Cyyrin
”Come on, sit beside me and I will tell you one of my favorite stories…”
Appearance
One thing that is immediately noticeable about Cyyrin is something that most people first notice about all dragons: Cyyrin is very large. Standing as tall as most houses and stretching 60 meters in total from head to tail, the Ember Minstrel could easily take up an entire city street, and that’s not considering the great, sail-like wings that swoop back from his shoulders, like large inverted fans that each end in a single back-curved and clawed tip. Thick golden scales cover the entire body of Cyyrin, with larger and sharper scales appearing over his belly, around his neck, at the very tip of his long tail, and cresting down from the top of his skull to the base of his neck. His head, a bit like the rest of his build, is more smooth and less rigid like the bodies and faces of other dragons, and cresting the back of his skull are two sets of horns - a larger pair on top, and then a small pair below them that get buried in the in the main of thicker neck-scales.
The second thing that is immediately noticeable about Cyyrin is the fact that he is heavy. While not of a particularly heavy build, the draconic bard is still rather “well-fed,” and in general dragons are already quite heavy to begin with. It’s not often to see Cyyrin leaving great footsteps wherever he goes, accidentally brushing into and breaking down trees when he travels on foot through forests, or leaving cracks in the ground should he decide that he needs to stomp to get somebody’s attention. His powerful wings produce great waves of sound when he beats them, and soaring above head Cyyrin appears as a flash of brilliance in the sky above, which is often enough to inspire those who spare a moment to look up and gaze at the splendor of the dragon.
The second thing that is immediately noticeable about Cyyrin is the fact that he is heavy. While not of a particularly heavy build, the draconic bard is still rather “well-fed,” and in general dragons are already quite heavy to begin with. It’s not often to see Cyyrin leaving great footsteps wherever he goes, accidentally brushing into and breaking down trees when he travels on foot through forests, or leaving cracks in the ground should he decide that he needs to stomp to get somebody’s attention. His powerful wings produce great waves of sound when he beats them, and soaring above head Cyyrin appears as a flash of brilliance in the sky above, which is often enough to inspire those who spare a moment to look up and gaze at the splendor of the dragon.
Personality
Cyyrin isn’t what one might consider fully outgoing. It’s certain that, for a dragon, Cyyrin loves celebration, revelry, galas, and parties of all kinds, and his bardic nature only makes him more drawn to such situations. When at a party, Cyyrin doesn’t go out of his way to make himself the center of it, but he often acts with his own volition whenever he’s around others who too are lost in revelry, and while he might be considered a bit of a foolish figure in those moments of reckless abandon, it always draws back to a larger sense of heartfeltness, mirth, and a more mild appreciation of the electrifying joy that he hopes he helps to spread. Cyyrin lives to create and find new stories, and perhaps let those stories be told through the ages, hopefully surviving generations after he is gone.
However, Cyyrin beyond such scenes is far more quiet, gentle, and overall mild than some would think if they only knew him during such joyous events. While never truly downtrodden or heavily stoic, Cyyrin does constantly present himself as a dragon of majesty and grandeur that would be described in stories and legends. He doesn’t go out of his way to put on such a persona, but it’s simply his nature to act in such a way that can inspire or draw reverence, and when he is by himself or with others, he tends to hum melodies both old and new, as a way of keeping his mind active and to keep his sonorous voice trained. Cyyrin absolutely loves sharing stories, and as a bard he loves learning new tidbits of lore and ensuring they’re kept safe and sound. Alongside a love of lore is a love of growth, creation, and justice - Cyyrin first joined the Dragon Keepers because he believed firmly in their mission, and while he’s often absent from meetings, much of his free time is spent in the caves where liberated eggs are being watched over.
However, Cyyrin beyond such scenes is far more quiet, gentle, and overall mild than some would think if they only knew him during such joyous events. While never truly downtrodden or heavily stoic, Cyyrin does constantly present himself as a dragon of majesty and grandeur that would be described in stories and legends. He doesn’t go out of his way to put on such a persona, but it’s simply his nature to act in such a way that can inspire or draw reverence, and when he is by himself or with others, he tends to hum melodies both old and new, as a way of keeping his mind active and to keep his sonorous voice trained. Cyyrin absolutely loves sharing stories, and as a bard he loves learning new tidbits of lore and ensuring they’re kept safe and sound. Alongside a love of lore is a love of growth, creation, and justice - Cyyrin first joined the Dragon Keepers because he believed firmly in their mission, and while he’s often absent from meetings, much of his free time is spent in the caves where liberated eggs are being watched over.
Strengths and Virtues
One of the most immediate strengths about Cyyrin is his… well, strength! Even the weakest of dragons is arguably legendarily strong, and while Cyyrin isn’t as old as many of his kin, he is of good health and sound in strength. A force to be reckoned with even without any other talents, Cyyrin can go toe-to-toe with most beings in combat and generally come out without too much damage, thanks to his sharp claws, piercing fangs, hearty scales, and vast size. Add onto that a fortitude that can help him keep fighting when he feels that he’s fighting for something truly important, and you’ve got one scary performer that should not be underestimated (not that performers should ever be underestimated in the first place).
Another thing that is equally as important as physicality when it comes to a dragon like Cyyrin are his wings. Cyyrin’s wings are, as said before, absolutely gargantuan, and thanks to them and his constitution, Cyyrin can fly at very high speeds and remain flying for a very long time, not to mention that his physique helps him keep out the cold of being high up. It becomes completely impossible for Cyyrin to fly should he not be able to stretch his wings out fully or if one or both of them are severely cut up, which severely limits his movement - though, even on foot Cyyrin can still make great distance, so long as he has some solid footing to hold up his weight.
The final and most iconic strength provided by Cyyrin’s physique is his fire breath. For the Ember Minstrel, like most dragons, breathing fire is essentially no different than… Well, breathing, save for the fact that Cyyrin cannot do it forever as it requires him to exhale the air in his lungs in order to fuel the flame (so if he runs out of air, then tough luck for him), and the idea of endlessly breathing fire is simply ridiculous. Cyyrin’s fire breath is as much a weapon for its heat alongside its sheer force, as though the fire can burn through many types of materials and turn metal red-hot, it can also blast through buildings and tear up roads from the force of it. Cyyrin is impervious to fire, flames, and heat so that he doesn’t burn up when he uses his breath, but if his mouth were bound mid-breath, it could prove to have some rather dangerous side effects.
Beyond the strengths offered by him being a dragon, Cyyrin’s perhaps most famous strength is the fact that he is an incredibly good bard. While certainly no dancer or exotic performer, Cyyrin is an incredible storywriter, songwriter, and singer, and while his songs are not widely known, his sonorous voice is well-trained, and the lyrics he writes can either pluck at one’s heartstrings with the retelling of an ancient tragedy through a ballad, or strike up emotions with a jaunting drinking song about the dwarf who was so drunk he couldn’t tell the difference apart from his wife and an ogre. Beyond that, Cyyrin is fascinated by history and lore, and he often journals the stories of how things came together and the stories of many ancient ruins that have become forgotten with time. His inquisitive mind, courage, and love of both discovery and the spotlight help him both spread vibrant emotion and record memories long forgotten.
Another thing that is equally as important as physicality when it comes to a dragon like Cyyrin are his wings. Cyyrin’s wings are, as said before, absolutely gargantuan, and thanks to them and his constitution, Cyyrin can fly at very high speeds and remain flying for a very long time, not to mention that his physique helps him keep out the cold of being high up. It becomes completely impossible for Cyyrin to fly should he not be able to stretch his wings out fully or if one or both of them are severely cut up, which severely limits his movement - though, even on foot Cyyrin can still make great distance, so long as he has some solid footing to hold up his weight.
The final and most iconic strength provided by Cyyrin’s physique is his fire breath. For the Ember Minstrel, like most dragons, breathing fire is essentially no different than… Well, breathing, save for the fact that Cyyrin cannot do it forever as it requires him to exhale the air in his lungs in order to fuel the flame (so if he runs out of air, then tough luck for him), and the idea of endlessly breathing fire is simply ridiculous. Cyyrin’s fire breath is as much a weapon for its heat alongside its sheer force, as though the fire can burn through many types of materials and turn metal red-hot, it can also blast through buildings and tear up roads from the force of it. Cyyrin is impervious to fire, flames, and heat so that he doesn’t burn up when he uses his breath, but if his mouth were bound mid-breath, it could prove to have some rather dangerous side effects.
Beyond the strengths offered by him being a dragon, Cyyrin’s perhaps most famous strength is the fact that he is an incredibly good bard. While certainly no dancer or exotic performer, Cyyrin is an incredible storywriter, songwriter, and singer, and while his songs are not widely known, his sonorous voice is well-trained, and the lyrics he writes can either pluck at one’s heartstrings with the retelling of an ancient tragedy through a ballad, or strike up emotions with a jaunting drinking song about the dwarf who was so drunk he couldn’t tell the difference apart from his wife and an ogre. Beyond that, Cyyrin is fascinated by history and lore, and he often journals the stories of how things came together and the stories of many ancient ruins that have become forgotten with time. His inquisitive mind, courage, and love of both discovery and the spotlight help him both spread vibrant emotion and record memories long forgotten.
Weaknesses and Faults
Cyyrin has many weaknesses, some of which were described alongside certain strengths (such as the weaknesses with his flight and fire breath), that he has to struggle with and through. One of the largest weaknesses is the fact that Cyyrin isn’t a human - in the greater world, Cyyrin virtually doesn’t exist, and to anybody but the most learned, he is only a myth and a legend, unimportant to the course of politics and the rise and fall of factions, nations, and parties. Being a dragon means quite a lot of power, yes, but none of that power means much in the greater scheme of things, and while some dragons work to pull strings from the shadows, Cyyrin’s largest struggle has been with the realization that he probably won’t ever become as famous as he hoped to be, and with that realization comes a lot of mental anguish and twinges of doubt when the subject turns up.
Another weakness that is caused by his draconic nature is the fact that Cyyrin is big, and that leads to a lot of problems. Many buildings aren’t sized for him, and he can accidentally brush into people or knock into them without ever realizing it, leading to the perception that Cyyrin is quite clumsy and a bit of an oaf when in reality, the world is just a bit too small for him. In combat, his large size means a lot of points where he can be attacked and a lot of blind sides where he can’t see attackers, not to mention that his movements are more easily anticipated due to those with trained eyes can more easily see when he tenses up to attack or attempts to feign a strike with another. Natural weapons can only do so much if you can’t even hit your enemy in the first place.
Being a dragon, however, offers a few mental weaknesses as well beyond the feeling of being isolated from the world’s intrigues, and that is the struggle of nature versus nurture that Cyyrin has to deal with. Dragons are quite fearsome creatures, and while they aren’t naturally evil, Cyyrin does occasionally have to step back and realize that he does feel proud and greedy at times on levels that humans and humanoids can’t really understand. It’s never with malicious intent, but Cyyrin does have an innate superiority complex that he does his best to keep in check, and it can become a point of leverage if somebody knows how to twist his mind correctly and beat him down with words. Cyyrin is, as a dragon, pretty young, and that leads to some more volatile emotions that can make him perceivably tempestuous and sensitive when stress is mounting on his shoulders.
Cyyrin is still a mortal creature, and he suffers from flaws of character as much as anybody else, but there are the physical facts that while, yes, he is a dragon, Cyyrin isn’t much of a fighter. He can certainly fight, and he can fight well if he needs to protect himself and others, but he wasn’t trained to be a warlord or a master combatant. He was trained in scholarly studies, how to write, and how to sing, act, and be a performer.
Another weakness that is caused by his draconic nature is the fact that Cyyrin is big, and that leads to a lot of problems. Many buildings aren’t sized for him, and he can accidentally brush into people or knock into them without ever realizing it, leading to the perception that Cyyrin is quite clumsy and a bit of an oaf when in reality, the world is just a bit too small for him. In combat, his large size means a lot of points where he can be attacked and a lot of blind sides where he can’t see attackers, not to mention that his movements are more easily anticipated due to those with trained eyes can more easily see when he tenses up to attack or attempts to feign a strike with another. Natural weapons can only do so much if you can’t even hit your enemy in the first place.
Being a dragon, however, offers a few mental weaknesses as well beyond the feeling of being isolated from the world’s intrigues, and that is the struggle of nature versus nurture that Cyyrin has to deal with. Dragons are quite fearsome creatures, and while they aren’t naturally evil, Cyyrin does occasionally have to step back and realize that he does feel proud and greedy at times on levels that humans and humanoids can’t really understand. It’s never with malicious intent, but Cyyrin does have an innate superiority complex that he does his best to keep in check, and it can become a point of leverage if somebody knows how to twist his mind correctly and beat him down with words. Cyyrin is, as a dragon, pretty young, and that leads to some more volatile emotions that can make him perceivably tempestuous and sensitive when stress is mounting on his shoulders.
Cyyrin is still a mortal creature, and he suffers from flaws of character as much as anybody else, but there are the physical facts that while, yes, he is a dragon, Cyyrin isn’t much of a fighter. He can certainly fight, and he can fight well if he needs to protect himself and others, but he wasn’t trained to be a warlord or a master combatant. He was trained in scholarly studies, how to write, and how to sing, act, and be a performer.
Background
Born on the isles of Sheketh, Cyyrin was orphaned as an egg, left completely alone by his parents who have forever remained unknown to him. When he was only a few months laid by a sulfur pool he was stumbled upon by an elven hermit, old even by the standards of his kind, and by the kindness in the hermit’s heart Cyyrin’s egg was taken into the man’s home, left to incubate by the hearth of the fire. When Cyyrin hatched, the first he saw was the old elf’s face, and though he was born with some modicum of understanding that he wasn’t an elf, he accepted the man as his father.
Growing up within the hermit’s home, Cyyrin lived much of his life apart from any kind of society, spending days and night alone with just the hermit, the only landscape being the volcanic rocks and turf, and the ever-present crimson glow that peaked always over the horizon. While others would consider such a landscape hellish, Cyyrin grew to love the ever-present warmth and heat of the isle, calling it home. The old hermit taught Cyyrin about the land that they lived upon, but also about the world at large, regaling old stories of kingdoms and political struggles, of fights against monsters and beasts of darkness, and of the celebration, culture, and histories of many of the people that lived beyond Sheketh. Cyyrin grew enamored of these stories, and in turn he began to make his own, trading his own imaginary stories for the stories told by the hermit. Amidst learning to hunt, fly, breath fire, and survive, he learned how to write, read, and even sing.
As he grew older, Cyyrin spent less and less time near the home of the hermit, flying to societies on the other side of the island and trying to learn about the people within the small towns and keeps. Through these endeavors he quickly learned the harsh lesson that dragons would always be feared by all beings, and yet he found that, in himself, he was driven to dispelling the belief that dragons were myths and tyrants. Over time he earned the trust of the other elves on the island, helping them in small times of need, and even performing at the edge of the villages. One such performance done right on top of a live obsidian cauldron of fire and lava, earning him the title of “the Ember Minstril,” a name which he has kept ever since.
The more Cyyrin grew to fame amidst the residents of the isles, the more he yearned to leave them behind and see the world for himself. He could never leave the hermit behind, and when the hermit eventually went semi-blind from age and living so long near fire, Cyyrin spent months staying by the man’s side, ensuring that when his adopted father took his last breath, he was there right beside him. Cyyrin mourned the death of the hermit for the longest time, and yet he found relief and comfort in reading through the man’s old books, elven songs and tales that the man had collected over the years in his own journals. As a final memorial, Cyyrin wrote those all these stories in his own journals, spreading the stories he was told as a child, and eventually finding the bravery to leave Sheketh behind.
For months he traveled, often chased away from towns who responded poorly to his presence, but Cyyrin was nothing if not tenacious. Every town that chased him away, he promised to find two more who’d welcome his stories, songs, and performances. Over time, all across the land, he became somewhat of a folktale - the dragon bard, somebody who wanted to prove to the world that he was more than what he was. When he heard of the founding of the Dragon Keepers, Cyyrin finally found his chance to prove to the world that he was able to help, and moreover that he was worthy of being as great a performer as the most legendary of bards. While he stayed away from the Keepers to watch what their motives was, he eventually found the courage to join them, finding a second calling in trying to be there for the youngest wyrms and the unhatched eggs that were abandoned - to be for some wyrms what he had lacked when hatching, and to ensure the hermit’s legacy lived on in the stories he told and the strength to do right that the hermit always believed he was capable of.
Growing up within the hermit’s home, Cyyrin lived much of his life apart from any kind of society, spending days and night alone with just the hermit, the only landscape being the volcanic rocks and turf, and the ever-present crimson glow that peaked always over the horizon. While others would consider such a landscape hellish, Cyyrin grew to love the ever-present warmth and heat of the isle, calling it home. The old hermit taught Cyyrin about the land that they lived upon, but also about the world at large, regaling old stories of kingdoms and political struggles, of fights against monsters and beasts of darkness, and of the celebration, culture, and histories of many of the people that lived beyond Sheketh. Cyyrin grew enamored of these stories, and in turn he began to make his own, trading his own imaginary stories for the stories told by the hermit. Amidst learning to hunt, fly, breath fire, and survive, he learned how to write, read, and even sing.
As he grew older, Cyyrin spent less and less time near the home of the hermit, flying to societies on the other side of the island and trying to learn about the people within the small towns and keeps. Through these endeavors he quickly learned the harsh lesson that dragons would always be feared by all beings, and yet he found that, in himself, he was driven to dispelling the belief that dragons were myths and tyrants. Over time he earned the trust of the other elves on the island, helping them in small times of need, and even performing at the edge of the villages. One such performance done right on top of a live obsidian cauldron of fire and lava, earning him the title of “the Ember Minstril,” a name which he has kept ever since.
The more Cyyrin grew to fame amidst the residents of the isles, the more he yearned to leave them behind and see the world for himself. He could never leave the hermit behind, and when the hermit eventually went semi-blind from age and living so long near fire, Cyyrin spent months staying by the man’s side, ensuring that when his adopted father took his last breath, he was there right beside him. Cyyrin mourned the death of the hermit for the longest time, and yet he found relief and comfort in reading through the man’s old books, elven songs and tales that the man had collected over the years in his own journals. As a final memorial, Cyyrin wrote those all these stories in his own journals, spreading the stories he was told as a child, and eventually finding the bravery to leave Sheketh behind.
For months he traveled, often chased away from towns who responded poorly to his presence, but Cyyrin was nothing if not tenacious. Every town that chased him away, he promised to find two more who’d welcome his stories, songs, and performances. Over time, all across the land, he became somewhat of a folktale - the dragon bard, somebody who wanted to prove to the world that he was more than what he was. When he heard of the founding of the Dragon Keepers, Cyyrin finally found his chance to prove to the world that he was able to help, and moreover that he was worthy of being as great a performer as the most legendary of bards. While he stayed away from the Keepers to watch what their motives was, he eventually found the courage to join them, finding a second calling in trying to be there for the youngest wyrms and the unhatched eggs that were abandoned - to be for some wyrms what he had lacked when hatching, and to ensure the hermit’s legacy lived on in the stories he told and the strength to do right that the hermit always believed he was capable of.
Belongings/Items
- Gargantuan journals made from full tanned hides, with various subjects from ruins and stories in Epressa to ballads and songs in the works
- Huge satchel filled with all sorts of various objects such as ink amphoras, gryphon quills, bandages, and soft padding (for fragile objects)
