Maeva » Hibernal Den » Sambrose

Sambrose

(#53433460)

Level 1 Imperial

Familiar

Winter Sphinx

Energy: 50/50

Personal Style

Apparel

Skin

Scene

Physical Attributes

Battle Stats

Measurements

Length

21.26 m

Wingspan

17.35 m

Weight

7874.97 kg

Genetics

Grey
Metallic

Metals
Bee

Ivory
Runes

Hatchday

Jul 09, 2019
(4 years)

Breed

Adult
Imperial

Eye Type

Light
Common

Level 1 Imperial

EXP: 0 / 245

STR

AGI

DEF

QCK

INT

VIT

MND

Lineage

Parents

Offspring

Biography

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T H E M E
S a m b r o s e
the man you seek is long gone

His cup was never empty this evening, his eyes never strayed from the talented dancer in front of him. And when the storm caught on, he left for his tent staggering, drunk and tired. Heavy rain smothered the sounds, his desperate struggle, him gasping for air. The spotted hunters tore his flesh apart hours later, body tossed aside, to the soft wet darkness where the light of their bonfire couldn't reach - a dancing reflection in hungry yellow eyes. Nothing remained in the morning, not a bone, not a drop of crimson in the sand. Devoured, gone, but not forgotten.
Only the storm, ever living, ever moving, green and purple lightning on the horizon, and the promise of a better future.

How miserable his life is?
He knew it all before. He knew his lovers are gone, his children left him, his workers have nothing for him but hate. He saw it with his own eyes, for years he watched how a man, cruel and bitter, was prosperous in his misery. Breaking bones and lives with same ease, lord Sambrose Luther was a despicable man. It's time to put this life to use.
He would be lying if he said he's not enjoying it, too. Soft pillows, furs and silks on his skin, the warmth of a fireplace, and all the food he could want - to try it, not only prepare and later throw it away untouched, because he'd rather-.

He just wanted a taste. The party is over now, the guests are gone, the food is cold, and he is hungry. There's so much, he thinks he could feed the better half of Gallows' with it. Surely, it's fine to try? Maybe he could sneak some for later, too...
He hears the whip before he feels it.
I'd rather throw it away, than give it to the likes of you.

He knows the place, he'd been here before, but never as the owner.
Not a single sound, not a single word, sealed lips, eyes downcast, quick glances as they're flinching when he takes another step. They are afraid, he knows, because he was. He wants to talk to them, he wants to promise, he wants to tell. But to tell means to give it back, to be punished, to miss this chance. No, he will do it silently.
They will never look at him with fear in their eyes again.

Mom never beat him, dad never left him, it's all he could say about his parents. He knows the colours of their eyes only by the portraits in their - his - mansion. Was mother soft? Was father strict? It doesn't matter. They provided for him, and it was enough.
From the very start, toy after toy, he broke them all, only to get a dozen more. People are just like that, are they not? Willing, unwilling, they are here to be broken and replaced. Why should he care?

It's only rugs. Not for patterns and colours the rich are willing to pay, but for the assurance that it will be unique, or at the very least limited. It's another tool and another toy to brag about, that their new trinket was made by the people scared and desperate.
He decided to sell the mansion. It was empty, large - unnecessary so, for the lonely person he was. He will settle for less, and give his workers a much needed raise. Maybe he could afford another factory, making the false scarcity disappear, allowing more people to work and afford the very things they are themselves produced.
Maybe he'll even sell those damned portraits, that he swears are haunted.

Mother was a soft one. Father was strict. It's not much to remember, but they were never around for long enough: busy, always busy, always working. He taught himself to fix things, to clean things. He kept their tiny room in order, until they were gone too soon.
They never saw him turn ten.

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Sambrose Luther

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Exalting Sambrose to the service of the Lightweaver 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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