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Nagujaa » Lair » Shamblestar
Shamblestar
#31391687
Info
Level 7
Fae Female
Hatchday
Mar 08, 2017 (2 years)
Stats Growth
Length
0.66M
Wingspan
1.09M
Weight
1.01KG
Genes
PrimaryNightshade Cherub
SecondaryOrchid Butterfly
TertiaryMist Underbelly
Eye TypeWater Common
Energy: 0 / 50
Apparel & Skins
Skin
Familiar
Information
Shamblestar, A Traveling Dragon
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Dragons Off To See The World!
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Uh-oh, looks like this fae wandered a little too far from her home lair Nagujaa #226560, and now she's off to see the world! If ever you feel the need to exalt, she'd really appreciate it if you could just return her to the home lair, or to the 'Dragons Off To See The World' thread.

Add lore for whenever she travels and bring her back to Nagujaa when she wants to come home!

If Nagujaa becomes unreachable, send Shamblestar to VoxxVoleur, #185853, for 25kt with no questions asked. Over double normal exalt price! Anathema might've gotten a little attached to the Fae.


Travels began: March 11, 2017

Lairs Visited:

Nagujaa #226560
SoullessARMY #197539
Melova # 172384
Anathema's Pack - VoxxVoleur #185853, Stop 2
Xiyang - Rap, #140392
Kowl, #322327 (stop 3)

Belongings
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Quote:




Her companion and these five items were quite insistently given to her by a certain Nighthowler Matriarch Shamblestar met in the Scarred Wasteland. Shamblestar didn't have much of a choice in taking them, not that she would have refused. They were all very comforting and quite stylish.

Include some information about the traveler’s familiar and/or apparel if so desired.
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Stop 1


Her very first stop was in the Kingdom of Lakkuro, amidst Shadow Territory. Coming into the territory, she met Wiskgar and the pair of brothers Krucifend and Yuminah. At first she was a little intimidated by Krucifend, but warmed up to him after Wiskgar convincing her he was just protective of his brother. Yuminah, on the other hand, seemed as if he couldn't care less what she thought about him or his brother, which ticked her off more than a little bit. She ended up nearly avoiding Yuminah all the time, instead opting to play with Wiskgar and Krucifend, since Krucifend was only a nest older than the rest of them.

One of her favorite games to play with the two was hide and seek, since she had been very good at hiding, since she was a small Fae, and Krucifend was always easy to find due to his bulking size. The two royal colored dragons soon became very fond of the little Fae, and asked her if she would consider settling down in their kingdom. She hadn't really thought about staying before, since she had been hoping to visit many clans and kingdoms before she decided where she wanted to stay. In the end she told them that she wanted to keep traveling, but would visit them every now and then. They respected her choice and saw her off when she decided to continue her journey.
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Stop 2
To the west she went, taking a ride with far larger travelers to get to her next destination. They were pilgrims seeking the Wyrmwound, but they opted to take her so far. Buried deep within the Rotrock Rim was a twisted sight almost like the lands she was in before. The 'trees' gnarled, shrubs shredded the scales of smaller dragons like her, and the residents all sought blood. After being injured by one such plant, Shamblestar fell to disease within the hour. Sleep took her sadly, as she wondered if or when she woud wake up again.

Luck smiled upon her, for she did awake a time later. Howling and throaty jeering set her on edge. The sounds were draconic, but feral. Where was she?

Soon enough, a Guardian ladden in bones - a furry one with a long muzzle, what kind of dragon had a muzzle? The Guardian with dirt colored fur stuck her nose in Shamblestar's tent, retreating just as quickly. Shamblestar pulled back onto the pile of rough furs she laid on, turning to bury herself in them. After waiting for quite some time, only her eyes peeped out of the furs when another feral, wolfish dragon pulled the tent open. It was far more lithe, but her face was the same color as the Guardian's. She thought she might've seen a flash of the Guardian's fur outside, but couldn't be sure. Her eyes trailed the Skydancer's movements. Beastclan-like banners and garb draped the dragon along with numerous bones, gold and ruby jewels, and many more trophies of war. They all jingled different sounds, out of tune with the hollow sound the bones echoed. She just couldn't stop staring at the dragon's face, was the Skydancer even a dragon? She too, was furry. All of what should have been feathers was fur, her face drawn out in a wolven...muzzle!

The whole time, the Skydancer merely swept her gaze back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. Her features fell flat the whole time, until she raised an eyebrow and turned to deal with something else. Shamblestar could've sighed.

"You're lucky my pack found you."

She froze as rigid as a rock. The Skydancer's voice was matter-of-factly and certainly directed at her. Peeping her head out just a little more showed that the Skydancer hadn't bothered to turn towards her again. Shamblestar frowned wondering what she was doing. The Skydancer had claws on her claws, ornaments...or maybe weapons. She didn't want to know what those claws were doing.

She brought her head back under the furs.

"Don't make me fish you out from those furs. It's rude to act indecently to our guests, foolish though they are."

She made a small noise, and she could've sworn the Skydancer let out an amused whisper of a laugh. She tensed again. The Skydancer had stopped moving. After darting her eyes around, she slowly pried herself from the furs. The larger dragon still didn't turn to look at her, though her ear twitched.

"Are you hungry?"

The Skydancer turned her head towards her shoulder, glancing Shamblestar's way. Though she wouldn't admit it later on, she was too frightened to speak.

The Skydancer delicately brought a plate of insects over, with a much larger one for herself. She slid the smaller plate in front of Shamblestar, the plate clicking as very deft, trained claws slid them off. The dragon then gracefully crawled up on the furs, making herself comfortable. Shamblestar gawked at all of the trinkets that hung on the dragon's body, hanging from strong threads like the Skeletal Chimes. Gold, lapis, and rubies. A lot of them. Also bones, but this dragon was surprisingly pretty for a dragon of the Plague. She expected more...gore.

The Skydancer tilted her head, noticing Shamblestar's stare.

"Not going to eat?"

"U-umm. Who - Who are you?"

She stammered. She didn't like stammering, but the dragon didn't seem to notice. A claw came up to cover a fanged mouth, as if to hide the high, the regal laugh. The Skydancer composed herself quickly enough, but not before giving Shamblestar a wolfish grin.

"Anathema. Soon to be Matriach of Nighthowlers. Make no mistake though, we are the strongest pack you will find. It's why there are so few of us."

Her eyes glistened like the jewels that adorned her, as she held her head high in royal repose. A claw waved Shamblestar off.

"Now, eat."

That was a command. Shamblestar could only obey. The Skydancer, Anathema, relaxed herself again. She picked at her food carefully, though it fell out of her claws a few times. It seemed like she was still training herself to use them? But Shamblestar didn't dare say so. It was interesting to watch Anathema's expression. It was focused, her full attention on her claws and the food that would be in them. Then, whenever the food fell, her mouth pulled back unpleasantly with a few fangs showing. She resumed attentiveness and started again.

After finishing her own food, she was done well before Anathema, she looked at the Skydancer with curiosity. Anathema seemed to notice from the flick of her gaze towards Shamblestar, but Anathema said nothing and Shamblestar had to wait a while, before she had the courage to speak.

"So, who are the Nighthowlers?"

"Dragons graced with the gifts of our mother, Plaguebringer. We are strong, fearsome were-dragons, though you would probably believe it far more so, if you met us in battle. It sounds melodramatic here."

Anathema waved her free claw, both at her own statement and for Shamblestar to continue.

"Ah, you have horns?"

She didn't mean to sound that naive or straightforward!

"Heh, I do. That is not a trait of the Nighthowlers. I was born..."

Anathema's smile faded, as her gaze flicked to Shamblestar and lingered there.

"I guess you'll be here for some time. You're still fairly sick aren't you?"

Anathema's eyes narrowed searchingly, before she nodded to herself without waiting for an answer.

"Well, I guess I'll just tell you about myself. You don't mind right? No? Okay, then. So, I said that we are not normal Nighthowlers earlier. My bloodline, my direct bloodline, which is very important for this, runs strong with multiple interconnected strains of power. There's so much in our blood, my specific bloodline, that the children of my parents do not survive. I mean, a few did. None like me though. Those ones mutated far enough away from the core bloodline to live. I am the exception. I lived when no one else did."

Anathema asked and answered her questions again, proceeding to talk about herself. Shamblestar buried herself back into the furs, waving her crest back and forth in amusement. Anathema repeated herself a lot and was already jumping around in her explanation. She was much less scary than Shamblestar thought. Sure, she seemed a little too prideful and probably arrogant, but she also displayed a level of kindness. Maybe even some naivety.

"It was horrible."

Her voice dropped and Shamblestar tilted her head. Dragons were hard to read for any Fae, but that one was pretty obvious. Anathema's stare blanked, as it fell onto a patch of fur.

"Because... Well, you noticed I have horns. Let's just say that I was born as something between a Skydancer and a Guardian, and that's obviously not supposed to happen. At all. Ever. As you can see, that's fixed. Not willingly. Or - or nicely. It was painful to say the least."

She wouldn't meet Shamblestar's gaze at that point, waving her claw around a little. After sitting tense for a few moments, Anathema shook herself like a dog albeit with more controlled movements. The Fae couldn't quite catch on to what she meant. It...fixed itself? How?

Oh. Her crest flattened against her head. If there was no scroll... she grew into it. Changed into it. That had to be painful. That had to be beyond painful.

"And that's about it. I'm alive. My pack is alive. I guess I should say something about our bloodline, since we tend to die from it being too concentrated."

Anathema was back to her previous tone, as if she had said nothing of her own anatomy. She paused though, deciding what to say next.

"Actually, no. It's not that important. I should let you rest. Do you need anything else? Water probably. I'll have someone else get you some water."

Anathema then dismissed herself, which Shamblestar almost wasn't surprised by. She laid there for a while, examining the tent while she thought about what happened. The tent was dark, leathery. Stitched nicely. Surprisingly clean.

Now that she thought about, Shamblestar didn't get to ask Anathema what a Matriarch was for Nighthowlers. Anathema seemed oddly hyper for someone with so many war trophies. She was young too. Maybe that was why? She shook her head, making herself more comfortable among the furs. Even though she hadn't done anything, her body was drained.

Shamblestar stayed in the pack for some time. A few other members of Anathema's pack came into her tent at times. The only dragon who wasn't a Nighthowler in the pack, Malediction, came by the most often. The Coatl dispensed the antidote to Shamblestar, which she was more than grateful for. While Malediction didn't say much, she did answer questions about Anathema. Why was the Matriarch looked so imposing, when she had a puppy's attention span? The Matriarch was still young, especially when one took the months she spent...morphing and growing into what she was now, into account. Why was Anathema so sure of herself? As much as Shamblestar liked talking to Anathema, and she really did like talking to Anathema, the Skydancer tended to talk at dragons more than to them. Malediction noted that her daughter, Anathema, was proud of her heretage and she knew little about the world around her from the time spent morphing. She would settle down eventually.

Shamblestar also briefly met a few more members of the pack. The Guardian who stuck her nose in Shamblestar's tent turned out to be Anathema's grandmother, Trance. The Guardian had taken her granddaughter as her Charge, and a son of hers had done the same. They tended to keep to themselves, prowling about the clan's periphery and standing watch at lookout points.

Throughout her stay, Anathema visited her the most. Shamblestar curled up in her tent until she was well enough to wander about the pack, allowing Anathema to tell her all about the Nighthowlers and their family. And she told stories, so many that Shamblestar knew a great deal about the Nighthowlers and their ways by the time she left the pack. Anathema was a little too nonchalant about how contagious the disease was at times, and even surprised reassurance from her about how Shamblestar at the least, was immune, didn't quite comfort her fully. Still, once she was well enough to move about more, Anathema let her perch on her horns and shoulder to have a proper look at the pack.

Tents were tossed up wherever the Nighthowlers claimed their territory, though they were all in a close huddle of land. The deadly shrubs that had almost been the death of her skirted the outsides of their little plateau. Nighthowlers prowled their patch of land, along with the edges, outlooks, and many paths in and out of the pack's territory. The only odd sight to see were the graves. Lines of tombstones up and down all of the paths to exit the pack.

When she asked Anathema what the tombstones were there for, Anathema tilted her head enough to make Shamblestar readjust. She fluttered down to perch on Anathema's shoulder.

"Those graves are the cost of our bloodline, so I'm told. We just don't survive. Normal Nighthowlers have one in ten dragons die from turning, but the farther down our bloodline you go, the worse it gets. Once you get to me, the chance of survival is flipped. The chance to survive is - is actually less than one out of every ten."

Anathema stretched a claw out, then clenched it hard enough to emit a metallic ring.

"It's unacceptable."

She was resolute.

"I'm going to change that."

Shamblestar looked up at Anathema, whose gaze fell on all the graves lined against her pack.

"If I could survive what I went through, keeping my hatchlings alive will be no issue. How does a hundred sound?"

"A hundred?"

"A hundred hatchlings. That should be enough to prove that we can not only survive, but that we can thrive."

"A hundred? Not all at once right?"

Anathema laughed her high, regal laugh not bothering to hide it this time. Her form shook with the laughter, ringing all of the gems and bones that adorned her body.

"No, not all once."

Anathema's grin spread, fangs showing without any malevolence.

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Shamblestar stayed there for another week, before growing restless again. The Matriarch rose her head high, when Shamblestar announced that she was leaving, and while the Fae could have sworn Anathema might have pouted a little, the Skydancer assured her that her pack of Nighthowlers would escort Shamblestar safely out of their territory and into the next one she would venture into...after she promised she would visit once Anathema had pups to raise, of course.

She set out with many more gifts than she had before. Flowers, scarf, hood, gloves, and a wrap to keep her almost overly comfortable, but she was traveling again, gladly and full of energy. Once she reached her destination, the Nighthowlers took their leave returning to their Matriarch.

Stop 3

The Arcane Lair

Shamblestar had always heard stories about Arcane territory. As a traveller, she frequently flew over the tumultuous land of floating crystal shards as fast as she could. Her very first experience actually staying in the land was strange.

Some would call it a crash landing, but to this day Shamblestar would argue that her first encounter at stop three was just her getting fatigued and deciding to settle down for a bit.

To recount it more accurately: The fae was yawning and flew head on into one of the ominously glowing crystal that was wailing through the sky at (what some might describe as) a frightening speed.

As she plummeted- gracefully of course- to the earth, the small fae was greeted by a strange sight.
She had landed in front a semi-circle of dragons, all circled around a campfire. Deciding to 'rest her wings' she gratefully accepting the invitation of the crystalline acrane dragons to join them for supper.

Although her time in the lair was quite long, Shamblestar never really came to understand the arcane dragons. They would often quiz her on bizarre information that she would never remember from confusing conversations she was coerced into. And trivia nights in the lair.... Those were a nightmare. After staying at stop three to recover, Shamblestar said her curt farewells and took off, not wiser but definitely more full of useless facts.




Art
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Credits
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-Code by VoxxVoleur-
-All art is clickable and links back to their creators-

 
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