Polemos
(#44921479)
Level 1 Pearlcatcher
Familiar
Fossil Hunter
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Energy: 47/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Earth.
Male Pearlcatcher
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
4.5 m
Wingspan
3.64 m
Weight
436.97 kg
Genetics
Oilslick
Falcon
Falcon
Coal
Peregrine
Peregrine
White
Ghost
Ghost
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 1 Pearlcatcher
EXP: 0 / 245
STR
6
AGI
6
DEF
6
QCK
7
INT
7
VIT
6
MND
7
Biography
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POLEMOS
Warrior | Undead |
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Echoes of the Past One of the first things he remembered was pain, excruciating, all-consuming pain. He was drowning in an ocean of agony. He tried to scream, but no sound left his cracked and dry lips. The pain eventually subsided, just the lingering echo of a distant memory. When he opened his eyes, there was only darkness. Gasping for air, he tried to move but soon found his arms and legs restricted by walls of cool earth. Where was he? What had happened to him? And more importantly who or what was he? He fumbled around and soon found that he could shift the stones that had been piled up over him. It was slow-going but eventually, blinding light fell into his eyes. He blinked, but the only thing he could see were blurred silhouettes. Scrambling out of the hole in the ground, his legs refused to carry his weight and he collapsed on the ground. He lay there for quite a while, the warm sunlight on his skin was strangely comforting. But he could hear others move and talk all around him, so he tentatively tried to open his eyes again. His vision was still blurred, and yet his surroundings came slowly into focus. He was lying on the ground and a huge pile of stones loomed over him. There were other stone piles all around him, many of them disturbed like his. And dragons. Lots of them. They were stumbling around, some laughing, some weeping, some groaning. His memory came back in fragments. He suddenly knew what this place was, it was a graveyard. The piles of stones were graves. The pit in the earth he had just climbed out of was a grave, his grave. He should be dead. Slowly, he got to his feet. Dirty rags were covering his body, hiding terrible wounds and countless smaller injuries. He vaguely remembered a battle. The clashing of steel against steel, the terrible sound of ripping flesh and dragons screaming in agony and rage suddenly rang in his ears. He vigorously shook his head; these sounds were not real. There was no battle raging around him. That battle had been fought long ago. His legs were still wobbly but he managed to move a few steps and his gaze fell upon a huge tombstone that towered above his grave.
Here lies Polemos,
Beloved son, brother and husband. May the gods have mercy on his soul. The inscription was highly withered and barely decipherable. So his name was Polemos. That name sounded vaguely familiar but when he tried to conjure up a picture of his family and wife, they were only faceless silhouettes. He couldn’t even remember their names. And judging by the condition of the headstone, they would be long gone anyways. May the gods have mercy on his soul., that sentence made him feel slightly uneasy. There was something lingering at the back of his mind, a distant memory, but when he tried to remember it more clearly, it slipped away. Maybe it was better not to know… The other dragons were now gathering around a single figure in their midst. His voice carried over to the place where Polemos was still looking at his gravestone. The young dragon seemed to urge the undead to follow his lead. But Polemos barely listened. The only thing he was pretty sure of was that he had been a leader, not a follower. As the others fell in line behind the young dragon and marched off the burial grounds, Polemos stayed behind. He was still trying to get to terms with his current condition. His heart wasn’t beating, his skin was cold and no blood was flowing in his veins. He was also pretty sure that he was only breathing by force of habit not necessity. Maybe he could just lie down in his grave again? Would death even come for him a second time? He examined his battered body, his cracked ribs and cut skin. How could he ever walk amongst the living? Wrapping his burial shroud more tightly around his body, he slowly left the burial grounds in the opposite direction. He would figure out what to do with his “second chance” on his own. Maybe he could make good for whatever sins he had committed in his first life. Although he had the tantalizing feeling that the stain on his soul could not be washed away easily, if ever… |
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Information Name // Polemos Role // Warrior (Undead) Personality/Background // Polemos himself is not entirely sure who he really is. He knows that he has been a warrior, probably a general or a clan leader and that he failed. Because he died, so he must have failed, or has he? His memory is fragmented, he cannot remember his family nor his previous mate. Hadn’t it been for the inscription on his gravestone, he had known neither his name nor that he must have had a family at some point in his life. The wounds on his body are a dreadful sight, evidence for an agonizing death in battle. He still remembers the excruciating pain he was in before his world faded to black. But how he got his wounds, and why, he cannot tell. He is haunted by images and sounds of bloody gruesome battles he must have fought during his lifetime. But when and why he fought them, he does not know. Furthermore, his epitaph gravely worries him, and he is terrified to find out what deeds he had done to deserve it. Maybe the gods did have mercy on his soul, and that is why he remembers so little. Whatever it was, Polemos is determined to make the most out of the second chance he has been given, although he thinks of his resurrection as curse rather than a blessing. The resurrected Polemos is a brooding and reserved dragon. He still is a formidable warrior, who feels neither pain nor exhaustion due to his condition. Friends and Foes: Polemos cannot hide what he is, although the bandages and wraps he wears cover at least the most gruesome wounds his body bears. Most dragons regard the undead as something unnatural and twisted and the dragons of the Forgotten Sanctuary are no different. When he first arrived, they almost burned him at the stake but the Clan’s priestess intervened. She reminded them that the Sanctuary was open to all dragons who respected their rules and that he hadn’t broken any of them. If someone was to blame, it was the necromancer who brought him back but not her victim. Nonetheless, most dragons shun him, especially the healer Falyse and her brother Cathair. Only the Night Warriors who respect skill more than anything else are friendly towards him. Mate: The young Night Warrior Asaphida fell in love with Polemos despite knowing what he was. At first, he resisted her advances because he didn’t think he was worthy of her love and affection. But over time he found it more and more difficult to keep himself away from her. She is the only one that can make him smile and when he is with her, the terrors of his past retreat to the shadows. At least for a while. |
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