MadameWeb
(#25884056)
Level 1 Wildclaw
Familiar
Nightmare
Click or tap to view this dragon in Predict Morphology.
Energy: 0/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Ice.
Female Wildclaw
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
7.32 m
Wingspan
4.85 m
Weight
685.77 kg
Genetics
Sky
Poison
Poison
Sky
Toxin
Toxin
Sanguine
Thylacine
Thylacine
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 1 Wildclaw
EXP: 0 / 245
STR
8
AGI
9
DEF
6
QCK
5
INT
5
VIT
6
MND
6
Biography
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Mate:
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Web was blind before the shell on her egg had even cracked. No light washed over her as she clawed her way out, and she wouldn't have known even if it had. The darkness that heralded her hatching was her home, her cage, her canvas, her scrying pool. Her name came as soon as she began to speak, talking of threads, ribbons, strings that tie all things to all other things, the here to the now and the then to the there. Her clutchmates and mother had no understanding of fortune-telling, of the gift of sight, and therefore neither did Web. She was a blind to her gifts as her eyes were blind to the world, yet she still saw all the threads of fate tied to every dragon in her clan. It was how she knew the world and was confused that no one else saw it. She had never seen a web, but it felt like that in her mind. Her mother, not understanding her child's potential, thought Web talked like her head was full of dust, dead spiders and cobwebs. Web became her name, as the webs she saw would always be her curse. The clan she hatched into was warlike, perhaps barbaric. Strength and physical prowess were the only things of worth to them. They had never had a use for mystics, and had never invited those types to stay amongst them. That a mystic had hatched under their very snouts was lost to them. She was seen as an oddity, an addled-brained, blind child. When she was not dismissed, she was chuckled at. When she was not chuckled at, she was viewed, by some, with uneasy distrust. As she grew in age, size and intellect, so too did her grasp of the webs in her mind. She could tilt them, shift them, follow the threads so precisely. As easily as a spider navigates its web, she tapped along the strings of fate that form the webs of lives, reading the possible futures of every dragon around her, and even of the land itself. Of course, she could not manipulate the strands, but it is easy to overlook the distinction between seeing the future and causing the future. Her clanmates' mistrust grew as Web grew, from a tiny hatchling to a sturdy adult. Her tales of strings and ties were no longer the games of a silly child. When the hunting party didn't return, like she said it wouldn't, when the eggs died in the nest just like she said they would, when famine nibbled at their ribs between two failed harvests, just as she knew it would, the mistrust turned to fear, to hate. They knew that those misfortunes had a source. They were right, and they were also so very wrong. In the end, she had to flee. She had, of course, seen it coming. II. Web's flight was a halting thing, like bird with an injured wing. She was alone, with no supplies, no weapons. She had seen her exile coming, but had refused to believe it. She thought that this time she had to be wrong. As she wandered, sussing out each step by feeling the shape of the next moment like a bat reads the shape of reflected sound, many tragedies undoubtably befell her. Each one would have been visible, like the sun rising over the horizon, and just as unavoidable. Web had found that those larger knots in the strings are unavoidable. A mistep can be righted, but some things, like a headlong flight into the cold outside her lair, chased by those she loved, cannot be averted. She does not know what these tragedies that may have haunted her wandering would have been, not anymore. It does no good to guess. The only certainty is that finally, one day, or one night, something happened out in the deadlands of Plague territories. Some thing, some demon or monster, some Shade-touched dragon, descended upon her in gibbering, slavering ferocity. Or perhaps it didn't. She was alone afterwards as she was before, but now lost in her own mind, her memories faded wisps she couldn't quite grasp. There were no webs there, in the mist. No webs at all. III. Whatever had shattered her mind had not shattered her body, and as such stories often go, she was found by a scouting party. It could just as well have been a band of warriors, a troupe of wandering minstrels or a botany class on a field trip. Those types of groups often find lost souls. And so she came to be where she is. In time, her psyche regained it's familiar shape and size. The ribbons and strings and clinging spider silk strands of the accursed webs unfurled once again across her mind. As the voices of the unknown dragons in this new place coalesced into individuals, she once more began to feel the shape of their lives and their home. She told no one. IV. It was not long after that a travelling troupe of mercenaries came through. She hated the noise they made, the stench of blood that followed each of them. The webs they wove reminded her of home. Their numbers included a coatl male with the simple appellation of "Stick" Stick fit in well with his rough and tumble comrades, drinking and singing well into the night, even though coatls in general should not attempt to sing in common Draconic. However, he did not pursue dalliances within their host clan as his brothers-in-arms did. He had noticed Web early on, some invisble, humming chord in the air drawing them together. Stick completely lacked Web's gift, but he felt something in the silence were her words would be and the quiet trace of her steps. Web, of course, had also noted the tie between them. She wasn't happy about it, but couldn't brush it away. When Stick's mercenary troupe finally overstayed their welcome and were encouraged to move on, Stick was detained by the clan, on Web's request. She did not want him there, but the clinging strand of spider silk between them was stubborn. It would become taut and painful with distance and she felt more at ease with him nearby. - original story arc (being blind, abused by familial clan, fled, lost memory in wasteland, found new clan, pair bond with Stick) by @DeathSpecter, all the details and the writing itself by Genevra |
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This dragon doesn't eat Insects.
Meat stocks are currently depleted.
This dragon doesn't eat Seafood.
This dragon doesn't eat Plants.
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Exalting MadameWeb 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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