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CAN BE QUOTED SAYING: "My friend, if you are killed in battle, you will surely ascend to heaven. But if you win the war, you will enjoy all the comforts of this earthly kingdom. Therefore, get up and fight with determination! Find your wrath and win!" BUT HOW DID THAT BOY BECOME A DRAGON? Asura experienced a somewhat unconventional durance: Sealed away within the depths of an Arcadian volcanic cavern by his Keeper, Asura became so starved for warmth and light that he clawed his way (his fingers breaking, healing anew, and breaking again and again and again until they became a predator's talons, armored with scales) to the lava flow which laid beneath a casing of primeval basalt. And upon reaching the molten pit, Asura willfully cast himself into it, desperate to purge himself of the lifetimes of loneliness and darkness he'd been subjected to. But his body did not burn. His existence did not disappear within the sea of flame. Instead, he became crystallized by it, his new form retrieved by his Keeper who awaited the day when Asura would burst free from his new prison of flame-forged crystal. The most ferocious dragons of the Arcadian Wilds could only be born through fire, after all. Asura's Keeper often boasted that the thunderous shattering with which Asura later emerged from the crystal could be heard throughout the whole of Faerie. Bearing a raiment of golden scales which patterned themselves after those which had come to plate his hands, Asura rose as a hybrid creature, beautiful as the humans which the Gentry coveted, and as savage as any of the True Dragons which had come before him. "Fight for me," his Keeper had murmured then, its voice sibilant and gratified in turns, and after being immobilized for so very long (bereft of a voice with which to scream, robbed of every physical sensation), Asura found he had no wish to say no. It had been reason enough to continue on, at that time, second to only freeing himself from the one who had caged him. | BIO Unlike Sam Noblood, Asura didn't need to hunt down Summer for its diadem to grace his head - after he emerged from the Hedge, free of his Gentry captors, Summer found its incarnate in him instead. In his taloned hand, he held an iron spear, the golden glamour of his draconic's horns was his crown, and upon his shoulders he wore a mantle of red that none would ever forget again...! Or at least, that's the story his courtiers like to tell. The longest reigning King of Summer in the Freehold of Milan, Italy, Asura is the first Fairest to hold the title. What's more, Asura is the only seasonal ruler in the Freehold's history who hasn't ceded the throne for nearly 50 years. A favored soldier of his former Keeper, Asura fought in battles of glorious Legend, garnering victory after victory for the one who held him prisoner, biding time and winning favor until the moment when he bound the miserable creature with a gamble: "should I fail to bring the both of us victory today, will you console me by never again participating in a Legend?" So beloved and so treasured by his Gentry master, it seemed too inconceivable a thing to the the being that such a prized possession could ever lose. But lose Asura did, and oathsworn to its promise, his Keeper suffered, doomed to dwindle slowly as its Titles collapsed in upon themselves, for but a single truth governs the nature of the Fae: a member of the Gentry who does not sow conflict can be no member of the Gentry at all. And as his Keeper's Titles were stripped away one by one, Asura watched and he waited, armed with his iron spear to strike the creature dead and to take something for himself. The single entitlement which the True Fate yet possessed. The Searing One. That he should have been hailed as Summer's long awaited King after fighting through the Hedge and its Thorns, bloodied, half-mad, victorious, and finally, finally free, had been pure happenstance. But Asura won't tell you that. The stories are more flattering, aren't they? ✔ LIKES
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