#ch. sparkling lights on the dancing grounds / vyzarrioth.

[tomepact]

🐣 adonia @ a muse of your choice!

the garden is flourishing bright and bold this time of year. the press of summer on either side is unrelenting, bringing the flowers into their biggest bloom yet. adonia is alone -- or at least he think he is, until there is a giggle and the splashing of someone in the fountains.

the stamping of little feet is what greets him when he investigates, and the water splashes up when the head of a faerie dragon picks up and shakes the water from the golden horns on its head.

vyzzarioth laughs, flicking his tail back and forth before he clambers up onto the edge of the fountain and flattens out to warm up.

" hello, my liege. " the voice echoes up telepathically, rhythmic sylvan coming musically from him. " have you come to play? the queen has been too busy to do so! "

child's play.

[tomepact]

okay now that i have his tag i made a statblock for the ancient faerie dragon. look upon him.

[tomepact]

💭 + ambition, for the inspector. 💭 + home, for vyzarrioth.

ambition + the inspector.

if there's one word to describe the inspector, it's ambition. the unseelie court he hails from is defined by an almost aristocratic climb for power -- the more you have, the wider your sphere of influence. the only people higher on the rung than the inspector are the queen and her consort, so he has no where higher he can climb.

instead, he pushes his influence out, hoping to take claim over his neighbors and their domains. his brothers are nearest to him and he's constantly chipping pieces from the collector's domain, while pushing back on the caretaker pushing into his own. gathering warlocks and hexblood followers helps his influence grow out, so he does have something of an ulterior motive to helping those who come to him.

home + vyzarrioth.

he considers his home the sparkling glen that he lives in, a bright expanse of wildflowers, twisting trees and a deep tunnel system underground that holds his hoard.

he will, however, tell you all about where he came from if you ask -- his first home as a beautiful pet of the lady of summer, one of many very normal faerie dragons that are born of the flowers she trails in her wake. he lived for a long time in her expansive palace, growing larger and larger on the meals of extravagant food and deep fey magic, until he grew into his purple scales. and then he kept getting bigger.

eventually, he managed to gain favor as the oldest, most beautiful of her court of dragons (his own words) and was given the glen as a present. and with the glen's space and influence, he continued to grow until he's the specimen you see now.

(this story, as all fey stories, should be taken with an air of some disbelief. every fey loves to embellish.)

topic headcanons.

[tomepact]

@saintsdawn sent: ❛ you take what you can get, and you make the most of it. ❜

" and you, dear one? what did you get? "

he doesn't have visitors often here, in his shaded glen, but the visitor he has today is very interesting indeed. a soul touched by shadow, by the morning light, and by something old and dark and strange indeed.

vyzarrioth lowers his broad head from his perch among the flowering tree and laughs. the scales of his wings and belly shift between shades of red and orange and green as he does, until he's face to face with her. there's mirth in his old, old face.

" you must not always settle for what you are given. sometimes, you are given only bits to salvage. "

[tomepact]

vyzarrioth does not often take a humanoid form -- he’s actually quite out of practice with it. in the feywild, he explores his domain in the shape of animals if he doesn’t just use the opportunity to spread his natural wings.

as such, when he is in humanoid form, he’s almost always got a tell -- he doesn’t entirely conceal his scales or his teeth. often, he takes the form of a tiefling so fewer people question the presence of horns or tails, but even those are of a distinctly fey-draconic bend.

[tomepact]

im changing my tagging system please hold