Some bent the knee to him; others legs would be broken. It was all the same; all would be beneath him. Tuhkat smiled, thinking of it, of this battle and all the ones to come. He leaned down in the dying leader's final moments as the light left their eyes.
"I am not your enemy; I am the enemy," Tuhkat whispered, the violence behind his eyes coming alight just as the final building caught into flame. His latest foe slain as he carved his way through the land, one of many to come. All would fall beneath his sway. He was the enemy; he would be their king; they would call him god.
-
So many fond memories, Tuhkat thought to himself as he was left alone. The corpse removed and the unfavorable sent to work. He'd been right so many years ago: the weak needed a god to serve; a king to rule them; an enemy to force them to fight to survive.
(by tobin)
by forcedcoma, scar edit by me
by DustyAndDespair
Art work done by Quadruped
"They would call him god."
___________________________________________________________________________________
The snow so white;
the ashes so black.
The hatchling left to die in the night.
Meant to die before morning's light,
never to come conquering back.
The snow so white.
He survived fight after fight,
and fended off every attack.
The hatchling left to die in the night.
He'd make things right;
force his fate's true track.
The snow so white.
He swore to take all in his sight.
a thousand cities to ruin and wrack.
The hatchling left to die in the night.
All would fall before his might.
Their kingdoms burned to ashes black
among those snows so white.
Black as the hatchling left to die in the night.
-
"You will call me your god," Tuhkat whispered with his grip on the unfavored's chin. They trembled, near to weeping as he cast them aside. The unfavored was wise enough not to move, cowering beneath him as stone-still as they could achieve. The corpse of one who had questioned his mandate to rule laid beside them, not wise enough to live. Obedience was what he demanded, what he expected. He would have no less from such whimpering curs as this.
"You will do all I say, for what am I to you?" he demanded. The unfavored struggled to get their courage together but met his demand.
"A god," they whimpered, unable to meet his gaze as they kept their head bowed low to the floor. Tuhkat smiled, another loyal mongrel in his service. Oh, to be a god, to think he'd settled for king, once.
-
"I am your lord, your liege, your king!" Tuhkat had boomed so many years ago, tossing a now-dead unfavored to the ground. A foolish creature that had tried to attack him. A foolish creature that was made an example of, who thought it was wise enough, fast enough, strong enough to call the bluff of the violence in his heart. The mountain had made him stronger, death too afraid to take him even as a child. The unfavored had lived a pathetic life and died just as shamefully as they lived. Upon the ground, cowering as Tuhkat delivered the final blow. Those wise enough to get into the king's good graces dragged the corpse from his view, another cleaning the blood behind it. They were not the first to call him foe, to call him the enemy; they would not be the last. They were not the first to die a cur's death; they would not be the last.
-
"You are my enemy!" the foolish clan leader once declared at the very beginning of his reign. They bled out, unable to crawl their way to Tuhkat for having been maimed. The skydancer kicked them, forced them to watch as their little tribe's lands burned, as their people became his people. Some bent the knee to him; others legs would be broken. It was all the same; all would be beneath him. Tuhkat smiled, thinking of it, of this battle and all the ones to come. He leaned down in the dying leader's final moments as the light left their eyes.
"I am not your enemy; I am the enemy," Tuhkat whispered, the violence behind his eyes coming alight just as the final building caught into flame. His latest foe slain as he carved his way through the land, one of many to come. All would fall beneath his sway. He was the enemy; he would be their king; they would call him god.
-
So many fond memories, Tuhkat thought to himself as he was left alone. The corpse removed and the unfavorable sent to work. He'd been right so many years ago: the weak needed a god to serve; a king to rule them; an enemy to force them to fight to survive.
(by tobin)
"Black armor, battle-worn, and an old cloak made from wolf fur. Beneath it, eyes that burn like ice--unrelenting, all-consuming. His name strikes terror into the hearts of dragons who have never even stepped foot in the Labyrinth, sends even the most scarred and veteran warriors into a panic. What is left of an empire after it has been razed to the ground? No towers, no riches, no rulers. Only death... and cold ash." -shanncrafter |
by forcedcoma, scar edit by me
by DustyAndDespair
Art work done by Quadruped
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Exalting Tuhkat to the service of the Gladekeeper 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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