[✓] [Drakaar] Seraphire - The Cursefury

[squakhawk 14044]

 

 

Tʜᴇ Eʟᴅᴇʀ Sɪꜱᴛᴇʀ

Oʀɪɢɪɴꜱ

 

Whilst Dragaar were shaped one by one among the mountains of Aos, Seraphire was shaped among the earlier sons and daughters of Dragur. Following proudly in his image, Seraphire took keenly to the studious arts of Knowledge, following in his path to fulfill her lexicon with wisdom both known and unknown. Pioneering early discovery, Seraphire was often not only a student, but a mentor to her own kin. Sharing her wisdom among even the most prideful of her kind, she held no reservation in withholding what she knew. In days of early discovery when the world was still yet young, she had held no desire to. No need to.

 

It was until Dragur’s Desecration that Seraphire pioneered into the forbidden and forgotten. An action that left her enfuried, yet powerless. Whilst Aengudaemons cowered from the shadow of the Dragaar altogether, let alone the great and unmatched wing of Drauchvozsas (now known as Azdromoth), they would never meet them in battle. Though they soared above clouds, no Dragonkin could quite reach the heights that the angels and demons above toiled in heaven over. And though Dragur’s fate was unwitnessed by his spawn, the fury and fear it instilled into Dragonkin was met with little response. Whilst some cowered beneath the clutch of other Aengudaemons, many remained strong, few united. In an act of spite and arrogance, Seraphire refused to scurry to hiding as other Dragaar had. Despite her boldness in so, Seraphire was well welcomed and held in high regard by her kin she continued to hold in contact and visit. 

 

Among her kin, Neridraza was likely the most well knowing. Whilst not so physically imposing as Seraphire, she had far exceeded her capability in both knowledge and understanding of the world that surrounded them. Together, they had again delved into sciences both undiscovered and forbidden - charting what they knew and sharing so too. Though the good times were long, they were not forever; and The First War would usher in an era of change and darkness alike. It was then that something would change within her, driving a knife between dragonkin as lines of flame were drawn in the scars left behind.

 

 

Tʜᴇ Sᴛᴀʀᴄʜᴀꜱᴇʀ

Lᴀᴅʏ Sᴇʀʏɴ Pʏʀᴀᴜʟᴛ

 

The Betrayal of Azdromoth, paragon of their kind, left her both disgusted and furied. Seraphire’s wrath was one known well to her kind - although she was kind, a fire burned within her that bestowed her the respect of a warrior among Dragonkin. And during The First War, she was no stranger to battle. Although in the retrospect of the modern day, most conflict-oriented Dragonkin either fell to Drakaar corruption or perished, Seraphire was (although not alone), an exception to this trend. Seraphire, everstrong, held alongside her kin as The Thirty Years War raged on. And whilst the corpses of undead and corrupted dragonkin lay beneath the shadow of her pale wings, it was not a war so easily declared as won. Even when the undead were driven to the corners of the earth, even when Iblees returned to the nether after his defeat, Seraphire found no joy as her kin celebrated.

 

Many of her brothers and sisters massacred, turned to stone, or worse, still in the arms of the enemy. The world had become, even in peace, a more hostile place. The world that descendants and immortals found was no longer as light as it was before The First War. Although Seraphire was never knowing as a loving Dragaar, she particular gruesomeness of draconic corruption both disgusted her, and mortified her. How easily it was to turn a once magnificent and unique creation as a Dragaar into Drakaar. Despite it’s horror known in Azdromoth’s moment, she would never think any of her kin would seek such an awful thing, no matter the bid. It was with so she devoted her research no longer into the world, the forbidden, and the forgotten - but too, the unknown that was a cure.

 

Lady Seryn Pyrault was a noblewoman whose stature, appearance, and location changed frequently in the millenia she roamed Aos and Eos alike. In search of a cure for her fallen kin who still yet lived, or better yet something to prevent so, she travelled the world. Learning of medicines, myths, legends, and techniques both alchemical, mundane, and magickal that all had lead to only failure. Frequently among her travels she was pursued by Orsathiael - the Daemon of Rulership and Control. Whispers and promises of honeyed words which offered all she had wished for and more. Despite it’s enticing matter, Seraphire recalled her kin which held beneath Aengudaemons, and their miserable fates. Taynei’hiylu a kept pet within The Aspect’s cage of branches and leaves, Sordran the attendant of two brothers to be their proxy and wetworker. 

 

Despite breakthrough again and again into arts and sciences known and unknown, Seraphire forever chased that which always just eluded her grasp. Results and treatments which were promising initially, but scarcely, if ever, had completed what she wished. 

 

Although she was brazen in her uncompromising nature to continue to roam the surfaceworld, the terror that was Xan, Aengul of Order, was one which indeed did cause her to respect his might. Where the sun shined and heavens looked freely upon the earth, Seraphire would take time to experiment and study as her crafted persona within mansions and caverns. During so, she’d become quite acclimated to contact with The Mori’Quessir. Acquisition of goods from across the edges of the world were made easy with their aide, and by so, was her research empowered even under threat from the golden skies above. 

 

And though she continued to learn, study, and discover, it took only one mistake which would forever bring The Revenant to haunt Aos and Eos alike. 

 

 

Cɪʀᴄᴜɪᴛɪᴏɴ

Aɴ Iᴍᴘᴇʀꜰᴇᴄᴛ Oᴄᴜʟᴜꜱ

 

As The Starchaser studied once again beneath the mountains of Aevos, The Mori’Quessir offered her an artifact of curious make. Magic and sorcery behind it that she could not make sense of - an energy faintly familiar, immensely powerful, and yet unknown. Perhaps one of her father’s legacies, she’d thought. Excitement nipped at the fringes of her mind, yet an everstudious caution held her expectations at bay. Thousands of times she’d tried for a cure, and this time would likely lead to the same failure as all those leading to this moment.

 

An alignment occurred as The Oculus shifted and aligned, a glimmering light - that indeed of what appeared to be Dragur’s very essence that shone like radiant moonlight. A smile crept upon her face as the ancient device shifted and turned, meeting perfect alignment as all pieces met within their place. A magnificence, a boundless joy as that which would bless their kind in perpetuity was found.

 

And then the oculus shifted. And no longer was it aligned. 

 

Worse, a trepidation as fear and uncertainty crawled at her fastbeating heart. A black essence, a boiling malevolence, a burgeoning despair. A corruptive essence, a remainder taint of some terror long forgotten, had invaded her open soul; a scream as she severed the connection, a glimmering moonlight that sunburst throughout the chamber and destroyed the device, and everything around it. The Mori’Quessir and her celebrants who studied beneath and beside her obliterated in an instant as she lashed out to stop what had already occurred. A fury, an unending and cataclysmic rage that would hush whispers and names amongst all dragonkind eternally. 

 

A singular scream roared outward, as The Cursefury was born. A Drakaar who knew only boundless and ineffable rage, bringing annhilation to wherever it was she went. And went she did, as The Cursefury drew lines amongst Eos and Aos alike where all life would be obliterated beneath the shadow of her lavender wings. Dragonflame cursed the earth as the once noble warrior-dragaar smattered lands far and wide with earth burnt and cursed. Many a time had she deliberately sought out other dragonkin, not for aide, but for conflict. Perhaps an elaborate attempt to bring an end to her suffering, or instead perhaps mindless violence. Conflict she met was many a time, and each time though she would stand victorious gnawing on the bones and sinew of her once-kin, she bore no pride or glory in so. Only brief, intermittent and disconnected thoughts of the next.

 

This singular rampage etched itself into legend amongst many cultures, where The Cursefury brought her doom to wherever she’d went. With each travel, a bit less of her as scales were cut and stricken, wings torn and beaten, teeth broken and bitten. It was uncertain when, or why her era of terror woul cease exactly, but one day it simply had. Perhaps she was not victorious in her slaughter, for once. Be it by a brave dragon soul, a mere mortal, or even accident. Seraphire, The Cursefury, was no more.

 

But The Revenant is not something that is understood until it is made.

 

Seraphire awoke again, as if from a dream before the very shattered pieces of the artifact she’d destroyed in her final moments of coherency. Fury flooded within her veins as the brief moment of clairvoyance ended, and once again The Cursefury took to the skies. Again and again would this cycle occur as she was stricken down by exhaustion, wear, or war, only to revive and relive the same nightmare repeatedly.

 

It was in a moment of break that a singular piece of her - thought by many to be her very soul, was found within the heart of the mountain Stormwatch of Aevos. As Mori’Quessir scarred themselves in futile attempt to tame it’s power, they were slain and scattered by the Nephilim of Tor’Praeth and Mul’naar, as their father sought to claim what little of his rival sister remained. 

 

And so he consumed, drinking deeply of what little she had left to give. 

 

 

Pʀᴇꜱᴇɴᴛ Dᴀʏ

Tʜᴇ Rᴇᴠᴇɴᴀɴᴛ

 

Despite the devouring of her spirit, The Revenant remains. Seen at the climax of Aevos as Orsathiael battled Sordran and Aruzond, Seraphire was seen once again in the skies as the shadowy lavender wings took to the skies and battled her once brothers. Narrowly avoiding the curse which had brought her so low, she was slain after a prolonged battle with Sordran, severely wounding him and narrowly turning him to darkness.

 

Whilst her body rests once again, the huskless flesh and bone that make up what little of Seraphire remains will gather once again. A cycle of infinite loop as her suffering never is made to end.

A Dragaar could only hope for peace, for wherever her soul lays.

 

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

 

[ ᴘᴜʀᴘᴏꜱᴇ ]

 

Seraphire is a different type of greater dragon I’d wished to see on LOTC for some time. She breaks a lot of grounds and moulds of the ones designed, most prominently in my opinion one of them being a warriorlike greater dragon that was not unnamed or dead. Although she is more complex than this, as the character was stewed in my thoughts I came up with something pretty complex, and a reflection of regrets and ambition that I think many people on the server (myself included) come to face. Seraphire’s characterization in her current form reflects an emotion many feel, and most move on from, but she is unable to by forces beyond her control. What is left I think is a metaphor I think people can appreciate, at least to some degree I hope. While she was used and extensively roleplayed during 9.0, I never could get around to publishing a frontfacing lorepiece for her. With this, I hope that her history is both known and understood, and in the future of her use (which is both planned and intended), only more is to come.

 

[ Credits ]

Squakhawk - Writer

Werew0lf - Emotional Support

 

Pallodium - Formatting