Vulpess » Lair » Durnehviir

Durnehviir

(#47922819)

last time for just one sin, now you'll see a whole lot more.

Clawfoot

Masked Harpy

Energy: 0/50

Personal Style

Apparel

Skin

Scene

Physical Attributes

Battle Stats

Measurements

Length

4.96 m

Wingspan

5.1 m

Weight

555.68 kg

Genetics

Sable
Savannah

Clay
Bee

Dirt
Glimmer

Hatchday

Dec 24, 2018
(5 years)

Breed

Adult
Skydancer

Eye Type

Earth
Unusual

Level 1 Skydancer

EXP: 0 / 245

STR

AGI

DEF

QCK

INT

VIT

MND

Lineage

Parents

Offspring

Biography

_____________
.
D U R N E H V I I R
"archeologist", grave robber
cynical • volatile • greedy
♫theme

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From a young clan of the Shattered Plain.
If anyone asks why he sought out a clan at the heart of Plague, he'll tilt his head graciously and smile with an, "oh but why ever not? New grounds, adventure, an established culture. What more could you want?"
The bag of hidden relics he keeps by his chambers, however, are none of their concern.
Filled to the brim with things that he weren't supposed to find. Things that most definitely are not his.
A common Plague dragon knows the look he carries, that poorly hidden greed whenever something of value is brought up.
Foolish to think an archaeologist with a trinket hoard is anything but unmistakably clever.

The earth of Plague isn't as.. easy to dig into. He'd say, it's closer to impossible. He's witnessed it pulsing in certain places, and thanks the heavens of his use to eerie, sickening things.
If he can rip the golden locked from a dried Wildclaw corpse's hands he can certainly ignore how the ground beneath him is alive.

Already used to digging up long forgotten bones, and witnessing a few accidents in the shafts, death was not a new concept to him.
What was however, was the peculiar tendency to give all their riches to the dead.
What on earth's name were the dead supposed to do with silver drapes and umber stones?
Nothing useful, he's certain.

The solemn funeral was led way through a golden-lit corridor, mass burial grounds filling up on either side, officially making it a catacomb.
By every opening, there hanged a tall banner, either with a sigil of good faith, fortune or the earth emblem.
Every burial chamber was lit up from the inside, to greet the newly arrived. The gold and treasures of every room reflected the ground and shone into the open corridor, effectively making it feel as if everything was happening deep under water.
Durnehviir strode as slow as the others, said his prayers in harmony with the others, and placed a few of his treasures upon the dead. Just like the others.
With a last "from earth you have come, in earth you will rest," the solemn group moved out of the chambers, and back to work.
Durnehviir followed the group until they reached the higher levels, and then snuck back into a side corridor, slowly making his way back down to the burial grounds.
Something in him was simmering.
Something like the constant hunger that struck them all.
Something like, unfairness and a slow burning malice towards these dead corpses, all richer than the entire clan put together, but none the wiser.
What in gods name were they to do with it. They need not eat, they need no wealth.
With every step, every thought, he strode faster and faster along the hallway, until in his anger he ripped the curtain off an alcove, letting the light shine through in all it's glory.
Upon a heightened stone, the remains of a wildclaw lay clutching a golden necklace.
He heaved for breath as he turned in a full circle, staring at every treasure upon the ground.
Blue orbs from the deep tunnels, satchels of dried plants and flowers, gold coins and gems, flourished around the dead as a sick parody of a pig with an apple in its mouth.
His anger turned cold and sharp, and with hasty movements he emptied the satchel and started putting everything he saw inside.
The smell of rot could not stop him.
The cold, shut eyes of a sunken body did not bring him guilt, as the gold light from the necklace fascinated him so in that moment.
He tore it, tugged and ripped, the claws of the dragon nearly breaking apart at his manhandling.
Only when the chamber lay grey with no treasure for the light to hit did he stop.
The banner he hung back up, the heavy silk drapes he put back over the body, but the torch outside the corridor was blown out before his departure.

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code by epher #101073
biography text written by Shoz #274934

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Exalting Durnehviir to the service of the Icewarden 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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