Simha
(#44154439)
Level 1 Guardian
Familiar
Masked Phantom
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Energy: 0/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Arcane.
Male Guardian
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
19.3 m
Wingspan
14.32 m
Weight
10768.24 kg
Genetics
White
Crystal
Crystal
White
Facet
Facet
Cherry
Smirch
Smirch
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 1 Guardian
EXP: 0 / 245
STR
7
AGI
6
DEF
8
QCK
5
INT
5
VIT
8
MND
6
Biography
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༻ S I M H A ༺
pronoun | pronoun | pronoun
O C C U P A T I O N - Arcane Plagueborn scientist F A M I L Y - desceased F A M I L I A R - Familiar Here  A R T - Art Here T H E M E - Theme Here E X T R A - Extra Here ྿
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"Insert quote here."
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Simha was the youngest of his clutch by a full day. His siblings all had a habit of teasing him for his youth and he found himself resenting them for it. It remained under wraps, however, until the five of them went scavenging by themselves for the first time. One of his sisters, the “leader” of their group, was shrieking with excitement as they ventured further into the forest to search with the others close behind. Simha’s eyes glinted eagerly for a different reason as she raced ahead, shouting insults to those behind her about their lack of speed. The small guardian slunk low to the ground, becoming little more than a white and red streak against the flora until he reached the female, sneering at her startled expression. “What, surprised?” She snarled at him wordlessly, snapping at his neck in irritation. Grinning maliciously, Simha gradually steered her to a sheer cliff that he had scoped out a few weeks earlier; from eavesdropping on their parents he’d learned that his eldest sister had yet to learn how to fly. As she became more and more zeroed in on remaining ahead of Simha, Simha gradually fell behind, feigning exhaustion. When she looked back and saw him seemingly out of energy she cried out in victory only for it to become fearful, ground suddenly gone from beneath her claws and she tumbled to her death, scream ending abruptly. When the four returned to their parents, Simha put on a grand show about how the girl failed to hear his warning shout and slipped off the edge, with none of them being able to reach her in time to save her. His parents mourned for a few days but quickly rejuvenated themselves to take care of the remaining hatchlings. They weren’t allowed to hunt on their own for a while. Even with the ringleader gone, though, the teasing persisted and Simha’s already worn patience was shrinking. Why should he be so relentlessly picked upon for something as simple as his hatch time? He was the strongest of them, the best: they ought to fear him! His opportunity came when Dia and Albedo found their charge. Against the odds, they shared the same charge and agreed to essentially have shared custody of it, with “it” being a small paddyfowl. They were all becoming more independent now, being a year old, and lived in various areas around the clan’s main location. Taunting had ceased but Simha’s grudge remained strong and, realizing what a unique opportunity this shared charge provided, he killed it when it was traveling between the two dragons. When the two found the creature’s body, their grief was quickly consumed by blistering rage: who had killed it? Why? But even this rapidly transformed into a desperate blame game, each spitting accusations at the other. “You shouldn’t have let him come on his own!!” “Me? Me? It was your idea!! Purely because you’re too lazy to make the brief journey--” “So it may have been but then you could’ve picked up my slack--” “This is not my fault!!” The argument escalated into a fully-fledged fight, claws tearing at eyes and ripping apart scales until their smirches were indistinguishable from the blood flowing from their skin. Ultimately it was a mutual killing, the two guardians at peace alongside the body of the tiny duck-like creature, having died from their inability to accept that they had made a mistake. Simha smiled to himself; there was only one left to go, now. Simha’s long revenge plan came at last to fruition as he followed Kotoko out of the clan to truly begin their Search, keeping his head low to the ground and watching the pearlcatcher. He ignored his parents’ farewell, shrugging it off; it was better to keep emotional investments to a minimum, especially when he was killing their kids. Once they were out of sight, he turned to Kotoko and said, “Any ideas where you want to go?” She shrugged coldly, having never really cared about her little brother. As long as it was away from him, the runt of the litter, she would be fine. To be fair, Simha hadn’t expected any other reaction; they’d never been close and neither of them had ever wanted to be. So they traveled in silence for a few days, Kotoko only occasionally glaring at him as if to ask “why are you still here?” Night had fallen and Kotoko was asleep, Simha on the cusp of rest himself. He forced himself awake though and snapped the pearlcatcher’s neck, simply stomping on it with all the force he could muster. As she lay there, Simha felt a growing sense of… pride, almost, and the ecstacy that came with the feeling of success and raw power. This was it: this was the exhilaration he wanted all of the time. Power, as much of it as he could get, all of which he knew he deserved…! He’d earned it, hadn’t he? Simply through his ruthlessness Simha would prove that the power of a god, no less, was what he ought to possess. He’d been born, unlike his siblings, with no tertiary gene: a strange trait considering that his parents both bore smirch, but regardless, no one could tell by now. Dried blood sealed the spaces between his scales and stains which he’d never bothered to clean off seeped into the surface, permanently transforming their color. It might as well be smirch. Leaving the fallen corpse of his last sibling behind, Simha straightened his back and took to the sky to search for a new clan, a “family” he could use to claw his way to the top of the totem pole. As he made his journey, Simha “befriended” more dragons, working on his ability to manipulate them as well as how to best maintain his own facades. Feigning friendliness and pretending to be amicable, among other things, were necessary evils in order for him to get what he wanted. When he was able to become close to someone in a position of notable authority or power, Simha did his best to maintain a friendship of some sort without being too obvious about what he wanted. More often than not situations panned out in his favor, but there were a few times when suspicion arose and he had to sneak away in order to maintain a relatively low profile. His intention with befriending so many clans and powerful dragons was to eventually use them as allies when the time came or at least be able to ask them for favors if ever he needed. Taking advantage of the new and young leaders, especially, was a good deal: they were often guileless and naive, easy to convince and eager to take advice from a “more experienced” dragon; plus, they felt indebted to him afterward. Connections were valuable, Simha knew, so he continued cultivating them whilst searching for a place to make his semi-permanent “family.” There was one time, and only one, when he failed spectacularly enough that he had to eliminate all evidence. The clan had been pure, full of peaceful, anti-violence ninnies, many of which saw through Simha to his filthy core. Of course they tried to convert him, worked to change his personality and maybe even get him to become somewhat kinder with fewer ulterior motives. It was all in vain, though. He slaughtered all of them, a surprising number of whom were imperials, and there was nothing they could do to stop him; they’d never honed their combat skills and had no idea how to counter him or even hold him off. Simha felt no shame, only irritation that they tried so hard to prevent him from reaching his true, powerful potential. It took months to find a suitable clan and, when he did, it was only after he’d realized that tolerating certain types of dragons would be a necessity. A prime example of this specimen was Rune: the leader of his subclan and a prim, rather pompous arsehole. Perhaps not to others but regardless, he angered Simha and Simha was the only one whose opinion mattered. This time, rather than simply exacting revenge, Simha would use his family for his own benefit. |
Layout by Merethic | Lore by RaneInSpane
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