Khazamaran
(#24254541)
Level 25 Guardian
Click or tap to view this dragon in Predict Morphology.
Energy: 50/50
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
11.6 m
Wingspan
18.54 m
Weight
10963.12 kg
Genetics
Sable
Basic
Basic
Umber
Basic
Basic
Hunter
Thylacine
Thylacine
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 25 Guardian
Max Level
STR
7
AGI
6
DEF
8
QCK
5
INT
5
VIT
8
MND
6
Lineage
Parents
- none
Offspring
- none
Biography
boop |
"Possession is nine tenths."
❁ STORY
Khazamaran is old, regardless of the body she wears. She no longer remembers where she’s from, or how long she spent trapped in the darkness below the canyon; everything is blurry before she stood squinting in the sunlight, small and brown and surrounding by the unfamiliar. All that’s left of the time before this are sensations. The feeling of being powerful, grand, terrible and worshipped. Or perhaps feared. For some, those are the same thing. She remembers wielding great magic, of being a voice both listened to and disregarded. She remembers a downfall. She remembers a darkness full of snapping teeth and flashing white eyes. How she came to rise out of that endless black is unclear, but there is magic in this place that is unfathomable, even to her. All she really knows is that there was a great shift in the energies of the world; even now she can feel the residual tremors as Sornieth settles again. And in her gut is this feeling that she finally has a second chance. To do what is unclear also and her memories are incoherent at best, her thoughts are often scattered, erratic. On the one hand, she emerged into this new world a stranger and found a lair full of dragons and other strange beast creatures who couldn’t tell her anything about what might have transpired. (She has a lot to catch up on probably.) They took her in, showed her kindness and love, she was taught about the world and how it works. And she learned their skills, too. Necromancy is an artform she picked up with what Tarryn described as “alarming alacrity” (a tad hypocritical of a witch who raises the bones with plants, but whatever). She likes bones, they come from the past, they are the remains of the lost, they can tell stories. Tahvi knows this. And Khazamaran suspects that the bones in the Reliquary are more than merely part of the land. They are owned in a way she can’t explain, but she can exploit. Nobody who enters the Reliquary without permission can leave again, not even when they’re just bones. Their energy feeds the lair and their bodies serve the residents. The Cairnstone Rest isn’t the only canyon full of bones. Other less than respectable talents were fun to learn too. Trickery, deceit, manipulation, all fell into her claws with ease. And there is a voice in her head, whispering and persistent, telling her that the only way to acquire the greatness in the depths of her foggy memory is to use it, exert power to gain more. That doesn’t feel right to her though, not something she wants, or should do? Still, she finds causing a little mayhem amusing and mostly harmless with the added benefit of keeping that voice placated. When it’s not, she… well she worries that maybe it could fight her for control of this body. And she might lose. Khazamaran is old, but this feeling is ancient. (She worries more than a little that perhaps, wherever she was when it was dark, that thing Serri calls the Shade found her and twisted her.) But if that’s true she will fight it. And the dragons of this lair seem to think that, regardless of her propensity to say nasty things and sow a little discord, she has the potential to grow, to change. Perhaps they’re right. In the meantime, there are always the bones. The island off the coast where they bury their dead (the not-intruder kind) has better company than the guests anyway. ❁ OTHER
| boop |
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Exalting Khazamaran to the service of the Earthshaker 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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