Majestic Space Duck
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- August 5, 2010
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[align=center]Pardon me while I burst into flames. I've had enough of the world and its people's mindless games.[/align]
Character Number: Fifth (Gift of Giving)
Name: Gloire
Age: Thirty-four
Gender: Male
Element: Glass
Appearance:
[align=center]

By moi Baby by Seiss :: By Seiss :: Mini by Me By Draco :: By TBB :: By Nherva :: Ref Sheet By Nherva :: By me By me :: His Coloring :: Doodle by Me :: By Tae :: Ref by Me[/align]- Gloire was once a small wisp of a dragon, hardly larger than an overgrown Forest at maturity. Since becoming a Tainted, however, the mutations that resulted from the massacre of his crystal caused him to gain enormous size while retaining the lithe, refined look of some smaller breeds. The former ten-foot tall and forty foot dragon became roughly four times his adult size in nearly thirty years. He now stands thirty feet at the withers and boasts a total length of 125 feet from nose to tail. Being roughly the size of a female Fire, he is not the largest of his faction, or of Sekkians, but he completely dwarfs what he once was.
This Glass’ body is mostly length and lean muscle, not being as heavily built as others within his size range. The Taint has affected him in a bizarre way; instead of contorting and warping Gloire’s being into a grotesque creature, it has given him beauty. Twig-shaped horns have morphed into flowing, smooth curls as his color has deviated. He has no solid idea why this has happened, nor can anyone else explain the phenomenon, but he has a theory that it has to do with the innate ‘creative’ ability of his breed. Either way, he welcomes the additional splendor with open wings. Gloire’s being was once a brilliant, dark rich bloody color before his crystal became smashed. He was beautiful even for a glass, with an inner darkness concentrated toward his bones and organs that faded to clear, red-tinged transparency on his feet, the outer edges of his wings, and the end of his tail. Gloire has now since gained a mottling of deep gold pigments and shades of rich orange and burnt umber along with the crimson of his birth. The light produces that of a raging inferno within a glass draconic encasement.
His head is long, narrow, and triangular, held high atop a dainty neck and adorned with an extravagant diadem of two pairs of long, swooping, colorless horns. The first, sprouting highest from the back of his head, swoops elegantly backward and curls toward the end. The second juts just below the first and branches into three parts; closest to his body, the first nearly forms a figure eight branch; the second splits like a curling tongue toward the last, a larger replica of the second. Often times he can be found wearing darkly colored gemstones draping from his horns through a series of strung chains.
Gloire’s wings are long and broad, suited quite well for traversing higher altitudes and traveling long distances on a limited number of wingbeats. Boasting six wing fingers, it is easy for him to manipulate the direction of the currents that hold his form in the sky. His lengthy tail, too, can act as a rudder of sorts. At the end of his tail rests a deadly hook-like structure composed of natural, elongated dorsal spines and implemented glass of his own doing. He has applied layers of the semi-molten substance to it and morphed his own biological weapon. Two rows of spines, one dorsal and the other ventral, jut out from his tail as well along the latter half of this appendage. However, beneath the coating of semi-colorless glass, a horizontal scar can be seen. It is the result of conjoined tails of his twin from his time within the shell. If exposed, or subjected to the correct lighting, a faint blues and golds and Raku shimmer can be seen, a testament to his sister’s presence. However, Gloire chooses to keep it hidden. His elbows, hocks, and spine are also adorned with similar barbs than can be used to stab his opponents of the off chance he is pulled into a close combat. His talons, too, are outfitted with sheathes of serrated, ground glass to elongate his delicate claws. Gloire’s red crystal is nestled snugly between his collarbones, the smashed cracks of which appear to extend to that of the surrounding chest and neck.
Perhaps the most unique feature in his arsenal is his hand-made orbs. They are clear and hollow to allow him to fill their contents with whatever he deems necessary. During the blowing process, he intentionally leaves a hole in the exterior for such a purpose and, after pouring in the required ingredients, he closes them up with a carefully placed wad of molten glass. His underground storage facility of these is kept a dire secret known only to him, stacked from floor to ceiling with shelves of the containers. He may even have more than one, but that, of course, has not been revealed to anyone. The first of these bunkers remains a charred epicenter to this day, along with the remains of his rider's bones, who died in the combustion reaction.
More often then not, the majority of the orbs are packed with a concoction of finely ground iron oxide, aluminum, and magnesium to create the substance commonly known as ‘thermite.’ When flung onto an opponent via the claw-like notch at the end of his tail, the orbs crack open or shatter and spill the reddish-brown powder, catching on scales and feathers, and in the eyes, nostrils, and mouth. If the wad of molten glass he spits shortly thereafter hits his target, an irreversible chemical reaction takes place that turns the powder into molten iron, four times hotter than lava that cannot be put out. Other fillings that Gloire uses include wyvern venom, hydrochloric acid collected from the stomachs of his enemies and prey, and the occasional flash powder. When traveling with these orbs, he carefully places them in a leather belly-rigging harness against his stomach to protect them. If need be, he can release the intricate netting to allow them to drop in case of a close-combat attack or to bomb a low-flying target.
Personality: - Gloire is an odd fellow. He harbors both the residual sense of what he once was while possessing the bloodthirstiness and malice of what lies ahead in his future; a dangerous combination of both worlds. This is not to be said that he is kind any longer. All that remains of his past are his old habits and even they are dwindling as time passes on. His old morals cling on desperately, leading him to question himself suddenly, seemingly out of the blue. He has no notion as to why he should even care for these ideals anymore, but somehow they feel partway meaningful even if they should have no material significance.
He has no qualms about voicing his opinions on matters, especially so after his tainting. If it needs to be said, he won’t dawdle on how awkward, embarrassing, or disheartening it may sound. A sarcastic and dry humor arises from this, but this mindset often gets him into trouble and, truly, only dragons larger than himself or of higher ranking can elicit him a quiet tongue in matters. Due to his massive size, however, there are not many who can force him to clamp his flapping jaws.
Gloire is an inventor to the core, down to the very glass scales of his glittering hide. Due to his diminutive stature as a Sekkian-born, he never truly learned to defend himself with his body. Instead, he had relied upon intuitiveness to gain an upper hand. More often than not, he was highly successful. Upon transforming into the behemoth that has come to be known as, he still continues to use alternative means of warcraft than physical brutality. The fact still remains that he could crush an unwary foe or, even, an ally, when enraged or threatened.
For the most part, Gloire keeps to himself. He deplores close relationships and of allies, believing them to be a form of trickery. His experimental nature usually grants him more than enough solitude than he could want, often going weeks without seeing another living, sentient being. He toils away with urgent need on his most recent subjects until, at last, he is satisfied. After such time locked away underground, he typically feasts before going on a sneakily destructive warpath on an unsuspecting town, unable to sate the overwhelmingly murderous curiosity of his mutated faction. Most of these small villages are blown off of the map within a day or two after emerging from his hole, visible thereon only as a charred mound of metallic rubble.
Rank: Academy Forgeman; formerly Toxin
Partner: Clayre de Montfort; Deceased
History:
- Clayre hailed from the unforgiving sea of sands to the far eastern side of the continent with a heart as dark and as bleak as the wind-swept iron shackles that once bound her to her misery. No deeds to call her own save the crimes she committed to stay alive and no family with which to protect and nurture in sanity, she sought nothing but for her own gain and power. Built like an ox, she had no real trouble getting to where she needed to be, to the Academy. She wanted a beast, a feral animal large and as tough as nails. One who made small children and grown men alike shrivel and cower beneath its mighty roar. Something that raged with no fear in its heart! A huge, mountainous dragon that could stomp the living daylights out of her enemies with the barest squish of a behemoth’s gnarly talon!
She couldn’t have received a partner further from what she had anticipated.
Born of the same massive egg as Celiosthale, Caelestis’ predicament was an odd one from the very beginning. Neither had anyone suspected him to pour out into the Hatching grounds in the wake of his giantess twin, nor did they foresee the unique conjoining that attached the two by their very tails. Within the shell took an exchange of traits between the unsuspecting siblings. She hatched enormous and as beautiful as faintly marred ice, he was tiny and full of vibrant color, almost as if she had stolen his size and he, Caelestis, robbed her of her darker pigments. While their physical connection split shortly thereafter, their minds were as nearly inseparable as any two could be. However, despite what they may have wished to, they had to meet their Chosens. Covered in fine grains of sand, he had wobbled over to his bonded on hatching day as the smallest of those that sprung forth as new life. Hardly larger than a newborn Rosemary, he had curled into the brutish hand of the tank-built Clayre de Montfort and vowed his eternal devotion to her. He was met with a gruff affirmative answer as she gazed over at his massive sibling with unsuppressed longing in her eyes.
While Clayre excelled in physical strength, he quickly became known as the tinkerer of his wyrmling class. Caelestis could not keep up with his rider’s bestial rigor and thusly took to the less corporal activities. He became a brilliant researcher and innovative mastermind, often outsmarting the larger dragons within his age group. Whenever he excelled in smarts, he happily showed such feats to his beloved rider, but was most often met with a flat congratulatory statement or a grim frown. Even the beautifully intricate works of art he melded with his characteristic element could not elicit a truly emotional response. No matter what he did to appease her, nothing satisfied her brutish mind. Unfortunately, for all his brains, he did not, or simply could not fathom to realize this.
Their waning relationship continued well into their first few years as bonded. Out on a scouting flight, the two were attacked by a rouge tainted Fire. Instead of quickly killing them, Caelestis managed to melt off one of its wings with a prototype thermite bomb. As the dying beast fell from the sky to its death, it smashed the crystal on the Glass’ chest with a heavy punch backed by its entire weight. When the pair returned home, barely able to stay aloft, they were chased off by a pack of Dire wolves and forced well out of Sekkian lands.
Abandoned by her old faction, allies, and weapons, Clayre spun into a deep spiral of depression and revulsion towards Caelestis, letting out what she had never had the courage to say to him before. She blamed him for her exile, for her weak prowess, and for the wretchedness he had caused her. Unbeknownst to him, her mind was slowly being driven insane by the massive cracks in his crystal. He took all her hateful words to heart immediately and began to distance himself from his once beloved bonded. Caelestis’ rapid growth over the course of the next twenty-two years did absolutely nothing to sate his rider’s old quest for power. He came to tower over her in the span of twelve short years and, with it, transformed into what he has become known today as. Clayre meekly tagged along his heels, mumbling incomprehensive things as she continued to cascade further into the dark abyss of a contorted mind. While he toiled away endlessly, she sat beside him. He conquered science, and she, the parasite, the back of her eyelids.
The lapse in time since his original tainting had warped him from the quiet, gentle Glass dragon into a murderous scientist with a desire to see the world covered in ash. He left her in the first of many underground bunkers, awake and in full knowing of what he was about to do, and set out a long chain of chemical reactions that led back to her chair. Far away, soaring amongst the level of clouds, he numbly watched as the earth exploded skyward in a cataclysmic display of molten destruction.
He continued to toil away in silence as if she were never there.
Pet(s): None.
[align=center]- - -
Parents Celestial Seraphim x Glass Shear
Siblings Male Celestial Lumiere
Female Glass Celiostiahle
Children By Glass Celiostiahle Male Glass Dichroic
Male Glass Fomhóire
By Fire Anamchara
Female Fire Paraffin
By Rosemary Anastesia Female Glass Murrine Male Rosemary Mors Male Rosemary Somnus
Grandchildren Glass Dichroic (Earth Ammit) Male Glass Llachar Female Earth Ubasti
Glass Dichroic (Crystal Telluria) Male Crystal Ayurnamat [/align]
User Information
Username: SemperMemor, but Semp works just fine.
Contact: PM, please.
Yourself: Boom, baby!
How did you find Sekkai? Kaiser.
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