Temba

(#10926785)
Level 1 Nocturne
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Familiar

Light Sprite
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Energy: 49/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Light.
Male Nocturne
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Personal Style

Apparel

Gold Filigree Tail Guard
Gold Filigree Gauntlets
Gold Filigree Wing Guard
Gold Filigree Banner
Gold Filigree Helmet
Gold Filigree Boots
Gold Filigree Breastplate

Skin

Scene

Measurements

Length
4.87 m
Wingspan
7.22 m
Weight
748.76 kg

Genetics

Primary Gene
Blood
Crystal
Blood
Crystal
Secondary Gene
Fire
Facet
Fire
Facet
Tertiary Gene
Lemon
Smoke
Lemon
Smoke

Hatchday

Hatchday
Feb 22, 2015
(9 years)

Breed

Breed
Adult
Nocturne

Eye Type

Eye Type
Light
Common
Level 1 Nocturne
EXP: 0 / 245
Scratch
Shred
STR
7
AGI
6
DEF
7
QCK
6
INT
6
VIT
6
MND
7

Lineage

Parents

Offspring

  • none

Biography

Temba
His Arms Wide
SD0GrDV.jpg
~Artwork by BloodhoundOmega (#73805)~


"The Saint", they call him. Lionhearted and with a tremendous laugh, Temba seems almost larger than life. And true, he is the largest of his siblings, but he is also the most outgoing and the most gregarious. As well as the gentlest.

All of which is rather strange when you consider the role into which he has taken so naturally: that of Guardian of the Twin Cities. But it is a fine guardian he makes and an even better steward to the peoples.

In his own private lair, Temba holds rather still while a steward fastens the buckles of his armor at his shoulders. It is a golden, glistening piece of metal finely carved and gifted to him at no cost by an armorer of the wildclaws. There is, he imagines, no finer an armorer or a metalsmith than that old dragon and the chestplate fits him perfectly.

"There," says the steward as he steps back - himself a wildclaw and so white as abalone, as they all are. "Does it suit you?"

"Of course it does." Temba smiles to the young male and shifts in the armor which does indeed suit him. The gold plays nicely with his gemstone body, with the licks of fire that trail over his scales.

The steward - a dear friend by this point, a constant companion - smiles and reaches for the helmet from the last woven basket yet unopened in the room. It's the final piece to the set. He plucks from it a piece of seastraw packaging and hands it to the larger male.

"Such fine craftsmanship," Temba says with great appreciation into the hollow of the piece before he slips it over his head. With the picture complete, he looks a fierce thing. A golden warrior.

"It is, sir. It is."

"Why should you sound so sad by it, then?"

"Not sad," the steward says at once. Had he sounded sad? He hadn't meant to. "Only I wonder how it must feel to make something so beautiful. To pack it up and ship it off to someone like yourself, knowing it was finer than anything else."

Temba removes the helmet thoughtfully. He holds it in his claws and smooths a pad over the lacey designs of fire and smoke etched into metal. He hands it back slowly and the steward returns it to the basket. "You should find out. Does the armor take on apprentices?"

"He does." The steward steps nearer to unlatch the leather buckles of the chestplate. "But he does so in exchange for gems, I'm afraid."

"Then I shall give you some and you will be my personal armorer. A squire - isn't that what they're called?"

The steward wavers. He lays the chestplate back into its basket and turns to look at his ward again.

"Isn't it?" Temba asks again.

"A squire sees to you sir - like I do now. An armorer is an armorer."

"Ah," he smiles and shucks one gauntlet, then the other, and hands them both over to the wildclaw who stands with them blankly. Temba claps the steward's shoulder hard enough that he wobbles on two legs. "Then that's what you'll be. An armorer."

~Bio written by jillbobill (#90283)~
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Exalting Temba to the service of the Windsinger will remove them from your lair forever. They will leave behind a small sum of riches that they have accumulated. This action is irreversible.

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