#daerondragonborn

[iviarred]

The swirl of angry darkened clouds terrify him. Inside his cell, even with only one good eye, the half-witch could read see the ill omen that morphed itself in the storm. His mother had spoke of it to scare him as a toddler. The Witcher’s Storm. It had come when the great culling had nearly cleansed the land of the witches. A great hunt that they had never recovered from. Not completely. It had terrified his mother and it terrified him. 

Sammael used his sheet to cover the window and heavy stone to keep it tethered. It may have been out of sight but he could still hear the rain and the howl of the wind. As the Witcher, brave and bold, paid in coin of gold.  

He closed his eye as he gingerly laid in his cot which he had pushed to the furthermost, darkest corner he could. He’ll chop and slice you, cut and dice you. If he had no magic, he would have nothing to worry about. They slayed witches or those that got in their way. But, he had magic. A power that started to slowly grow inside of him. Eat you up whole. Eat you whole. 

There was a loud boom of thunder and it made him jump. A hiss of pain escaped him, tinged with a slight wave of pleasure. All he wanted to do was be somewhere else. Out of Aeternum. Away from the storm until the possibility of a bloody death by the blade of a Witcher was out of his mind.

@daerondragonborn

[iviarred]

D: Ask me properly. S: Please, Master.

[iviarred]

SAMMAEL’S MOTHER  —  LADY CATALLENA ELLAWESE ALEXANDRA TORATH

the torath coven was once a predominant and glorious house that stretched back to near the beginning of aeternum city. even as the witches were being hunted the coven sought the magical arts and most survived to once more become a staple in the high society of the city. catallena is the first born of six and began the head of her coven and house at a young age. while she kept the families business of selling luxuries in potions and charms, she stirred the torath’s more into breeding investments with slaves. it elevated their house and coven to be noticed by the high crone. they were as the highest any elite could ever reach. but, even the highest can fall. catallena made a scandal when she became pregnant by her prized fighting and breeding slave. her family turned more into a whispered joke at court and socialite parties, she stepped down as the head of the family. she showed little love for sammael in the public but did spare him some kindness in private. to help her family once more rise she privately sold her son to a dragon-born who carried with him a heft of political favor. she suffered another blow when her slave and sammael’s father was brutally killed in the arena. she still attends social events but has not purchased a slave since nor does she even acknowledge the horrors krog brought on her son. knowing them in full detail.

SAMMAEL’S FATHER  —  SURUEL       †

suruel was the finest breeding male. for generations after generations his line was made up of the champions of all competitions. from beauty to combat. for seven generations. his heir was to mark what would be considered to be the perfect human pet. however, that was marred as he had fallen deeply in love with his mistress and she with him. one night of love making resulted in the birth of sammael. an abomination. where his mother should him only the most coldest of kindnesses, suruel began teaching his son the proper ways of being a pet at a young age. but, he still held little love for him like his mother. the moment magic manifested itself inside the boy, suruel would have nothing to do with him. considering him a blight on generations of perfect breeding. he was more than happy when his mistress privately sold their shame. he continued to fight in the arena, properly siring a total of six children. half-siblings that sammael only has heard rumors about. suruel was later slain in the arena by a pet owned by the very dragon-born that his son had been sold to. a victim of a political polite to further tear down the house of torath from their pedestal that many believed they did not deserve due to the perversion that birthed sammael.

[iviarred]

after the fourth night, sammael had stopped trying to win daeron back and accepted his fate. he’d embarrassed himself. behaved like one of the pets from the tower that would beg and plead. it twisted his stomach into a sick knot. it was better to burn than fade away and it was better to be sent away than be replaced. he steeled himself away. he had gone back to wearing briefs alone as he waited to be sent back to the tower. two weeks had passed and sammael had completely numbed himself, taking his fleeting moment of possibility and buried it in salted earth.

he had been foolish to think the dragon would be any different. he’d learn a long time ago that all the overgrown lizards were the same in one way or another. sammael perched on the window sill of his room. one leg out and dangled against the outside of the villa while the other was stretched out. in his hand, almost effortlessly now danced a brilliant flame between his fingers. almost like a ball to relieve stress and anxiety.

❝home is behind, the world ahead,❞ he sung softly with his eyes roaming over the city. a talent his mother had him work on to please his master at a young age. before krog. she fancied calling him her little bard. now it became something of a comfort as he was faced with losing another master. ❝and there are many paths to tread,❞ he continued, ❝through shadows to the edge of night.❞ he wondered how soon he’d be in the tower before krog would keep his word. the flame in his hand burned brighter as his eyes stared harder at the horizon.

❝until the stars are all alight,❞ his voice quivered. sammael turned his gaze away from the horizon and to the flame that danced in his hand. he hadn’t notice the door being opening, to consumed by fire and his fate. ❝then the world is behind and home ahead,❞ he breathed.

[iviarred]

They fight as one. Two sides of the same coin, they provide perfect balance to one another. Zyia the fire tamer and Praxas the blood claimer. A mated pair of warriors who hail from Adrahil and gladly bend a knee to Daeron. One of the dragon-born’s by themselves could be considered a deadly adversary. Together it would be ill-advised to bring their combined skill against you. While not reasonable for the safety of Daeron, the two could be considered extreme loyalists of his reign. By extension, they are protective of all considered precious by Daeron. This is extended to even Sammael. In this manner, the pair have been assigned to be the witch’s personal bodyguards of sorts while in Adrahil - and beyond. Too best describe them is to say that Praxas is the unforgiving flame while Zyia s the brazier in which he burns safety. 

Zyia is calm, collective and highly intelligent. A skilled warrior with short blades and archery as she is with her claws. Praxas is abrasive, honest and stubborn. His strength lies in the mastery of war hammers and great swords. Weapons that require a feat of strength to wield effective and leaves behind brutal results. 

THOUGHTS ON SAMMAEL

Zyia is highly amused by the witch. She likes his fire that burns defiantly in his eyes. Being such a tall dragon-born, it is very amusing to see so much bite coming form so short an individual in comparison. She practices patience with him and knows that after a while he will learn how to be a proper Adrahilian. Her mate, however, is highly distrustful of Sammael. He does not give him the same benefits as Zyia. Brash and cold to the pet, Praxas would much rather have his mate deal with the witch. Often times, Praxas doesn’t even acknowledge Sammael’s existence. However, with the careful guidance of his mate, Praxas is beginning to change that. He guesses that the little fragile pet has some endearing qualities. But, one has to squint very hard in order to see them.

npc’s made through creative collaboration with @daerondragonborn

[iviarred]

Sammael had never ventured as far out as Adrahil.

Aeternum was long behind him; it faded into obscurity as if it had never existed. He had been relieved to leave behind the looming shadow of the tower, but there was a piece of him that still attempted to cling to it. Frightened to let go of the familiar in order to prepare for the unknown that laid ahead. He had not felt this aimless since the resistance had secreted him beyond the wall. There was still an anchor in the land under his feet when that had happened. Out here, among the clouds and drawing nearer to something he’d never laid eyes on before, he was adrift. 

He had been defensive at every turn. Drawn into himself, he had snapped back into his old trait of annoying others with his sharp tongue. The cold hadn’t helped with his temperament. The colder it got, the harder it had been to keep him quiet. He had not thought it would be possible for the cold to go beyond anything he had experienced in Aeternum. Winters there only required a coat and a few extra leathers to keep warm against the icy season. Even beyond the wall. Fur had been something he would never thought to be needed until they drew closer to Adrahil. Oh, he made his discomfort well-known to any who would listen.

A sharp tongue and veiled insult at the right time over dinner or within ear shot of crew. Even with the fur around his thickset frame, Sammael could still feel the chill to his bone. And it was a chill that only seemed to become more deeply set as the airship reached its destination. The witch was lost for word as he decided to move off the ship, not wanting to spend one more moment on the horrible flying craft. He was happy to be back on land. Despite how he felt like every appendage felt frozen stiff. His nipples hurt the most with the steel rings that stretched the skin matching the temperature around him. Out of the need for warmth, he had even moved closer to the female guard charged with protecting him. Zyia seemed to be the only female dragon-born that could stand him. Well, it had been more tolerate him.

He found her beautiful and deadly. Traits he had started to see most of Daeron’s people held. He was drawn in by the sights. Sammael turned about to take it all in and he felt that even if he had the whole day to grasp how different already the cultures where, he would still need to stay rooted there longer to see the full scale. The witch looked down and stared at his breath, visible in the cold air. He had lost the feeling in his face almost instantly. He shuddered and drew the furs closer to himself as he shifted away from sea of individuals that flooded the dock. 

“You would come from a fuckin’ place so cold I feel like all my parts are frozen solid,” he spat towards the ship that carried them, not caring if Daeron had heard him or not.

[iviarred]

[iviarred]