Siyamak Windwalker

This man was a legend long before I ever met him. He had an illustrious pedigree, was gifted in gramyre beyond many of his superiors, and then was disgraced and banished to permanent exile in a tower overlooking barren cliffs. He was spoken about only by elders and only in hushed tones. All the younger riders knew was a title in an ancient scroll, one he acquired for his… unique style of battle.

Siyamak was the sole heir of the then lord of Aroughs some 300 years before I was even born. He was a studious child, becoming the pride of his family despite his frosty disposition. At a young age, he was examined for magic, (as many nobles were and are) and found to possess the gift. He prospered with apparent ease at this, quickly outgrowing his tutors. When the egg couriers arrived in their rounds, his parents put in a request for him to be taken in by the order to foster his talents. This was, of course, rejected as only riders were permitted the honor. The desire that gripped him then was so intense, so consuming, that the hatchling within the egg latched onto him. In moments, the couriers' decision was overturned by sheer will. (He never disclosed exactly what became of his birth family though, as they were long out of power by my time, I can only assume that they lived the rest of their lives quietly and comfortably before handing off their title to an extended relative. As discussed previously, Shur'tugal may never hold a noble title, regardless of how they may obtain it.)

On the Island, Siyamak gained a reputation as one of the most promising mages in history. His mental acuity was second to none; so biting and sharp was his tongue that attempts to reprimand him often left the disciplinaries feeling as if they were the ones being punished. He was tall, pale, possessed of narrow features, and grey-white hair grown long in the elvish fashion. Truly, he felt more connected to the elves than to his own people; they were, after all, at the cutting edge of magical innovation. After all, it was this very fascination that would spark his downfall.

Siyamak was a scientist at heart. His experiments proved revolutionary to various fields of magic: his brief stint in medicine created a new methodology for surgery and his exploits into enchanted objects helped unravel extant examples from prehistory and apply their techniques to new creations. But nowhere was his interest more piqued than in magic's application in combat. Though he was naturally a weaker build he became (as many men before him) obsessed with physical perfection. He developed innumerable spells to aid in this quest; spells that improved strength, stamina, mobility, eyesight, reaction time… he left no stone unturned. He was warned more than once that his pursuits were a waste of his many gifts, that he would better serve the people if he returned to less selfish designs… but short of a direct order from the council of elders, no one could corral him.

His greatest achievement in this time is the very feat that earned him his name. A troublesome over-population of Fanghur caused the dwarves to finally entreat the order for assistance. No one expected the reclusive man to volunteer for the hunt, but no one dared refuse him either. He then displayed a skill only possible with both an incredible store of energy and a truly impressive feat of multi-directional concentration: wind walking. He dismounted his dragon mid-flight, as many a foolish rider has done over the centuries but, instead of plummeting to the ground, he flew in a controlled manner alongside his partner. The two danced together in a convoluted web, sometimes moving as one and other times parting to chase desperate prey. So complete was their coordination, so perfect their movements, so death-defying their flight! By the time they both retook the earth, they knew it would be as legends.

And so they were. Requests flooded him for the opportunity to be his apprentice, but he refused them all. His research was sacred, his time precious, his peace paramount. Even when goaded by the elders, he did not relent. But the council did not stop there, they began to pressure him to reveal his library to their prying. He deflected endlessly until, one day, they took it upon themselves to barge in without his consent. There they exposed his journals on the other facets of his research; the myriad ways that magic could be used to destroy the world as we know it; to harm, to madden, to control, and to kill. The elders took no chances. They brought him to (a very private) trial. They argued about whether he should be killed or expelled or imprisoned. In the end, they decided that he was more valuable as a living asset, far too valuable to be slaughtered, but neither should he be allowed to bear the authority of a rider. He was exiled to a tower in an uncivilized region (the precise place I shall not name). And there he spent the next couple of centuries, endlessly theorizing but unable to put his ideas into practice.

Until.

I knew more about the man than most others (the reason is rather personal so I shall simply say that certain elders were rather careless with their personal offices if they liked a student enough). I was one of the few that knew the exact location of his prison. Once our path to rebellion was cemented, I knew for certain which side I wanted the infamous outcast to be on. Meeting him was one of the few truly nerve-wracking experiences of our war. I had no doubt that if I had misjudged his reputation, or erred in any way, none of us would leave that tower alive. With our few hoarded eldunari we were able to disable his guards and approach the spire. He greeted us rather warmly as if we were simply students, come to discuss current affairs. He then accused me, in a deadly calm tone, of trying to barter his aid for his freedom. I denied it. His freedom was a gift, no true artist should be so constrained. My band happened to be on a path with which I believed he would agree, and one that would welcome his expertise gladly. He sat in perfect meditative silence for several minutes. I returned his stare with what I sincerely hoped was confidence. Apparently, he was convinced because we left his tower with him in tow.

I am rarely wrong, but in my choice of Siyamak I am particularly proud. He fights like I imagine a spirit would, but has the disposition of a wizened scholar. He and I became very close in later years. Not personally, Siyamak was a self-admitted narcissist who saw no value in friendly bonds. He and I were very alike in terms of our approach to magic, and we contributed heavily to each other's research over the years. By necessity, mine took me down a path of anthropology (though the more… sinister arts always held a place in my heart) and he retained his laser focus towards perfection. His imprisonment had left him with an endless game of catch-up as he worked through all of his theorized experiments.

It was upon this path that he would meet his end. In a way it's fitting: no one could have defeated Siyamak… except for the man himself. It is a danger that all great mages have walked with razor precision: overuse of magic. One ill-conceived spell can destroy even the most powerful mage in the span of a thought. I do not know which of his creations did the deed as most of them were destroyed with him. His dragon lingered on for over a year after Siyamak's death; despondent, unmoving, and refusing to eat or drink. He wasted away under the weight of his own grief.

In the near-century and a half I have walked this earth, I only met a handful of men in Siyamak's league. He was a singular mind; an accomplished scholar, warrior, and wizard. He became an invaluable asset to our cause and to my later studies, many of which I would consider impossible without his insight. The only tragedy of Siyamak is that he, without a doubt, would consider himself a failure. He was one of the most accomplished beings in a field dominated by a species that could outperform him in every way… but he never truly attained his objective. Only results mattered to the man, and the end result of centuries worth of brilliance was utter ruin. Still, he has my unfaltering respect and admiration even though he also serves as a valuable reminder to tread softly on the unsteady ground of innovation.

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Did I make this entire character as an homage/riff of "Skywalker" and then just run with it? Yeah. Pretty much. Still fun as hell to write~ R+R if that's a thing you're into~ Peace and love, folks.