Jalid Al-Qabbad, The Fist of Ice (Ilheod Alt) Jan 17, 2017 20:16:38 GMT -6
Post by Jalid Al-Qabbad on Jan 17, 2017 20:16:38 GMT -6
Name: Jalid Al-Qabbad
Class: Ice Dragon
Born in: Ilia
Human Appearance: Strong and unyielding, Jalid's poise always seems unmoving. As if the place his feet opt to rest is the place he will stand until he deems otherwise. His physique enforces this, around humans at-least. Though average sized to the vastly varying forms of dragon kin, he is generally large by human standards. Standing at Six foot three inches, and being heavily composed of a solid muscle structure nearly uniform through out his body he has a fairly imposing physique that he carries about with ease. A trait inherited from his mother, though his height was not quite the peak that hers had reached. His skin is a heavy bronze shade from a near life-time in Nabata beneath scorching desert suns.
His garb is something that would almost be described as "unique". With a higher resilience to the harsher climates in Elibe, he remains constant with his garb of a black shirt ornately woven with pale designs. Draconic heroes of yore brandishing fabled breathes while serpentine bodies coil around the sleeves and the length of the back uniformly shaded a solid light grey hue. The tunic is traditionally parted along the length of his pectorals and down to his abdominals making a sharply cut V with the lower segment tucked and tied by a golden sash around his waist that binds it closed partially and keeps it from flailing about wildly behind him should he need to run, fight, or perform any number of tasks within the desert winds. His pants run low to the heel but are loose to allow breathing room upon his form while still containing modesty.
Jalid sports wild black hair, sometimes partially kept in a short man-bun along the back of his scalp while the rest of his hair wildly frames his jaw or trails down his shoulders. A few stray bangs hanging between his eyes, and a fairly thick layer of facial hair along his jawline into a thin beard pointing out along his chin. His cheeks have stubble in a heavy patch aside from the thicker lining of a beard and his eyebrows are a solid length of somewhat bushy hairs. Aside from an attempt to restrain some of the longer hair in the back he generally makes no efforts to look well kept.
Perhaps most unique to the bronze skinned dragon though, is his golden ornaments adorning his body. With golden pauldron like plates firmly attached to his shoulders, and a series of golden cups around his fingers resembling thimbles used by human seamstresses that match bracers lining his large fists he evokes an odd visual aesthetic. A single bracelet lies beneath his right arm bracer, separate but nestled safely away. Imbued within this bracelet lies a single spherical gem akin to a star-sapphire, and is in fact his Dragonstone. The practicality of them lying in the limited shock absorption that softer gold allows from its more malleable nature without offering the harder resistance of other metals. This in turn allowed him a fairly more distinguished endurance for practicing his martial prowess. Similar plates are utilized to cover the top segments of his feet and his shins, equally armored and shielded though also strapped to his body so that they would not fall off as a result of kicks, or simply acts like sprinting.
The final golden adornment, was the mask crafted for him by his instructor. Designed to obscure sight in totality, it was important to the final tenant of his lessons. The greatest observations are only possible, when we close our eyes and open our minds. It looks as if a cloud given physical form, with bulbous curves that dip before expanding once more and is worn like most masks. The curved sides that serve as blinders to peripheral vision expand at the center into a large visual barrier which crests up and covers the top of his face while a small golden beak like extension dips down into a sharpened point to cover his nose.
Every motion of his is solid. Every step, punch, kick, or gesture one punctuated with unyielding resolution. Though his expression is often inclined towards an easy going smile when adorned with his mask that contradicts this bodily language, his upper brow is often creased and his eyes angled in a way that inclines closer towards the expression one would make when frowning. Without the mask this contrary visage vanishes and a more serious and solemn look completes itself despite any smile he might brandish.
Dragon Appearance: His true form is, in comparison to other dragons, a bit lessor. He is no where near as large as most of his brethren, standing at six Meters upon all fours and nine meters long his bulky frame makes up for size with a solid mass. His legs are heavily muscled and adorned with hardened scales along the fore-limbs shielding the softer weaker scales, with his back heavily crested in multiple layers of armor like scales that layer like large plated segments down the length of his body. His head is is angular with a thick set of jaws. His jawline is punctuated with smaller spikes that get progressively longer as they move towards the outer crest along his facial plating. A long set of dorsal spikes running the length of his spine starting from the base of his neck to the tip of his tail though they protrude longer near the center and shorter towards either end. His long wings are wide enough to lift and propel his wings with strong bones and the tips extending with enough flexibility to nearly come across like a second set of arms.
His scales are a pale blue hue with a sheen that resembles the ice he brandishes so commonly, and glistens with the trait common of reflective surfaces that can reflect light mostly.
Personality: Jalid does not relent. He is far too stubborn to veer from a course unless wise enough council prompts him to recognize a better path. This also leaves him a but abrasive to others, both dragon and human alike. His trust is easily given however because of his chosen lifestyle, following The Path of Iron, and it's tenets in withstanding all obstacles regardless of the futility resisting them may seem. As such, were one to break his trust it would simply mean another trouble for him to endure and thus does not inconvenience him beyond that.
He has a protective nature of those younger and weaker than him, should they become close to him. To such an extent that he will eagerly take upon himself physical exertions or tasks they might've performed otherwise. For while he believes he must endure all that comes his way, he takes a pleasure in also enduring those burdens on anothers behalf. This is where his more jovial and relaxed nature can be witnessed, and is likely to bring out levity from him in such situations. This is not to say however, he is overly coddling.
His philosophy determines and facilitates a level of hardship in all growing things for them to endure and grow strong. The Caterpillar who does not struggle from its cocoon shall never be strong enough to grow wings, after all. It creates a dual complex of a man who can seem like gentle giant at times, and stern comrade at others.
Within this soul though, rests a cold fury. For as his will is unyielding, so to is his anger. A ruthless, merciless anger which can batter down any shelter or obliterate any resistance. This anger when unleashed is also explosive and wild, his inability to calm it from a failure to control it but instead attempt to repress it. A struggle he's had through out his long life and continues to battle. Despite this, he sees the world grow and accepts that just as the fish can swim but never fly, no matter how they jump, he may find this struggle outside his grasp.
His upbringing was initially peaceful. One he enjoyed among frozen peaks nestled safely within a valley enveloped at every side by looming mountains which could always be looked to for safety. His father was a dragon of philosophy. A man who had taken to a life of dedication in unraveling not the hows or what fors, but the why. Understanding why nature had come about the way it had. Why life worked in its various cycles and methods. Why the minds of man and dragon functioned the way they did. His mother, a warrior skilled in fist and spear, as well as fang and claw. She had been a great fighter and was known for her particular ferocity in combat. As if she unleashed a lifetime of rage upon her foes. This rage, had often only been quelled by Jalid's father. Such as it was, she would often leave the valley, assisting allies from battles long gone in traveling and journeys across Elibe. This left their son in the care of his father, most of the time.
Jalid had...difficulty under his fathers teachings. He was excited. Energetic. His desire to run, roll, leap, fly, wade, and climb were barely fettered within his mortal coil. He did not do well for the slower, composed parental style of his father. Everything was so...reserved. Everything emphasized in composure and tranquility or acceptance. It was nothing that pertained to his interests of wildly running about. His body burned with the fire of youth and he was given few chances to express it. The sleepy village didn't seem like a place he'd have want to be trapped forever.
If only he'd known...
War came to Elibe. It was not a small war. It shook the great continent to its core and ravaged it in totality. The Scouring. Though too young to understand the true depth behind it, their village that had seemed so safe...was beset. The skies filled with humans atop their pegsasi and men climbed the mountain passes to destroy them in their entirety. Many fought wildly, and his mother sought to join them. His father however, did not wish to contribute to the blood-shed. Were his mother to fight, she would likely not only draw attention to them but bring their search closer to the pacifistic dragon and Jalid.His words of reason forging a path for their family to free the mountains. Hiding or concealing themselves as he attempted to unravel this additional mystery. Why a peace that had lasted for so long would rupture so heavily. By their elongated life-spans, the war was short. But the war was brutal. It was on the faintest of whispers that they learned of a safe haven. A place where dragons could live in sanctuary. A place they could once more call home.
The heat and sand were similar to the snows of Ilia. They got in the way. Made traveling inconvenient, and impeded progress. Especially within great winds. None of this would deter the family however. So it was, that they in time found their home within the desert jewel hidden away beneath the veils of sand and expanse of wasteland.
So it was, that a new life came to them.
His child like enthusiasm returned as the years washed away the stains from a conflict so minuscule in time compared to the length of his life-span. The psychological trauma so deep rooted he would not recognize the anger at his helplessness for some time. He began to resume his overly-active hyper nature and would often explore the streets of Arcadia with wanton glee. It was on one such trip he met a man, who walked with eyes obscured and clad in darkened garb. This man moved with an acute awareness despite his visual obscurity. This dragons name was Pan Quien, and he would later become Jalid's mentor.
This would be his introduction to the Path of Iron.
A philosophy that guided one to live their life with undaunted perseverance upon a forward path. Clarity of mind through martial prowess, and meditation so that one might determine their path through life and walk it fully. It required the diligence, perseverance, and energy to maintain that few could provide. Jalid found the prospect enticing, and he found the actions like a flawless outlet for his energetic nature. Everything required such..gusto. Such lively force! Everything was so crisp. It fed a flame within him that had been wildly burning without any guidance. Here, it was fed along a set path.
Years came and went. His mother and father produced two more children, though not until he'd matured quite a bit himself. His journey through the Path of Iron progressed...slowly. As was the nature of the path which confirmed to rigidly forging on through every adversity, his mind slowly sculpting even as he forged his body. Toughening it and erecting unflinching mental barriers of sorts, so that he could isolate distraction, and repress that which threatened to put him on the cusp of anything less. Unyielding, like Iron.
His brothers were similar to himself growing up. While Jalid began to calm himself externally through his chosen path of life, his younger brothers Thalaj, and Tajammad were overly eager to try and also turn to their own philosophies. By that time, their father's perpetual speak of using it to progress society positively as a goal and their brothers practice on his own created a..buzz within. Their minds set to child like whimsy and fancy of helping sculpt future generations.
Years further advanced. His brothers passions grew brighter, and Jalid's progress continued. Steadily. Like a river ever limited, but unable to slow. Persistent. Until his studies brought him to his highest challenge yet. Facing obstacles that he could not see. Walking a path, he could not see. Similar to that moment when he'd first met his master. A golden mask obscured his sight. Isolating it in totality. In martial prowess, his stance shook. Uncertainty plagued his limbs. When he walked the streets he could've known were he to voluntarily close his eyes, he found himself stumbling.
Pan Quien told Jalid that once he dawned the mask, he had to endure until he could face all trials. Suffer and struggle through all adversity with out his eyes to guide him. It was his greatest struggle yet, but his master taught him that to find his truest path, he could not use his eyes. So, once more he went on. Unsure, but relentless. Unyielding, like Iron.
While he practiced this. While he learned and stumbled with confronting that which he could not see, new faces and darker minds came to Arcadia. Two men, clad in pale robes soft with fine silken fabrics began to speak of a change. A great change that had to be taken on. To most this fell on deaf ears. For Arcadia was the opposite of change. It represented a time before change. These dragons clad with finery like the wealthiest of men, adorned in accessories of crystal like gems, combed through Arcadia. Seeing if anyone would find their cause worthy to their own goals. Then found four. Two? Thalaj and Tajammad.
How these two boys spoke with excitement to their older brother. Jalid was lost in his own frustrations. His stance was sloppy. While he attempted to punch at the air, his brothers spoke with a zeal he'd not seen in them yet. They inquired to the ridiculous notion of leaving Arcadia. So that they could study this path as the two men in white advised. They spoke on and on and on but could not seem to see that their older brother was unperceptive. For the norm of his life was uprooted by this great change. An adversity he could not walk through. He could not beat down. He could not endure like he normally would. His composure faltered in that moment of weakness. His voice boomed and his tone laden in fury berated them for their insistence when he was occupied and busy. That he had his own trials to overcome.
Passing words that brought no scorn from them. For siblings lost tempers and could not be blamed for speaking with permanence in their voice. It was not until two days later, when Jalid learned that those white clad men had left. Along with a small number of youths from Arcadia walking alongside them. It was then that Jalid learned of his brothers disappearance.
His father wanted to search for them, but it was out of the question. He was soft. Kind. Pacifistic. His mother could survive in Elibe, what ever strangeness of it awaited them. However it would've condemned her with her temper. She would have no doubt gone wild. Jalid was the best candidate. He was stronger. Able. Composed, most of the time. Except for one limit.
So he made his choice. He removed the mask. He did not dare face his master with it off. The shame was too great. He, however, had to find his brothers. So Jalid prepared himself. Solidified his mind, and left Arcadia to search any crevice of Elibe he had to, and bring his brothers back. When he found these two white clad men. These men who led his brothers to leave so silently with suspicious conditions...he would break them. He would stand above them and show them that his wrath was an disastrous one.
Unyielding, like Iron.