Information

Viceroy_232
Legacy Name: Viceroy_232

The Nuclear Mahar
Owner: Turo

Age: 14 years, 1 week, 1 day

Born: May 24th, 2010

Adopted: 14 years, 1 week, 1 day ago

Adopted: May 24th, 2010

Statistics

• Level: 58
   
• Strength: 150
   
• Defense: 143
   
• Speed: 139
   
• Health: 143
   
• HP: 143/143
   
• Intelligence: 399
   
• Books Read: 397
• Food Eaten: 0
• Job: Register Clerk

Viceroy's element is magma.
Homeland: Veta.
Scrolls:

Desired Scroll:

Ingredients

Weapon Set

plus any pylonic currently equipped.

When Viceroy was born, he was a small mahar squirming in the mud. His skin mirrored the color of the earth, a common brown highlighted only by Viceroy's emerald body gems. He wished nothing more than to crawl out of the cesspool of commonality and find a shade worthy of his ambition.

Viceroy did exactly that: on feeble legs he crawled to civilization to be adopted by an agency. They clamped a big gold earring onto his ear and put him in a cage to be viewed by the masses, slack-jawed peasants and Moneybags alike.

Of course, a Mahar of a common caliber is instantly looked over, and it quickly made him angry. Ignorant and weak, he raged against his cage, scaring off most potential trainers. Through his then-small eyes, the giants ignored him because of his skin. From Turo's point of view, the humans wanted nothing to do with an unruly dragon-type, especially one with "other" aspirations.

Viceroy was a creature with a fire to succeed. He wanted to challenge every #1 spot until his dying breath. The girl Turo knew this was a momentous opportunity, and leaned in to speak with the small Mahar.

"Come with me and you will be the strongest of them all. You will never be ignored and you will never be second best."

His scales sparkled in the dim light, unsure of the large face smiling at him outside of the bars. She slipped his cage door open and dropped in a golden eyeball, gripped in a dried brown Mahar claw. Surprised and curious, Viceroy rushed forward to inspect it.

Upon touching the eye with his claw, he felt a strange, psychedelic trip course through his brain and body. It was nothing he ever felt before, a rush of knowledge of ancient strong-armed Mahar soldiers, ruthless dragon leaders and bloodthirsty scaled psychopaths all at once.

Their glory and victories hummed in his soul. He was possessed with desire, and that was the moment Turo knew she had this in the bag. She picked up his cage and carried it home, where she set him free and gave him a new skin. The brown skin flaked to white and his green scales paled into pink. With a new confidence, Viceroy grew in size and in strength, training with focus on a daily basis. He climbs the ranks at leisure and rules over his siblings, Damballa & Azerate.

Fast forward a few weeks and Viceroy is climbing rank at alarming rate, finding it difficult to read a book that he hasn't already read. Shogun and Tortured had joined the crew and the inferiority Viceroy felt in comparison to the Nightmare Irion was crippling. The spoiled, bored and jealous Mahar took his rage out on Azerate in the colosseum.

The girl named Turo decided this was enough. Viceroy should dominate in the Arena instead of harass his brothers, and so she dragged Viceroy along to Dr. Asmodeus lab for a lesson in science. Schematics were pinned and beakers were bubbling, an ominous thunder in the distant gloomy clouds. As Turo melded items to make powerful battle utensils, Viceroy dipped a black ring into a vat of glowing green liquid.

Nuclear blisters arose from the ring, and crystals shot from the plain hexagon on top. Pleased with his new bauble, he set to work on creating his own personal supply of nuclear green goo. Minutes of snooping procured plans; Viceroy commenced his experiment, following a complex recipe to create a perfect nuclear potion. His current form, white with pink crystals, certainly wasn't scaring anyone, and the color scheme of his brothers and sisters was becoming very polarized as of late. If he didn't change from white to black, he wasn't going to be taken seriously when fighting. As Viceroy imagined his new life as a walking, magma wielding nuclear beast, he mixed the final regents together. The beaker glowed in his clawed palm and felt warm to the touch-- Fresh, was there no better way to drink it?

Pet Treasure

Pet Friends