Information

Triggur has a minion!

Lexi the Articiff

Triggur
Legacy Name: Triggur

The Glacier Irion

Age: 14 years, 8 months, 1 week

Born: October 1st, 2011

Adopted: 14 years, 8 months, 1 week ago

Adopted: October 1st, 2011

Statistics

• Level: 10
   
• Strength: 10
   
• Defense: 10
   
• Speed: 14
   
• Health: 10
   
• HP: 10/10
   
• Intelligence: 0
   
• Books Read: 0
• Food Eaten: 0
• Job: Unemployed

During an expedition into Bolvangar a witch was lost.

Though they searched tirelessly her sisters could not find her. In the end they declared her dead, collected by Yambe-Akka. Her clan moved on, as they naturally do, and her fate was questioned no further. That is, of course, until a very peculiar and frightening thing happened that forced all the witches of the North to once again pay attention to the strange disappearance of one of their youngest sisters. He came on a Southern wind and, since many of their species live solitary lives on the outskirts of Bolvangar, no one thought to question the sight of a soaring gryphon overhead. It was an aged witch who raised an alarm and immediately took to the air and when she returned to her sisters on the ground the snow white gryphon was trailing weakly behind her. It was her daughter's daemon, Triggur, whom no one could mistake for anyone else. Daemons disappeared when their witch died, but there he was standing among them.

But something was wrong. He spoke not, and gazed blankly around at them, and slumped lazily to the hard packed Earth. His form was not completely there, not completely solid; it seemed the edge of his very being shifted and swirled like dust or static. Triggur stayed that way for months.

Then, as if by random, he began to speak to the first witch who walked past the spot where he lay. "She's in a block of ice," was all he said. He couldn't tell where, and he couldn't feel her anymore, nor could he sense the connection that bound them. For, you see, he wasn't there when she vanished and she hadn't called to him. Returning to his clan was all he could think to do now that he was lost. Though he had noticed that he was no longer a solid organism, he didn't mention it, nor did any witch point it out. It was a silent understanding. Their sister was not dead but she was not alive either, and as a consequence Triggur was the same way. He was not dead but he was not alive.

So one day he simply blew away.

Accepting his fate he allowed the last of the solidness within him to evaporate and he blew away in the breeze, atoms flowing far away from the north, caught in a stream that made it's way around the globe. The witches of his clan saw him only once since. It was far south towards the end of the war, and amid the corpses of slain gryphon was a single chick; wings not even big enough to carry it above tree height. But it chirped excitedly at something they couldn't see, and eventually it roared with delight--Triggur materialized before the chick, his feathers seeming to pull themselves one by one out of the blowing snow, and he stayed with the baby, taking no notice of the witches.

Because he, at least, knew what it was like to be stranded in the snow.

Pet Treasure

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Pet Friends