Psittacidae » Lair » Daemon

Daemon

(#44663197)

Famine, the Black

Familiar

Scarlet Macaw

Energy: 0/50

Personal Style

Apparel

Skin

Scene

Physical Attributes

Battle Stats

Measurements

Length

4.57 m

Wingspan

8.18 m

Weight

457.75 kg

Genetics

White
Iridescent

Crimson
Shimmer

Crimson
Circuit

Hatchday

Aug 27, 2018
(5 years)

Breed

Adult
Mirror

Eye Type

Plague
Uncommon

Level 25 Mirror

Max Level

STR

133

AGI

DEF

QCK

INT

VIT

MND

Lineage

Parents

Offspring

none

Biography

DAEMON
Avatar of Famine

"Doesn't take much - hardly a push. Consume, consume. And yet, you're all still starving because hunger doesn't just come from the body, it also comes from the soul."

Diablerie says:
"When she broke the third seal, I heard the third creature saying, “Come.” I looked, and beheld a black horse. She who sat on it had a pair of scales in her hand, and I heard something like a voice saying, “A quart of wheat for a denarius, and three quarts of barley for a denarius.” Thus comes Famine, riding on a black steed. She will ride into the land of plenty, and great will be the Horseman's hunger, for she is hunger. Her hunger will seep out and poison the air."

Sepulchre says:
"Famine is a silent visitor who comes like a shadow. She sits beside every anxious mother three times each day. She brings not only suffering and sorrow, but fear and terror. She is more destructive than armies, not only in mortal life but in morals. All of the values of right living melt before her invasions, and every gain of civilisation crumbles."

The Mad Harvester

Pestilence

War

Famine

Death

Breeding Project

Deciphered from page 43 of an ancient tome labelled "Sacralexicon":

No creature better represents primal hunger and savagery than the Mirror. They place nothing above the hunt. From birth, they have the innate drive to feed, to kill and consume everything around them. Death and blood are their meat and wine.

Unlike her siblings, Famine kills slowly. She loves the hunt, the waiting, the slow starvation. She turns her victims' bodies into their own prisons, trapping them helplessly within. The hunger and the knowledge of their impending death loom long before the victims finally succumb... hanging over them in the shape of a dark Mirror, until the sweet release of death becomes a mercy.

Okay, so.

This looks bad. Even with the hard rationing, my grain stores ran dry far sooner than I hoped, and I still have months of winter ahead. I'm hungry all the time, but I have other problems now.

So… this sounds crazy, but I'm hearing noises, like scratching. Outside at night. It's not snow blowing around, either, because it's happening when there's no wind. It—well, it sounds exactly like something trying to get in. Like something trying to claw through the wall. When I hear it, I jump up and try to get closer, see if I can see a shadow or any movement. But whatever this thing is it doesn't like me moving around because that always seems to stop it.

When I go outside in the morning I don't see any marks in the snow or any other physical signs, so no clues there. I don't even have any theories as to what could be causing it. There's not a trace of anything, even though the scratching was always incredibly clear the night before.

The noises are still happening. They're freaking me out, to be honest. Weirdly, they're also making me notice how quiet it is around here now. When the scratching starts up, I stop everything to listen for it, and then... it's just so quiet, the kind of quiet that makes you feel like you're buried alive, like you might have gone deaf.

All that quiet, all that emptiness—well, it makes you wonder what other kinds of creatures might be here in this lonely place. Scratching at the wall. I know it's just my imagination running away with me, but... gods almighty, what is that scratching?

Once in a while, I go outside at night, and the stars from here are so bright and so clear. No light pollution, just the cold clear universe shining down on you. At night the houses in the distance look like just another one of the stars, a pinprick of light, slightly brighter and larger than the others, but too far away to do any good. For all I know, I'm the last person left alive on the planet.

I've done everything I can think of to track down what the noises are. They don't correlate to any weather activity and there's still no physical evidence. One night I set up a camera to see if I could capture anything on video, but of course, that was the one night the noises didn't happen, almost as though whatever's causing them knew I was onto it.

I'm starting to feel like whatever's making the noises is watching me all the time. This prickle on the back of my neck, all the hairs on my arms standing up one by one. I'll be digging for roots, and suddenly I know that something's watching me, just out of sight. I stop and scan the horizon, the sky, but I can never see anything. I just know it's there.

The worst is when I get that feeling when I'm inside. I mean, the house isn't transparent, so I know whatever it is can't see me specifically (unless it has infrared or heat sensors... oh God, and why do I assume it doesn't?). But I'll just be lying on my bed, and then I'll get that feeling again, that crawling horror on the back of my neck. Like something's hunting me.

I'm getting scared to leave the house at night. I leave all the lights on at night until I'm ready to sleep, because sometimes out of the corner of my eye the shadows startle me. I'm jumpy at every little sound, always listening for that damned scratching.

I feel like I'm falling apart, terrorised into patheticness by whatever's making the noises. And I didn't realise that after this long with no real food, you'd start craving it in an overwhelmingly physical way. I find myself having elaborate fantasies about my mom's soups, coming home for Christmas and eating a great big roast.

That deep craving that feels like it goes straight down to your bones.

Here's a tip for anyone who finds themselves alone and starving and hearing weird noises in the dark: don't start calling the thing that's hunting you a "demon." Also, don't start thinking about how it doesn't seem to have corporeal, or at least visible, form and maybe it's not even biological, so maybe "demon" is actually apt. I'm losing my mind.

I swear I actually caught a glimpse of this demon thing today. It was just out of the corner of my eye, but I swear to God, I saw it, all white teeth and pale narrow face, just a flash before it darted out of view, around to the side of the house where I couldn't see.

It's still scratching at the walls at night. Once I swear I heard it howling. What am I going to do if it ever gets in?

I saw it. I freaking saw it, for real this time, not just out of the corner of my eye. I woke up to see it pressed against the window, all eyes and teeth, leering against the glass. It darted away as soon as I was awake, so I only saw it for a second, but it was there, hating me with an intensity that was like a punch in the stomach. I don't think anyone or anything has ever hated me that much.

Now that I've seen it, you'd think I'd have a better idea of what exactly it is. But somehow it's hard to remember the exact physicality of it, like the shock of it made my brain resistant to the memory. It was just a pale, hateful flash. There were eyes, there were definitely eyes, but now I can't seem to remember... they were black, I think? Or maybe they were red, with long, sharp pupils. There was something wrong with them, at least, alien, not normal. Something wrong all around, wrong with its whole being. Some personified malice, something empty and evil and terrifying.

I feel like it's gotten angrier, more aggressive and hateful. Maybe it's just that I look more vulnerable, but it's starting to feel like I'm antagonising it. Like everything I do that isn't just giving up and waiting to die makes it furious.

I need to find some kind of food, but I don't want to get out of the house. That thing is out there, waiting for me.

I wake up in the middle of the night to the sound of scrabbling, a high-pitched shrieking noise going along with it. It's dark in the room, and my heart is pounding. I'm probably just dreaming the sounds.

Maybe this thing is a scavenger, something that doesn't actually kill its prey, that just waits for it to die. Maybe it's doing the demon equivalent of circling overhead when it can see that an animal on the ground is close to death, keeping its eye on me, hoping to weaken me more so it can eat me when I'm dead or dying.

But it's going to damage something if it keeps scratching like that.

I'm pretty sure the demon is following me around the rooms, using whatever weird alien sensors it has to feel out where I am so it can creep along the wall parallel to me. At the sections of the where the wall is thinner, I hear its steps, claws clicking, and I know that the thing is looking for a way in through the wall so it can get at me.

Something has to be done.

I slip out the door of the room, groggy and miserable. I make my way to the entrance like moving in a dream. I'm sad and lonely and nothing will ever get better. The stars are covered behind cloud and dust. The sky is black.

I think about my lungs going empty, that terrifying moment of no oxygen before your brain goes soft and blank, how brief the smothering would be, how soon it would be over. The relief of it, your heart ceasing to beat. I can hear the demon outside the window, that scratch of metal against bony carapace, the endless malicious tapping. It's getting closer. If I opened the door it could come in, or if I let myself out, it would have me immediately, it could claw its way into my flesh. That's what it wants. That's what it's always wanted. I know the demon can sense my thoughts, sense how death feels like a friend to me, how close I am to it.

I see a long, red leg cross the glass of the window. It reaches for me, the way I knew it would, trying to get close enough to do whatever it's been wanting to do, to claw and tooth into my skin. I can feel it's malice, how it's going to fling itself at me.

I can see that flash of teeth, the horror of it still too much for my brain to take, it's like the memory of a dream, the emotion stronger than the visual. It's close now. So close, not worried about me seeing it anymore. I think about my misery, floating up to fill my body, the empty desolation of starvation. The relief it would be to stop existing. I feel hypnotised and hazy.

LordBoxman wrote:

I love the idea of her being the idea of being based around the four horsemen. "Deciphered from page 43 of an ancient tome labeled "Sacralexicon" the paragraph written on that, I enjoy hearing people write about Mirrors, the way you described her is visually pleasing to read. Mirrors having a primal hunger that goes well with Daemon being about famine. The story you wrote about gave me shivers down my spine, the vibes I got from the story, made me think of Daemon coming after dragons when they're going through famine, or starving? Correct me if I'm wrong, but I do find the formatting of this bio very unique. I envy your abilities to make beautiful long bios XD. Thank you for letting read this bio by the way.

NightmareJudge wrote:

And double points for Famine's lore, good lord. I've always loved the "found footage" style of writing, and I really like the idea of a dragon's bio being written with the perspective of a terrified observer. This deserves her own horror game.

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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 Daemon 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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