Vikktor: Wrath of Fire

Vikktor is often considered an uncultured brute by those who don't know him well. And he sure gives the impression of such! Bold and outgoing, he speaks before he thinks, and is never sorry for what he says... because what he speaks is often the truth as he sees it! He can often be loud, brash even, and has a tendency to love his drink, which only makes him louder and more prone to speaking the truth as he sees it. And drunken songs. He loves to sing loud, inappropriate songs while drunk. (Flikk is convinced Vikktor does this just to make him blush.)

Beyond all that, though, Vikktor is a swordmaster without equal, letting nothing get in the way of his professionalism while on the battlefield. He may play the brute, but his fighting style is one of graceful power, and he strikes faster than anyone except Flikk. He has other hidden sides to him as well, sides that only Flikk knows... such as the fact that Vikktor has read most of the classics of their world, knows more than five languages, and (wait for it...) is a bit of an artist, with an eye for detail that many would envy, though he never shows his works to anyone but Flikk.

Vikktor is transitioning better than Flikk is, with his devil-may-care attitude and willingness to try anything. He does miss some things about his life before, such as his companions and adventures and the like, but he doesn't miss the fact that his body was aging and slowly approaching the time for retirement. He sees this new body, strange as it may be, as a new lease on life, and is bound and determined to enjoy the life he's been given, free from the pain of old injuries and stiffening joints. He sees no reason to be embarassed about his new body, and shows it off whenever possible.

Vikktor's new form is medium sized, reaching 6' in height at the shoulder, and around 14' long from nose to tail tip. This, for the first time in his life, makes him smaller than Flikk, a thing that he's alternately amused and a bit annoyed at -- after all, how can he be the partner he's accustomed to being if he's smaller than the man, er, dragon, that he's trying to defend? His hide is a bright, metallic gold, his belly is a matte gold, he has a small backswept fin rising from the top of his head, a row of soft yellow gems run down either side of his neck, his tail is relatively short and has strange, scale-like fur on it (well, it's soft to the touch, but it seems to hold more in common with scales than with real fur...), and his wings are small and are more akin to fins than real wings. Strangely enough, he can, and does, fly with these tiny wings. Vikktor can, at will, influence the fiery aura about himself to either burn brighter or to burn so softly as to be invisible to normal vision. It can also, he's discovered, burn his enemies.

In his anthropomorphic form, Vikktor regains his pure height advantage over Flikk. At 6'8" tall, with wide shoulders and distinct musculature that pretty-boy Flikk lacks, Vikktor is a massive, imposing man, even without the fin-like wings that he can unfold to add the impression of greater size. His face is human-like, much like Flikk's, and he regains pupiled eyes while in this form, though they remain the same orange-gold color as in his dragon form. His hair has golden streaks in it now, as opposed to being the simple coal black that he remembers it being in the past, his skin retains the jewel-like golden hue, his human-like hands have fingers tipped with sharp, ruby red claws, his legs are digitigrade and end in ruby-clawed dragon paws, and his tail remains the same short, soft-scaled tail as before.

Vikktor wears loose, coal black pants and a soft yellow tunic, over which his simple leather belt wraps around his waist, from which his massive hand-and-a-half sword hangs. His chest area is covered with light leather armor, specially crafted to not get in the way of the movement of his wings. In keeping with his standard attire, Vikktor has ripped the sleeves off his tunic, though the high collar remains. Unlike Flikk, Vikktor sees no reason to hide what he is, and instead shows himself off at every opportunity (and also keeping eyes off his pairling, who never had the highest self-confidence in the world to begin with, and now has even less).

Vikktor remembers his past vividly, painted in the blood red of death, accented by the harsh laughter of the insane vampire that had destroyed everything Vikktor had ever known. Much of his past was dedicated to the eradication of this vampire, and that, above most other occurances, remains one of the strongest in his mind.

But definitely not the strongest memory he has. That would be his first meeting with Flikk... spoiled, naive, and so incredibly noble at the same time; a fey and wild young man, only restrained by the magic of his attraction for Amira, her quiet strength holding him at bay when his passions demanded he take wing. Flikk captivated Vikktor from day one, despite his temper, his passionate rejection of Vikktor's offers of friendship, his naive assumption that Vikktor would just go away if he ignored him long enough. Despite his faults, Vikktor saw how Flikk could shine at moments, tiny gems of brilliance that few seemed to appreciate. Amira encouraged Flikk, but the rest in the movement ignored him. (Too young, they all whispered, not mature enough, not capable of handling anything beyond his own sword and a few simple orders.)

Vikktor remembers the first time since his town's destruction that he laughed. Not a fake, put-on-a-show-for-the-employers, laugh, but a true laugh; a joyous, marvelous laugh that finally drove home the fact that it was over, the past was past, it was time to move on and enjoy himself. He remembers Flikk's expression of stunned amazement, the sound of Flikk's light chuckle of amusement, and the feel of Flikk's hand as he shoved Vikktor away in good humored joking around. Vikktor carved that day in his mind, as the first day Flikk acknowledged him as a person, not an annoyance, not an obstacle to get around.

He remembers the days they spent, plotting, planning, working ever towards Amira's goal of liberation. They were good times, those days, despite the difficulties inherent in the plotting, in being a rebellion of comprised of a handful of people, setting the groundwork for what was to come.

And then the blow came. Amira died. Flikk went ballistic, taking his rage out on everyone.

Especially Vikktor. The one he'd entrusted Amira's life to.

Flikk left, refusing to work under the command of the kid. (And oh, he was so young, but his eyes spoke of age beyond age, the powerful, commanding light of a true leader shadowed by the weight of the Rune he bore. Vikktor would wish that fate on no one, not even the vampire who'd destroyed his life.) Without Amira to control him, to gentle his passions, Flikk took wing once more, loose and wild and headstrong.

Vikktor took it upon himself to tame the wild Flikk back to their cause... after all, he was the only one of the lot that Flikk had begun to even slightly trust. (That, and Vikktor prided himself in his determination. The liberation movement needed commanders like Flikk, and so the liberation movement would have Flikk, whether Flikk realized it or not.)

Vikktor recalls the days, weeks, it took to gentle Flikk once more, to win back his trust (Flikk thought he needed to regain Vikktor's trust, after the words he'd spoken in anger. But Vikktor understood. Understood what it was like to be helpless in the face of death, at the need to lash out in rage at anything that moved.) He remembers the fierce joy he felt at taming Flikk once more, controlling such a wild young man (though how Flikk would flame and fly if it was even implied he was being controlled!) despite the words of others, that Flikk was useless, beyond recovery without Amira there to tame him.

He remembers storming the final castle, Flikk at his side. He remembers telling the new leader, the boy with the shadowed eyes, to escape, that he and Flikk would hold the guards off. He remembers the castle falling, the journey back to his home to fulfill a promise to a childhood friend. He remembers Flikk's confident stride and bold smile, wild side restrained and controlled.

Another war, less memorable, but still there. Another youth with shadowed eyes to become their leader. (And wasn't it a sad thing, the youth's best friend his worst enemy. The two cursed by the Runes they bore to forever be at odds.) Another war, another victory.

They traveled, then, Vikktor recalls, the memories hazy but there. The things they did, people they met, adventures they had. (What ever happened to that boy who wished to kill vampires? Such a promising boy, strong in his own determined way. Vikktor hoped the lad was still alive, not dead on some battlefield somewhere like so many other promising young boys.)

Vikktor doesn't remember the betrayal as well as Flikk does, but it still tears at his heart. He thought he could trust Arysh with his life, that he could count Arysh among the companions who would always be there with a helping hand.

Once more he finds himself playing the jesses on Flikk's wild passions, keeping Flikk in hand until the right moment. In truth, though, all Vikktor wants to know from Arysh is...

Why.

Partial Shifting - Anthro Form

Wingless Flight

Enhanced Speed

Fire Breath

Warrior Instinct

Fire Aura

Summon War Fire Elementals

Fire Immunity