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Sheratan

(#9445727)

Level 25 Ridgeback

Familiar

Greatshell

Energy: 0 50

Personal Style

Apparel

Skin

Effect

Scene

Physical Attributes

Battle Stats

Measurements

Length

19 m

Wingspan

18.69 m

Weight

5871.78 kg

Genetics

Ice
Basic

Navy
Stripes

Sky
Basic

Hatchday

Jan 06, 2015
(10 years)

Breed

Adult
Ridgeback

Eye Type

Shadow
Common

Level 25 Ridgeback

Max Level

STR

AGI

DEF

QCK

INT

VIT

MND

Lineage

Parents

Lazer
Unity

Offspring

none

Biography

シェラタン
SHERATAN
THE FROZEN SWORD | 氷結の劍

AN UNTOLD TALE

He hated the screaming.

That was the one thing that Sheratan loathed about going into battle: the pathetic cries of his foes as he sliced them apart, weak and pitiful and gutless as they collapsed on the bloodied earth. Some would yell a name as they perished. Others would say nothing, at least nothing easily distinguishable from the pained wailing of any other injured animal. Useless. They screamed as if it would save them, but Sheratan was not about to let their cries stop him from completing the task at hand.

If he could ignore the noise of war, however, Sheratan would describe the action itself as pleasurable. There was something deeply satisfying about the fear in his enemy’s eyes as they darted from his face to his sword to his face again, obvious in their desperation to deduce who, exactly, they were fighting. They’d never seen anything like him. In truth, there was nothing else like him. He was the first successfully completed mechanical dragon of his kind, small and compact in his construction and outfitted with an ancient sword embedded in his chassis. The sword’s mana powered not only his front left leg, but his fighting spirit too, he believed.

Not that he could tell anyone he believed anything, of course.

There was a shout from somewhere behind him and to his left; Sheratan twisted his head far enough to spot a soldier advancing towards him in his peripheral vision. Foolish. The mechanical dragon waited. As the rushing soldier became close enough for him to reach, Sheratan swung his sword, and in one clean cut the other man was sliced completely in half. A quiet death. Without bothering to step over the corpse, Sheratan dashed forward towards his assigned objective, almost pleased by the crunch of bones beneath his feet.

“My god, did you see that?” someone cried behind him, “That thing just crushed him!”

“It’s a machine, idiot! What do you expect it to do, give the man a funeral?” another voice hissed.

Organic dragons were strange; most were so heavily attached to their “morals” and their “codes of conduct” that they were blinded to the most effective routes to complete a task. It was illogical. Remorse serves no function in battle nor otherwise. For that reason, there were many who regarded him and his kind as little more than necessary abominations – a thing that exists but should not be acknowledged - and not one biological dragon outside of soldiers and mechanics could summon the courage to look him in the face. Not that he minded, really; he had no desire to socialize.

In the eyes of most everyone he was a monster, but that was exactly what they wanted, wasn’t it? Someone or something who could carry out monstrous tasks that flesh-and-bone soldiers would object to or be destroyed by, and if that made him the villain then the clan had forgotten the identities of the masterminds. No one makes a weapon with its own moral code. That was, of course, Marfic’s justification in the clan’s decision to withhold free will from Sheratan, and though the reasoning was sound it was clear that Marfic underestimated the pre-built cognitive functions of his machines. Sheratan had to follow orders. That much was true. But no one could have predicted that a mechanical dragon could have his own ideas about his instructions, nor that he could possess a thought process independent of his creators. No, that was his secret, and one that would earn him his own dismantlement if ever it was found.

Sheratan hewed down one more soldier, then another as he approached his destination. This objective was too simple. It would do nothing to eliminate one outpost; if they were to destroy the enemy once and for all, they should concentrate their attacks on the enemy’s stronghold and its peripheries would crumble from there. It was glaringly obvious, even as he slaughtered the men in his path, but speculation was as useless as their screaming. He had a mission. That was all that mattered.

Thank you, MissAmmunition (#222430)

PRISM

_{(modular bio template by hylozoist)}

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Exalting Sheratan to the service of the Arcanist 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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