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| Calder: Male: Tainted Dragonrider; Rider of the Fire Svarog | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Aug 10 2016, 03:10 PM (134 Views) | |
| Rayeness | Aug 10 2016, 03:10 PM Post #1 |
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Character Number: Second Name: Calder Olandre-Lundvyk III Age: 33 [Born 3266 b.r.; Bonded at 24] Gender/Sex: Male Sexuality: Bisexual Appearance: There is no question that Calder is a man with immense strength. His brazen body is angular, with thick corded musculature that seems more at home on the body of an ox than that of a human. At a staggering 6’5”, most people are beneath him in every physical-and social-sense of the word. His blond hair is streaked with age and anger with copious strands of grey. Despite all things, it is long and surprisingly well kept for someone of his temperament. He keeps it pulled back in a quick bun with only a few loose strands to frame the aggressive angle of his bearded face. That too is immaculately trimmed with just the right amount of stubble and mustache to keep him rugged, as if the four livid scars across his eyes were not enough to belie his violent nature. Abyssal blue eyes gaze upon the world from beneath the protective countenance of two feral eyebrows and a sharp, aquiline nose betray him for the remorseless, unapologetic beast that he really is. As the red moon, Veris, shifts through its many different phases, so too does Calder’s appearance change. The brisque, if fastidious nature of his grooming falls to the wayside. Flaxen locks become disheveled and uneven, while the grizzled beard he wears becomes a snarled mess, not at all dissimilar from a wire brush. Well manicured nails become pale talons, sharp, tattered and wholly savage. Pride and pomp give way to savage dignity and purposeful movement gives way to a careful, predatory stalking gait, rife with precision and murderous intent. Boastful, human words are culled in his throat, instead the loathsome baritone give way to feral snarls and a roar that should not grace the lips of a man. The trappings of boastful civility, silk shirts and finely crafted dragon scale armor are tossed aside in favor of ragged pelts and cracked leather to better show the scars of his martial prowess, and though there is little doubt that that he is fully capable of wielding the lucerne hammer he carries-of which his crystal remains embedded-his feral posture suggests a preference for using his hands. Awash amongst the scars of the battle weary monster, one may have the misfortune of catching a glimpse of the ragged red mark upon his right shoulder. Deeply embedded, the monstrous bite mark has no known origin and seems to weep red rivulets when the crimson moon looms high overhead. Personality: It would be absolutely unfair to Calder to claim that he was always a selfish fiend, but it would be an even worse untruth to suggest that he was always a pleasant individual as well. Born with a silver spoon in his mouth, Calder has always been the sort to see others as beneath him. His family name after all, bears the gentry prefix of their small community. To be an “Olandre” is to be beyond reproach, and as such, he has always been better than those around him. In his youth, this was a quiet sort of pride. Something private shared only between himself and his uncle. When his father returned home with a mistress, his self importance became overblown; after all, he would never do such a thing. When his uncle passed, he did his best to make reparations where possible, and he was happy and civil with most, for a time. Such matters are in the past however; between the affliction of the infernal brand upon his shoulder and calculated manipulation from his bonded companion have ensured that only a miracle. Calder is prideful to a fault. His penchant for self-aggrandizement knows no bounds, and though it has taken many years, he has come to embrace his bestial nature. He does not just have noble heritage, but physical might as well. He knows no fear and revels in putting others in their place, which is typically bleeding, face down, in the mud beneath his boots. His years as a wharfmaster and brief stint as a ship captain have given him remarkable prowess with manipulating people; either drawing them to a cause thought overbearing charisma, or pressing them into service through sheer, brute strength. Over the years, the ground behind him has become littered with the shattered bodies of those that the beast of a man has conquered, physically, carnally, it makes no difference. Rumor and hideous reputation precede him as a cautionary tale. Over the years, Calder has developed a great passion for fighting. Of noble birth within his own community, his prowess with a sword is customary; but wealth and familiarity give him access to far wider range of weapons and he has a particular fondness polearms from his time with the whaling fleets. He does not limit himself to his familiarity however; he takes a pleasure in utilizing the weapons of his enemies against them. He does not know the meaning of taking it easy on others and sparring with him is only inviting trouble, particularly as Veris nears its zenith as that is when his monstrous nature takes full hold of him. In all of his boastful posturing, Calder is not one to admit that he has any particular weaknesses. It is this hubris that makes his volatile nature so dangerous, both to himself and others. Calder’s grasp on his own self-control waxes and wanes with the moon in a manner that he cannot control, and those that learn the particularities of this cyclical madness are sure to have the upperhand upon him. When Veris is new, or but a sliver in the sky Calder is lucid and one could say, almost fully human. Daylight hours offer some respite, but not much. But as the moon grows larger, his temper becomes shorter, less predictable, and his actions are more brazen. In his younger years the nightmarish atrocities he committed brought him pause, but in the grip of the taint, and the sweet whispers of his bonded, along with the blackouts that follow his most violent outbursts, Calder has no remorse for the things that he knows he’s done, and takes no responsibility of the things he simply does not remember. Part of him however, recoils in fear of what has been lost, and it is not simply his bond to a fiery behemoth that stirs the lizard brain within him. Braggart and beast that he is, the ocean causes him no small discomfort, as do most bodies of water for the moons have even more sway here than solid land. What’s more, the sound of most string instruments stirs a dark passion as well as primordial fear, but of what he can only scarcely recall. Rank: Bone History: Monsters are not always born bearing the trappings of their fiendish future. When young Calder first came into the world it was not with a scream of rage, but a wailing gasp for breath. His diminutive form possessed no claws for which to rend himself from the womb, nor savage fangs to aid in the task. With only soft pink sink and a small crop of blond curls, Calder was not but a helpless babe. One could not possibly imagine the cruelty that such an infant would ultimately be responsible for in his future. And why would they? He was not expelled from a suppurating wound in the earth, disgorged from the sea in a spray of fetid foam, nor was he cast from the heavens in contempt. But nature and nurture are two very different creatures themselves. What was seen by love and tender care by others would ultimately become a poison to the mind of young Calder. Monsters are not always born, but they are often made. Born to Calder and Vainamoira Orlandre-Lundvik on a bright summer morning in 3266 b.r., Calder Jr. was ushered into the world with only the finest prospects ahead of him. Both of his parents bore the title of Olandre, or Old Lander; a privilege granted only to those who could trace their lineage back to the first of their kind; the whalers that had first made berth upon the shores of the small island some miles from their secluded bay. It was a prosperous union to to be sure; on his father’s side they controlled the largest whaling fleet and warf within the upper echelons of their community and they could even claim ranking ties within the Sekkain navy. His mother’s side was no less well off with strong ties throughout Vidalaner and Nyushi alike in order to secure only the finest wood for shipbuilding. Whereas her husband cast nets into the sea, hers extended inland; both glittered gold when reeled in, no matter the difference in their catch. For young Calder, the world was his oyster. Born into such a legacy, as well as having all the advantages of newborn innocence, Calder was never in any danger from the rising threat to the west. Wealth has its privileges, the least of which ensured that his family was both secure and well fed. They were much too far east for the mysterious attack only a few years prior to cause alarm. Such safety held true despite the Tainted legions revealed themselves in the west in their search for land and self-aggrandizement. Though many of the ship captains and whalers took to Nyushi to aid the Sekkain military with their own ships, there was no need for all to go. Most consisted of Neilandre captains, those self-made merchants that lacked the heritage necessary to build as strong an empire as the one Calder’s own family legacy had already woven. With no cause for concern within their secluded Eden-at least not yet-Calder’s family grew once more with a younger brother at the age of three. Secluded from the dangers of the war, Calder and his little brother Lyr grew with every little advantage of their station. Fed as they were with a silver spoon, the boys were brought up wanting for nothing. They grew up with stories conquest; man against nature, their parents regaling their ancestors’ journey from the East and the first agrilas they raised upon the small island shore that locals now called the Caedere-The Butcher Block-due to the prevalence of its flensing stations. Other family still regaled his parents’ union and the almost fairytale nature that it seemed to possess. It left Calder with a very skewed view of how the world worked; from the normalizing of starstruck lovers, to the weight that his noble title held within the confines of his waterside community. But tragedy has no regard for lineage. Stories of valiant conquest, from seeking solace in a childhood love, to blood-churned open seas, or tales of dragonriders and their masterful exploits are of no consequence to the machinations of fate. Neither could wealth stem the tide of what was to come. Four years after the start of the war with the Taint, word arrived of the loss of Calder’s uncle Braden and the death of his dragon, ice Caelestis. The news was particularly hard on his mother for she and her brother had been particularly close in their youth. For a time, the normally exuberant woman remained sullen. The stories ceased, and very little could console her. With how close the legion had advanced, the creature comforts that the family enjoyed began to dwindle. Ambergris and lamp oil This, coupled with the news that Calder’s family was expecting yet again was bittersweet. With Vidalaner increasingly unsafe, Calder’s aunt Coventina and her wife were among one of the last groups of refugees to make their way south by land. They settled in with the rest of the young boy’s immediate family in order to help out with the increasing number of children. With the war having worsened, Calder Sr.’s fleet had already been steadily losing ships to the Sekkain navy. What was thought to have been a small little uprising was now a cause for concern for even the wealthiest of the whalers. Those that did not have loved ones at home were leaving as quickly as they could. Though they would have extra mouths to feed, no one could deny that they would need the extra hands to help around the estate; after all, with three children soon to be on the horizon, and not one, but two agrilas on their land, their presence would be immensely helpful. They would not know just how much they would need that assistance. It was nearly winter before Moira went into labor and, though she bore her first two sons with relative ease, her third pregnancy seemed intent upon proving itself a disaster. Such was the trouble with a breech birth; it was only made worse with the revelation that she was not carrying one, but two children. Though it was an immense struggle, the three of them survived the ordeal. Calder Jr and his brother Lyr were joined by their two sisters, Meri and Odessa. Though usually a joyous occasion, not all was as well as it should have been. Having survived a most perilous delivery, many expected that Moira would have pulled through just fine. But as one year ticked over into the next it became blatantly clear that such expectations were going to hold. Calder’s mother passed away just as the first of the heavy snows began to fall. It was a blow that the youngling could scarcely fathom. Distant relations passing so soon, certainly. But his own mother? Nobility alone was reason enough for such a travesty to have not been allowed. It wasn’t fair. This seemed the basis of Calder’s anger. The whole household remained in mourning, but for the eldest son, who had the sharpest recollections of his mother, it was an injustice that could not be assuaged. Who would tell their family stories now? His own father seemed so stricken with grief over the loss that he had said nary a word except out of absolute necessity. It was as if someone had covered the entire manor with a funeral pall. There was no solace to be had in such a dark time. It was as though fate seemed intent upon splitting the family further for its own purposes. As the weather worsened, word arrived on the wing from the Academy that another group of refugees was in need of rescue from further north. The sheer number of people seeking to move south was impossible to service with dragons as the threat of the Taint had come too far east to divert the attention. Unable to find solace in his own home, Calder Sr. took solace in having been given a task suited to taking his mind off of recent tragedy. Leaving the children in the capable hands of Coventina and her wife, the sullen sea captain departed for the most inhospitable ocean waters Sekkai had to offer. He took a small handful of other ships along with him as a precaution. The number of koch-built ships remaining in their own bay was small, but the more icebreakers they had, the better off they would be for the voyage. Seasons passed; Calder and his siblings came to adjust to their new lot in life. Coventina invested most of her time with the children whilst her wife tended to their pair of agrilas-in war, the drum towers had come to serve as warnings for possible tainted incursion rather than the arrival of whales and wealth. Despite all the despair that had shattered the household, Calder came to find comfort with his aunt. She and her mother were much alike, despite their different paths in life; she knew the stories that the youth enjoyed, and more still that his mother had never thought to share, whether due to his age or their embarrassing nature. Still, a return to normalcy was not had so quickly. Their father had been gone for quite some time with no means of sending word back to them. The ocean was unforgiving even during the calmest of seasons. Only time would tell if the fleet would return, whole or otherwise. In the interim, the void that Calder Sr’s absence left was filled by yet another. His brother, Kelwyn, stepped in to begin teaching his nephews their way around various aspects of the docks and ships; from the much smaller shallops they used inland and upstream, to touring his own ship from stem to stern. Though the weather was not yet suitable for the two to see the ship in action, it remained agreeable long enough to teach some of the basics, along with incorporating recordkeeping and similar tasks into their daily lessons with Coventina. Such trips kept the two busy and made tending their siblings at least marginally easier as the family awaited news of their wayward captain’s return. Nothing however, could prepare them for the manner of his return. When word arrived along the coast from the agrilas that dotted the horizon that two ships had been spotted returning from the north, everyone in Calder’s household held their breath in anticipation. There was no knowing who had been lost in the voyage or if perhaps they were lingering for another purpose. When the ships moved close enough to identify that Calder Sr’s vessel was among them, they still kept their jubilations at bay. It was common knowledge within the community that the sea was temperamental and there was no guarantee that he was among the living, even with his ship set to dock safely. It was not until the captain himself stood upon the docks that anyone could truly rejoice at his return. But he was not alone, and the woman that accompanied him was well along with child-his by his own insistence. Calder Sr.’s return was not at all well received. He had left the bay a sullen, broken man grieving his wife and now without so much as a warning it seemed that he had obtained a new mistress. Though Lyr seemed only partly baffled, it was young Calder that took the biggest offense. He had a significantly stronger memory of his mother, and this woman was anything but family. It was as if their father had run off entirely to seek a woman the exact opposite of everything that his mother had ever been. Whereas Vainamoira had been boisterous and fair haired like so many others within their cloistered community, this newcomer, Asherah, was quiet and dark haired. Though his mother had been robust, this new woman seemed all together, very fragile. It was almost as if someone had hollowed her out and left a shell of her former self. The only time she seemed to be more than just an automaton to the angry child was when playing her violin, or spending time with his father; there was no in-between. Whatever had drawn them together would ultimately remain a mystery. His aunt seemed to have a better grasp of what might have been exchanged between the two, but as much as she enjoyed sharing those familial stories that Calder had always enjoyed so thoroughly, neither she, nor her wife were much in the way of gossips. Perhaps, had she spoken up, Calder’s willfulness might have been tamed. But it had not been the case, and Calder’s youthful anger found a likeminded soul to grow with. His uncle Kelwyn was just as displeased with the woman’s new arrival. Though he was hardly traditional himself, the sudden change and commitment was an unexpected shift and smacked in the memory of his sister-in-law. His visits lessened, though the wharf and his own small estate came to be a quiet haven for Calder and occasionally his brother Lyr, who enjoyed tagging along with the only sibling yet old enough to play between their chores. There was little fanfare when Tanith, Calder’s half-sister, arrived later that year. Aside from more questions about her origins, of course. Just like her mother, she was a quiet and seemingly frail thing. The only trait she inherited from Calder’s father seemed to be a pair of seethingly angry blue eyes. Though many were thinking it, only Kelwyn had the audacity blatantly suggest that Asherah was not just out of place, but also disingenuous about the origins of her offspring. The verbal pissing match that followed between Calder Sr. and his brother was enough to send the latter out to sea in fit or rage; and young Calder’s heart followed. Unfortunately for him, age and the war plaguing Sekkai kept him from following after his uncle in any serviceable capacity. Calder had little choice but to wait for his uncle’s return, and he was as belligerent and bellicose as any child scorned until such a time came when he could escape his own household. Unfortunately, his behavior had a trickle effect the carried down to his siblings. As the eldest, he set the precedence for how his siblings would behave around Asherah. It was a sentiment echoed by the well cloistered community of the bay. Her own appearance marked her as an outsider, never mind her lack of cultural affluence. It was easy to single the woman out, especially with one of the bay’s own so outspoken-albeit young-leading the frenzy. Despite her best efforts-for she did try-Asherah never did find a sort of solitude in raising her daughter with Calder’s father. She remained sullen and reserved; adrift in a community that was not hers, and ultimately, could not be hers. Kelwyn returned just before Calder’s twelfth birthday with news that he would be taking him out upon the next ship’s voyage to Lihn to deliver supplies. It was a joyous occasion for the belligerent youth and as for his father, the man could hardly argue with removing the increasingly disgruntled thorn in his side. For the next year, Calder spent what would be some of the happiest days of his life aboard his uncle’s ship, scrubbing decks, aiding the galley cook and generally trying not to drown. While in port in Lihn, he enjoyed his first taste of noble opulence, a pleasure that his title did not necessarily replicate near his coastal home. It was his first real exposure to the finery that could be wrought with ambergris and casks of oil. Silks and silver became an indulgence that he would not soon forget. But it was the dragons moving in and out of the academy that drew his attention more strongly than anything else. Haggard and strung out as many of them were with the weight of the war on their shoulders, they had a profound effect upon the young cabin boy. He knew -oh how he knew- from the stories his mother had told him, that his father had failed to bond. He had stood upon the sands with her brother before deciding that his fear of heights made him too weak to seek a bond of his own. Even his uncle Marius had failed to make a connection, though the man was less family to him than his own father; he had chosen the Navy and rarely had any dealings with the whaling village except the occasional holiday, or to bring bad tidings. Calder however, swore that he would be different. Anything that could spite his father at this point would satisfy him. His desires however, would not be satisfied as the war with the Taint took a most unfortunate turn shortly after his return home. The academy, along with Lihn fell into the hands of the taint, leaving Calder with little hope of returning to stand upon the sands, much less the seas as the whaling community closed its ports at the news of the seemingly sound defeat. He found himself stranded between his home and that of his uncle. At home, he had to contend with the presence of his half-sibling, as well as his own family. Tanith was finally old enough to make a nuisance of herself. Particularly notable was the ever increasing desire to follow him around like a dog. He remained of the opinion that she must not be terribly bright as his distaste was fairly plain, but try as Calder might, he could never bring himself to raise a hand against a child smaller than himself, at least until her childish curiosity led to questions about his own mother. The slap that followed ensured she never dogged his steps again, even if it had him pulling double chores for the remainder of a season. His disdain for the girl only worsened when her mother left town in the middle of the night, without the slightest word to anyone. All that remained as proof of her presence was an unwanted child, a strange pocket watch, a violin, and a bloodstone pendant cracked near clean in half. There was no wailing. Just a tired resignation that somehow she must have deserved the abandonment. Calder’s father took the brunt of loss; mostly out on Calder, who of course blamed his eldest son for the leaving. Certainly, he wasn’t wrong, but the manner in which he coped only served to further fuel Calder’s own vindictiveness towards his half sibling. She went for want of nothing, much as he used to in his happier years. It was like watching a fledgling swift take over the nest of a more noble bird and reaping all of the benefits. While Calder clamored for permission to leave for the academy after it had been liberated from the taint, his father was busy bucking tradition as second time, teaching Tanith the ins and outs of life aboard a ship while setting up music lessons for his illegitimate spawn. Three long years passed before it was safe enough for Calder to even consider returning to Lihn, much less enroll in the academy for candidacy. During that time he spent most of his waking moments working on Kelwyn’s ship, despite the industry having largely come to a close during the Taint’s occupation of their capital city. There was still plenty to learn and as long as it was not taught by his father, he was happy to comply. Despite his uncle’s best wishes, Calder refused to stay and accept a life working with him upon the wharf. He was destined for a better, brighter future where his noble station would be properly recognized. Unwilling to argue, Kelwyn delivered Calder to the academy with his first shipment in some time. The Sekkain Academy was not the lap of luxury that Calder had expected. He understood of course, that it was a military establishment for the housing and training of dragons and their riders, but the hero worship and self-aggrandizement that led him to sign away his life for future service was not met with any sort of praise or understanding. There were no martyrs here and if Calder ever thought himself one, he soon came to find his opinion to be very, very wrong. Calder’s birthright and fortunes meant nothing within the hallowed walls he had chosen to lose himself to and money, despite some legends, could not simply buy a dragon. The first clutch that sent him to the stands to observe left the young man flummoxed and surprised. But the second and the third only fueled his anger further. His true colors came alive during weapons drills and training, a mean-spirited cuss for all to see. Perhaps it was all for the better that he did not attend a fourth hatching. News from home had Calder returning to the cloistered bay settlement of his youth. In his absence, there had been an accident upon the open ocean. Some suspected tainted dragon interference, though most were certain it was simply the fickle nature of the waters they drew their wealth from. Regardless of the cause, the results were all the same; Calder’s uncle Kelwyn had died at sea. He died bereft of a spouse or any known children of his own which in meant that his estate would by all rights revert to his brother. But the familial rift caused by Calder Sr.’s dalliances was far deeper than just a squabble over traditional values. Kelwyn had seen to it that his affairs were all in order; it was Calder Jr., not Calder Sr., that would receive his fortune and holdings. Despite his refusal to stay on with his uncle for another year, young Calder’s mannerisms and devotion had left him with far more responsibility than he could have ever imagined. For once in his life, he put aside his own dreams and self importance and settled into the path that life had decided for him. Despite his struggles over the past several years, he put aside his goals of becoming a rider and accepted the toil and hard work that came with operating the wharf. Despite the hard work that Calder had accepted as his own, there was one aspect of life back in the bay that he could not help but notice its absence. His illegitimate half-sister was nowhere to be seen. Curiosity and perhaps a hint of guilt led Calder to inquire upon her whereabouts from his aunt Coventina as to where she might have gone. It came as no small surprise to find that Tanith had left the village almost entirely and had moved to Lihn with uncle Marius. There was no shortage of talk on possibilities, but it seemed that Tanith had set her mind to possibly joining the Sekkain navy as there was no real place for her within the bay. Marius was only too happy to oblige. It seemed that Calder had earned himself a small victory. He could settle in and enjoy the fruits of his labor without the swift under foot. A surprise for all involved, Calder managed to maintain a peaceful coexistence with his family despite having finally been disowned by his father. There was simply too much that the both of them needed to attend to aside from worrying about the moral compass of the other. With the war with the Tainted legions finally winding to a close following the death of the tainted karma, Erebus, the ships that used to move in and out of their whaling ports were finally beginning to return. Trade that had been disrupted for years once again picked up in earnest, and the whalers could return to the sea without the immense fear that came with concerning themselves with whether or not tainted dragons were hidden beneath the waves. Ships coming in for repair kept money flowing into Calder’s pockets and in four years time he had managed to establish himself quite soundly within his community with all of the opulence he had admired in Lihn. It would be four years before Calder would run into his wayward half-sister again. As chance would have it, she was serving for the first time as Marius’ captain’s clerk. On a routine patrol their ship towed in a small merchant vessel just off the coast of Calder’s port. With no crew, on board the vessel was acceptable as salvage, though the water it was taking on wouldn’t survive a trip back to Nyushi without solving whatever had caused the ship to be abandoned in the first place. If there was one thing that Calder enjoyed more than his fine silks and baubles it was his women. The estrangement from his family did him no favors and he had no idea who he was actually dealing with. While Tanith boarded the derelict ship to investigate the ship’s logs, Calder followed, intent on making certain interests known. Neither of them expected the awkward encounter that followed his lack of awareness. Nor were they expecting the mother cerberus trapped in the orlop deck. The starving, belligerent beast had been trapped below for some time and managed to free itself. It was no wonder that the crew had abandoned the ship and Calder did not come away from the encounter unscathed. The cerberus managed one good bite to Calder’s right shoulder before a ship’s axe and a pair of flintlock pistols finally took the beast down. The absurdity of the situation offered the siblings a chance to become reacquainted and among the carnage, Calder made a most unlikely friend. The cerberus that had attacked them had at least one surviving puppy and it attached itself to Calder like a second skin. But a fresh start with Tanith and a furry friend were not the only things that Calder found himself in possession of. The cerberus had bitten him quite soundly and, despite having found the ship’s manifests, Tanith never did identify what else the ship was carrying. The trapped and enraged beast had gotten into something potent, and potentially magical in nature; whatever it was, it could not be removed from Calder’s system. It seemed harmless, at first. Calder was quite pleased with the scar that was left behind after the Cerberus’ attack as it made for an interesting tattoo. Despite how deeply it was embedded in his flesh the offending ink caused him no difficulties in the range of motion for his arm. Rather, it enhanced his strength. Working with ships and heavy cargo as he did, Calder was already anything but small, but the in the few months that followed his attack it seemed that he had almost doubled in size. It was a subtle change with so few people present that had to spend time around him. But it was not the only one. Calder became increasingly aware of the moon phases of Veris and his comfort near the water shifted with every tide. As the days grew shorter his time on the docks lessened immensely, preferring to assign duties to hired help rather than tend to them directly if they required him to be aboard a ship for longer than a candle-length. Those that argued with his orders or tried to shirk the extra tasks never made the same mistake twice. His temper waxed and waned with the crimson orb, making him far more prone to outbursts. His personal hygiene likewise took a backseat to creature comfort as well. Normally clad in the finest silks and linens that oil and ambergris could buy, Calder’s personal grooming reverted to loose fitting linens and throw-away leathers; things that he could discard without a care. But while the community could certainly notice the physical and behavioral changes outside of his home, none could see just how far they went; save one. It was Tanith that noticed the esoteric eccentricities that her half-brother picked up following the fiasco aboard the derelict merchant craft. Despite Calder’s awkward assumptions that led to that fateful event, he had been cordial even after the mishap and it seemed a waste not to try at least try and make amends, even if the slights had never truly been her fault. He seemed initially happy for the company, but as the work on the merchant vessel continued, his mood soured further. Calder had packed up the silverware in his home and covered most all of the decorations that couldn’t be easily moved. His emotions changed when listening to her play the violin at first he seemed to find the music soothing, but as visits continued his irritation became more clear, especially with the sound from her music box, which she played fairly often. It was Tanith’s last night in the bay that Calder’s bestial nature came most prominently to the forefront, but as his luck would have it, he could not for the life of him remember the exact details. There had been a conversation, but the topic he did not recall, but more importantly, there was an altercation; that much was obvious. He had skin and blood beneath his fingernails and Tanith’s bloodstone pendant gripped in his hand when he awoke the next day in the middle of a field. His clothes were covered in blood and though he could feel the grazing bullet wound across his side, all manner of wood splinters beneath the skin, and a puncture wound that looked as though it might have come from a fork. He had no boots to speak of, and mud up to his knees. Whatever he had done he had run like hell afterwards. The only advocate for his behavior seemed to be his cerberus pup who had followed him all the long distance inland. Unwilling to face the consequences of the actions he did not remember, Calder chose to continue westward. The journey westward was long and arduous. With nothing even resembling nobility left to his name, Calder had little choice to but to commandeer what he needed from others. Though his cerberus was not large enough to carry him, the pup could certainly manage supplies. He absconded with everything from horses to shoddy weapons, only to wake in the carnage that always followed at Veris’ zenith. Few travellers were willing to allow him passage in the company of a cerberus pup and so his journey continued largely on foot until such his fugue state left him waking in the stinking morass of a swamp. But he was not alone, and he had in his possession, a crystal of amethyst knotwork. It was there in the Murks that Calder met his fate. The fire dragon Svarog made utterly certain that his claim was absolute. From his brilliant violet hues, to his stunning grasp of violence right out of the shell. It was his bonded that took great pleasure in Calder’s bizarre misfortune with the enchantment. While the cerberus-who did return soon after hatching-stuck by loyally, it was Svarog that was able to tell Calder what happened in his absence, and ultimately the young fire taught his rider how to better control his brutal fits of rage. In time , with the dragon’s encouragement, Calder came to embrace both his new found status as a rider and a beast of ungodly might. They survived their lessons long enough to make a place for themselves in the Desolation. Whatever misgivings he held in the past for his transgressions, they surely did not bother him now; Svarog forbid such nonsense. His rider was nobility; he would take what he wanted, when he wanted, and nobody would tell him otherwise. Soon after they finished their lessons, Calder and Svarog returned to Nyushi for but a brief search. Hidden as they were among many of the tainted dragons that wished to ingratiate themselves with the Academy once more. It was curiosity that drove the pair, for Calder did not know whether or not he had killed off his half-sibling or not. Try as he might, the vexation of not knowing troubled him more than he was willing to admit save to his bonded, whom he could keep no secrets from. It was Svarog that latched onto the notion shared by Calder’s late uncle; that Tanith was not actually related to him. All signs, the dragon insisted, pointed to the likelihood that she was not. With no family resemblance, who could argue otherwise? Besides, his rider was nobility, he could have whatever he pleased as far as the fire was concerned. Such was the logic of many taints, and Svarog was no different in this regard. Calder found what he sought, but it did not go quite as he planned. Tanith was alive, but scarred. There was no happy reunion, no apologies shared between the two. If ever there had been a change for reparations after the first assault, they were long since gone. Calder could not remember what transpired, but she had not forgotten. Not the attack, nor the abhorrence of the lullaby played by her pocket watch. Most importantly, she remembered Calder’s aversion to silver. It was Svarog’s scales that saved Calder upon their second encounter. Tanith was never a bad shot-but this time she wasn’t running scared from a dinner table. Whatever the bestial rider’s intentions were for returning to find her, he had lost the element of surprise. Tanith knew he was alive, knew that he had bonded with a dragon, and above all she knew how to destroy him. The tainted pair fled back to the Desolation to lick their wounds. Would they be pursued by their hunter from the East, or would they seek to destroy her first? Only time would tell what fate had in store next. Magic Item: Bane of Veris Pet(s): Cerberus: Argus- This massive canine beast has been by Calder’s side ever since his humanity was infringed upon before leaving the eastern shores of his home. Covered in shaggy black fur with a white underbelly, the cerberus has been with Calder ever since he slew the creature’s mother. Slightly heavier than a clydesdale horse, he serves as a suitable mount when riding Svarog out in the open is a less than brilliant idea. The Dragon Name: Svarog Age: 9 Gender: Male Element: Fire Appearance: A brilliantly hued engine of destruction, Svarog has all of the majesty of a volcanic eruption without the bite of a full blown lava. At a the maximum length of a fire, Svarog was born from the unsavory union of a bulkhead and an earth. The contemptuous beast is covered in thick, near impenetrable plates of armor from his snout to the tip of his beaked tail. the large purple plates along the back of his neck rise and fall like the hackles of an angry hound, while a thick ridge above his hips gives way to massive black spikes that end just before the vestigial head at the base of his tail. As if the thick armor across his body was not enough to serve as a brilliant protection, thick black spines erupt between the plates of his neck and all down his back; sharp, dangerous, and purposeful. He has a ring of eight black horns that crown his head, with a smattering of smaller spines above his brow ridges. The sides of his face are dusted with with smaller spines, giving him a gruff, unkempt appearance that is only worsened by the massive tusks that jut forward from his jagged beaked mouth. Not satisfied with his tools of destruction, a large spine points skyward from the end of his snout; if it’s not destroyed by his tusks, a ruthless toss of his head will surely do the trick. Svarog’s ruddy red body shifts in several hues; the scales along his back shimmer with a vibrant violet iridescence, whilst his underbelly shades to muddy brown and ashen grey. His wings are massive, sporting five four massive, plated filange that end in wickedly sharp talons. As the membrane nears closer to his hindquarters, the thick membrane becomes somewhat segmented and layered with partly formed sceathers. The end of his tail sports an unmistakably strange trait, though given his bulkhead parentage, it’s no mystery as to where it might have originated. Nestled safely within the confines of several thick plates, Svarog’s tail hides a smaller, vestigial head. More beak and talon than anything substantial, it’s staring eyes give a strange, incomplete view of the world from behind. The three pincer’s that form it’s mouth work in some small degree as a fifth talon and are capable of taking out a chunk of flesh upon any unsuspecting foe. Beneath the strange bristles that reside underneath the shell of this bizarre appendage is Svarog’s crystal, a strange square of amethyst knotwork. As unusual as his royal violet hue may be, it pales in comparison to the unusual scars of his face. At the back of his mouth, Svarog’s cheeks appear to have been singed or cut away. While the vents at the side of his face were natural once, they have grown over time. Blackened, sharp teeth can be seen, always grinning, though the sharpness of his almost beaklike face does not allow for such an expression. Many too will notice the unmistakable reek of sulfur that lingers around the brutal fire dragon. It is this same awful stench that tints the color of his flames. So prevalent is the mineral that his fire is violently...violet. The coloration is mostly prevalent in the dark, but it is clearly there, and unmistakable. Personality: Manipulative , Tempestuous, Lordly For a fire dragon, Svarog is a fine craftsman of lies, calamity, and deceit. He wields his fetid tongue like a hammer upon an anvil. Praise, condemnation, and false promises come as easily to this forgemaster as flame. It’s no wonder that the flesh of his cheeks has all but burned away to vent his scathing remarks. But his penchant for wordsmithing does not come with the patience of more crafty beasts. When words alone cannot get him what he wants, Svarog has a tendency to fly into a rage. His tusks and claws are not just for show. Those who truly draw his ire are dealt with in a violet conflagration. Submit, or be destroyed. These are the two extremes that Svarog prefers and he does not make exceptions for anyone…except perhaps, Calder. The absolutely despicable nature of Svarog’s bonded is perhaps his greatest success. As a hatchling he latched on to the pride of the man’s youth and shook it like a rabid dog, rattling away whatever conscience Calder had left like chaff from a batch of wheat. With sulfurous lies and careful grooming he has come to embrace his bestial nature, and it is for this reason that Svarog keeps him safe after the moonborn madness takes its toll on his bonded. He takes great pride in having such a monster at his side and wastes no time in bolstering the man’s ego, knowing just how easy it is to turn him loose upon their enemies. He has plans for the both of them, though Calder’s obsession with his half-sister remains a source of conflict between the two. It is of his opinion that his bonded either needs to destroy the source of his fear and obsession or come to possess it entirely. Such a lack mastery of weakness is the only thing that remains for his rider. |
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| CloakAndDagger | Aug 13 2016, 01:14 PM Post #2 |
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THE DUNGEON MASTER
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