Legacy Name: Mamba

The Glade Serpenth
Owner: Estelle

Age: 17 years, 2 weeks, 5 days

Born: June 4th, 2007

Adopted: 13 years, 5 months, 4 weeks ago

Adopted: December 23rd, 2010

Pet Spotlight Winner
February 9th


  • Level: 261
  • Strength: 648
  • Defense: 648
  • Speed: 647
  • Health: 647
  • HP: 647/647
  • Intelligence: 552
  • Books Read: 548
  • Food Eaten: 0
  • Job: Mastermind Incorporated


“Not again!”

Her owner shook, crumpled yellow paper in her left hand. On the same hand, she wore two rings on her middle finger: a tarnished, gold set that once included a third. Mamba swallowed it as a hatchling. Rather than scold her, her owner thought the act to be precious; a minor misbehavior that she'd grow out of.

What an idiot.

Mamba sprawled and hung over the cheap, white plastic branches her owner bought her long ago. She bought them online with plans to replace them once she grew larger. Mamba had grown—almost twenty three feet—yet her enclosure remained crammed into the corner by the balcony of their tiny apartment, located in the heart of Centropolis.

Her owner worked at the Millionaire Center. Perhaps due to her occupancy, she somehow adopted grand delusions of her own capability. She always swore she’d make millions—enough to purchase the most expensive item in the center. Her owner must've gotten sick from huffing the dirt and dust left behind its patrons. Her owner swore that promise four years ago, while holding Mamba in her palms. Her snout curled in disgust, remembering how her tender scales slicked against warm, clammy skin.

Now, her owner paced on cracked linoleum tile. She crumpled and re-crumpled the yellow paper, head tossing back-and-forth like a misbehaved mutt. She muttered and sighed and shook her head, broken curls falling out of its bun.

Then she looked up.

Mamba unwound, rising as tall the ceiling allowed her, belly smacking carpet, wings unfolding sharp, and pointed. Her shadow loomed in the space between them. Her owner flinched. Perhaps thinking better, she started fumbling with the lid on her coffee machine. “Oh, forgot to clean out the filter this week,” she muttered, discarding the paper at last.

Mamba slunk back, watching her fret.

Her owner was nervous.

She could see it in her pressed together, flat smile; her high-pitched hum that followed no melody; her constant chattering—“Today’s such a beautiful day. Oh, it’d be perfect for a walk. I haven’t been to West Side in a while…—“; and the way her green-eyed gaze flicked to her every couple of seconds.

Should she just eat her?

Several shopping bags cluttered the kitchen counter, blocking her owner’s body from view—like a poor shield. From her perch, she listened to the peel and cutting of plastic, the clinking of metal against glass, and far too-many half-steps.

Any other day, Mamba would’ve ignored her owner. Today, however, a different tension laced the air.

Her owner was nervous. More than usual.

“Mamba! Here’s a special treat for my favorite girl.” She almost recoiled from her sharp pitch of voice. Her owner placed a large, plain glass bowl in front of her, several, several feet away. “It’s your favorite. I know I haven’t been home often, so I—”

Ignoring her owner's rambling, she slithered forth. Snapping her jaw shut, her owner took three steps back. In the bowl, she could see organs of all kinds: several Bovyne’s hearts, five large Mallarchy eggs, a Mallarchy neck, Mallarchy feet, whole Xotls, with seeds scattered on top, a dollop of a yoghurt mix she, vaguely, recognized, and the frozen mice she’d usually be fed.

Her owner was nervous.

“I just—I just wanted to…” her owner stammered when their gaze met. Her too-stiff grin broke. “You know, it’s been a while since I got to—to spend time with you like this. When you were a baby, you were the cutest thing…”

Mamba didn’t understand why her owner insisted on treating her like some cute pet. They both knew better.

For a second time, she considered swallowing her whole.

She decided against her impulse, however. She didn't want to eat such a rotten thing. Watching her owner try to placate her was far more entertaining. What would she do if she ate the only entertainment she had? She'd miss her little pet. Bowing her head, she started eating.

Mamba woke to an idyllic scene of blue. Water bubbled in a stream nearby. Pink, blue, and purple flowers dotted the moonlight-tinted grass. Fireflies, among other mysterious imps, glowed and flitted above her in flashes of warm light. A gentle breeze swept over her scales; the long tendrils of a willow tree tickling her.

She turned her head, noting how the world spun from her slurred movements. So, the food was drugged. She supposed it made sense. Her owner only ever acted within her own self-interests. It seemed she'd finally been abandoned. Mamba didn't understand why she released her into the wild though. She could have dropped her off at the pound or even sold her to someone else. Mamba was an impressive size for her species, after all. Then again, her owner was irresponsible. She never did things the right way.

Mamba slithered in wide, slanted loops towards the water. Throat parched, she drank from it in deep gulps. Her stupid owner didn't add any hydration to her bowl. She couldn't even get her last meal right. Ah, well. Who would she be if she didn't disappoint her one last time?

Once she drank her fill, Mamba found the shade of the tree she'd been abandoned under and curled into herself. In the morning, once her senses returned to her, she'll figure out where she'd been abandoned. For now, she slept.

Tiny paws scratched at her tail, interrupting her slumber. She flinched, rising to snap–only to see a little, cowering Popoko staring up at her with wide-eyed, foolish curiosity. A red ribbon was tied around its neck. It blinked up at her with its naive blue eyes.

Then it smiled. It jumped from paw to paw, its furred tail bobbing in a way she recognized to be a playful gesture she'd only seen towards other pets–not her. Mamba didn't play with others. She bit other Serpenths that came too close and ate the neighboring Popoko on the seventh floor of their first apartment. They lived on the fifth. Mamba knew how to unlock doors. Fortunately, her owner still thought of her as a cute little pet.

The Popoko–as tall and wide as her belly, she noted–kept jumping. It chittered at her, docking its ears as if confused. Mamba watched it, curious as to why it continued to bother her. Even if it led a spoiled life as a pet, it shouldn't be lacking this much in sense. Its instinct should tell it to flee, not to play. Serpenths were one of the natural predators of Popokos. Even if Mamba had been a naive-natured fool, no Popoko would ever go against its survival instincts.

When the Popoko prodded her again, reaching up to brush its tiny paws against her snout–Mamba lunged and swallowed it whole.

Mamba dozed under the shade of her willow tree, waiting for her meal to digest. The Popoko had squirmed down her throat. She hadn't eaten anything so nice in a while. Frozen mice and prepared organs couldn't compare to a live meal.

Her gaze swept her surroundings. The idyllic blue had transformed into a vibrant green. Small creatures traversed the landscape, moss and flowers growing on their backs. Their coloring made her curious. Lengthening out, she slithered to the stream's edge, peering into the clear water. In the depths of blue, her own reflection stared back at her with bright, magenta eyes; as well as, tiny yellow and blue flowers weaved into her mane. When she spread her wings–the color a dull grey than brown–vines unraveled from between her feathers, curling at the ends.

As she thought: the water had changed her.

Her owner brought her to Peka Park once, a few years back. They arrived at noon. She threw a fit at a park ranger, when he told her she couldn't enter the glade. She missed the early hours and needed to return in the late evening. Rather than waste the next eight hours, she spent the rest of the day huffing like a child, dragging Mamba back to their cramped apartment in Centropolis.

Mamba wondered... did her new state, perhaps, deceive that Popoko? She knew, from watching her owner and other residents, that certain colors and species were looked upon more favorably than others. Her owner used to sigh and envy those who owned more prized pets. She couldn't afford to purchase any potions to change Mamba herself. Mamba had been a common Serpenth.

From years of observation, she understood which colors garnered the most affection. It didn't matter if those pets possessed poor or less-than-ideal temperaments. Aggressive behavior tended to be dismissed or excused away. Smaller animals and pets didn't see them as much a threat as other "more dangerous" colors.

Mamba smiled. At long last, her stupid owner had finally provided for her.

Missing Pets in Peka Park

"Over the past two weeks, six pets–a Common Popoko, a Cherry Lain, a Cream Feli, an Aqua Kanis, twin Blacklight, and Spectrum Ruffies–have gone missing in Peka Park. Owners are advised to keep a tight leash on their pets and to keep all pets and small children in sight at all times. Rangers speculate that these pets may have been kidnapped by illegal poachers. If you or anyone you know has any information, please contact your local police department at once. A $1,000,000 sP reward will be granted upon information leading to arrest."

The Ownership of Serpenths

In recent years, the popularity of the Serpenth species surged upon discovery of new colors. In particular, the Glade color. Demand outweighed supply, as owners—particularly those located in urban areas—purchased and adopted the beloved species from stores, breeders, and shelters; as well as through unethical means.

With the rise in popularity, the number of illegal and inexperienced breeders increased as well. Serpenths had long been bred for centuries to pass down desirable traits, such as: fuller feathers, large bodies, unique patterning, rich colors, thick manes of hair, and temperate personalities.

However, the rise of unethical breeders introduced a variety of abnormalities in the gene pool.

In an interview four years ago, written by the Subeta Tribune, a Serpenth named Lecia hatched only 3 inches long. The average, healthy hatchling is born to 7.5 inches long. Lecia is the beloved mascot of the popular Love on 8th: a small shop known for selling handmade, adorable matching accessories for pets and owners alike. Lecia is adored by local residents for her unusual size and Sweetheart coloring.

While the average healthy adult Serpenth grows to be 18 feet long; Lecia has grown to only be 10 feet long–an unusual size for a Serpenth her age and coloring. Luckily, she has no history of health complications.

However, more and more unusual Serpenths like Lecia have appeared in the last ten years. When asked, the owner of Love on 8th declined to share from where they obtained Lecia. They insisted, however, that the means they obtained her were legal.

We advise all prospective Serpenth owners to do their due diligence and adopt from reputable breeders.

The Female Glade Serpenth | Legacy Name: Mamba | Owner: Estelle

Profile, art, story by me.

Pet Treasure

Peka Glade Willow Figurine

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Glade Potion

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