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Nytruin
Topic Started: Jun 12 2011, 11:24 PM (180 Views)
Vaelyis
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a wounded soldier
Nytruin

Name: Nytruin Ryctor
Name Meaning: Derived from the word Neltruin, which also mean "neutral, peace, or tranquil." But that was all before the fall
Race: Dragon
Breed: Anthraxia
Nicknames: The Walking Disease, Decaying Virus, Damnable Race, Dragons of Death, The Last Breath
Age: 7 Centuries or less
Gender: Female
Breed Origin: Rapture, Valkine; Erydose
Orientation: Mother
Rank: Deity, Mother
Sister: Rapture
Rider: Arycid Allen Mycheal
Mount Type: Zairebolie
Form Capabilities: All Three
Body Type: Flesh and Bone
Infected: Yes
Infections: Paradrious Virus and Reavenious Virus
Infection Level: High Infectant
Flight Capable: Yes
Heart: Zrydin
Speech Computability: Telepathy
Flesh Color: Amethyst colors with highlights of a indigo blue, streaks of crimson and maroon running underneath the belly, stomach, chest and tail. Dark stripes (tiger-like) near the end base of her tail. Markings embedded near her chest, neck, spine, head and legs. Bright yellow like streaks inch from her stomach upwards instead of leaching downwards, tipped with colors of inferno and magma
Eye Color: Sanguine-red tipped with darker streaks through the eye (due to infection); also a gold with streaks of a lighter hue streaming through her eye
Element(s): Elemental
Chemicals: Rapture's Hurt, Death's Rapt, Ravan, Indolegene Acid, Liquid Nitrice, Nitrogen, Dry Ice, Oxygen, Carbon Dioxide, Carbon Monoxide, Argon, Calcium, Paradrious Virus, Reavenious Virus.
Attributes: Inception (Planting an idea into the mind of another), Paranormal Abilities (control of the elements), Telepathy, Intelligence, Speed, Void Walking, Control, Necromancy (Ascending over the undead), Virus Combination, Paradrious Virus, Ability to Create "Paradoxes" or rifts in time where they can erase small objects, Reavenious Virus
Bone/Scale Metal: Ebolie
Height: 30 ft.
Length: 58 ft.
Weight: 10 tons
Wingspan: 125 ft.
Personality: Nytruin is a volatile, unstable, malevolent and vigilant species of Anthraxia (taking on the personalities of the general species type). Commonly, her heart is only revolving around her rider. Allen is the embassy that keeps her in check, otherwise... everything slows down and comes to a stop before turmoil and decimation breaches into effect. Unlike what others perceive her as, Nytruin is the basic building blocks of a reconstructive outbreak of her own. Driven into total destruction, destroyed, damaged and broken with chains latching to her body from continuous amounts of effortless tries of imprisonment. Nonetheless, the tragedy turns out to he all but failure in their futile attempts. Nytruin was only the small aspect to what was nearly coming. The hard task of being a Mother was well enough, let alone supporting the race alongside of Rapture, the sister that stands next to her. Dragged into battles, wars and wavers they've created, she has stood at her side since birth. Given the opportunities and binding chains that never seem to loose their constriction, Nytruin is left with the after birth of nothing but torture and suffering, blood and death ready in its wake. A rude awakening rupturing out from her paws, blood oozing in colors before the succumbed moods shift and change constantly. Her rider mimics and reflects off her own personality and anger, supporting Nytruin as her paw prints embed within the sands of the dirt, sinking in like a leaching tinge. Nytruin has always been brash and war hardened, figuring out ways without even the idea of how it come to effect. She rules the skies and lands above and below, and yet still has Rapture gliding along the side of her. Isolated, demolished, neglected, abandoned, destroyed, desolate and executed, she was lost in her own nightmares, but yet, abolished her own rules and edict. Nonetheless, Nytruin has always been able to set foot amongst the land and establish the coat of war and rise before the others, her moods snapping more than in seconds. Malicious and vile, her eyes brighten out the vermilion-sanguine that bleeds the very scorn she delivers.


History: For years they have been fighting... and for years some has failed. Nytruin, Mother of four, has only seen the gore and slaughter unfold before her eyes. The carnage reflecting their personalities and anger, only to inflict more as they grow hunger towards it, ascending to the source to sink their teeth further into flesh and blood. Nytruin has always been the Mother of wise and stealth. But ever since her jaws met with blood, the cringe and tick in her mind abruptly changed, supporting only to what she has conquered for. Her name was derived from the old and ancient dragon of Legend: Neltruin, which meant neutrality, peace, tranquility, neutral. But things change in a matter of years. She used to be subtle, graceful, wise with wit, gentle, honor bound, filled with heart and glory. But after her eyes had set on the ages and dawn of war, she has changed since the drifting years that drafted her into a sea of blood and vain. The bane that rests in a band around her neck, like a metal shaft or collar, but only to hold the burden that rests like a vestigial mark that centers the core of her loathing and vendetta which equals to a shifting plague that corrupts the mind. For years the suffering as outlast needle in her hide that never seems to release the pain, constricting her of the ability to let it all go, but the memories are like a knife embedded within the cortex of her brain and conscience, haunting her for years until the turmoil becomes an overdrive of the volatile manor of what she used to be compared to now. Nytruin's parents have never existed. She has had none. From the time being of her birth, their sanctioned eggs were made out of the creation of pure evolution and an outbreak. Like the other four dragons of the Anthraxian race, Nytruin and Rapture were the higher breed of the entire race. Embroiled with rapture in her mind, there was no neutrality or waver to stop the waging war that seems to erupt without warning or even a sign. Nytruin was formed from the DNA and genes of blood and war, creating a monster not only derived from pure blood of what sets off in her mind, but also boils in her blood.

The scars score and embed in her flesh, the burdens of a vestigial mark lambent and filled with different stories and legends. But those were only the tell tale heart of what truly happened throughout the years of her internal and external suffering and pain. Nytruin has a strong heart and a thick, wise mind. Whatever goes in, never comes out. Her jaws are locked, sealed right. Silent during the ages, no word left from her thoughts. They were hidden well and concealed. Even then it placed worry upon Rapture, she knew of her pain and despondence with her. Like a Mother Rapture is and will be, she has always been the sister she could present herself towards Nytruin. The return of an omen that lasted for years and still never has fallen nor collapsed under the weight of a higher power or even the weight of being Mother (nonetheless of being a creator like Rapture). The Four Gods of what Vryllnithia has been made of and the Four Deity's the Anthraxia have looked up to and relied upon, idolized, proving loyal and ideal. The inflicting of her own corrupting searing her mind, apparent to the structure of her own body as it begins to show over her flesh and scale, even herself abhors the thought and fact, but all in all, loving it fully. Without anything to keep her stable besides Arycid (Allen or Mychal), she has been destroying herself for years. Even since the day of birth was killing herself slowly, but never realized it... Just a slow decay of her own suffering and pain.



It has been said that a Mother has full power and control. The strength and power to live long and commence anew and become the higher power or Hierarchy of Vryllnithia. But that was just only a myth or a legend in the hearts and minds of the denizens that walk and tread in Vryll amongst the lands and masses that crater the planet. They say Mother was always there, her heart larger than the normal, beating a mile a minute as she still lives and stands, breathing as her planet grew with life... But they never said about the other three that still stand right next to her. Rapture was the well known deity, but also came Nytruin. The Mother that stands along side of her. The flesh tipped with golden flecks and rivers, illuminating the colors of blood and war and the afterbirth of total destruction...

The ice grew over the land's mass, soiling the surface with rifts and torrents of riffling winds and storms. Etched with old age and years of drifting cold, this place never used to be what it is now. Filled with vegetation and mild temperatures, it was filled with life and warmth... Ever since the Four have rose from there tombs it has became something different, torn and shattered and left with a scar on the surface. The ice rippled off the snow covered land, no weary to melt or turn into water. The frozen bastion left for dead and transformed into a land of only mere death and suffering, much like Nytruin's own heart. Sadly, this is where she was born. The casket she held herself succumbed to, breathing a new birth. A new balance in what Vryll never had. Then again, she was entombed in her own prison, becoming a poison of her own words. Imprisoned, abandoned, neglected, destroyed and damaged, Nytruin was only the beginning of what Vryll had in its wake. What the Four had in mind to redirect and redistribute in their cataclysm that would change Vryll forever. It would reconstruct the planet into something they never knew was coming. Until it has already been started. The beginning was just only the end to it all. But never to the pain or suffering that they had in mind, let alone even for themselves. It wasn't a weak fear that seemed to coat themselves into a tinge of escalation in their diabolical plan to destroy and inflict. But that wasn't happening so soon... First the "Titans" or Mothers must awake from their tombs, much like Rapture and Nytruin themselves. And she knew exactly how to do it. Buildings that used to come to wake over the land are now abandoned and rusting in the sands of snow, ice creeping and leached down the walls inside and out of the structures that held meaning. Temples covered and trenched with snow, ice and old age, never to be used or remembered again. Just like how Mother was never thought of in the time of great need.

Ice grew over the oceans, lakes and rivers, holding them prison with no life or sanction to free themselves. Snow drifted over the surface, holding the monster beneath its surface succumbed and imprisoned for centuries after the fall. Embedded in bone with flesh and carrion tinged over her structure, she was lifeless and never born alive besides the heart that beats faintly as she rests in this icy tomb that sanctions and desolates her from everyone and everything. The dark ages of time slow down to allow the might God of Vryll to burst forth from her tomb and breathe once more, her eyes boiling with turmoil and rage. But that was to take time... She only needs a small need or grasp of help and that was from the monster growing within side of her. Streaks ran over the surface of the lake, the snow brushing over the ice, retaliating as the beast below the surface has woken from her dark slumber, dormant for years. The mists in her eyes bloomed, forming a bright sanguine-red, infiltrating the rest of her body as she came alive... The cracks flooded and steeped over the surface of the ice, bringing force the monster that was settled below before this all had happened. Thundering quakes and shifts in the land ruptured from below as her weight shifted, her body itself moving from below, freeing itself from the icy tomb. A faint hiss slipped through her jaws as the spikes and bones protruded from the depths of the ice, her wings prying free from the flanks. A large head burst forth from below, her eyes glowing the lambent sheen of a turmoil sanguine, the rage and volatility apparent and grown. A set of talons drew from the depths of the abyss, slamming over the icy surface as her body was drawn from below the crest of the tomb, the talons sinking down into the ice's surface, her body hauled over the ledge, her weight cracking and breaking beneath her, creating more weight over the ice. Shaking her head with a reverberating bellow residing inside the chest and throat, her wings unfurled and snapped open, her body towering above the land as she withdrew from the tomb that succumbed her for years, holding her imprisoned and desolate from what she once knew.

The mists in her eyes flickered, the bright iridescence resembled much of the loathing and fear that grew from those who dare to stare directly in her eyes, fear pulsing through their bodies like a charge of electricity. She stood on all fours, craned above those who tore away from her, leaving her restless and neglected from so many years and now finally she has come from the depths of the land to reign her own fire and cataclysm with Rapture at hand along the side of her. Never would she back down, fall or collapse and allow such a desire come to a fall and never wake. Hissing, her eyes darted all over, her wings fully spread to their expansion, holding out parallel and leveled with the spine of her body. Taking the first step, she carried her weight and body over the land and up the rift of a ledge, holding her grounds as she watched the Anthraxia dragons below her cringe with fear, but then again scream her name as the fallen ones break from their tombs and prisons to stand before them and return with their screams and dire cries of order as they bring back the flame that rested inside their hearts and minds. The carnage and blood to be rested and settled once more into the searing minds that bow before them. The Deitys of their time, Mothers of what they idolized and made a mockery of. But not no more... No. Not no more. She stood before them, towering above all as she watched the glowing scales and mists that lifted off from their nostrils and hides, no bones to be expected from their lower ranks compared to the Deity or Mothers. A smile bloomed over the bones of her face, etched and curving as she watched them bow to her, their heads lowering towards the surface of the ground. Her wings flared open, snapping with strain and tension building between the membranes of her wings. Expanding her jaws as she bulked on her hind legs, the screaming banshee like cry of her reprisal echoed and escalated as she withdrew it from her chest and throat, the pitch and octave expanding as she released the roar of a lifetime that shattered and quaked mentally and through the hearts that heard... Come Rapture... We dine with those who show no fear.. Come my sister as we walk together in the plumes of flame that never see to scorch our scales. Come Rapture... We bring them rapture and hope. Never will the Anthraxia race fall or bend towards another's will. We don't bow to no one. Not even Sangyne...


Body Attributes/Color: Like most Anthraxia dragons, Nytruin obtains the main characteristics, but also delivers her own. Along the lining of her spine a roof of feathers stand up and out, reflecting the colors that floss the bright vibrant fire-like colors. Facial pinions hang from her neck and head, striking above her body as they flow with grace as like her body is structured. Her body type is lean and cat-like with long, well muscled hind legs and strong forearms. Smooth, glossy plating runs along her chest, haunches, neck, underbelly, tail and legs. Interlocking scales forming closely around the major parts of her body to where she can take extra damage than normal Anthraxia dragons. As far as colors go, Nytruin is covered with subtle banding, save for the elaborate banding found along the flanks, much akin to the coral beauty angelfish (slightly). Her extremities are tinged with lighter hues, and she was often distracted to their eyes as a fiery beast who bloomed like the vast suns of Vryllnithia. Like all Anthraxian's, she lacks pupils; however, her inner flesh of red and some moderate gold lining (and some yellow) created gradients alluding to pupils. They eyes are always giving off a soft sanguine (and sometimes golden - when she isn't enraged) glow, much like the wounds on her face, chest and stomach. Even when the eyes are closed at faint glow from the eye's brightest center could still be seen. Nytruin's tail was thick with power, holding it normally like a thick axe with curved, rigged bones tinged with the spikes that naturally curve, but is natural bone from her body. Her wings are marked with thick lacing feathers, interlocking and closely placed together to help her flight and agility, let alone stealth. Her wings are rounded and moderate in size, allowing for relatively agile and maneuverable flight. Picking up fast with flight, able to quickly take off and land with a breeze, Nytruin was one of best in class from the other Anthraxia. She has proved many times with and against Rapture, the training and testing grounds testing their abilities, especially as themselves for being Mothers.

The leading edge of her primaries are fimbriate (fringe-like). Air traveling over these feathers would create micro-turbulence, muffling the noise that would normally be created by the beating of wings. This was highly advantageous because she can drop onto an enemy from the sky without being detected. Each wing sported a single, large hooked claw. Inconspicuously placed amongst her feathers, the talon was occasionally used as a hidden weapon. Inside her jaws there's a bio-luminescent glow that is harvested within her maw, creating a lambent golden glow emanating like a bright sun captured in her own jaws, illuminating the lament color of a golden sheen. Embedded on each and every claw there's an elongated talon (or enlarged claw, like on her wings) tucked along the side of her ankle and near her forearms, the claw curving around her ankle and forearm paw. Like the muscles in a switch-blade toe, the talon and toe can move from out of place and can be laid out flat or spread out when against an enemy or in battle, using it as a primary weapon on her front paws. Tipped down her spine is a splay or fan of feathers, fanning out like a fan itself, forming from the crest of her skull. Larger, primary, feathers form at the base with medium, then smaller feathers secured below the larger feathers (more over a single line of feathers from large to small). The wings are connected behind the body of his hind quarters and shoulders. She is very robust and compact, the majority of her strength lying right in her chest, legs, neck and flanks. Even the tail itself as well. The bright amethyst and golden sheen gives off a bright iridescence off each and every individual scale, detailed with patterns that come off as glossy. Few spikes rest near the nape of her neck and the lining of her chin, also near the base of her chest, stomach, neck, spike and crest, some of the hiding behind the feathers. Stripes running up the base of her stomach, the colors of a golden magma, leaching up from the stomach as if magma ran through her body. Scores, or deep trenches are embedded within her scales, even forming large pools, creating large masses of a pool of a lambent golden sheen, as if a golden magma or river flowing through her scales and body and over the flesh and scale, running through the bone. Even the same magma-like filled trenches are embedded at the very end of her tail, forming with the bones and curved spikes. Scars scored over her shoulders from old battles and waged wars, the claws striking her weak scales as she grew stronger as she lived and prospered, living as a Mother and a deity.

Nytruin was formed and grazed with the talons of fierceness, volatility, piety, suppression, and the claws of blood and death, even been able to govern and control, but unstable herself. Two pinions, the "Rave Feather", resting on the crest of her head, one on each side, embedded at the side of her neck and crest. Large, thick spikes protrude from the main joints on both her forearms and haunches, gleaming streaks of a golden tint.

When it comes to all bone, her skeletal structure is rigged with a deep black/indigo-blue. A iridescent sheen of a deep blue tinted over the bones, taking a glassy effect over the skeleton, icy leached over each and every individual bone. No feathers visible over her structure for they molt off her body as the transformation starts, her flesh stripped off the bone and body. Like the famous and infamous Syneath, they're inked with streaking rivers of color, embedded deep within the bone's core, seeping through the inside out. Turquoise-blue mists expunge from the nostrils, eye sockets, bones, her Zrydin, within the rib cage, cracks and joints of the bones—everywhere on her body. Sheets of the mists embed beneath the bone and within it, illuminating the colors as they stand out with a bright iridescence, lambent and vile. Golden streaks, trenches and pooling rivers flood over the bones, steeped with thick streams that run over the bones like a system of rivers traveling over her body. With the slightest indifference, her body capabilities are beyond the regular Anthraxia. Frill like spikes run down her spine with torn, serrated and stripped with holes embedded within the membranes. The years of ripping and tearing, her body presents the ages of war and their higher deity and rank, the rise of power escalating year after year, even in seconds as it becomes an inner feeling.

Disclaimer: The Anthraxia does not belong to me, neither does Rapture, James or Sangyne. They belong to my friend Sangyne (Alli). No one is allowed to make or create a breed unless you are asked personally by her. Only close friends are allowed to create one. And I am allowed to post and use this character.
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