Drachenschwinge » Lair » Tartaros

Tartaros

(#16834044)

Level 25 Spiral

Familiar

Cursed Die

Energy: 49/50

Personal Style

Apparel

Skin

Scene

Physical Attributes

Battle Stats

Measurements

Length

2.54 m

Wingspan

2.98 m

Weight

85.52 kg

Genetics

Leaf
Cherub

Obsidian
Spinner

Black
Smirch

Hatchday

Sep 14, 2015
(8 years)

Breed

Adult
Spiral

Eye Type

Fire
Common

Level 25 Spiral

Max Level

STR

AGI

DEF

QCK

INT

VIT

MND

Lineage

Parents

none

Offspring

none

Biography

Τάρταρος
The Basilisk

Theme Song: -

They say no one is born bad. Everyone, from birth, is a clean slate. This is not entirely true. Accidents can happen before birth and genetics are a tricky thing. Tartaros has neither excuse for himself. He was born and already started to cause problems. Some say his parents tried to abandon him, in hopes he would die, but he found them again. And again. And again. Over and over their attempts to toss away their son failed until, eventually, they fled to another part of the world. Some say they live a quiet life of farming and others say that they are hiding in a cave somewhere in Dragonhome. Such awful parents! Some dragons would say. Their son did nothing wrong to bring about shame! If only they knew that Tartaros had taken their other children away from them, turning them into stone with his gaze. His parents had realized that Tartaros was dangerous ever since he had fell into the Crystal Pools. They realized that everything, both living and dead, was his play thing. He was to be avoided, especially when he came across his skull that he called his "best friend" He talked to his best friend for years while trying to find some clan that could offer shelter after his parents had finally rid themselves of him. Not a place to call home, not a place to be loyal to. Just a place to live. Sometimes he would ask his skull if a clan was good enough, then carry on an entire conversation with it, if only to test the clan leaders.

Finding accommodations was difficult. No clan Tartaros had come across seemed even a little interested in his skills. Assassination was one of Tataros' most well-developed skills. After living on his own for a few years, he learned how to get along by getting enough money from a few dirty jobs. Most of those jobs involved being a hit man. Some clans already had that position filled, others thought it was disgusting that anyone would even think of killing a living creature. Thankfully, Tartaros did find a place. Or, more accurately, they found him. The deal was simple: he would kill who they told him to and they would let him live in the clan grounds. Protected by their clan from various laws, fed, and a nice place to live. Not the most appealing thing, but Tartaros accepted the offer. As much as he would rather be declared king and worshiped like a god, this might have been the next best thing. Except for one small problem the clan that took him in didn't realize. Tartaros was not blind like so many before them had thought. Tartaros only had the small fear of turning himself to stone. After he discovered his little ability at a young age with his siblings, he figured he would turn himself to stone as well by accidentally making eye contact with something reflective. Thus, ever since his parents had fled, Tartaros hid his eyes away from the world.

Others found out his little interesting secret a little too late. Before long, the clan found stone statues littered outside the clan grounds. There was only one dragon that they could consider a suspect. Tartaros didn't deny that he could turn people to stone. He never bothered to ask why. Perhaps it had something to do with what he called a little “accident”. The same accident that left his skin glowing green and cracking open and that caused his parents to fear him. The Crystal Pools water looked safe and comforting from a distance, but if someone got too close to let their foot slip, then it was a nasty plunge. How Tartaros survived surprised even him. The radiation he suffered cause quite a few changes to him, but Tartaros wasn't too disappointed. He was more than happy with his new self. He thought it was very “him”. When asked what that meant, he would laugh and ask his skull the same question. Despite being an odd dragon, the clan figured Tartaros would pay off one day. He just had to stay busy, so he wouldn't lure anyone to their deaths.

His worth soon became apparent. Tartaros had no qualms with any jobs he was given. He worked quickly, efficiently, and left no trace back to the clan. He had little trouble on any job and the clan was sure to keep him close by in case a meeting was going to go sour. If anything, the clan had gotten used to Tartaros. New members are quickly warned about him and his strange habits with his skull. Everyone knows not to look him in the eyes, to keep out of his way, and entertain him and his insane thoughts.

~by Dew

(Very short) Short Story 1

What a beautiful garden. It was a sacred and hallowed place, where fragrant flowers bloomed, elegant vines encircled ornamental objects, and sunshafts dappled the leaf-covered ground. It was a hidden place, far away from the prying eyes of the outside world. It was a place where brilliant minds could work in secret.

The old imperial had no name, at least not that anyone knew. He used his forest hideaway to perform his ‘alchemy’, and his unwitting guests suffered greatly. But at least the flowers bloomed brightly.

“It really is beautiful,” Tartaros said, admiring the garden from the very best vantage point. His sinuous body coiled around the top of the most lovely statuary gracing that garden. In his tail, he clutched his skull, which looked back at him with empty eyes. Tartaros gave a hissing laugh. “I wonder how the flowers will grow without a tender.”

Stretched below him was another coiling body, the great stone effigy of the imperial, his face locked forever in an expression of rage.

~by Sirrush88

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Exalting Tartaros to the service of the Flamecaller 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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