Skreel » Lair » Vulture

Vulture

(#10393)

Leader of the Hallow Hand

Familiar

Highreach Bonepicker

Energy: 0/50

Personal Style

Apparel

Skin

Scene

Physical Attributes

Battle Stats

Measurements

Length

5.77 m

Wingspan

8.28 m

Weight

526.67 kg

Genetics

Beige
Iridescent

Maroon
Shimmer

Carmine
Gembond

Hatchday

Jun 08, 2013
(10 years)

Breed

Adult
Wildclaw

Eye Type

Plague
Common

Level 16 Wildclaw

EXP: 64522 / 71966

STR

AGI

DEF

QCK

INT

VIT

MND

Lineage

Parents

none

Offspring

Biography

Mate 1:

Mate 2:

Ally:

Enemy:

Vulture; the Progenitor
Clan of the Hallow Hand's Leader
"N-ngghh? My-... My patience runs dry."

Vulture's returned after an extended, mysterious absence. Brought low by a vicious assault from a rival lair-- one he'd personally provoked-- the heinously injured wildclaw was forced to go into exile; he would not have survived another attack. Cared for by two of his trusted companions, Scalpel and Atropus, he was hidden from society and, once again, brought back from the very brink of death whilst his clan practically crumbled around him.

However, he did not make a full recovery; the former patriarch walks with an unsteady, ungainly limp. The plague's scoured his hide; the fleshy tendrils have laced and twisted themselves across his emaciated form.

He's taken back his throne.

________________________________________________________

Seeking his fortune in the plains of the Wandering Contagion, this vexatious wildclaw ultimately settled in a small, abandoned lair-- a hovel previously occupied by Flamence. He was injured, on the verge of death-- and she, willingly, nursed him back to health. Whilst the duo temporarily formed an alliance for the sake of survival, tensions inevitably began to rise as more dragons were whisked into the embrace of their growing clan.

Firm with the belief that his clan should only be populated by the strongest, Vulture immediately cast Flamence aside; he was intolerant of her benevolence and care for those suffering within the plains of their wretched domain. It's a cruel irony; the dragon herself had saved Vulture's life.

Malevolent and wrought with fury, this wildclaw's compassion extends no further than the reaches of his unscrupulous family. Trespassers are met with the full brunt of his contempt-- and claws.

________________________________________________________

Currently (3 egg nest):

"Vulture, keep one. I implore you."

Scalpel crooks forwards, his long, twisted body stooped low over the three eggs. He runs his gembond-riddled claws across their surfaces, feeling for blemishes, imperfections- for the life held within them. They're perfect; the Plaguebringer would be proud.

However, there's no pride to be felt; uncertainty instead plays at his mind. The Imperial turns, staring at Vulture- a wildclaw barely capable of standing. His injuries have marred his body, the plague has latched onto his hide. Their beloved progenitor's health is waning; an ill-omen for the clan. Scalpel tuts as he awaits a response, his crimson gaze boring into Vulture's dull, lifeless form. His patience is met with naught but silence.

"You're dying. We nee-" Scalpel's words are cut short.

The wildclaw snaps, bearing his grizzled array of teeth in a loathsome snarl. He doesn't want to hear it; he doesn't care. Vulture storms onwards, fighting against the weight of his injuries as he gathers the three, perfect eggs into his arms. It's rare he interacts with his own offspring- but Sleyvarris harbours no interest in her young; they're an unwanted distraction from the glory of war. He sneers, trembling as he struggles to hold his ailing body upright. Scalpel merely frowns, his expression cast in shades of dismay.

"Don't question me. I'll-... I'll-..."

Vulture grimaces, spreading his withered wings; two glistening banners of plague. He exchanges a long, lingering look with the imperial before finally taking flight, soaring into the skies above the Wyrmwound's frothing cauldron.

It's not long before he reaches the fringes of his own territory. Even now, in the height of his leadership, he's reluctant to stray outside its wretched borders. The wildclaw curses, inwardly chiding his weakness, as he hides each, individual egg within scattered piles of bones and debris. He carefully scrutinises his work. Are they hidden? Are they safe? Vulture turns to leave- before hesitating, staring over his shoulder. Is this the right decision? Is there any truth to Scalpel's words? He stands there for what feels like an eternity; a father and his children. Finally, the dragon forces himself to leave-- doubt is an emotion ill-befitting a leader.

They will survive; they will adapt. Perhaps, if fate smiles upon him, they'll meet again.

________________________________________________________

Quote:

Previous Plot: Vulture, oddly, seems to be entirely absent from the clan. There's no trace of the wildclaw's malicious presence; it's almost as if he's vanished entirely into thin air. Little is known about his whereabouts or his current state of health. Scalpel, one of the higher-ranking dragons, seems intent on hiding the truth from prying eyes.

There's a traitor amongst the Clan of the Hallow Hand.

Bust Artwork by Me
Chibi Art by Nakedsatan
Column Pixel by Lychizzle

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0/1000

Click or tap a food type to individually feed this dragon only. The other dragons in your lair will not have their energy replenished.

Exalting Vulture 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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