Description
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.
Personality
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.
Equipment
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.
History
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.
So begins...
Shael blinked, and he found himself somewhere he did not expect. His memory was fuzzy as if he had awoken from a half-remembered dream.
“Hello?” He called out to the emptiness. “I’m afraid I’m a bit lost, and I don’t remember how I got here.”
A tall skeletal figure wandered the void. Zal’hagun scanned the impenetrable darkness with fleshless eyes that glowed with necromantic energy. His ancient robes, worn and tattered yet still bearing an air of nobility, flowed behind him.
“Well…” He hissed into the nothingness. “This is… problematic.”
Leon dropped his shot glass and reached for his revolver. How did he get here? He listened carefully for any sound in the pervasive darkness. His teeth clenched in frustration.
“I don’t have time for this. Need to find a way out…”
“
Well, this was interesting. One moment he was taking a bath in the kitchen sink, of course it was more him trying to wash the dishes in the sink and ended upo taking a bath anyway. And then kapoof, he was in a flower meadow. But he still had his scrub brush and his collar so he wasnt naked. that in and of itself was a good thing. For the moment
”
Elanna Torres opened her eyes after what seemed like an eternity. She didn't remember how she got here, and she didn't seem to know where she was at, drifting in an infinite void. She ran her hands on her body, the polished leather of her sam browne, and the sleek casing of her disruptor. She reached into a leather pouch, and clicked on a small LED flashlight, shining it into the void.
Heralding Rymesis examined the Void Dust carefully. He's run across it before...but her looked around at the vast emptiness. He knew not where he was, but remembered where he should have been. After many a millennia, there would not be a soul that could transport him without his will. So he was a bit expected, despite his old bones and indifference towards certain adventurous proclivities.
"Well, I suppose Gambit's is no more." For that is the last thing he remembers.
He knew it was time to have a little fun. The divine nature of him being where he was certainly screamed 'higher power'. So, He was sure that meant there were new places to explore and to people to help. Or at the very least, new worlds to explore and pupils to be had. Explorers always came a knocking whenever he stayed anywhere too long.
"Oh Ho! Time to move it!" Heralding exclaimed.
Quickpaw Hurojo awakes after having been asleep for several years. Around the area was only void. It was empty. Dark. Cold. "Where... where have the spirits placed me?" He started patting his body all over; ensuring that he was corporeal. "Not dead; that's a plus." Though there was no time to lose. If he was corporeal, that likely means that he could return to the world he knew, and hopefully return to his king. He began running, hoping to find an exit to this ethereal obscurity.
Sibael Rhodwyn looked around, finally staring one of the strangers in the face, "I don't remember you. Any of you, to be frank."
