Zeria
(#6905708)
Level 25 Guardian
Familiar
Swamphaunt Kelpie
Click or tap to view this dragon in Predict Morphology.
Energy: 0/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Lightning.
Female Guardian
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
17.28 m
Wingspan
12.26 m
Weight
10546.57 kg
Genetics
Smoke
Iridescent
Iridescent
Blood
Noxtide
Noxtide
Pearl
Basic
Basic
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 25 Guardian
Max Level
STR
5
AGI
10
DEF
5
QCK
50
INT
129
VIT
12
MND
5
Biography
 » Z E R I A «Matron of the Nightmare  |
____________________________________________ Tormented. Broken. Left to die. Zeria's story should have ended before it even began. Yet, as she had laid in a pool of crimson not entirely her own, Zeria's life was not hers to give up; a cruel mockery of the release she could have found, and would never be granted. Whether it was by her deity’s design, or the intervention of a force far greater than even the very storm, Zeria's soul did not succumb to the abyss. Instead, as the skies darkened and the grief that formed chains around her heart relinquished, the guardian rose to her feet once more. The air she breathed tasted of iron, leaving a bitter memory upon her tongue that would not fade even years later, but there was comfort found in the unrelenting misery. Now, as she dutifully tends to her section of the eternal grove, Zeria is left to mourn. On the nights where the moon is full and tinged with the familiar shade of red the dragoness now wears, the air is filled with the sounds of her grief - raging on as the eternal storm in her heart that never will give way to brighter skies. ____________________________________________ |
_________________________________________________________________________
» rebirth «
Images of fractured light and shattered memories race across her mind; splitting the sky into a thousand pieces that, even when put together, make only a twisted, fragmented image of reality. Around her fires raged, all-consuming and unforgiving in their burning and turning upon even those most used to the element. Scales and bone gave way as easily as melting ice off a floe and all around dragons were lost to the destruction. Some cried out in confusion, some uttered dying challenges to foes now lost in the thickening smoke, while others were simply silent, too exhausted for anything short of scrambling out of the way of the flames.
A lone tundra was stood in the centre of it all - her vision impaired by the billows of smoke and ash and all other senses numbing in the face of her adversary. She didn't move; she didn't even cry out. She was stricken deathly still by something that was even more deep-rooted than fear, something she could not have named a thousand moments from this one. Her sense of smell was usually her strongest but, in that moment, even that failed her. She was wrapped in something, but the feeling that brought her was anything but enlightening or comforting. There was no bright light at the end of a tunnel, no gentle wings to pick her up and carry her into the Stormcatcher's thunderous realm above. The only thing she knew was that there was no pain when her consciousness faded. She liked to think it was a final act of mercy, but there was no such thing on that day.
As her world faded to black and the tundra fell victim to the enveloping flames around her, the air was filled with the one last hallowing roar of a dragon; grandeur lost and replaced by something more primal and unforgiving in nature. It was a thunderous sound and served to split the sky in defiance of fate - and, if only for a moment, even the flames around the dying tundra faltered.
From the ashes a shape arose; wing of ice and scales of ebon both darkened by soot and dust rising up and over the flames as the roar did. Eyes of pure lightning sparked and around him the flames bowed. The forms of their adversaries that had brought the flames could be seen darting away from the older male, quick to flee from his warpath. Yet, it was not enough, for, as easily as he had risen, the dragon was cut down. His body went limp, extended wings fell, and it was even as the deathly roar echoed around caverns of fire and ash that his body hit the charred ground. For a moment, their eyes met, and Zeria felt a wave of indescribable sorrow at seeing the giant fall, and she wished, begged, for something more than the end she was being given.
Yet, her deity was silent, and, even as her life's flame flickered out and the ones around her grew only stronger in light of the victory, her prayers were never answered. At least, not in the way she expected.
"My children will never be allowed to rest, not as long as there is work to be done. Come to me, child, and I will reforge you anew."
_________________________________________________________________________Images of fractured light and shattered memories race across her mind; splitting the sky into a thousand pieces that, even when put together, make only a twisted, fragmented image of reality. Around her fires raged, all-consuming and unforgiving in their burning and turning upon even those most used to the element. Scales and bone gave way as easily as melting ice off a floe and all around dragons were lost to the destruction. Some cried out in confusion, some uttered dying challenges to foes now lost in the thickening smoke, while others were simply silent, too exhausted for anything short of scrambling out of the way of the flames.
A lone tundra was stood in the centre of it all - her vision impaired by the billows of smoke and ash and all other senses numbing in the face of her adversary. She didn't move; she didn't even cry out. She was stricken deathly still by something that was even more deep-rooted than fear, something she could not have named a thousand moments from this one. Her sense of smell was usually her strongest but, in that moment, even that failed her. She was wrapped in something, but the feeling that brought her was anything but enlightening or comforting. There was no bright light at the end of a tunnel, no gentle wings to pick her up and carry her into the Stormcatcher's thunderous realm above. The only thing she knew was that there was no pain when her consciousness faded. She liked to think it was a final act of mercy, but there was no such thing on that day.
As her world faded to black and the tundra fell victim to the enveloping flames around her, the air was filled with the one last hallowing roar of a dragon; grandeur lost and replaced by something more primal and unforgiving in nature. It was a thunderous sound and served to split the sky in defiance of fate - and, if only for a moment, even the flames around the dying tundra faltered.
From the ashes a shape arose; wing of ice and scales of ebon both darkened by soot and dust rising up and over the flames as the roar did. Eyes of pure lightning sparked and around him the flames bowed. The forms of their adversaries that had brought the flames could be seen darting away from the older male, quick to flee from his warpath. Yet, it was not enough, for, as easily as he had risen, the dragon was cut down. His body went limp, extended wings fell, and it was even as the deathly roar echoed around caverns of fire and ash that his body hit the charred ground. For a moment, their eyes met, and Zeria felt a wave of indescribable sorrow at seeing the giant fall, and she wished, begged, for something more than the end she was being given.
Yet, her deity was silent, and, even as her life's flame flickered out and the ones around her grew only stronger in light of the victory, her prayers were never answered. At least, not in the way she expected.
"My children will never be allowed to rest, not as long as there is work to be done. Come to me, child, and I will reforge you anew."
» notes «
- Matron of the Nightmare suggests that Zeria herself is an unkind dragoness, but she is a natural mother and watches over the hatchlings of the clan
- Her title comes from her form of witchcraft, which allows her to ease the nightmares of other dragons
- Unfortunately, there is nothing she can do to ease her own nightmares, and, while Esmeralda could step in to help, Zeria vehemently refuses to accept the help
- Doesn't like to be called by her name, instead being referred to as only 'Matron', and very few can call her anything but without the guardian flying into an unholy rage
- Due to being born a tundra, she has an uncanny sense of smell
- Uses moon magic; despite being a lightning dragon, she never did have any ability to utilise her element
- At her peak during a super blood moon - it's wise to not anger her during these times, as her magic is catastrophic
- Matron of the Nightmare suggests that Zeria herself is an unkind dragoness, but she is a natural mother and watches over the hatchlings of the clan
- Her title comes from her form of witchcraft, which allows her to ease the nightmares of other dragons
- Unfortunately, there is nothing she can do to ease her own nightmares, and, while Esmeralda could step in to help, Zeria vehemently refuses to accept the help
- Doesn't like to be called by her name, instead being referred to as only 'Matron', and very few can call her anything but without the guardian flying into an unholy rage
- Due to being born a tundra, she has an uncanny sense of smell
- Uses moon magic; despite being a lightning dragon, she never did have any ability to utilise her element
- At her peak during a super blood moon - it's wise to not anger her during these times, as her magic is catastrophic
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Exalting Zeria to the service of the Shadowbinder 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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