Ptolemy Tomislav - The Lost Zephyrite

Deep within Sorrows Embrace, a small party of five men faced off against the Legendary Mesmer Tazza, an Inquest Asuran who had taken over the Dredge facility. She was a tricky foe, being able to create clones of her enemies to turn their skills against them. It made for a difficult fight.

“He’s so beautiful,” the warrior said mournfully as he fired a flaming arrow at his clone, turning away as it shattered into a thousand butterflies.

Ptolemy assumed the man was jesting but as he cast a quick glance toward the barely clad Berserker, he saw a tear running down the man’s bronzed cheek.

Glint Almighty, Ptolemy would have rolled his eyes but instead dodge rolled away from his own clone that was coming after him.

Now THAT was something he was not used to.

As a Mesmer, Ptolemy had been creating clones of himself since his teenage years, but they had always done his bidding. He’d never had to face off against one.

He stepped back from the approaching clone, giving it a small smile and a wave of farewell before he vanished leaving behind a Decoy clone of his own to eliminate the Asuran Mesmer’s creation.

Why am I waving at a clone? The thought crossed Ptolemy’s mind but he shrugged it away in annoyance. Nothing wrong with smiling at a clone.

Ptolemy watched as the enemy clone’s target changed to the Decoy. In his stealthed state, Ptolemy calmly walked around the clones as they battled and was insulted to see that his own clone was easily outmatched by Tazza’s. He supposed she was a Legendary Mesmer. He was no one by comparison. Yet still, it irked him that someone else, an Asuran no less, could make a better version of himself than he could.

Seeing his clone was weakening, he decided to shatter the Decoy. If the damage from the blast didn’t take down the other clone, his sword would. The Decoy arched its back and exploded in a radiant, purple light. The enemy clone fell back and landed hard on the floor.

Ptolemy’s stealth ended and he stared at the clone who was rubbing its head in confusion.

Ptolemy had seen a thousand clones in his lifetime. He could spot one in a crowd due to their slightly “off” characteristics. As he stared at the clone propped up on the floor by its elbow, grimacing as if hurt, that can’t be right, Ptolemy began to realise something was wrong.

He looked over towards his guildmates.

Ollerio and Emden had finished off Tazza whilst Jask was healing Aobin.

“What-“

Ptolemy’s eyes snapped back to the clone who was staring around the complex interior as if seeing it all for the first time.

“How am I…”

Ptolemy knelt beside the clone. Or did he drop to his knees? He wasn’t really aware. His mouth hung open and he stared at the talking clone whose big, blue eyes were taking in the world as if for the first time.

“Are you okay?” Ptolemy asked hoarsely. He didn’t know what was going on. But seeing a mirror image of himself lying there like that… This clone was not the enemy. Tazza was dead. Tazza’s clones should all have shattered the moment she died. This clone was… well, it was still here.

The clone looked at Ptolemy and a wild fear entered its eyes and it tried to scoot back across the floor.

“It’s alright,” Ptolemy reached out an arm and the clone yelped and shot to its feet to avoid his hand.

A low growl came from behind Ptolemy.

“No, Swift,” Ptolemy turned to the snarling Alpine Wolf as she stalked past him towards the clone. The wolf loved to do whatever the Underworld she wanted. “Jask!”

Jask looked up from tending to Aobin, the Weaver, who seemed to have fared poorly against his own clone. Without even speaking the wolf stopped it’s advance and returned to Jask as if it had been summoned. Maybe it had, Ptolemy thought with a wonder.

Glint, why couldn’t I have just had a pet instead of clones? It was a thought he’d never had before, but then, he’d also never had a talking clone before either.

The clone had backed away further now and had never taken its eyes off Ptolemy.

“Please,” Ptolemy said, “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“What’s going on here then?”

It was Ollerio, the Berserker, who spoke as he sauntered over casually eyeing Ptolemy and the clone with mild curiosity as he stowed his bow on his back. Tazza’s blood was flecked across his bare skin and he was covered in numerous gashes he seemed not to care about. Ptolemy was certain that Ollerio liked getting hurt just to get special attention from Jask. Why else would a bowman get that badly hurt?

Ptolemy’s cheeks flushed as he tried to explain what he didn’t understand. “The clone, it..”

“I’m not a clone!” the clone spat with such viciousness that Ptolemy flinched and Ollerio’s jaw dropped.

“Sorry,” Ptolemy said although he didn’t really know why he was apologizing to a clone for calling it a clone. “Tazza created you and, well she’s dead. You should have shattered already.”

The clone looked to where its mistresses body lay. Ptolemy frowned. Did it look sad?
“Well then,” Ollerio said, seeming to have recovered from his initial shock. “Maybe Cloney here will take me up on that drink you keep refusing me, Ptolemy.”

“No, he won’t,” Ptolemy answered for the clone protectively.

The clone’s hands had gone to the weapons at its waist. It slowly took the lamp off the belt where it was attached and held it up curiously. Understanding seemed to dawn on the clone’s face.

“No, wait!” Ptolemy stepped forward but the clone gave a small smile and waved in farewell before vanishing into thin air.

Did it just copy me?

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Ah Ptolemy. He's such a sweet, kind soul. He's your typical lawful good but it never usually works out for him and he always gets in trouble XD Especially with some of the company he keeps! *Cough* Ollerio *Cough*.

Anyway, the story shared above it just a insight into the "birth" of Voytek, Ptolemy's clone who has "magically" become autonomous. We'll skimp on the details there because there are dragons and charr can ride armadillos so SUE ME.

His appearances themes is basically: Valkyrie meets Prince of Persia - so he's all white and gold with a hint of baby blue, and then has that bad-ass curved sword that I just love. Also - FEATHERS! Hence the shield - which just fit so perfectly to this.

His origins is that he was born into the Zephyrites, his mother was a diplomat and father a great trader. However, he fell from one of their air ships whilst passing over the Shiverpeak Mountains when he was just a boy. He was barely alive when some Dredge found him, and took him in. They raised him, and so he took their name, Tomislav. Being raised underground, after spending his earlier years in the clouds, Ptolemy always dreamed to one day ride the skies again.

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THE GOLDEN GUARDS - The Golden Guards is the name of Ollerio's guild, which is basically run by Emden because Ollerio doesn't have the time, nor patience to manage others. Ptolemy is their Third-in-Charge. Ptolemy was recruited by Ollerio after refusing to go for a drink with him. Ollerio purposefully tries to make Ptolemy uncomfortable with his advances and Ptolemy earned respect within the guild by glamouring Ollerio as payback for a lewd comment. Now they have an amicable friendship with light teasing that Ptolemy does not mind.