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Character: Detraeus
Stage: Expert
Level: 105
Exp: 25/105

Life Points: 1070
Energy: 870

INT: 60
ATK: 147
DEF: 146
LUK: 107
LUK EXP: 0/3

Inventory

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- Ysali Dragon Orb x 9

- Ayrala Dragon Orb x 2

- Kiandri Dragon Orb x 3

- Firani Dragon Orb x 6

- Peisio Dragon Orb x 9

- Aiskala Dragon Orb x 3

- Gaili Dragon Orb x 3

- Aedaun Dragon Orb x 2

- Diabi Dragon Orb x 19

- Royal Venom x 9

- Health Potion x 11

- Shield of the Ancients x 1



Ingredients

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- Copper Bars x 10

- Cah Shell Piece x 8

- Borlarn Hide x 2

- Toxic Groda Mushroom x 3

- Moonstone x 6

- Plain Cloth x 99




Equipped

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Head slot:
Chest slot: Gold Gilt Iron Breast-Plate +11 DEF
Back slot:
Hand slot:
Arm slot:
Waist slot:
Leg slot:
Foot slot:



Unequipped

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none



Tomes and Recipes

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Enchantment Recipes


Vampiric Weapon
Enables your weapon to steal another's life force to heal yourself.
Ingredients: x1 Blood Ink, x3 Dunkel Wings, x2 Tiny Tooth
Produces: For a successful hit that deals damage, gain 20 LP back. If their defense is higher than your damage and absorbs all damage, they do not take damage and you don't gain health back.

✦ Step 1: Capture. ✦

Detraeus picked his way through the fungal overgrowth of Soudul’s ‘forested’ area. Though on a job, his charge — a dovaa tradesman in need of defense and escort to sell his wares safely on the shores of the dark continent as well as protection through the desert — had relieved him, as well as the two other hired hands with him, of their duties for three days on the continent while business deals were conducted separately.

Detraeus took the opportunity to hunt. Or, at the very least, explore. It always relaxed him in a sense to immerse himself in the wilder portions of his homeland. Not, of course, in that it put him off his guard. He knew well the dangers of Soudul, particularly the farther one strayed from civilization, but accustomed to them as he was, he considered that half the experience, and the land was familiar and soothing.

It was some hours into his trek — back through vaguely familiar territory nearing a river that fed into Koralifel, as nearly every river, brook, or stream did eventually — that a source of unfamiliar noise caught Detraeus’ attention. Shuffling. The snapping of twigs. A crooning noise, feral as that of a dragon, but different, and alongside it, a whinny.

Another hastar?

Interest peaked, Detraeus turned his attention specifically to the surrounding plant life and forest floor, on the lookout for tracks or signs of recent activity from something as large as a hastar — or larger — as he started towards the source of the sound. Whatever he anticipated, no matter how much he might have deliberated or guessed from the evidence, nothing prepared him for the sight that greeted him upon approaching the edge of clearing in question and the ‘source’ of the disturbance:

Directly before him, for all to see under the light of Soudana’s moon, pranced a young hastar, and the self-same khehora — hard to miss, this one — that Detraeus had encountered now on multiple occasions. The hastar, less than two full spins of the four seasons in age, if he had to guess, danced and hopped with the agility of a colt, openly playing with Malta as though blissfully unaware it was engaging with a predator.

Then again, Detraeus supposed as he snorted and shifted his shoulder to rest against the trunk of a large tree, she wasn’t particularly predatory in nature. But it wasn’t as though the hastar could know that. The corners of his lips twitched regardless, amused in spite of himself. After a moment’s debate on whether to interrupt or wait until one or the other noticed him, Detraeus eventually concluded that he had nowhere to be, and no rush to get to wherever ‘nowhere’ was.

He settled in his position, and waited.

Detraeus tilted his head, eyeing her and then shifting his weight to step out into the modest clearing at her greeting. The fact that the fates seemed intent on pushing them together intrigued him, in a way, but he wasn’t of a mind to complain. Soudana’s will had lead him to stranger situations in the past — Araceli, in his mind, ranking highest among them, though many times he wondered if she were not the result of Abronaxus’ will, rather than that of his goddess — but, regardless, he didn’t find it in himself to question or fight the prevalence of his encounters with Malta. Odd of a mix as they seemed, Detraeus found he didn’t mind — perhaps even enjoyed, in a sense — Malta’s company. He attributed a large portion of the sentiment to her naturally disarming nature. She, unlike the gross majority of persons he encountered, made him feel less on edge and more of an inclination to relax his rigid demeanor to at least some degree.

“Malta,” he greeted in return, and then turned his attention to the hastar, currently taking shelter behind the khehora’s substantial frame. A soft whinney sounded, followed by a flick of a tail, just visible. “Curious choice of playmate.” ‘For a predator.’

“Mm.” Detraeus eyed the beast.

Nervous, certainly, but bold in temperament — if befriending a massive feral khehora was any indication — and sure enough, after an extended period of holding himself still, the young mare snorted, almost as though impatient with the sudden lack of play, or any action for that matter on the part of her company, and desirous of instigating some. After scuffing her hoof at the turf below and shaking her head, she took one, then two cautious steps out, venturing warily closer to where Detraeus waited.

He held his position, nothing but the slow sweep of his tail back and forth distracting from his overall inaction. Moonlight rippled off her coat as he watched, her muscles bunching and relaxing underneath with each step. When she came within range, she sniffed at him — examining nose, ears, cheek, and the clasp of his cloak — her muzzle close enough to touch if he leaned forward and her breath warm and damp across his face. Once satisfied with her initial exploration, she huffed and nosed his shoulder.

“Brave thing,” he murmured. Raising one hand slowly, he allowed her to examine that, too, before venturing a tentative touch to her snout, his own brow furrowed in thought. “Dangerous, though…that much curiosity.”

“Mm. Not watching her,” Detraeus grunted. Obvious enough, though he wasn’t entirely certain why giving voice to the fact and dwelling on it left a coil of acute disapproval, even in regards to a wild young animal.

No sooner had he said it, however, than something shifted in the nearby treeline. Immediately, the filly gave a trilled whinney and shook her head, darting back, away from both Detraeus and Malta, and towards the two eyes now glinting from amidst the shadows. The grown mare, presumably the mother, gave an answering call and a snort as Detraeus and Malta’s previous company pranced around her energetically. One n** to the flank, though, and the filly was off, allowing herself to be nudged and herded out of sight. The mother gave the two of them one final ‘meaningful’ look over her shoulder before flicking her tail and following her daughter out.

Detraeus rolled his shoulders, an unexpected knot of tension easing back out at the sight. It ought to have displeased him, he thought. He’d been wanting a hastar of his own for some time now, and with this one’s departure, there went yet an another opportunity, out of his grasp. Yet, for some reason, watching the filly follow after her mother came as more of a relief than anything else, and he found himself all but wholly unbothered. After only a brief period, he dismissed the thought.

There would be plenty of opportunities, later. Patience always won out in the end.