#vix's lore bits

Named after the Manchineel tree, also known as poison guava. It is one of the few sources of the alkaloid Physostigmine, the cure for Belladonna poisoning.

Manchineel developed an auto immune disorder in his youth which claimed his back legs. Being as toxic as he is, and frail as he was, unable to keep up with his siblings, he was raised in solitude. It is well known that pearl cerdae who have made a pact are immune to poison, but hatchlings must produce their pearl before they can form a pact. Manchineel's frailness prevented him from producing a pearl long enough for the sickness to take hold. By the time he was ready to form a pact, his back legs were rendered numb and immobile. The legs were amputated and custom prosthetics were fitted. He takes things slow since his legs aren't as agile as the rest of the herds'.

The time he spent interacting with healers left a great impression on him. Determined to help others, as they had helped him, he pursued medicine, yet he didn't expect to need these skills so soon. News of his predicament had travelled around amongst the cerdae and a new couple of parents sought his help in aiding their hatchling's recovery. Belladonna, a young cerdae, looked just as frail as he once did. Manchineel spent all hours of the day tending to her. He'd make sure she gathered enough strength to produce a pearl before her body sustained long term injuries.

They live in Churnscar Wharf where Wanderer works for a shopkeeper (longneck mender). He protects caravans delivering goods to the store, and makes enchanted toys in his free time. Itan has a Wicker Dragon as a familiar, which was made by Wanderer according to their lore. (lore is still a slow work in progress)

First installment; a summer day

Silas lay lazily in the summer sun scrawling cursive onto a dry piece of parchment as they so often did. He gently rubbed the corner of the parchment between his scaly fingers, a thoughtful expression on his face.

The familiar rattle of beads drew his attention away from his letter, Hawaii emerged from the den and Silas grinned warmly. "Well hello, how nice it is of you to join us." Hawaii returned the greeting with a slow nod and settled down beside him, still blinking the sleep from her eyes. "Writing to Cicero again?" She asked fondly.

"Indeed, indeed," he crooned. "Flax is in better health these days, told ya all the little sweetheart needed was some extra calcium and he'd perk right back up," Silas went on, referring to Cicero's corn snake. Each of them had one from the same clutch, which Silas had raised up from hatchlings some years ago.

Their bond was thicker than molasses and just as sweet he mused. Maybe he'd request Cicero visit again soon? Phrased as an invitation of course! Silas chuckled to themselves which gently stirred the animals that were resting on his limbs. Millet poked her head up, flicking her tongue drowsily before curling up tighter on Silas' shoulder, head buried beneath her coiled body.