Illusion
(#50543404)
Level 1 Skydancer
Familiar
Paradise Zalis
Click or tap to view this dragon in Predict Morphology.
Energy: 50/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Arcane.
Male Skydancer
This dragon is hibernating.
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
3.53 m
Wingspan
5.55 m
Weight
441.58 kg
Genetics
Indigo
Vipera
Vipera
Algae
Peregrine
Peregrine
Coral
Underbelly
Underbelly
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 1 Skydancer
EXP: 0 / 245
STR
4
AGI
5
DEF
4
QCK
9
INT
9
VIT
4
MND
9
Biography
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Illusion
the Invisible Visible Scientist  Trait1 | Trait2 | Trait3 “Disability is articulated as a struggle, an unnecessary burden that one must overcome to the soundtrack of a string crescendo. But disabled lives are multi-faceted - brimming with personality, pride, ambition, love, empathy, and wit." ― Sinead Burke ♫ |
His egg was eaten by rot almost immediately upon emerging from his mother, soft to the touch and emitting the general stench of death that marks the end of the beginning of life. Passing duds is an emotionally draining, painful thing. But Nepeta and her mate were prepared for the possibility far before Illusion's arrival, blunting the pain of their disappointment. After all, even after his removal from the nest, there were still four other eggs to tend to - a clutch of five was exceedingly rare to begin with, upping the chances that at least one would be rotted. And thus, the egg found its way to Vachel with little delay - no tearful goodbyes, minimal fuss; just clean, simple business. Vachel preferred things this way. They say that the work of people in the death industry has more to do with tending to the living than to the dead, but it was never her forte. Difficult things to work with, dud eggs - add the slightest increase in pressure even under the most trained claws, and the entire thing would burst at the seams, rendering it entirely useless, possibly dangerous. Vachel's expertise might have laid wholly within death and its products, but even a rotted egg was a challenge that needed her utmost care. If she could manage to peel the underdeveloped hatchling's magic from the egg...well, she admittedly didn't know of what use Mavenlark would find for it, but a bit of excess magic stored aside for a rainy day couldn't hurt. Frankly, she cared more for the challenge than the eventual application. It was a general practice for dud eggs with Mavenlark to strip them of their magic. It was for the safety of the earth that it would eventually return to, as one couldn't simply dump large surges of magic within the ground without care, especially in a place charged with as much wayward magics as the Arcanist's realm. And eventually, these fetal magics could be used in health care for the treatment of magical diseases - useful, when you border dangerously close to Plague - or for upping constitution in times of attack. It often gave parents of these eggs a small bit of happiness to know that somewhere, somehow, their hatchling's magic was living on, applied to the welfare of others. Imagine Vachel's surprise, then, when she began the process only to find a wet, folded hatchling inside the egg - breathing. First of all, nothing should have developed within a dud egg. Second of all, even if had, it shouldn't have been breathing. In a panic, she swept the thing into a small, sterile nest that she kept for her own hatchlings to watch her from before quickly calling for medical assistance. Tests were done, calls were made, procedures were enacted. The hatchling lived. So did the mystery of his existence. Impairments due to his state of development were obvious - his wings folded inward, denying him flight. A permanent limp attached itself to his legs, only allowing himself to pull forward in short movements. His muscles found themselves in a permanent state of atrophy, unable to develop further past the bare minimum that granted him mobility. It was a miracle! Every job he landed, every award he was granted, every academic paper he published - look at how far he had come from his origins! Dergs gawked in barely masked awe as they watched him hobble between conferences, libraries, and talks. A living inspiration! If he could do it, who couldn't? His papers increased in number, his discoveries within the lab tripled. They were not enough to drown out the gawking, the remarkability. What odds he's faced! He makes me want to keep going! It was all too much for him to bear. When would they see what he was putting on paper? When would they read into his work past his physicality? When would what he did matter? He works tirelessly to this day, still searching for the answer to that question. |
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sales post wrote:
A derg works tirelessly at a library desk, flipping through what appears to be two massive tomes at once. It looks as if one might be the reference for the other. His head twists between them both, studying them carefully. You notice the unnatural droop of his wings, far too thin and gnarled for the average Skydancer, and find yourself involuntarily wondering what happened...
picks • wrote:
“You have a fantastic lair and I DO really love this guy's lore, but I'm not too fond of skydancers to begin with and this guys colors/genes/apparel really don't do it for me.” - DON'T Steal a Dragon!
Click or tap a food type to individually feed this dragon only. The other dragons in your lair will not have their energy replenished.
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Exalting Illusion to the service of the Stormcatcher 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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