[Bust - 120mm total height]
[Whole and Separated plinth/body version included]
[Presupported with LYS files]
Born beneath a sky studded in stars and veiled in the Aurora Arcanis, Ozmandi was always fated to be the powerful spellslinger he is today. Channeling the power of the constellations and aurora’s, his magic swells at night, making him a formidable force and essential member of Azmordion’s closest agents.
Born during a cosmic aligning of the constellations Patricius and Arkanos, the Phoenix and the Mage. The violet swirls of Aurora Arcanis filled the skies, and the air hummed with the vestiges of the Age of Creation, a time when all-powerful magic was commonplace in MInera. Ozmandi was the single soul to emerge from his brood’s hatching that evening. The rest were stillborn, never emerging from their eggs, and still heartbeats laying silent within. The young, lone hatchling was said to be born with a powerful omen, one that could bring both prosperity, or utter destruction. Whilst some of the Silverscale elders thought to drown the child before it could bring about their doom, others chose to carefully nurture him, seeing that one day he might be a valuable weapon to their cause.
Growing up in Dragonmaw was a very different experience for Ozmandi than his kin. He wasn’t forced to kill for survival, to kill for rank or to kill for respect. Instead, he was privy to thousand scrolls and tomes, documenting the lore of his people and the history they held, the lands from which they came and the powerful magicks of the mages in Brol’Lokai. The wisest sages among the Silverscales shadowed him day and night, tutoring him, lecturing him, controlling his every waking moment, what he ate, where he walked, who he was permitted to fraternise with.
Even now after completing his rites of passage and passing to adulthood, he is still watched by the hawks of the Silverscales, halted from any intrepid adventurers or wanders beyond the safety of Dragonmaw. Instead his studies continue, bound to books and mastery of the arcane arts, yet still holding little chance to use them practically, whether they be for battle, or for the betterment of his people. He is eager for an opportunity to finally test his skills, even so far as to plan a diversion to escape temporarily and wander the foetid swamps beneath the mountain, where he will be forced to finally fend for himself.
