vinheim » Lair » Phantogram

Phantogram

(#31593075)

Level 1 Imperial

Familiar

Dwarf Unicorn

Energy: 0/50

Personal Style

Apparel

Skin

Scene

Physical Attributes

Battle Stats

Measurements

Length

29.97 m

Wingspan

16.06 m

Weight

6496.49 kg

Genetics

Vermilion
Poison

Rose
Toxin

Blush
Basic

Hatchday

Mar 17, 2017
(7 years)

Breed

Adult
Imperial

Eye Type

Plague
Common

Level 1 Imperial

EXP: 0 / 245

STR

AGI

DEF

QCK

INT

VIT

MND

Lineage

Parents

Offspring

none

Biography

_____________
.
PHANTOGRAM
realistic • doubtful • sick

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The den is elevated, placed inside a cluster of crags. There is a small opening of the outside, with some space to prepare a dragon’s wings before take off. Amdusias promised to Nicodemus that, as a veteran, he was bound to have a good place to rest and a good nesting area for his children. And, well, he was right. It’s a comfortable place, and it’s away from the heat of the rim and its wound which keeps the eggs from getting overheated and the hatchlings from getting fevers. That is, fevers outside of getting ill.

“A promising hatchling,” Amdusias mused. “The strongest out of her nest, wasn’t she?”

The mother and father, the battered witch Claudia and the scarred warrior Nicodemus, nodded and bowed their heads over the sole child they kept. The Plaguebringer had whisked away their child for a night in and took that liveliness away from her when she visited. Now, reduced to a sick thing, the hatchling is left to squirm in the remnants of her egg, the cold walls being the only relief from her fever.

Amdusias shook his head in remorse. “Such a shame, really… but we must accept our gifts from the Mother with dignity and grace.”

Nicodemus brought the hatchling and her eggshell to his chest, letting his whiskers fall onto her hide and face. Claudia kept her daughter at an arm’s length, out of fear of touching her, well she'd do this with anyone really. Though, Claudia does maintains a watchful eye over her daughter.

The situation is as sick as the child.

“Amdusias,” Claudia started. “You aren’t going to do anything to her, are you?”

Amdusias had the good sense to look abashed. “Of course not,” the clan leader responded to her. “She is a gift, I would never do anything to her. In fact,” he continued. He paced around the outside of the makeshift den and slapped his tail on the hard ground as if in thought, “I’ll clear the hospice out. She’ll be cared for by Heliotrope and always within eyesight of her. But don’t you think it’s silly to have her unnamed for this much longer?”

“She keeps seeing things,” Nicodemus’ gravelly voice nearly shook the inside of the crawlspace. “We were thinking of a name to honor that…”

“Honoring that, are we,” his mate hissed. Nicodemus raised his head to nuzzle her leg, and Claudia’s angry shakes settle. “We – we were thinking of the name,” Claudia cleared her throat, because maybe it doesn’t have to be real if she doesn’t have to say it out loud. However, the clan leader looked at her expectantly, so she does say it, “Phantogram."

Amdusias peered into the den, to gaze upon the young Phantogram. There is no comfort for her, not even with the chill of her egg and the sensation of her father’s whiskers when the leader looks at her like that. He smiled, and in turn Phantogram shivered, though neither parent notices this. And if they had, they would have thought it was the fever breaking.

“What a nice name," he said. He barely held back a deep want to reach so close to Phantogram and spill the child out of her egg.

She grows up to be the apple of her father’s eye and her mother’s odd favorite. Phantogram was born stout, with heavy bones and a thick body, but the illness withered her into a dragon unable to fly and sometimes even breathe. Her hollow bones practically welcome the cold, but her tunic and heavily furred companion, a relatively small unicorn, keeps it out. The den she lives in is small, reduced to that amount from disuse and Heliotrope needing more and more space. The Nocturne does keep her warm and relatively relaxed, but there is a deep want in Phantogram to stretch out her wings and an annoyance when she knows she cannot.

The worst days were of her awkward youth. She was not allowed to socialize, to meet anyone new, she was to stay in bed and get better. But there were times that Amdusias came in, wanting to see how she, their gift, was progressing. And, to be honest, at first it was wonderful because he’d get the doctor to let her out at night, allowing enjoy the air of the land and the feeling of only-slightly-oppressed freedom instead of overwhelmingly oppressed. She didn’t feel as sick and useless on those nights, she could hunt and gather, and Amdusias praised her for her hard work.

Then came the doubt, and the fear.

Amdusias asked her once, on a night like that, if she hated being the Plaguebringer’s gift.

“What? No, I don’t. She’s our Mother, she loves us, she loves me.”

“Does she love you?” Amdusias replies. “It seems to me like she wants you to die.”

Phantogram wanted to be offended, to know that it wasn’t true. But Amdusias was the one saying it, and when was he ever wrong? The one being questioned, was the one who had never been kind to her. Because of the Plaguebringer, Phantogram was barely alive. Her pitiful existence was her sustaining on the remains of Heliotrope’s time and effort and the barest amount of sun from what times Heliotrope clawed the rocks away from the roof.

She and her disease got worse. Heliotrope had begun to douse her in flowers, and it was a busy job because they'd die from the lack of water, sunlight, and whatever else kept flowers healthy. The doctor forced her stay in baths, the water of the bath the freshest they had available, but the sickness inside of Phantogram would leak and soil it. The water eventually became muddy, and then bloody, and she felt herself seeping into water but as if it was thicker, like she was becoming oil that had infused in her long ago.

Heliotrope tried to assure her that it wasn’t literal, but merely one of her hallucinations. But Phantogram always felt herself liquidizing, turning into ugly mush, her outside exposing the dreadful inside of her.

Her mother, their holy Plaguebringer, wanted her to suffer so very badly. Phantogram swears she does, she does, won't she just stop -- Phantogram felt that suffering in her inside and outside, as it crawled through the expanse of her stomach and the narrowness of her throat. She’d shiver and quake, and some bit of illness came out of her at times, but there was always more conjuring in her body while she was busy getting it out.

Maybe, Phantogram thinks to herself as she regurgitates, I just wasn’t meant to be happy.

Amdusias prefers her like this, enclosed and shut off and too focused on being frail and sick and the pressure of wilting away to notice him. What he is doing is for the greater good, of course. He does what must be done to keep the disease from spreading.

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biography coding by saturne #101073

bio is completed as of 4/18/17

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Exalting Phantogram 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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