Tenpou » Lair » Persephone

Persephone

(#48041577)

Mireflyer || Home at last

Familiar

Plague Sprite

Energy: 26/50

Personal Style

Apparel

Skin

Scene

Physical Attributes

Battle Stats

Measurements

Length

4.11 m

Wingspan

3.54 m

Weight

481.64 kg

Genetics

Garnet
Pinstripe

Maroon
Trail

Leaf
Capsule

Hatchday

Dec 27, 2018
(5 years)

Breed

Adult
Skydancer

Eye Type

Arcane
Common

Level 25 Skydancer

Max Level

STR

119

AGI

DEF

QCK

INT

VIT

MND

Lineage

Parents

none

Offspring

none

Biography

x
x
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x

PERSEPHONE

MIREFLYER
BRINGER OF DEATH, REVELER IN SAVAGERY
Ruthless | Distant | Fell | Ferocious

"I will never stand down."

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Arcane by birth, but not by bearing, Persephone earned her new name by virtue of strength and the scores of beastclan warriors she felled alone in battle, training up younger dragons to send to service to the Plaguebringer. She came to the clan a quiet, soft-spoken dragon, whose true colors only showed in battle, and soon she was feared and respected in equal measure.

She is an unholy terror on the battlefield, rarely falling even in the face of superior numbers. She is not one for socialising, and hoards the bones and pelts of her slain enemies, keeping whatever she may as trophies. She keeps her thoughts to herself and rarely speaks up in clan business; her energy is saved for battle. She's fearsome to behold, garbed in bones and Plague finery, her very scales hidden by a patchwork of her slain enemies.

COMMANDER OF THE ROT ARMY

_{By Quillfiend #492758}

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After years of having existed among the Pyrrhians and aiding them in service to the Plaguebringer, at last, some of the truth of what happened to her to drive her mad has come out. Many of the clan left her to her own devices and didn't bother her or ask after her much; in spite of her small size, she was well known to be fierce and dangerous, able to slay even the most fearsome of Beastclan warriors with unsettling ease. This blood thirsty nature was always at odds with the norm for her kind, and some among the clan have always wondered just why she was this way.

It is well known how important flight is to Skydancers as a rule, and the clan (those who were bothered to take note or to think of it at all) noticed that Persephone had never been seen to take wing. In all the time she had lived among them, not once was she seen to be swooping and spiraling in the air as other Skydancers who came and went were wont to do.

And then one day, it came out; quietly, in a voice at odds with her usual harshness. She told Aslaug the terrible, shameful truth: Her wings were too small, and she had simply never, not once, been able to fly. This had slowly driven her more and more sick with longing and hurt, and over time, this sorrow had poisoned her-- not her body, but her mind, her heart and soul. And so she had determined that if she could not be a Skydancer, she would become the very antithesis of her own kind, or die trying.

And she definitely didn't die.

No, indeed, she became one of the most feared and valued warriors in the clan, her skill only matched by her savagery.

The gemstone set in her forehead was dull and cracked from the moment she joined the clan, but she saw this as nothing to concern herself with. She didn't need the inborn ability to sense the emotions and intentions of others, not when her life was as simple as fight, fight, fight. Day and night, she waged war on the Beastclan creatures who stood in her way, bringing food and riches to the clan as she did. She trained up young ones to serve under the Plaguebringer, and trained other dragons who came from neighboring clans wanting to improve themselves. It was a hard, but good life to her, but she still found herself wanting more...

---

January 16th, XX19

At last, she had found what she hadn't even known she was searching for. Another Skydancer, like her, lost in the Mire and in danger of being slain by a savage pack of Kamaitachi. Persephone nearly left her to her fate, but those Plague eyes met hers, and the silent plea couldn't be mistaken. A further look at the young Skydancer gave Persephone pause, and in a flurry of vicious, slashing swipes and cuts, she slew the Kamaitachi, and helped the other to her feet.

The young one's thanks seemed to fall on deaf ears, and Persephone beckoned her to follow. Uneasy, because she couldn't seem to get a read on Persephone at all, she hesitated, but following her savior seemed better than waiting around for more trouble, so she set off in the other's footsteps. They came to a great lair at the edge of the Wyrmwound, where the young Skydancer was fed, had her wounds tended, and was treated like one of the clan. Later that night, however, Persephone came to her and asked her how she'd like to learn to defend herself. Unaware of the sinister fighter's plans, she naively agreed, and they set off that very night to train...

They trained all night, fighting battle after battle, and as the sun rose over the Mire that the other had nearly perished in, Persephone was thinking hard. Her offer to train the other wasn't out of a desire to teach her to defend herself. No, she had much more sinister motives. She planned to have that body for her own. It was an abominable thing she contemplated, and she wanted to be certain it was what she wanted.

She didn't need her gem to be working to see what was happening, however; the other had obviously grown to admire her a great deal in their time together. Would that make her decision harder? Had the terror of the Pyrrhian clan grown a heart?

She told the other it was time to head home, and both ate a meal and went to sleep after arriving at the lair. Persephone retired to her private chamber, with its alcoves filled with bones and other grisly trophies, and her nest of soft cured hides. She slept easily, as she always did when exhausted from a day's fighting, and she dreamed of what would soon be hers.

---

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She awoke as evening fell over the Wastes, eager for the task ahead. Soon she would have that coveted form for her own. She rose and prepared for the night's wicked work, stopping by Amaryssa's alcove on the way to rouse the young Skydancer who had no idea her very minutes were now numbered, slipping away like sands in an hourglass.

Persephone could tell that he other was uncertain, and she had a right to be, but in the end, her admiration for Persephone was to be her undoing. She agreed to go with her, and they started off-- Skydancers and Bogsneak together.

The journey was both the longest and shortest Persephone had ever taken in her life. And when they arrived at last at the cracked altar grasped by the tendrils that grew from the Wyrmwound itself, she feared she would have to force the other onto the stone slab. But once again. the young one made the mistake of trusting her, and paid for it, this time with worse than her life. As the tendrils sank their fangs into her, and Amaryssa chanted the words needed to start the ritual, Persephone locked eyes with the other.

The plea for help, for salvation, was unmistakable in those plague eyes looking back at her, but her heart was unmoved, and she stood in grim silence, waiting for something to happen... or to not. She began to fear it would fail, but then, a blinding flash of lurid red light, and a feeling as if she had been struck in the chest with lightning. The last thing she heard before all went black for her was the sound of something shattering.

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She slowly came to consciousness, aching all over, disoriented. Her first sight was of Amaryssa peering down at her curiously. She saw the flicker of terror in the Bogsneak's eyes before she scuttled back surprisingly quickly. Persephone stirred, flexing her claws and trying to shake off the effects of the ritual. "Did it work?" She croaked, in a voice not her own.

It was answer enough, and she was galvanised into full wakefulness, getting to her feet too quickly, and swaying as a wave of faintness washed over her. She was the one on the slab now, and the tendrils were once again quiescent. There, on the ground, was her old body, still wearing her finery. It wasn't moving. She hopped down lightly, moving to look it over. Did she die? Nudging it with a foot, she backed up as it stirred weakly.

She took her things from it, and put them on as she watched the form curiously. At last it opened its eyes, but they were empty, seemingly unseeing. It seemed the other's spirit had fled, perhaps in protest at the act committed upon it. Her things in order, Persephone turned her back on it, and began walking home with Amaryssa.

In time it became clear it was following them, but what did that matter? Persephone had what she wanted. Let the empty one follow... maybe a use could be found for her.

Persephone is now questing for something with all of her fighting:
the coveted Cranial Hornhelm. One day, this barbarically beautiful
piece of apparel will be hers...

_{Can absolutely solo a Molten Wartoad. (with fodder)

Voted Most Evil Looking In Lair 3 time(s).

Favorited 1 time(s).

Color rarity: 1 of 13 total, 1 of 4 active 1/19/2019}

_{Bio coded by Mercer'd #69790}

_{By #310038

Click for full size.}

_{Art by me}

Art by Araucaria
Full version Here.

DRAGONS TRAINED wrote:

...and thousands of fodder.

Persephone wants:

Not Found

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Exalting Persephone 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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