In the valley of Orak Ma'az lies the last true homeland of the native dragons on Terra.
Description
Name: Vokun Kruziikloan
Race: No sense in hiding he is one of the few remaining Dragons of Night left in the world. Maybe the only one.
Age: 471, though if he count his imprisonment, he easily breaks 5,000
Height: Depending on form, he is either 6'01" or
Weight: Depending on form, he weighs either 174lbs
Hair: A bloody lavender
Eyes: Either glinting gold or royalty violet
Body Structure: Lean and taunt, almost frail in appearance. The reason for this is that, at best, he is an overall violent researcher. Skinny, and skinny men fight to the bone. As a side note, he is almost feminine in appearance, but not in behavior.
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If he is in his true form however, his total body length expands to 55ft, split into the reasoning here:
--Neck is 16 feet
--Body is 18 feet
--Tail is 21 feet
His body width is somewhere closer to 9 feet than 8 feet, and he has a standing height of 13 feet.
With his wings spread to maximum span, they stretch out to an impressive 78 feet, and the minimum wingspan he needs for flying is roughly 33 feet.
His weight in this form is roughly 10 tons
Personality
Vokun does not like to converse. Rarely, though it is known to happen, he has the urge to be social. For the majority of his time, he prefers to read ancient tomes and research the world and its secrets. This shows. The 'man' has very poor social skills, and in fact, he is often considered to be rude, overly blunt, almost cold without meaning to be, and awkward.
He is not one for making friends as he is for making colleges and business partners. He is always ready to scrounge about for information of new ruins or a grimmoire or artifacts. Its almost funny how big of a book nerd he really is. He has a key intellect when it comes to planning and predicting turn of events, but surprises almost always catch him off guard, more so than the normal chap, if he didn't plan for them. Surprises almost scare him.
While not extremely charismatic, he has a tendency to let his rage consume him. Some words or phrases or behavior really get under his skin. And with the volcanic personality he has, biding his frustration instead of releasing it healthily, its no wonder that he almost has extreme personality disorder, at the drop of a hat, sometimes switching between the impassive and impersonal scholar to the zealous and destructive dragon that rest within his soul.
Equipment
Along with his powers, that will be listed, Vokun houses one incredibly personal and soul-bound artifact that he himself carved from his own fang during his long and 'wrongful' imprisonment:
The Midnight Cleaver, this dragon-wrought blade is filled with all of the dark energies and emotions that Vokun mustered over his long years locked away. He himself is afraid of the blades almost sentient and dominating nature, and he keeps it locked away within an extra-dimensional pocket inside his coat. When in his dragon form, that gateway is his most well protected scale, the one covering the soft weak spot located just below the the right side of his jaw. It is also his only scale that glows.
As for his draconian powers, they are numerous and powerful. As a scholar, he researched a number of magical fields, and even attained the total of arch-magus before his imprisonment. Elemental magic pertaining to fire, electricity, water, and air are all nearly mastered by him, though he rarely practices and is often rusty. Shadow manipulation as well as Emotional and Spacial magic are other schools he is well versed in, and finally, he is one of the few practitioners of the forgotten Desire magic. Once per year, or at a sacrifice of 20% of his remaining years, he can grant any feasible wish. However, much like the Djiinn and Efrits he learned this power from, he cannot violate any of the rules that the genie races are bound to. He cannot wish away a life, resurrect the dead, manipulate love, or bypass any laws of the Gods. However, he did grant, for his own self, a regenerating life force, so that this Magics suicidal side effect would not effect him as much.
( 1 wish = 20% of his time left alive. His 'life regeneration' roughly restores .75% every two years.)
The elemental race of dragon he belongs to, the Night Dragons, spew forth a corrupted version of any element of their choosing as their breath weapon. They are incredibly versatile in this. For example:
A Fire Dragon's breath, is obviously, one of flame.
A Night Dragon's, if they choose to enact Fire, is a black flame, which while also burning, saps away physical and mental strength, almost vampirically, restoring it to the Night Dragon in the process.
It must be noted that the Night Dragon's chosen breath, and they can change it once a month, is not as elementally powerful as a 'Pure' Dragon's would be.
Fire Dragon's Breath: 100% Fire Damage
Night Dragon using Fire Breath: 60% of Fire Damage / 40% Mental + Physical Vampirism
History
Vokun was a Lord of his kind. Not their ruler, but a powerful and well respected, if somewhat hated, scholar.
He had a mate. He had a brood. He had a wonderful, joyous life.
However, he made many mistakes in his years. This first being, is that he was an unofficial enemy of the Royal family. They did not look kindly upon the powers he was gaining, nor did they accept some of the more 'unnatural' research he was performing.
The second mistake he made was guilty of was consulting and forming friendships with other Dragons of different heritages. The Night Dragons were extremely xenophobic, and thought he may be a spy.
The third, was caring too much for his race. When an unknown party began to unleash magical viruses on his kind, some of the first victims being Vokun's own family, suspicion was cast upon him, despite his tireless struggle to find a cure. When the disease spread to the Royal family, he was charged with treason. And when it began to spread to other species of dragon, those same charges were raised to Genocide and Mass Murder.
However, as they quickly found out, though not why, every time he was executed, he would eventually rise from his grave, only to be immediately re-imprisoned. During the time in which the other scholars of his Kin were trying to combat the Ourborus Plague, Vokun was murdered by his own people over one hundred times. It was only after the disease was finally abolished from the world that they realized that while this criminal and villain of the world, in their misguided eyes, was indeed 'removable', that no solution was permanent. And thus, Vokun was bound in a time locked prison, for an endless term of years. The enchant dictated that his term would continue until the last true Night Dragon outside his prison perished.
However, the magical disease had taken its toll on his kind. They were frail and almost all of them were born sterile. In time, the once might Dragons of Night faded from the world and from the memories of even the most aged and ancient races. His race fell to sickness, war, and persecution of the other Dragon species.
Vokun was only released three hundred years ago. He has not once revealed his true form to the people around him, nor those in the City he now calls home. Since he was not a hoarder during his time among his own kind, and had little wealth for a Dragon, it was more than enough to last him his time, as a human, since his release. And more than enough to fund his research on the times he missed during his immeasurable imprisonment. He rents out a private, spacious loft located in the Western Boulevard, where most of the space inside is crammed with alchemy tables, tomes his has recovered, books rented from the extensive Wing City Library, artifacts, maps, and all forms of lore. He lives in peace, and rarely ventures out, except on the rare occasion he wants to speak to the world...Because while not well versed in it yet, he does so love the Internet.
So begins...
This language was proving much more difficult than he had ever hoped. An ancient species of Elves, now extinct, their language far more distinct and intricate than most of their kin. So far, less than half of their alphabet solved, and Vokun didn't even possess a primer. Not yet anyway. That should be delivered to his home within the week. He paid explorers and plunders quite a sum to deliver unto him all the ancient lore and powerful artifacts. Or even smaller, weaker trinkets. Anything and everything, he collected. Grabbing his order from an out door bistro. A spicy roast beef club. A bottle of refined, flavored mineral water. A yawn as he reburied his nose in his dusty tome. A sneeze. "I cannot figure out...the vowels...aren't easier for some reason in this language. Odd. Annoying." He began to hum to himself as he always did while studying, only removing his book from his nose to take a bite. Or a sip. Marvelous weather...
Vokun yawned once more, tossing his garbage into a nearby trash can. He was oblivious to the world. He was constantly bumping into those around him. They didn't matter though. This book was frustrating him, to be entirely truthful. No vowels, and simply one would let him figure out everything he wanted to know. He already knew this book contained no real knowledge. Dredge Elf storybook. Children's tales. But still, information was information, and no other scholar he had every talked to had ever heard of Dredge Elves. He would claim the discovery. Another one to add to his already vast reputation as a scholar. Humming, ignoring all scents and sounds. A blissful day to be truthful.
Vokun strolled past even more people. This book, was literally, his only world right now. He quickly turned into a store, just past the two he didn't even realized existed. Even if they were trying to gain his attention, good luck until he looked away from the tome. He actually had a vowel figured out, so now his translation was on a roll. He picked up his parcel at the post office and resumed his walk outside. Vokun didn't even know or sense that there were other of his kindred race around. Not that, in truth, he really wouldn't care.
Vokun saw his book slam shut. Mid thought. Then, since his mind was freed, he felt flames at his feet. He was mid sentence. Not a page marked. He hadn't written anything down. He felt the knowledge leave his mind. Something on his shoulder. A growl as purple mist began to billow from his open jaw, a silent scream. Water welled out of nowhere, exploding out from his body from its central core and almost hurricane winds whipped everything light enough away from his own personal bubble. He then sank down to his knees and desperately began trying to find out which page he was on, almost in tears.
Vokun growled and got to his feet, stuffing the book into the double layer lining of his cape. "Of cease that incessantly friendly chatter you whelps. Honestly, if I wanted to be discovered by my fellow Draconians, I would've sought you all out after I woke up." He finally turned around the face the two, immediately realizing that they had been following him. "And now I'm going to have to pay for damages on this street because someone had to spook me. Now what is it that you two brats want from me?"
The Night Dragon huffed impatiently. "Oh please. Do what you wish, less coin from my coffers. As for you, stupid boy, you've been led to believe a plethora of lies. From what I've gathered, the mortal races are what led to our races decline." He refused to answer the girl, any hints about what he truly was might lead to a brawl. After all, any and all who might know what his species had been might not take too kindly to it. He could not use his name either, not that he intended on revealing it. "My identity is what you seek. Research the first era of our kind and you may find out. I won't give you any other leads than that."
He shrugged, combing his hands through his hair with an exaggerated sigh. "Listen boy and girl. You have a lot to learn. The mortal races are too ruled by emotion. If you honestly believe that they are 'jealous' or afraid of us, then maybe I really did expect too much of our kind. There is a reason we hid ourselves away in the First Era, away from them, working behind the scenes. They would hunt us out of greed, a false feeling of resentment, or sheer boredom. I see pride is still the biggest falling of our species." He yawned, motioning towards a nearby coffee shop. "I grow tired of standing. I'm going to sit down." And he did just that, ordering a double shot of espresso, black. No cream or sugar.
"Because pride has led to every race's downfall. Its evident by every bit of knowledge and historical lore within I've ever come across. And as for Orak Ma'az, I was born there in Orak before the city was out of its first century of existence. The great conflux of the Dragon-kin. Didn't last long though. A lot of the species were pushed out of the Alliance. It was almost sad, truth be told." He sipped his coffee, letting out a long sigh of relief. "Now, it is nice to know your names. And I won't reveal my own name."
Vokun giggled, softly. "He is barely a hatchling, isn't he? I can smell the egg fluid from here." A joke. Vokun did not have social skills, nor did he have a sense of what to say and what not to say. "From your hints, boy, you barely know your heritage. And neither of you are what my kind and those that lived with me would've called Pure Dragons. Tainted over centuries of inter-species cross breeding is all I can guess. I'm no racist like my own kind tended to show, I'm just stating a fact."
He finished his coffee in a hurry. "Magic was indeed misused by some of my kind, and the rest of the exiled species. My own research was even turned against me a few times. By the mortal races, none the less. It led to some interesting results, more than once or twice." He got a little jittery. Caffeine was still new to him. "Its a puzzle you see. Figured it out yet? Hmmm?"
Vokun blinked. "You may be correct, I do not know if you were taught the real truth. While the dragon's forced out of the conclave were indeed all Dark oriented dragons and the like, my species was the one collective to leave on their own will. They did not accept the weakness of the other breeds, nor did they understand their tolerance on the affairs of mankind. The Night Dragons are my 'people'." A smile, though there was no emotion of any kind behind it. "May they rest in torment and suffer in peace of the afterlife of our kind." He ordered a bottle of sparkling water. He also acknowledged the boy's leaving. "My dear girl, you are young, though I suspect our actual ages to indicate you are far older than myself. Maybe by my estimate...150, 200 years? It matters not. If you can find out my name, I might share some things with you."
The 'man' giggled once again. Happily. "Oh my 'title' is not one to be proud of or brag about, nor is it conceptually true at heart. I, however, am rather infamous if you know my first name." He yawned loudly, breaking eye contact more than a few times. "So tell me about you Terem. Your name intrigues me. Its part of a grand puzzle piece if the common text has proven me right. I've hired more than a few teams to steal some record books from Ozak. Proffesionals, stealing from dragons is no easy task. The name also reminds me of another dragon I've read about from my stolen records. A Tikaro? Yes?" It was rare for him to be this social. Possibly, it was due to the fact he was speaking to another dragon, for the first time since his trial.
"I may have to track him down then." He almost purred, deep and rumbling, a whisp of violet smoke slipping from the corner of his mouth. "I told you. I am information and knowledge draconified. I spent my entire life time researching and learning things I shouldn't, and since my reawakening, I have found out more than any of those 'teachers' or Elders in your home have ever learned of." He was slightly excited, and Vokun only ever grew this hyper when bragging about what he knew. A scoff now. "And as I said, I only hired the best. I have stolen over thirty six tomes from the Library, and left blank replicas behind. Your security has suffered deterioration since the founding of Ozak Ma'az. You all seriously need to have your barriers repaired." A smile. "Then again, knowing the weak points from a reliable source...myself...helped them in their endeavors."
Vokun clenched his fist, the glass his beverage was held in shattering in his hand. "You say you remember my brood hatching but I know that you are not that old. I sense no deception from you. You will require research, as will the dragons you are connected to, puzzle piece." He shook his hand dry, glad that none of the water had found itself onto his clothing. He absolutely hated being wet sometimes. "You are correct. I am Vokun Kruziikloan. I am only 771 years of age, but if I had lived my life naturally, I would exceed that of 5000 years. My age, and the math behind it, is rather confusing. I am both 471, 771, as previously stated, and over 6000 as well. I could explain it, but it would take so long to do so, and such simple knowledge bores me to repeat." He folded his hands under his chin, another whisp of violet mist. "I am the Dragon held responsible for the mass extinction of more than 85% of the First Era's Dragonkin."
He waved his hands dismissively, laughing. "I don't care about what I did anymore. I suffered my punishment and moved past it. Now, I simply wish to catch up on everything I've missed out on over the years. All of this technology and history has captivated me, and with the horde I managed to collect, while small, is more than enough to fund everything and all I wish to discover." He was annoyed she managed to figure it out. "As for your memories, I wouldn't worry to be honest. Things in our race have a tendency to manifest for one reason or another."
"Of that, I have discovered. As a species, they tend to believe we are no more than myths. Its comical." He let out his own laugh. "And I have learned of the modern land. It is interesting. Electricity has found a new use besides magic and natural storms. They use it for the generation of power. Its marvelous, really. True ingenuity."
Vokun wasn't even bothering to tidy up. Since his encounter with those new generation dragons, he had found himself researching and categorizing all recent dragon activity in the area. He had hired a courier to summon one of the other other 'jig-saw' pieces. He couldn't even remember the name he had written on the paper, but he knew he had it right. On his wall, there was now a variety of pictures and string, all leading together and to a large, mystery symbol in the center. He sighed and tried to fine his wine-key, having acquired a taste for fine, white wine. A ten year old Sauvignon Blanc from Earth's Marlborough District in New Zealand. Wonderful wine. His guest would arrive soon, and he at least had a couch and a few chairs uncovered in his loft, ready for guest.
Vokun was gazing out the window the entire time, yawning. Rebirth. Yep. Definitely one of the jig-saws. But he would leave all of that alone. Hopefully the man would realize he would need to come inside. Vokun didn't have all the time in the world. Well, he actually did, but for now, he just wanted to share some information and hopefully receive some in return. However, honestly, he really didn't even care about that. From what he may or may not know about this man, he may be some kind of weapon's master...And he had a sword he wanted him to look at.
Yawning, the Night Dragon moved from the window and sat down behind one of his many desk, a glass of wine beside him, resting cautiously on top of a pile of tomes and trinkets. Today might be productive afterall.
He heard the man come inside, and he merely opened the door further, beckoning the Kin inside. "Come inside, come inside, Xyphos. I've been expecting you for awhile, though I won't say you kept me waiting. Summons can be...tricky. At least, making sure they aren't messy. And Astral couriers are even more annoying." He spun the wine, swirling it around inside his glass. He gave it a long, deep, inhalation, noting all the subtle and not so subtle aromas. "Wonderful blend. Truly. Come, come, take a seat. I may be your elder, dear boy, but I assure you that I'm not stodgy or anal about traditions. Come, come. I insist."
Vokun chuckled, sipping his wine. "I ask of nothing. And you'll find that your blade won't do well in my study. There is a time-lock on this room, and everything in it. If you don't know what that means, well, basically, in this room, both you and I, and all my books, are indestructible. I heard about your violent, rash tendencies so I decided to make some protection for both yourself in I." His eyes shifted from golden to violet, as a wry smile spread across his lips. "Afterall, we wouldn't want a battle between two dragons erupting around all the innocents outside. It might get messy."
