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 Posted: Mon Aug 20, 2012 9:43 pm
From days of yore, men tell tales to frighten the children into behaviour. Trolls and goblins and elves were all, at one time, nasty things that would drag you out of bed and devour you were you not exemplary in obedience. However, even lords need their vassals to behave, and so grew the legends of the sweeping desert wind that the gods would send to wipe obstinate vassals holdings from the face of the earth. Tidal waves that washed all life from shoreline cities. Great columns of fire that would rain down from the heavens in divine fury. But only of this last occurance do we speak now in hushed tones.
For many decades, the great serpent Scherazadra enjoyed only the destruction her family told her to wreak upon the surrounding countryside. The pitiful humans could do nothing to stop her. Their arrows bounced harmlessly from her, and even their great powers summoned from the ether could do no more than annoy her. She was a titan, and many names grew of her passing: The Star of Dusk; Autumnfire; Scourge of the Savannah. Across many countries she wrought nothing but death, and she loved it.
Slowly, however, deep in the fiery pits of her heart, trouble was brewing. She did what she did at her father's behest, and knew nothing but this. But shrieks of terror, so long a joy, sounded hollow after a while. So she asked of her father, "Why do I kill?"
Her father simply replied, "Because they are humans. They deserve nothing more."
For a long time after that, the scarlet beast was lost. She began to study humans, and found that the works of art and literature she had once burned away without thought were truly wonderful creations. For another century, this study went on, and though she still burned the towns and slaughtered the livestock, she was aghast at what she was doing.
In her fifth century of life, she finally had enough. The humans who lived in obeisance to the clanfolk of the dragons watched in awe as the very mountains they lived in the shadow of were rent asunder by flame and fury. In the end, badly wounded, Scherazadra was surrounded only by the corpses of her kin. So she left her ancestral lands, and began wandering.
Though her heart was now at least on its way to purification, she still only knew how to do one thing very well, but she turned it to more...constructive uses. Any evidence of corruption in the heart of man was burnt unto cinders, leaving only those who had been crushed under the heel of oppression to rebuild, with the warning that the Red Fury would return were the town to return to its sordid past.
For a quarter of a century, the dragon wandered, sometimes adopting the guise of a human to better understand where her task took her. But now she has grown weary, and has decided upon a vacation of sorts while she gets her mind straight. The slaughter of her family has never been resolved, at least not in her heart, and so she turns to the one family member she has left, old Kuramaris, for guidance. Tracking her great-uncle has not been easy, but her investigation has led her to these lands, where she hopes that she may lay her head to rest for a while in peace.
Scherazadra, in dragon form: One hundred and fifty feet from tip of snout to tip of tail. Scales resemble red-lacquered steel, though glow a dull scarlet, lit by her inner fire. A triple row of shining black horns run from the base of her skull down to her hip joint, and the top of her head is covered in the same. Her great talons, easily four feet in length, are of the same black bone.
In human form: She mostly prefers the unassuming guise of a young woman with mousy brown hair and dark green eyes, slender of build. Perhaps five foot three, were one being generous.
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Posted: Tue Aug 21, 2012 6:58 am
Sayara Seltani From days of yore, men tell tales to frighten the children into behaviour. Trolls and goblins and elves were all, at one time, nasty things that would drag you out of bed and devour you were you not exemplary in obedience. However, even lords need their vassals to behave, and so grew the legends of the sweeping desert wind that the gods would send to wipe obstinate vassals holdings from the face of the earth. Tidal waves that washed all life from shoreline cities. Great columns of fire that would rain down from the heavens in divine fury. But only of this last occurance do we speak now in hushed tones. For many decades, the great serpent Scherazadra enjoyed only the destruction her family told her to wreak upon the surrounding countryside. The pitiful humans could do nothing to stop her. Their arrows bounced harmlessly from her, and even their great powers summoned from the ether could do no more than annoy her. She was a titan, and many names grew of her passing: The Star of Dusk; Autumnfire; Scourge of the Savannah. Across many countries she wrought nothing but death, and she loved it. Slowly, however, deep in the fiery pits of her heart, trouble was brewing. She did what she did at her father's behest, and knew nothing but this. But shrieks of terror, so long a joy, sounded hollow after a while. So she asked of her father, "Why do I kill?" Her father simply replied, "Because they are humans. They deserve nothing more." For a long time after that, the scarlet beast was lost. She began to study humans, and found that the works of art and literature she had once burned away without thought were truly wonderful creations. For another century, this study went on, and though she still burned the towns and slaughtered the livestock, she was aghast at what she was doing. In her fifth century of life, she finally had enough. The humans who lived in obeisance to the clanfolk of the dragons watched in awe as the very mountains they lived in the shadow of were rent asunder by flame and fury. In the end, badly wounded, Scherazadra was surrounded only by the corpses of her kin. So she left her ancestral lands, and began wandering. Though her heart was now at least on its way to purification, she still only knew how to do one thing very well, but she turned it to more... constructive uses. Any evidence of corruption in the heart of man was burnt unto cinders, leaving only those who had been crushed under the heel of oppression to rebuild, with the warning that the Red Fury would return were the town to return to its sordid past. For a quarter of a century, the dragon wandered, sometimes adopting the guise of a human to better understand where her task took her. But now she has grown weary, and has decided upon a vacation of sorts while she gets her mind straight. The slaughter of her family has never been resolved, at least not in her heart, and so she turns to the one family member she has left, old Kuramaris, for guidance. Tracking her great-uncle has not been easy, but her investigation has led her to these lands, where she hopes that she may lay her head to rest for a while in peace. Scherazadra, in dragon form: One hundred and fifty feet from tip of snout to tip of tail. Scales resemble red-lacquered steel, though glow a dull scarlet, lit by her inner fire. A triple row of shining black horns run from the base of her skull down to her hip joint, and the top of her head is covered in the same. Her great talons, easily four feet in length, are of the same black bone. In human form: She mostly prefers the unassuming guise of a young woman with mousy brown hair and dark green eyes, slender of build. Perhaps five foot three, were one being generous.
WOW 0w0 well hello there, nice Bio. Vary intreging aswell. Welcome aboad! *Shakes hand crazly*
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