MahuruRaji » Lair » Sion

Sion

(#37990028)

Level 12 Imperial

Rahim

Prancing Capricat

Energy: 0/50

Personal Style

Apparel

Skin

Scene

Physical Attributes

Battle Stats

Measurements

Length

20.73 m

Wingspan

17.25 m

Weight

8472.65 kg

Genetics

White
Basic

Moon
Basic

Hatchday

Dec 13, 2017
(6 years)

Breed

Adult
Imperial

Eye Type

Light
Rare

Level 12 Imperial

EXP: 1434 / 38956

STR

AGI

DEF

QCK

INT

VIT

MND

Lineage

Parents

Offspring

none

Biography

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S i o n__I m p i o l l u m
"The Light Brigadier, and hand to the Exalted"
Light Ambassador for The Radiant Sect
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If not for his immense size, this gentle giant would not hold such a strong presence amongst a crowd; he’s quiet and reclusive—preferring to retreat to the Sect gardens than mingle with the others. Most wouldn’t even give him a second glance, but those who know him by name know otherwise.

Once an Army General in the War for the Light. Sion was infamous for a legacy he chose to leave behind; the ruthless Light Brigadier, garish and cruel, he'd carry out the vengeful will of his superiors without question. And as a distinguished leader by his own right, he was lather charged with raising the youth for exaltation. A stain to his character he will never neglect, despite his desire to forget.

⊰ ○ ⊱

Now, by the grace of Matriarchs, Sion finds haven within the Radiant Sect, doing his best to amend himself with what life remains in him. Having chosen to lead a life of diplomacy, he now works as an Ambassador to the Light. His greatest wish; to find a way to find peace within himself and with the world around him.

Though he’d never expect the children whose lives he tore apart to ever forgive him. They’d have no reason too. He is complacent to live with his sins, but he will no longer act upon them. Because even if he cannot be sure he truly believes the world could find itself at peace, he wishes to do his best to realise that dream.

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|| S t a t e s
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» Pronunciation: /sigh-on/

» Role: Ambassador
» Home: The Radiant Sect

» Gender: Male
» Age: Adult
» Voice: Name Here

» Orientation: Heterosexual
» Demeanour: Stoic
» Alignment: Lawful Good

» Likes: Gardening & Music
» Dislikes: Fighting
» Hoards: Daisies

» Music: x | x | x | x | x
» Memes: x
» Aesthetics: x | x

» References: Artist Reference
» Special: x

|| T r i v i a

» His gold plated underbelly is a perminant armor welded to his body from war time.

» His dove companion is named Philo, while his Capricat is named, Rahim.

» Rahim will often seek out Euterpe, because (despite Sion's wishes) she feeds him treats.

» his surname is a mix of languages that reads 'War for Light'

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“The old interests of aristocracy - the romance of action, the exalted passions of chivalry and war - faded into the background, and their place was taken by the refined and intimate pursuits of peace and civilization.”

― Lytton Strachey

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════ history ═════════════════════════════════════════════

a former army general, he was charged with raising exaltees' for the light weaver. He has since moved onto diplomacy and has taken on a life of tranquil gardening to allow time to follow his academic endeavours.

Sion is very reserved. Carries himself well, afer all he was a high ranking officer and would frequently mingle with others of higher statues even royalty. He has some strong opinions on things but he's very good at when to speak. He's very calm, that wasn't his natural demeanour mind you, he was quite a strick and ruthless general back in the day. He's just mellowed with age and maturity, and lots of self-discipline and meditation in attempts to better himself. He still isn't perfect, if he misses too meditation too often he can get quite irritated and outwardly frustrated.

But yea you're right, I'd say he's more remorseful than traumatized, only with mild ptsd.
He has difficulty being kind to children since his past experiences were training them so he was harsh on them, and if they didn't did something wrong he didn't have to be gentle. He doesn't hate kids he just, doesn't know how to be around them? Especially the Progeny to the Sect he is a part of, she is basically treated as a princess and he has no idea how to act around her, especially because she does things that annoy him (like feed his familiar treats when he isn't supposed to have any)

But overall yea, he is much happier now in his new role as an Ambassador. He doesn't hind his past, he isn't proud of it but he doesn't hide, he shows that dragons can change and grow, and tries to be an example. Both for his own sanity and soul as well as to make up for all the children whose lives he ruined.

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══════════════════════════════════════════════════ A r t ══════════════════════════════════════════════════

Click on the thumbnails to view the artwork in full

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___↦ art by Miragaia ↤

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________↦ art by V0iCEB0X ↤

══════════════════════════════════════════════════ L o r e ══════════════════════════════════════════════════

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The gardens of the Radiant Sect were in constant need of tending, and Sion often found himself trimming back hedges and weeding colossal flowerbeds. He was being helpful, he liked to tell himself, and that meant a lot.

The matriarchs had no need for an army general. The Radiant Sect was thriving, its libraries expanding, its alliances growing, its prosperity greater than ever before. War was a distant memory, one better left buried.

_____

Sion wrinkled his nose at the thought, and in pulling up a clump of weeds, accidentally ripped up a daisy alongside it. He sighed, then shoved it back into the earth with more force than strictly necessary before sighing. A quick rub at his eyes, a scowl as he realized he had left a streak of dirt across his face, and then a deep breath.

The gardens were supposed to be calming.

Ever since he stepped down as general, he'd made himself at home among the fruits and flowers. Without dragons to marshal into shape, raising plants was the next best thing, peaceful in the extreme, and both mindless and mindful enough that he lost himself in it.

But as he looked up, he saw the tail of his Capricat, Rahim, slither around the base of a tree, flanked by another tail, one that looked like all the colours of the dawn, and something deep in his heart ached.

Euterpe was sweet, there was no denying it. He'd trained dragons like her before, the idealists who preferred peace to war, diplomacy to aggression. The Progeny of the Radiant Sect was a child, and she still held the world in the highest wonder.

How many dragons like that had Sion broken? How many had he corrupted, turned into fodder for war? It had been his responsibility to train the new recruits for service to the Lightweaver, and there had been no room for the undisciplined, for the dragons who saw the world through rose-coloured glasses. Sion had trained dragons for war, built them up to withstand reality.

Now, in retirement, he knew that even as he'd fashioned something new out of all those young fighters, he'd torn down something crucial: hope.

Euterpe was full of it, though, and Sion watched as she chased Rahim around the nearby fountain, her tail cutting through the spray as she lashed it about, her braids flying wildly behind her, precious bits and bobs knotted into the strands where her mothers wouldn't see so long as she kept her mane tidy. She was young and full of life and love and enthusiasm.

Sion looked at the daisy he'd uprooted and frowned at the way it drooped. There it was, that damaged flower, proof he was still more destructive than constructive. Even if he wanted to go to the Progeny, to ask her to stop antagonizing his familiar, to stop feeding it more treats than it needed, he couldn't. He was a warrior, a general, and all his life, he'd broken things, then patched them back up with anger and callousness stitching them together where purer things had once been. He couldn't risk that with the Radiant Sect's only Progeny. She was too beloved, too important.

And he was tired of doing more harm than good.

So he left Euterpe alone, even though his instincts said to scold her. It wasn't his place, and there was no way he could do it right. It would probably hurt her, or upset the matriarchs, or any number of other consequences born of his heavy-handedness. It was simply best if he left the youngest, dearest member of the Radiant Sect alone until he understood how to better approach a child without ruining their life.

Sion turned his back on her and tried to save the falling daisy by pushing dirt into a high mound around it. Still, it drooped, and his heart sank.

The gardens were supposed to be calming.

↦ written by Tues ↤

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______

You remember the ground, salted
The deep soil beneath your feet as you sunk.
Dark blues in the sky, breathless.
Heaving smoke into the air.

In the midst of the cold, one appeared
Daisies with their white petals drooping.
Captured in the way each one fell.
And empty. The whispers of goodbye.

You remembered, solemn daisies still.

Yet where you stand, remembering
Different, that you are, and speechless.
Where years have touched your face,
And dirt felt free, loosened by your sharp claws
As they dug to place a single potential seed.

Today, you hear a simple sound
To break all whispers and inklings of regret.
A hearty breath of joy filtered into light.
With warm and welcoming skies
of orange tones and pink hues.

Primroses. They danced in the grass before you.
You were watching them
when you remembered the daisies.

And solemn, still. The remorse that chills your teeth.
But Primroses. They laugh. And you are bemused.

A past will wander endlessly, but you make your stay
Where Primroses bloom and you watch on,
Hoping the Daisies will watch too
As you garden a meadow for them.

↦ written by magxctrick ↤
___________________________________________________

Calm, draped by the shadows of the trees
A silent dragon walks peacefully. Under the leaves,
He drowsily skims through the bushes,
their fruit and bees
Savoring the honeysweet aroma
that brings along the breeze

Slowly emerging of the shadows,
reaching towards the light
He watches the sun, hidden for a while
by some children playing fight
Unable to watch, he turned back
But his absentminded stroll left a terrible sight,
For flowers lay crushed in his path.

And his heart sank

Before him played the innocent youth, smiling
Diving, evading, chasing
And he thought of those fragile flowers he trained
Blooming flowers soon to be bloodstained
Their naive souls ripped for them,
as they prepared to withstand the red rain

He stared in awe at the broken forget-me-nots
He had tried to forget, but memories refuse to rot
Unlike the whithered hatchlings he had sent off to die
Souvenirs refused to vanish, kept holding tight

But memories were just the past
The naive ones he had raised were gone
But there were still similar little dragons
And making sure they'd have peace
was his only option

So, hopeful, he turned towards the echoes
of joyous cries and laughter
Kept on walking, feeling somewhat lighter
The youngsters enthusiastically saluted him,
and for the first time
He answered back

↦ written by thecartoonheart ↤
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_____________________________________________________
n o t e s
» his accent was a gift, from the lovely Lizzi

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c r e d i t s
» Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit.
» Pellentesque venenatis felis sed vestibulum lobortis. Aliquam et faucibus nisi.

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Exalting Sion to the service of the Lightweaver 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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