Ollieshark » Hibernal Den » Samiran

Samiran

(#42039540)

Level 10 Guardian

Familiar

Spirit of Wind

Energy: 50/50

Personal Style

Apparel

Skin

Scene

Physical Attributes

Battle Stats

Measurements

Length

20.65 m

Wingspan

12.81 m

Weight

12347.19 kg

Genetics

Oilslick
Giraffe

Obsidian
Trail

Buttercup
Ghost

Hatchday

May 29, 2018
(5 years)

Breed

Adult
Guardian

Eye Type

Wind
Glowing

Level 10 Guardian

EXP: 1393 / 27676

STR

AGI

DEF

QCK

INT

VIT

MND

Lineage

Parents

Offspring

none

Biography

Samiran

Blacksmith • Reanimated

STATISTICS:

_{STR

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DEX

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INT

|▓▓▓▓░░░░░|

MAG

|▓▓▓▓░░░░░|

SWORDS

|▓▓▓▓▓▓░░░|

BONES

|▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓░|}

School:

▸ Projects: Time consuming

▸ Students: Drama and rumors

▸ The master: Hard to please

▸ Food: Subpar at best

B I O G R A P H Y

Dragons generally stayed away from talking, walking skeletons. Samiran was no exception, although those who required his goods often had to come close to him. But it wasn’t Samiran’s fault. He hadn’t asked to be resurrected. It had just happened, due to a ritual performed by both Asclepius and Mestrel--the first successful reanimation of a dragon as far as the dragons in Skyloft’s clan knew.

None had known of Asclepius’s experiments before, as he would have gotten in serious trouble if the clan at large had known of his necromancy. No one was sure if Milan knew of these experiments, but some suspected she did, or else Asclepius would not be able to stay. His average doctoring services didn’t bring in enough treasure otherwise. Paired with Mestrel, who had stumbled upon the coatl during a ritual, and her alchemical cauldron, the two had put their heads together and worked to perfect the ceremony once and for all.

And so Samiran was reborn. Upon his first ghastly breath of air, he was bombarded with questions by the nocturne in a pretty purple dress. Who was he? Where was he from? How did he feel? Quite frankly, Samiran felt like death, which didn’t seem so crazy since he just had been dead. Samiran was Samiran, and he was from northern Reedcleft Ascent. Samiran had vacationed in the Emberglow Hearth to learn how to craft the sword. He was a blacksmith, and he would very much like to find a forge and get back to work.

Brooklian

Asclepius

Dying:

▸ Fire: Hurts

▸ Dark: Am I blind?

▸ No air: Am I breathing?

▸ Instant: Time passes in a blink

Master Sword

Rivalries were not uncommon in the blacksmith’s school. Samiran tried to keep away from that kind of drama, since he was here just to learn. He would perfect once he had nothing else to learn. But the other apprentices had other ideas, and so Samiran was eventually dragged into the rivalry craze as well.

The master had given them the task of crafting a blade, which would be donated to exalt squads if the quality was high enough. The forges were usually crowded during the day, so Samiran and a couple of others deigned to make theirs at night. Samiran was busy cleaning up his station, ready to leave for the night, as one of the others crept up behind him and set their claws on him. Samiran whirled around just in time for a tail to sweep into him, knocking him senseless long enough for the dragon to pick him up. He struggled in vain, though, as the dragon carried him to the fire and tossed him in. He never got a good look at his murderer as he screamed past the flames.

Redead

Samiran awoke. It was not the first time nor the last time he had awoken. The first thing he noticed was that the air felt lighter and cleaner here. He took a deep breath of the green breezes around him. Nice. He spent several seconds wondering at the feel of cool grass under him. Where was he? This certainly wasn’t the cutthroat blacksmith school in the Hearth. Then he noticed that there were sounds of footsteps and wings flapping nearby.

He suppressed a groan. Had he been toted all the way out here just so his classmates could get all the master’s attention? What had he even been doing to warrant their wrath? It didn’t matter, Samiran supposed, since there was no way he could fly all the way back in time for the master not to notice. Then came a voice--light and pretty, as if from a very vain girl. Not one he recognized. Of course they’d dump him on someone else’s doorstep, as someone else's problem now. Samiran sighed, and the girl squealed again. He opened his eyes.

Bio template by Mibella, find it here.

by crowworm!

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Exalting Samiran to the service of the Windsinger 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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