NameSomnus Silmarian Vilsidr
Nickname(s)Silmarian
RaceHuman
ClassSal
ProfessionDragon-Born Second Prince
BirthplaceKastali City
Age22
GenderMale (He/Him/His)
Sexual OrientationDemisexual
Audsalir ∀100
Activity2 posts [Find All Posts] / 2 threads [Find All Threads]


View All Items
6'2" | 176lb | Long dark hair | lean muscular build | metallic golden-hazel eyes Prominent black Scaling across cheeks, neck, shoulders, and back


It dwells in his blood, brought to life by the legacy of his kin, inked like archaic secrets of the world on rockfaces leagues away from the prominence and luxury of Kastali City. The origins of House Vilsidr has long faded away, changing like the tides and fleeting encounters that the dense populace of their new kingdom has wrought, yet, even still, there are relics of that story written upon every facet of Somnus' body. He is tall like a Sunnarst, an acclamation to his long passed grandmother, her finale symphony painted in the rich golden hues that adorn his form. Fair, beautifully shaped hands of a Vestrian man who adores his craft, who would sacrifice leisure to hone his skill above the bounty that lays before his feet as a prince. Austan grace makes him a contour of light and shadow in motion, movements falling with an ease of one who is conscious of himself and the world around him, feline, animalistic. It is perhaps his presence above all, that stands as one of his defining features, a quiet observer to the bold declarations of his father, the elegant prose of his mother, and the practiced fake mask of his brother/sister.

For Somnus is a warrior first, a solider to his father's regimen, his claimant to the throne. As the second son, he was never promised the crown, and so, his body has never known the luxury of its shadow. He is a man hardened, in the sharpness of his lean frame, to the callouses upon his fingers. Scars kiss him as lovers would, obvious caresses that fall as if they were always meant to be. One perhaps most prominent is the wicked silver track that curves across his left leg, digging deep into the tissue from his thigh to his calf. A second, to his left temple, a forked shape barely visible beneath the shadow of his hair. And a final, a waxy, dappled burn that spreads as a somerset cloud upon his right forearm.

His is a mane of pitch tresses, coarse and flyaway, torn by the wind. Perhaps once, he would have taken better heed of its care, bathed its length in oils. That of course, was before Jaehaerys. Those very same oils and perfumes are harsh on the nose of a dragon, and soon enough, as all his brothers would, forwent the pomp for simplicity. It falls at a great length, curling to the back of his knees, often left unbound when in court or wandering the halls of the castle, and only finds itself tethered into a long, single braid when airborne. It compliments his skin, his eyes, a rich, near golden hue, metallic-like that of a dragon, made brighter by the darkness of his sclera, and his stern browline. Some would say they were not the eyes of a human at all, if not for the obviously rounded pupil.

Yet, perhaps the most disconcerting of all is the Scaling. Such a blighted disease, to grace the royal bloodline. Dark as the surface of polished obsidian, they laid upon his body as carefully placed stones. Curling along the contour of his cheeks, down the column of his throat, winging out across his shoulders before tumbling down the entirety of his back. Unlike most, unlike the eyes of the royal court, commanding him, pleading him to hide them away, Somnus bears no marks of the forceful removal. In some way, he wears them with a vindictive pride, knowing that the court sees him as an abomination. Let them. After all. He was made not as a product of birth, but by the decree of human pride.
 
 
6'2" | 176lb | Long dark hair | lean muscular build | metallic golden-hazel eyes Prominent black Scaling across cheeks, neck, shoulders, and back


It dwells in his blood, brought to life by the legacy of his kin, inked like archaic secrets of the world on rockfaces leagues away from the prominence and luxury of Kastali City. The origins of House Vilsidr has long faded away, changing like the tides and fleeting encounters that the dense populace of their new kingdom has wrought, yet, even still, there are relics of that story written upon every facet of Somnus' body. He is tall like a Sunnarst, an acclamation to his long passed grandmother, her finale symphony painted in the rich golden hues that adorn his form. Fair, beautifully shaped hands of a Vestrian man who adores his craft, who would sacrifice leisure to hone his skill above the bounty that lays before his feet as a prince. Austan grace makes him a contour of light and shadow in motion, movements falling with an ease of one who is conscious of himself and the world around him, feline, animalistic. It is perhaps his presence above all, that stands as one of his defining features, a quiet observer to the bold declarations of his father, the elegant prose of his mother, and the practiced fake mask of his brother/sister.

For Somnus is a warrior first, a solider to his father's regimen, his claimant to the throne. As the second son, he was never promised the crown, and so, his body has never known the luxury of its shadow. He is a man hardened, in the sharpness of his lean frame, to the callouses upon his fingers. Scars kiss him as lovers would, obvious caresses that fall as if they were always meant to be. One perhaps most prominent is the wicked silver track that curves across his left leg, digging deep into the tissue from his thigh to his calf. A second, to his left temple, a forked shape barely visible beneath the shadow of his hair. And a final, a waxy, dappled burn that spreads as a somerset cloud upon his right forearm.

His is a mane of pitch tresses, coarse and flyaway, torn by the wind. Perhaps once, he would have taken better heed of its care, bathed its length in oils. That of course, was before Jaehaerys. Those very same oils and perfumes are harsh on the nose of a dragon, and soon enough, as all his brothers would, forwent the pomp for simplicity. It falls at a great length, curling to the back of his knees, often left unbound when in court or wandering the halls of the castle, and only finds itself tethered into a long, single braid when airborne. It compliments his skin, his eyes, a rich, near golden hue, metallic-like that of a dragon, made brighter by the darkness of his sclera, and his stern browline. Some would say they were not the eyes of a human at all, if not for the obviously rounded pupil.

Yet, perhaps the most disconcerting of all is the Scaling. Such a blighted disease, to grace the royal bloodline. Dark as the surface of polished obsidian, they laid upon his body as carefully placed stones. Curling along the contour of his cheeks, down the column of his throat, winging out across his shoulders before tumbling down the entirety of his back. Unlike most, unlike the eyes of the royal court, commanding him, pleading him to hide them away, Somnus bears no marks of the forceful removal. In some way, he wears them with a vindictive pride, knowing that the court sees him as an abomination. Let them. After all. He was made not as a product of birth, but by the decree of human pride.
 
Defining Impression Unapproachable, Predatory, Lethargic
Virtues: Unwavering ☀ Passionate ☀ Preceptive ☀ Reasonable ☀ Steadfast ☀ Tolerant
Vices: Ruthless ☀ Apathetic ☀ Sarcastic ☀ Suspicious ☀Relentless ☀ Competitive


The product of circumstance, Somnus is a culmination of the age-old question of nature versus nature. An abomination, softened by a mother's love, only to find his cruelty in a world that wanted nothing more of him. Some would say that it was a fated conclusion, that regardless of whether his life was one without misfortune, the Dragon-born would find his way down the path of destruction. Perhaps they were right, after all, one could not be kind, when there was none left to mirror. Not if all he would have known was fear, resentment, and disgust.

A Dragon is not a slave.

Yet, to call him anything other than his own creation, is a slander to the man that he is. Few are given the privilege of truly knowing him, discovering the passionate, vivid soul that presides beneath a guise of charismatic, aloof smirks. A moon to a family of suns, he is a prince who finds no pleasure in his titles, a warrior who takes no pride in his achievements, merely, doing what was right for his kin, and by the command of loyalty that had never before been returned. Some would look upon Somnus, see the walls he had constructed, impenetrable before the eyes of a man who saw obstacles rather than impossibilities, and look no further. But like all things that don a mask, for protection, for indifference, for pride; there is more beneath the surface.

He is a flawed creature, holding his vices close, just as he is hesitant to reveal the deeper part of himself, that trove of humor and intellect, content in the crushing loneliness he had imposed upon himself. It is better to be the tragic war hero, than be seen as what he truly was; human. Stubborn to the fault of frustration, armed with a silver tongue and cunning mind, that took far too much joy from the comforts of histories and ballads. A lethargy that held quick to his bones, leaving him sinking beneath the surface, not in disinterest, but in the pull of leagues that separated him from a soul he had never met, yet craved all the same.

It was easier, to shield those truths, to become the entity that the war had shaped him into. He was a practical man, knowing that while the war was over, the conflict would still rage on, in the memories and lingering scars of all who carried its burden. Freedom was what he craved above all else, but it was the one thing that was forever beyond his grasp.
 
Year 480 He was born into conflict, a child of a usurper. Already the great war had waged for 28 years, blood and the bitter taste of iron his legacy. House Vilsidr had risen to prominence with the heralding of the war, their powerful connection with the dragons a cornerstone to the change that had given mankind the strength to challenge their long-time position. When his grandfather had first risen as a figurehead amongst their cause, the mere clamor for power had shifted, gaining momentum, and for the first time, their kind had a chance against the fae. There is a darkness in those stories, in the acts his blood had committed, seeking out dragons to combat the fairfolks magic. Eggs were stolen from nests, hatched and grown too quickly by the 'blessing' of the Crone. Dragons who had never had the choice, never had the time to grow through their long years. Many such beasts were driven mad in the beginning, desperation and greed pushing humans who had once so willingly sacrificed dragons for profit now turned them into livestock. Some say it was these practices that brought the tamed so low beneath their wild brethren, shattered from the rapid growth, bonded unnaturally.

It was in these first years that those who bore the Scaling were proven to be the most successful in forging stable bonds, their dragons retaining higher intelligence and emotional fortitude then those bound to the ordinary dragon-blessed. Pendilor Vilsidr, uncle of the current king, would foster these soldiers, bringing them together in the beginnings of what would become the Armada. Still considered abominations than, Pendilor hid them from the people, trained in the Roost, where Kastali City kept its captive Dragons. When their usefulness was proven in one of the first unquestionable victories over the Fae in the hills of Vestri, word spread for the gathering of all who were Dragon-born.

Somnus was born into this age, in the halls of his mother, the second child of the future King. As if in mockery of their claimant, one of the great houses of Drekhjarta was blighted by the long-standing omen of the Scaling. A babe from a pregnancy that had lastest too long, his mother labored. The handmaids would whisper, as they brought out blood-drenched sheets, proclaiming the Lady would not survive, that the child would take her life. The Midwife feared the child was too large, that they may have to resort to cutting him from her womb, at the risk of both their lives. It was on the dawn of the second day, that Somnus Silmarian Vilsidr was born.

Rumors say he was born with claws and horns and disfigured wings. Stark against the child's pale skin, black scales as dark as onyx sat like beaded dew, with eyes an unnatural golden. Perhaps it would have been a kinder fate, to pass the child off to one of the priests, his existence wiped from the world. But a mother's love could not be undone, nor, the call of the King. For near two moons, he was the son of his mother, safe in the halls of House Vaenn. When the Einarr called his wife back to him, she presented him with a son, a token to his bid for power, his ambition to succeed his father. When he saw his child was Dragon-born, the man smiled.

Proof that the dragons would serve him.

Year 485 For the first years of his life, Somnus grew up in a relatively stable environment, settled in the villa his family possessed in the lavish eastern living district. A cunning man, his grandfather, continuing to serve the Fae king, even while he worked to bring his crown tumbling down. They were a wealthy noble house, one who had earned their status through trade and dragon slaying, avid supporters of the human/fae alliance for centuries. Somnus knew not the difference in the station he, nor his elder sibling would one day possess, of the growing chasm that came into being form a difference of five years. While they were not close in age, the siblings knew only camaraderie in each other, if only for having no other child within the household to play with. Too young to be presented in court, too dangerous to reveal their young hatchlings to the world, the patriarch kept his grandchildren away from the castle, leaving them content in the watchful eye of their mother.

It was in these young, tender years, that Somnus soon became accustomed to the eyes that followed him, to the whispers behind cupped hands, and the aversion that kept most from coming near. He was a quiet child, yet to most of the villa, he was a dangerous creature. While his elder sibling was douted on by the maids, snuck treats by the kitchen staff, most would turn a blind eye to the younger. It was only in the company of their guard, that he was given acknowledgment, Nesryn, a sal of a lesser house, her dragon of the most beautiful of emerald hues, was a common shadow from the balconies above. His wetnurse would tell him to stay away, to let the woman do her job, but a lonely child was a reckless one, and it wouldn't be long before he made the venture to the rooftop terraces that had become their dominion. Nesryn was patient, solemn in her words, and possessed eyes that seemed to drink everything in. She was the first who spoke freely to him.

They were foolish questions, impossible dreams, of what the world looked like behind the great border walls. To him, she was the strongest, her dragon far different from the seemingly delicate one who he would sometimes see at his mother's side, quiet, with the gentle eyes of an animal. They were not the sharp, predatory gaze that was Gal-wenr, watching the courtyard of the villa below with the utmost disinterest. When he finally spoke, it was with the richest of tones, like the beating of a bronze drum, full and unwavering, so different from any other dragon he had ever met. A wild dragon once, the purest blood that could be found amongst the Sal at the time. They were mystifying, and to a child, it was everything he wanted to be.

Nesryn promised he would be.

Year 488 They were trained young, taken from their families to begin the mentorship, taking on the title of fledgling. Somnus, was much the same, awaking one day to find himself taken from his mother's arms, tearful as she bid him to be strong, to give honor to the name Vilsidr. He would not see her again for seven years. He was placed with the youngest grouping, ranging from the age of 5-10. Some were nothing more than peasants; the son of a wheat farmer from Vestri, a daughter of a butcher from Allkalder, the bastard of a prostitute from Kastali City. There was another noble-born, his stark white hair and pale, moon spun eyes announcing him an Eylander long before he opened his mouth. Most said little if anything at all in those first days.

Far too young to bond with a dragon, let alone be of any worth in war, the first stage of their training came with the more simple of tasks, educating the illiterates in letters and beginning their studies in numbers and history. Somnus along with the other noble were pitted against the rest, the instructors purposely marking them out as the favorites, the betters of their congregation. Often, they were the targets to the frustrations of the rest, their things going missing, ganged up on in hand to hand combat. It was only when he began to fight back that he realized it was all a test. To be the strongest, to find those who were more aggressive, more disciplined than the rest. Like a clan of dragons themselves, their mentors had pitted them against their peers, fostering the beginning of a hierarchy that would carry on into their future.

Years passed, and as he grew stronger, lessons shifted from the inane basics and histories to politics and strategy. They were taken out on long stints, left to fend for themselves in the wilds of Austanferd. Whereas the rest of society sought the modern era, the Fledglings were pushed back to their most primal of instincts, praised for brutality and apathetic rationality. Cartography, wind and weather reading, navigation, and hunting. Their sumras passed in a similar fashion, whereas their ventras were spent on long tracts in search and rescue. By the time he was twelve, he had come to claim himself a spot at the top of his little platoons foodchain, followed in swift order by the Eylander. Lysander, who had become his dearest companion in their years of struggle.

The Scaled were bound far earlier than most, with a majority of the bonds formed in youths formative years resulting in stable, powerful connections between dragon and human. Yet whereas most of his comrades were bonded with dragons found in the Roost, Somnus was given a test from his father, perhaps a means of proving that his blood was superior. Sent to the Alreider sea, where the most fearsome of dragons were found, he was tasked with claiming one as his own.

They expected some great battle, the submission of the monster before the hands of man. It was not nearly so rose tinged, dressed in the zealot fantasies of a race who had been knocked down for far too long. Somnus had never known the sea, at least, not the ire of the waves that seemed ravenous for their cries and tortured days of feeling forever wet and stiff. These were not the gentle horizons of Alkyrra, nor the shallows around Bryti Bay where his brothers had first learned to navigate this new beast known as sailing. Yet, it was exhilarating all the same to Somnus, a man more feral than tame, his face burned by the harsh winds as the sordid crew of fellows he was most certain were pirates, drove furiously into the dark shadow of brewing storms. There, in those moments of deafening violence, he had felt what it was to be truly powerless, the great waves crashing upon the deck, leaving his feet scrambling for purchase; the frenzied shouting of the men as they fought against teeth of the storm to save their sails. It was darker than a Ventri night, but as the lightning arced across the clouds, he swore he could see them, dragons, their silhouettes like ghoulish daydreams as they danced in unparalleled savagery to what it meant to be free. These were not the lethargic tamed dragons of the capital.

Stormryders, they were the men who hunted these drakes, their prey drawing the rage from the sea to match their own fury. On the fifth day, when the waves had yet to let up, Somnus soon discovered that there was a reason this particular crew was chosen, as great harpoons were brought forth from the depths of the ships haul. Anger from within, a fury not his own yet, all-consuming. Dragon hunters. Perhaps it was foolish, yet, when that bladed harpoon lanced into the clouds and those dancing fantasies became real, terrible, shrieking filling the heavens, he didn't hesitate to plunge into the waters. His brethren, the Dragonlords who looked upon their partners as if they were the only thing that truly mattered, would never have condoned such cruelty. Freezing, drowning, he freed the beast from its tether, the heavy chain falling beneath the hazy waters, even as the dragon thrashed, the foam red, red, black.

His own blood mingled, as his leg was slashed open in the struggles. Somnus remembered little afterward, his vision fading from the bloodloss, the cold, only, something encircling him, then, darkness.

When he came back too, the storm had passed, the sky above ashen and lonely. Yet, he was not alone, for before him, curled within the sands of the beach, laid a massive dragon. It was watching him, a single, brilliant eye of frigid sapphire, stark to the Prussian blackness of its scales, each inhale a rolling rumble. When he had asked why, the dragon had only replied 'to repay a debt.'

Days passed, in a haze, Somnus finding the strength to search further inland, keeping a distance from the beast who only grew more ravenous. Eyland he soon discovered, flown leagues to the south from the storm. Why the dragon chose to save him, instead of leaving him to drown in the waters, he could not fathom, but he was curious enough of the homeland of his friend to delve further. It wasn't long before he encountered the Kashi, far more adapt to crossing the dense jungles without aid. Cautious at first, they eventually took the boy in, in part for his young age, and in part, for his isolation. Fed, his wounds bound and slathered in a sweet, honeyed smelling paste, Somnus returned to that beach, where the dragon had remained. The harpoon had remained lodged in its right-wing joint, beginning to fester. Weakened from hunger and pain, they had allowed him near, where Somnus had treated the wound, casting the blood rusted spear into the shallows of the beach.

For the following weeks, Somnus lived in duality amongst the Kashi, learning of their land, their ways, falling into a simpler time, and sharing a companionship with the dragon who grew stronger with each passing day. In the beginning, he had brought it food from the jungle, snakes, birds, and monkeys. It was on one of these trips, when a tribesman had followed him back to that alcove, and discovered the dragon. Thinking he had brought them with him, the dragon had raged, casting off deep blue fire, hot enough to melt the sand, and Somnus was burned in the fallout, as he saved the young gatherer from their would-be death. Shaken, the Kashi had told him to leave their lands, that he was no longer welcome, that the dragon was a beast of the land that could not be trusted. That it should be slain where it lay, least it terrorize the land. The young prince defended the dragon; believing them to only be living as they always had.

When he chose to return to the mainland, the dragon joined him, curious about this strange human.

This human with whom an accidental bond had been struck.

It gave him the name Jaehaerys.

Year 495 Jaehaerys and Somnus, became a powerful duo in the following years, learning of each other, and coming to know what it meant to hold a dragon/human partnership. Jaehaerys, by far the largest of the dragons at the Roost, did not fall to the chains and commands of the Armada, and listened, spoke, only with Somnus. They were feral, the pair, thriving in long missions that sent them far from the city center. And Jaehaerys, not so easily content with the life as a tamed beast, would often vanish for weeks at a time. By the time Somnus was 15, they had joined the ranks of true Dragonlords, and so, their part in the war began. From the Field of Ashes where they fought against the fae to win a foothold in Sunnarst, to patrolling the Great Roads to ensure supplies reached the armies in the east, they slowly rose in infamy, until they earned the right to lead their own platoon. There, he was reunited with Lysander once more, who by then had gained a companion in a gentle opalescent eastern drake.

In the following years, they partook in numerous campaigns for humanity in gaining footholds amongst the various lands. Coming together as ships at sea, meeting, only to vanish from each other’s sights soon after. It was during a Falla in Nolderhalt, that they encountered their first wild dragon since their time together. In Alkalder, they had been set out to discover the cause behind the warfronts missing supplies. In the barren north, where the cold was the true indomitable force, they encountered an ancient dragon.

The beast was immense, it's sapphire scales encased by ice. Repulsed by Jaehaerys for his fall from a true dragon to that of a human pet, they soon found themselves locked in a battle for their lives as it sought to end them. It wasn't until the sky was lit by the heliotropic hues of the dragon's flames did they realize that an Eldar stood before them, the heat leaving scorched marks along even the resistant scales of Jaehaerys' tail as they fled. Long hours stretched on, as they were hunted, the air trembling with each powerful beat of the dragon's wings. Nigh four times the size of Jaehaerys' sixty-meter size, it would be futile for them to face the beast in full combat. It was only when they were able to combine the heat of Jaehaery's flame, and Somnus' well-disciplined bowsman ability, that they were able to kill the dragon, felled for no other choice. He kept a vial of the dragons blood, as a reminder for them both, that their bond was not one that the world wanted.

Year 500 Somnus had seen little of his family since he had been sent to the Armada, and so, when he was summoned to his kins side, he knew that change was upon them. For many years the war had raged, a constant struggle between man and fae, with the dragons drawn into its casualties for their blood and strength. Somnus would be part of the war table that his father had forged, an Archeum of his own right through infamy risen across his years. While he was young, only 20 in the reckoning of the faith of his mother, an avid follower of the Stars, he was by far one of the most experienced of Dragonlords. He had learned that most of his brothers, those who had been part of the group he had been placed as a child, had all but been eradicated save but two. Some of the human kings strongest warriors, they were sought out actively, prices upon their heads making the humans the obvious targets when opportunity struck.

In the twelve years since he had been indoctrinated into this life, he had seen his family sparingly, the new titles thrust upon them only adding to the distance that grew as the meetings and word grew more and more sparse. His mother, a noble woman, though gentle and matronly in her duties and passions, was now to be Queen, had nothing but the polished, careful words for a son she had barely knew. His father, offered hollow praise, a king welcoming back subject more than that of his own son. And his sibling, crowned to be the heir apparent of the throne, while only five years older, seemed as though a mountain's height stood between them. Somnus had discovered he had been blessed a younger sibling in his absent years, though as he gazed upon them for the first time, adorned in the royal colors, he could offer them no love.

The final push for the capital was to be made, and in the following days, Somnus found himself ferried from one meeting to the next, dressed in fine regalia and heralded a prince of Drekhjarta. Jaehaerys, ever the wild spirit, would not submit to the finery they had wished to place upon him, had been content to soar high over the castle, a great shadow of terror and strength if only to satiate the demands of the King. In those long hours, Somnus wished for nothing more than to join him, find the noise and clamor of the world fall away to the deafening caress of the hostile winds above.

The battle broke at dawn, cloaked in fog and cold air as the first kiss of Ventri set upon them. Man and ally flooded the walls of the city, let in by turn-coak guards who laid down the sigil of the fae king for that of their new sovereign. It was a bloodbath. There, where friend and foe were but a tangle of resentment amongst the innocent civilians, Somnus saw many fall beneath the sword of the invaders, saw the revolting nature of an army who had long starved for its dues. Such was the 'glory' of war. Yet, it was on those streets, that Somnus had a faithful encounter.

Jaehaerys smelt them first, grew enraged by the thick, clotting scent of his kins blood in the air, their fear vibrating through their bond. The abbatoir, the place where dragons too wild for bondship were taken to be killed for their parts, where the dragon hunters gathered to barter in rare cuts and bones. Drawn from the combat, Jaehaerys demanded that they free his brethren, those whose fate would not be tolerated. In the following chaos, the trappers had no time to defend themselves against the sudden fury from the sky, and Somnus was left with multiple terrified, shackled drakes. Most left once they were freed, a flurry of colors amongst the sky, leaving the city to burn behind them as the war raged on, yet, one remained. A single, brilliant blue wyvern, her scales of shining sapphire. She remained, long enough to eye the pair before her, before turning her rage upon those who had sought to take her freedom.

They joined the ranks, and laid assault upon the castle. Even eight months since the day, the walls still bear the scorched marks as the Armada laid siege upon its walls, burning the catapults from their brackets, and painted the battlements in seas of various colors. When one of their own fell, the sky painted red as the air shook with the dragons shriek, Somnus joined his platoon upon the ground, defending the pair as rider attempted to save her partner. In those moments, he seen what happened to one who lost their bond, felt the burn of a broken link. Driven mad as the drake breathed its last, the woman went berserk, consumed by the strength of Dragon-borns rage. He would learn, in the following days after the battle, that very same woman would fall to her own blade, unable to bear the loss.

The war ended only after the Human King took the throne. Somnus, who had fought for this moment, had played a pivotal role in the shift of power, found himself feeling hollow.

Suddenly, he changed from conquerer to defender.

Suddenly, his bonds seemed all the heavier.

Year 501 Somnus Silmarian Vilsidr. Prince of Drekhjarta. Dragon-Born son of Einarr Vilsidr, first of his name, King of Drekhjarta. His place amongst the Armada meant nothing suddenly, drawn back to court, the feral and wild son of the King, a war hero, knighted by his own father's sword. Somnus knew it was a mere show of power, a show of the Kings loyalty amongst his kin, his children. Einarr had always been a cunning man, coveting power in his youth, a true progeny of his grandfather. Whereas his family flourished in their sudden rise in station, the second prince was lethargic, idle, taking no pleasure from the courts than the amusement gained from speaking out, denying the nobles their pound of flesh. He was like his grandfather Pendilor, who while grey with age, had remained a fearsome soldier, refusing to step down from his station as Draceum until the last. Not even Einarr had the power to change the heart of that man.

His only freedom, was in the moments when Jaehaerys would return, and they would slip away amongst the winds to far and distant lands. It was in one of these flights, where he encountered her again, the young dragon from the abbatoir. Whereas he had expected her to lash out, or simply flee in wake of a human, she remained. Recognizing them from those dark moments, he was startled when the first whisper of her mind reached his. 'Why. Why help us?' Still, he had simply gazed upon her, before stepping out from the shadow of Jaehaerys. 'Because no one deserves that fate.'

Their bond was slow to blossom, yet did so over the numerous encounters in the following moon, until at last, she gave him her name; Solvi. She, who had come to be curious of this man, and he, who had found himself in the company of a wild dragon who did not find revulsion in the bond he and the greater wyvern shared, but remained resolved in her wildness all the same. He would never come to know her mind as he did Jaehaerys, but then, the two had always known their bond was shared, wavering from an ancient link that existed long before Somnus first drew his breath. What was one more to share his heart, this prince, who had more in similarity with dragons then he did his own kind?
 
Jaehaerys, Wyvern of Alreider Sea


They say the dragons of the Eastern sea are by far the most fearsome, terrors of the sky who rule the waves with unparalleled force. Where they flew, storms followed, lightning forked across the air and waves heaved in mutiny beneath the bellies of ships who were said to be unconquerable. Jaehaerys, is much like that infinite horizon, a force of nature that even as he came to bear the bond with a human, would not fall to a simple life of servitude. He, who sworn fealty only to the goddess of the sky who gave breath to his wings, who had perhaps in time come to love this man that was his life partner, was no tamed dragon. Never had the Roost known his warmth, his blue flames reflecting upon the pits where kept dragons fell to the softness of care.

He, was an impressive specimen, the sort of beast that would have birthed fear in any man or fae in the past; still did as he flew across the bay, casting an immense shadow upon Kastali City as he went to fetch his human. Sixty meters from nose to tail, with a wingspan just as great, he was a living, breathing monument of power, shifting muscle made for days on the wing. With scales the colors of the brackish waters sea, they shine with a hue of Prussian blue in the sun. He was not Somnus' fated, this, everyone knew, what the king had said when he first laid eyes upon the beast, standing beside his son 9 years ago. But, if he was to settle for less, the serpent, with the eyes of frigid sapphire, would do just fine.

Somnus has never placed a saddle upon him, nor, would Jaehaerys had let him, if the time ever came. They fly better together, perhaps more natural than the rest, a rider who shifted to the flow of the strength beneath him rather than try and force such an entity to his will. What Somnus brings with him, he bears the weight himself, long having changed his gear to meet his needs; thick greaves and gauntlets to protect his human flesh from the rough dracon scales.

It is unknown, how old he is, how long he had lived, a king of the storms upon the waters. Only, that he is a solemn, quiet creature, preferring solitude, or, the company of his rider in a world that seems far too small for him. They would discuss at length the matters of the world, the change of lands that Jaehaerys has seen shift across the centuries. He is at least old enough to have remembered when the fae first discovered magic at the death of his brethren. He doesn't speak often of the story of his past, only, a deep, festering rage when the mention of the eldar race of humanoids arise.

Damaged, but never conquered.

*** Jaehaerys is often seen without his partner, as he is prone to vanishing for long periods of time from the capital. However, due to the strength of their bond (and the nature of Somnus as a Dragon-Born, they are in constant awareness of each other's emotions, as well as that of thoughts whenever the pair see fit to focus upon their connection

-Somnus has a fated dragon he has yet to encounter, as depicted by his black scales-
 
 
Clothing

Leisure: A prince, regardless of their ambitions or motivations, are of the crown, and thus, are marked thus in their wears. Somnus is no different, and when he does not partaking in the royal court or upon the battlefield, he dones a fully relaxed dress. Often, he is found bearfoot, wandering the halls without a single sound to announce his presence. A creature of comfort, he possesses no weight of fine jewels or ornamental armor, instead, finding himself appeased by the soft, airy weight of a dark silken robe with golden/red seams etched in the lines of clouds and dragons. This is usually paired with a pair of simple black paints.

Court Refinery: Perhaps his most lothed of wardrobe, he keeps to his mothers traditions, he finds himself shrouded in a in lavish fabrics of satin, silk, and brocade. Even when he outright refuses to wear anything overtly indulgent, he will often be seen in a richly embroided doublet with the weavings of leaf and serpent dragons and a equally refined leather trousers. Boots with golden couplets and heavy woven belt lay beneath a heavy furred cloak lined with black bear fur, the rich hide dyed a deep blue to match the hues of his dragon. Most of his refinery follows this theme, a visual representation as his status as Sal. Finally, a simple, finally woven silver laurel sits on the base of his skull, woven from ear to ear.

Armada Uniform: It is his most worn gear, worn and polished with use and care. Thick, intertwining seams of leather make up the main girth of his chest piece, seeming as though it was woven together of numerous rather than a single, hard plating. The leather is lined with polished metal scaling, giving the overall piece easy mobility, allowing for the drastic movements and acrobatics demanded of him as a dragon rider. Similar scaled aesthetics mark his gauntlets and pauldron, both overlaying attached seperately, to cover the open vulnerabliities of the chestpiece while allowing for continued joint freedom. A set of molded greaves encase his legs, protecting him from flying projectiles as well as the harsh rub of dragon scale upon his sky.

Accessories

Bow: His main weapon while on dragon back, it is an ash wood longbow, its strength and flexibility giving its shots distance and power. The surface is carved with idle designs, a consequence of Somnus' boredom while waiting for something to happen or during downtimes out int he field. It is paired with a bronze capped quiver, impressed with the sigil of his families house and lined with rabbits fur to keep the dampness of the morning air from damaging his arrows. Due to him using it mostly while in flight, he is in constant need to replenishing his arrows, as it is impossible to retrieve them.

Sword: It is an unusual blade, it is shorter than the average sword, with a single edge and a gentle, smooth curve to its tip. A student of a Sunnarst master, Somnus has adopted their tribes' weapon of choice, and it persists long after his lessons of youth have passed. The sheath is capped on the end with a dragons head, the markings crest and eye a homage to Jaehaerys. The side of the blade holds a beautiful play of blues and silvers, gaining its hue with the melting down of his dragons scales into the metal; as a result, the blade is nigh unbreakable and does not warp due to temperature changes.

Vial of Eldar Dragon Blood: A fine crystalline vial no bigger the palm of his hand, it is both a memento from his first encounter with an Eldar dragon, and a means of remembering just what the opinions of the world are about his bond with Jaehaerys, and the situation he now faces in terms of the discord in Drekhjarta. It is a constant companion on his person, often hidden away in a pocket in his robe, or tethered around his next beneath the shell of his armor. The vial burns hot to the touch, and seems to posses strange irridescent properties.

Odd n Ends: The random things he has acquired or possesses, be it a plethora of books, jewels, that stupid laurel crown he has to wear. He has an assortment of nautical gear, as he has a deep passion for the sea. Numerous furs line the floor and bed his rooms at the castle, trophies from the various hunts he and Jaehaerys have conquered over the years.

Purchaseables

 
Have any questions for Somnus? Pm me and I'll reply to them here ;D


Q & A of Somnus Vilsidr





Blood Type O-

Self-Proclaimed Lazy Asshole

Favourite Food Honeyed almonds

Least Favourite Food Any sort of fish

Favourite animal -eyes Jaehaerys- Dragons...

Favourite Color Orange

Ideal Lover Someone who would have intellectual discussions and isn't obnoxiously loud

Who he respects most Draceum of the Armada of Pendilor | Jaehaerys

Who he has trouble around The Royal Court

Who he is afraid of No one

Hobbies Reading, sleeping, flying with Jaehaerys, training

Daily Routine Sleep until noon, eat, train, fly with Jaehaerys, stay out until gets summoned back, suffer through family dinner, repeat

Dream Nothing in particular