Factions, Families, Clans, and Empires
Enhancing his already formidable physical make up, his divine heritage has also left him well and good with the will and capability to manipulate what he already has several times over, including his control of the base element that fuels dragonkind, and even at that it pales in comparison to his true ability as any Dragon holds to shapeshift into other forms, whilst Dragons can change into a multitude of forms, he can only turn into one, a majestic and large Crimson Dragon.
-Summary: Strength, Dexterity, Speed, Regeneration, Close Combat and Magical Combat able. Able at will to change or partially change into a Dragon.
Tenacious, powerful, cunning, swift and intelligent. A sparse list of the sheer number of attributes Sarer has inherited from his bloodline (Referenced At Bio.), his intermingling heritage has gifted him with not just the attributes and traits of dragons but their thoughts, feelings and otherwise anything that is hereditary from birth.
Garbed in Dragonscale, the somewhat discerning apparel leaves him all but immune to the effects of fire, apart from being of strength enough to shatter the blades of swords against him and snap arrows that strike him. Where scale does not cover him, shining plate does, imbued and tempered under dragons fire it does not rust nor scratch, bend or dent, the concept of unbreakable or near enough.
In his hands lay a weapon of similar forging, a great sword of ornate design and crimson colouring as to match his armour, the ebony overlay seemingly wrapped in ornate gilt, depicting notions of a dragon trying to eat its own tail.
Born to the consortions of God and Dragon, Sarer Vaze was born what may of appeared human, as days, weeks, months and years passed his heritage became all too apparent. Feats beyond mortal men happened about him like miracles, his form was without inflection despite the perverse heritage and as time grew he began to show traits of both, such as the thin line of scales across his body, or the ‘divine’ glow about him in the light and dark.
As he grew, amongst dragons as a man, his kind, the dragons as he knew them grew wary of his ever changing form, some vowed to cast him out, others stood steadfast at his side. This differing of opinions among the dragon caste caused a rift between them, eventually leading to war which Sarer never partook in, believing despite their opinions that he would never raise a hand to his kind in anger or hatred.
As the war continued, the dragons became further splintered, from large familial like groups to singulars, like alpha males of animals they stood apart and only interacted as events permitted. Some became twisted in their loneliness, terrorizing the mortal kind which created what came to be known as the Guild of Dragonslayers.
This guild, by one means or another systematically wiped out the slim number of Dragons whom had survived their internal culling in combat and as Sarer seemed to stand to the side like an eternal watcher, he grew sickened by the acts.
Either by rage or otherwise, his drew his blade across mortal flesh for the first time, revenge was the only word that came to his ears as village after village of Dragonslayers were culled as they had culled the Dragons. Despite his actions, when he was tempted into the gladiatorial combat of the Gods, they labelled him as one of the just, his intentions for joining were noble and their tantalizing offers to fufill them were more than enough to make him raise his weapon again.
Sarer Vaze steps into the bar from a side door usually used by the associates of the bar ownership, a wave of blistering hit rolling in with him from beneath his armour. Glancing across the room, he glares beneath his helmet violently before booming in a thunderous voice. "CEASE THIS FIGHTING IMMEDIATELY.", growing calmer, his hand wrests upon the hilt of the massive ornate greatsword. "Lest I find reason to join in."
Sarer Vaze steps further into the bar, his foot steps heavy and ominous as he continues to glance warily across the patrons faces.
Sarer Vaze makes his way across the room, knocking the odd person aside as he reaches a plush corner booth to which he idly sets his sword down on the table. The weight of the sword in question which he idly flung about with between his fingers caused the table legs to creak threateningly under the strain of its mass. Sitting down, he sinks into the plush cushions deeply and sighs.
Sarer Vaze idly ponders something unknown in silence until a sharp popping noise echoes in his ear as a shadowy figure appears next to him, hunched and short it holds an envelope in its bony fingers. Wasting no time, Sarer grabs at the being and smashes it into the nearby wall, damaging the wall some what but otherwise dispersing the creature. Now gripping the envelope after grabbing it as it fell, he skims through the contents with a glance before muttering under his breath, "Not this again..."
Sarer Vaze grumbles internally, clearly aggravated by the contents of the mysterious letter he had received from the shade. Dropping the letter onto the table, he idly waves his hand, causing the letter to burn to cinders in moments.
Sarer Vaze turns his head towards the yelling, pondering he sticks his head up above the booth before calling out grimly, "Need help Cryo?"
Sarer Vaze shrugs his shoulders as he eyes Cryoface draw his weapon. The man... thing... it, was serious. Sarer wouldn't have to dirty his hands helping with the bar stooges who thought it was smart dragging fights in.
Sarer Vaze returns to his seat, grumbling again as he tugs his gauntlets from his hands. His hands were criss crossed by white faded scar lines and the odd bruise, otherwise they were fully functioning as he used them to remove catches to dispose of his helmet onto the table too. His thick black mane rolling down and pooling against his shoulders as he leaned back. A tad more content.
Sarer Vaze peers out of his booth as he hears a skittering sound, rekindling memories of the young whelps scurrying in the hatching caverns. Instead of a hatchling however his eyes fell on a skittish feline being. Pondering, he snapped his fingers for Saken's antention before calling out. "Oi cat, get over here."
Sarer Vaze pouted before gesturing with his forefinger for Saken to move over to the booth, his voice level and calm, "C'mon cat, I won't bite."
Sarer Vaze sighed to himself as he gestured again, trying to smile. Groaning mentally however, he wondered how much coaxing it would take before he spoke steadily, "C'mere Saken."
Sarer Vaze gently patted his large hand on Saken's head before speaking pleasantly, as far as Sarer can be pleasant. "There there, I was told to look after you by a few people when they weren't about." sliding back into the booth, finger gesturing for Saken to follow in.
Sarer Vaze grumbles to himself before sighing exasperently. He'd done favours for friends in the past but this took the cake, trying to coerce a feral cat... thing, into being friendly. Resorting to more base methods he fumbled inside a carry sack and drew out some jerkied rations, which he waved in front of Saken.
Sarer Vaze smiles, finally getting some where as he dumps the sack of foodstuffs in Saken's lap, allowing her free roam to the food and more importantly the safety of his hand. Idly talking now that she was in the booth, "As I said, friends asked me to look after you if they weren't about. I'm not here to hurt or scare you."
Sarer Vaze peered at Saken uncertainly, clearly an oddity but far from as odd as some people got. Wary as she put the bag over her head, his first instinct was to yank it away but he guessed she'd take it as a sign of hostility and refrained from such.
Sarer Vaze clambers out of the booth, his gauntlets, helm and sword all readily in place as he glances at the commotion unfolding before slowly clenching his plated fist, "Divinities know what it takes to get a peaceful few hours here."
Sarer Vaze idly strolls across the bar before elbowing Cryoface in the side as he stops on the spot next to him, peering at Pitt intently. "Interesting friend you've got here Cryo."
Sarer Vaze follows he movements of the fiery creature, the heat ineffective against him unlike his frozen friend. Watching carefully, he ponders as the creature lumbers to the man who went by the name of Havoc. Idly stepping across the bar floor, he carefully swung out his mammoth sword with as much ease as he were waving a piece of paper. Intercepting the thrusting grasp of Pitt and the reply shot of Havoc. "Now now, not in the bar."
Sarer Vaze whistles in amused awe as he follows after the pair, combat being an entertainment for him he thoroughly enjoyed and he fully planned to watch the spectacle unfold. Now out of bar grounds, he didn't have to intervene in a petty squabble and could watch from the sidelines.