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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
15.86 m
Wingspan
14.19 m
Weight
9052.8 kg
Genetics
Umber
Metallic
Metallic
Cream
Shimmer
Shimmer
White
Underbelly
Underbelly
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 25 Ridgeback
Max Level
STR
92
AGI
40
DEF
11
QCK
55
INT
8
VIT
35
MND
11
Biography
| __._ |
 His people thought the world ended after the shifting dunes of copper. But his people also believed that death was nothing but a temporary thing. Something that put a hold to one’s business for all but a few years. So deeply ingrained was it in their thought, their minds and even their bodies, he never expected this belief to be challenged. Or wrong. But then again, he never believed that the world went on after the dunes of copper were long out of sight. She had come on wooden ships, crossed the oceans of oil and salt to see with her own eyes the pulsating, thriving cities of his kin. With tamed lightning bottled in wires of spun glass and copper as their lifeblood, the Jilal had taken up the mantle of being creation’s crown jewel. When the six armed tribes of the south and the four armed tribes of the north had come together, something grander, better was born. Old gods were forsaken, all that remained was life. She was a newcomer to everything, staring with her eyes round and wide at everything. The spires of their home reaching and piercing the clouds, threatening to tear down the stars themselves, she shivered at the mere word of them. This was like nothing she knew, lightning tamed, turned from a destructive power of nature into their docile lap pet, it was a concept too alien to her to understand. And alien she was, small and fragile, she had only two arms, two hands and a head full of strange tales. He loved her instantly, how could he not, him being the eternal tinkerer, the odd one in the family. Machines and their inner workings weren’t too different to people and what was inside their brains. But with this, he stood alone, his people made it too clear that she wasn’t wanted, that she was a newcomer, a stranger to their tradition. His family looked upon him with disgust in their faces, to accept an outsider in his life so easily. To form an ever lasting bond with this outlandish soul. Yet, he spoke with soft voice and gentle words, if the soul is ever reborn, does it not mean she could become one of them in the next life? This farce of rebirth and everlasting life, of finding each other again after death, brought little comfort when she fell victim to disease her body was unfamiliar with. By this time, she was already more than just a curious, starry eyed stranger to him, she was his wife, his partner. The soul to complete him. Coy and playful as she always had been, seeing her frail and pale on a bed too large for her, caused an agony he had been blissfully unaware of. Its existence made his knees buckle and the Archon’s hollow promises rung like mockery in his ears. In the end, he was alone with a coppery coffin, on a ship bound towards the unknown. All he brought with him was what he knew and experienced, the tools on his belt and the fleshen hull of a dead love. So that her family at least could find the comfort he was denied, because old teachings remained ever strong in his mind. In a city of eternal daylight, his role was now reversed. From the mildly amused mentor he turned into the starry eyed youth, eager to learn ever more. Leaving her body to her loved ones, they spat and cursed at him for leaving. Why was he not staying, they screamed, did he not love her? And as he answered, sagely, wise beyond his age, that she would come back to him, they called him a lovestruck, grief eaten fool. But they were wrong, they all were wrong. Because the soul returned to him, just as he had predicted. While speaking with a King of Snow and Iron under a sky blackened by the breath of loud, metal clad beasts, he saw glimpses of familiar gold. Was he a cruel man, to deny Archimedes what he craved? Only relenting when presented with the object of his old, hurting affection? Mayhaps, but in the end, they all gained what they desired. Archimedes’ realm of machine and ice spread, stronger, faster, better, while he welcomed back the soul of his deceased love. Female, male, names and faces mattered little when the fire behind wide eyes was the same, when the scent clinging to golden hair promised a sweet nostalgia. He did not know what crime Goryain had committed to be hidden behind lock and key, nor which palms he had greased to exchange a dusty cell for the strangling chain around his neck. It mattered too little to care, even when he had to relearn everything he thought he knew about this beloved soul. A wise woman had once told him with her dying breath, the end justifies the means. 
| ___ |
code & assets by archaic #19153
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Exalting Aswan to the service of the Flamecaller 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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