Vhampir's dragon Roman

Personal Style

Apparel

Skin

Scene

Physical Attributes

Battle Stats

Measurements

Length

22.27 m

Wingspan

20.06 m

Weight

6544.99 kg

Genetics

Beige
Vipera

Coal
Peregrine

Coal
Okapi

Hatchday

Jan 21, 2016
(8 years)

Breed

Adult
Imperial

Eye Type

Light
Common

Level 25 Imperial

Max Level

STR

133

AGI

DEF

QCK

INT

VIT

MND

Lineage

Parents

Kleioh
Gaea

Offspring

none

Biography

Husband:

-Ex-Executioner, lives close to the castle, now works as a coli team leader
-can make a deep, low rumble, like the kind alligators do

It only took Roman two swings of his cleaver to sever the neck of whatever unlucky soul ended up on his chopping block. One got him just through the bone, two got the last layer of sinew and scales to cut clean and let the head fall. Next came the fountain of blood, the quick glances from Octavius, the way he would perk up from under his hood. Then the presentation of the head- that was the Imperial's favorite bit, holding the poor sod up by a horn or a mane, gesturing wildly for the council to see. He didn't have to worry about the cleanup, after all, and the blood that dripped from the stump to the stone ground was of little concern to him. On particularly heated events, he would even find himself walking away covered from where he'd been whipping the still-bleeding hunk of meat around to prove a point. As tame as he was, some nights, the council still nearly shrunk back in fear, spectators jutting wings out in shock at how easily he could handle the dead flesh as if it were just tomorrow's lunch. Octavius, however, always just smiled, offering little nods, and plenty of cuddling after all was said and done.
Story By: Finian #83611

He's beautiful. Standing there at the altar, coal-black scales glittering like obsidian in the candle light. Roman knows how hard he must be restraining himself- he can see it in the way his wings tense and his claws scrape at the stone below them. He'd be the first to admit that he had taken a few gratuitious swings, leaned a bit closer to the body as it drained. He took his time, powerful legs carrying him over the stone as easy as flying, watching Octavius nearly squirm with the effort it took to not launch himself down the steps to lick him clean- and lick him clean he would. He stepped forwards, clearing the ledge between him and the altar in one clean step. And then Octavius was on him, cleaning the gore from his cheek until he managed to pass through it and into his own blood. He'd been scratched in the process of dragging the prisoner to the block. "You've been scratched." What a perfect, perfect voice to come from such a wonderful being. "Come, let me heal you." He knew what that entailed, alright. He smiled, sliding their cheeks together. "Very well."
Story By: Finian #83611

The large Imperial towered above the crowd. He held up the head of a recently defeated enemy of the kingdom. As the executioner Roman enjoyed his job, too much as some people would say. He felt so empowered, he loved the feeling of their blood washing over his scales. His large clawed hands felt so perfectly in place while holding his axe. There was no feeling like it, like this, like freeing the head of some convicted dragon from their pleading body. Some looked away as he did his work in one fell swoop, some looked on. He loved it when their blood went everywhere. He would save some in bottles for his love, the clan’s priest. Some thought it odd that such two dragons as themselves would love each other, but he was the only other dragon he loved more than himself. He was his world. Octavius didn’t mind Roman’s profession, he thought it made him look strong. He loved that.
Story By: Finian #83611

There was a silent hush over the crowd. Octavius was still getting used to the very thick robes he wore as a priest, and had trouble shuffling them about so he could look up at the commotion. A newcomer was arriving into the kingdom where he lived. What kind of dragon would they be? Escorted by Aelin, the new dragon from what he could see was a very large one, perhaps an Imperial. He was scarred all over, from stomach to neck, and every step he took seemed to shake the earth. The marred jaws of aggression bared themselves a little underneath the heavy steel helmet obscuring his eyes.

He wasn’t sure what it was, but when Aelin trotted off towards the castle and the Imperial started moving around the square on his own, Octavius felt his heart pounding out of his chest. Something about this dangerous sort was drawing him in. Dragged along like a puppet on a string, Octavius’s legs moved on his own, and eventually he forcibly bumped into the newcomer. Octavius wanted to yelp in embarrassment and horror, but no sound came out. He staggered about for a minute, his hood falling back down and shutting out his vision once more.

Octavius tripped all over his fabric until he felt the sudden grip of teeth and claws pull the loose garment away from where he was tripping over it. The gentle clink of a helmet could be heard as it nudged his hood up, enough to fully see who he was dealing with. “Are you okay?” came the low, guttural rumble of the Imperial’s voice. Octavius was too starstruck to answer immediately, but he held back his inexplicable excitement and nodded. He could see the jagged, uneven smile of an executioner underneath that heavy helmet, and just the faintest hint of blush. Octavius blushed back, his little fangs poking out of his mouth out of happiness.

This was the start of a beautifully twisted romance.
written by: lizardfish

-He has a huge sweet tooth, he won't admit it to anyone, he thinks Octavius doesn't know but he does.
-He is a night owl and really hates waking up early on the rare days that he has to.
-Roman actually has a nice singing voice, it's not the best but its a nice low rumble. Perfect for grim songs.
- He doesn't have the best sense of direction, but he doesn't like asking for directions. He'll eventually get to where he has to go.
quirks by: LostWhisperer #134007

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Exalting Roman 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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