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Messages - SilverDragonsBlood
21
« on: October 01, 2017, 10:27:50 am »
_________QUICK STATS
Name: NiiOkai Typernit
Nicknames: NiiO (pronounced "Neo"), Kai (pronounced "Kay")
Age: 29
Gender: Male
Species: Human/Pantherid
Height: 6'2"
Ethnicity: Aedolian
Occupation: Pilot Noble - Inquisitor
Residence: Aedolis - Synesthesia
__________IN-DEPTH STUFF
Physical Description
NiiO is rather tall, but has a slender build. He has golden-brown hair kept short. His skin holds a rich tan with the faint traces of cheetah-like spots all over him. His eyes are green with vertical pupils for better sight in the dark. NiiO has sharp canine teeth that would poke out a little bit over his bottom lip if he didn't watch himself.
He prefers to wear regular everyday clothing, which usually consists of dark pants and boots with a light tee underneath a black leather jacket. He almost always wears a cap when out of uniform.
Personality
He has a relatively relaxed view of life, enjoying the good stuff Aedolis had to offer. He frequents many bars, enjoying to have a drink or make a pass at the nearest pretty lady. NiiO is a player, through and through, though his job and duty will always come first. He prefers not to make any strong or lasting romantic connections because his role as an Inquisitor isn't exactly the most peaceful job.
He lives a relatively shallow life, feeling that real emotional connections will cloud his ability to think straight when doing his job. In actuality, NiiO is afraid of taking on too many people's emotions, or maybe even unintentionally manipulating his subject's emotions, which would put his job at risk.
Magic/Abilities
Empathy. As an Empath, NiiO was an absolutely perfect candidate for the Inquiry branch of the Pilots. He is able to read or even manipulate others' emotions, giving him much control over them.
He is a nearly perfect shot from the back of his dragon partner. NiiO likes guns, and he isn't afraid to openly talk about it. He does target practice almost daily and improves a little bit each time.
He also has extremely heightened agility, due to him being part pantherid. He can run much faster than a human, as well as for a longer distance. He has better hearing, and he can see in the dark.
Relationships
Dragon: Jektulion
DRAGON: Jektulion is 26 years old and on the smaller side of the dragons, but he is extremely fast and even more clever. The dragon has naturally gold scales with manmade copper plates covering his underside for protection. His 18-foot wings are mechanically designed like solar panels; they attract and store light and heat energy for use. He's a trickster and proud of it. Jektulion is loyal and will be there the instant NiiO needs something, but he enjoys messing with anyone and everyone nearby.
History
NiiO's childhood was filled with drugs, sex, and abuse; nothing a child should be forced to live through. His parents were addicts, who often brought strange people back to the house for hook-ups and other things that NiiO didn't want to imagine. His Empathy exposed him even more to the emptiness of the lives his parents were living, and he would often sit in his bedroom and cry. His father saw the boy as weak and pathetic, so he would strike him day after day to try to toughen him up. All it did was make NiiO cynical of the world in his adulthood.
When he joined the Pilots, he stayed in the background and didn't want to be noticed. He didn't understand that his Empathy was actually a form of psychic power, so he refused to let anyone see it. A Pilot Noble Inquisitor mentored NiiO, seeing potential in the boy to be a great asset for the Inquiry branch. He was correct.
NiiO bonded with Jektulion hen he was 19 years old, and he was overjoyed to join the Inquiry. He worked closely with his mentor for a little over two years, quickly earning his own way in the military. He learned to see his Empathy as a strength, rather than a weakness, though he refused to let anyone really get close to him, fearing that he would once again be hurt or viewed as weak.
__________THREAD TRACKER
Current
Complete
22
« on: September 30, 2017, 09:03:58 pm »
__________QUICK STATSName: Kole Frioptiel Age: 28 Gender: Male Species: Elf Height: 5'11" Ethnicity: Aedolian Occupation: Pilot Noble - Tech Specialist Residence: Havina __________IN-DEPTH STUFFPhysical DescriptionKole is a handsome man with nerves of steel. He has bright green hair that is kept short on the sides and spiky on the top. His narrow eyes are deep crimson with a black ring around the iris. He is proud of his Elf heritage, not ashamed of displaying his significantly pointed ears. He has a few mechanical advancements made to his body, all of which were made by his own hand. Literally. He only had one hand when making these advancements. His right arm is visibly mechanical. He could have disguised it as a natural arm, but he preferred the appearance and thought it was pointless to pretend he really had both arms. He wears his standard uniform almost everywhere, though his regular clothing is primarily a button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled halfway up and left unbuttoned over a solid colored tee. He wears jeans and sneakers, as he believes he should always be ready for action if something were to happen. PersonalityHe is wholeheartedly dedicated to his duties as a Pilot, sometimes seeming too dedicated. Kole always has some kind of access to a computer, which doesn't help his addiction. He is heavily invested in the job, though he isn't completely sure whether or not he's using the job to cover for some emptiness he has. He is very close to his dragon partner, but he doesn't tell the dragon everything. The bond they have is strong, so the dragon doesn't pry. Still, the two of them do lead separate lives and respect each other's differences. Magic/AbilitiesElectrogenesis! This gift is one of the most rare, so Kole prefers to keep it relatively hidden under the disguise of technopathy. With 28 years of practice, he has gotten a relatively good handle on it, being able to stop his power from interfering too much with everything around him. Still, the electromagnetic field that was generated in his mind came in handy when it came to unwanted prying. His mechanical arm is tied into his biological body. It cuts off at the shoulder, but the mechanical nerves melded with his biological tissue to make the arm functional, as though it were always part of his body. The arm can link into computers, feeding desired information into Kole's mind. It's a really efficient method of learning! RelationshipsAdoptive Father: Jiltin Friend: Gwyndolenn Achetiorr - Pilot Royal psionic researcher Dragon: Elimnia DRAGON: Elimnia is forty-two years old, and she is about the size of a garbage truck with a wingspan of just under thirty feet. She has a slender body with beautifully defined muscles. She is completely silver with a white underbelly and white bat-like wings. Her front, left leg is mechanical (Kole's design) as she lost her leg in a battle. She has metal plates embedded in her spine, from the back of her head to the tip of her tail. She has a thin neck and spikes curved over her neck from the top of her head. She's a bit of a loner, but finds comfort and affection in Kole.HistoryKole knew of his gift with technology before he was able to speak. He was taken from his parents at a very young age and given to a retired Pilot, named Jiltin, to be raised. Jiltin taught Kole how to interact with technology and computers, but Kole refused to listen and taught himself his own way. Unfortunately, Kole was inexperienced and had a few mishaps. After accidentally electrocuting himself, he had to get his right arm amputated. Jiltin paid to have a prosthetic made for Kole, but the boy thought he could do better. Turned out he could. He was seven years old when he built himself a mechanical prosthetic arm that grew into his nerves. The arm could even plug into computers and feed Kole knowledge through absorption. At thirteen, he entered the Pilot Candidate Program with a hopeful outlook. It was far from what he expected. The program was rigorous and he lost several friends to mental breakdowns. Fortunately, he met a pretty Elf girl who was (at the time) a Pilot Cardinal. She was eight years older than he was, and he developed a strong friendship with her, which only grew as they aged. When he honed his electrogenesis, he hid it under the guise of technopathy. Kole didn't want to be put under a microscope because of his extremely rare psychic gift, but he felt confident enough with Gwyn to tell her about it. He even went so far as to let her study him. When he turned eighteen, he met Elimnia, his dragon partner. She was close to Gwyn's dragon partner, Vendremdirr, so it wasn't surprising that the two took to each other so quickly. Unfortunately, during a battle, Elimnia lost her left front leg. The other Pilots wanted to fit Elimnia for a prosthetic, but Kole insisted that he be in charge of it. He created a mechanical leg for her similar to his own, whichc quickly fused itself to Elimnia's body. They advanced through the ranks at a respectable pace, preferring to stay mostly under the radar but still acknowledged for their feats. __________THREAD TRACKERCurrentComplete
23
« on: September 28, 2017, 10:35:37 am »
I was ordered to observe.
Ankia's words echoed in his mind. Kaladin smirked, watching dust clouds follow her as she gained distance. He pulled out a canteen and took a gulp. It wasn't like he had any real want to get more drunk, but the taste was just something he was accustomed to.
I was ordered to observe.
Didn't make sense. Why would someone want him watched? And why would the chick hired suddenly leave? Unless...
I was ordered to observe.
He realized she put a tracker on him somehow. Either way, he really didn't care. She was good. Kaladin had dealt with bounty hunters in the past, and he could tell whether or not he could ditch them. This one wasn't going to let up, so it would be easier on him if he just let her do her thing.
After a little while, Spade stood up and shook his mane. Kaladin tilted his hat back from his eyes. "About time." The horse snorted, and Kaladin stood up. He let Spade rest for a bit, then mounted. Walking in the direction opposite the tavern, the man grunted with a scowl. "Shit," he huffed, whipping the reins hard to the left. Spade turned abruptly with a toss of his head, then they galloped back towards the tavern.
He tied his horse back to the post, then walked to the barkeep. He found Ankia's room and walked to the door. Wrestling with himself slightly, he leaned on the side of the doorframe, his head against his arm with his hat in his other hand, the scar on his cheek mostly hidden by his sleeve. He knocked on the door with his elbow and took a drink from his canteen.
When the door opened, Kaladin put his finger up, silencing her before she said anything. "Figured I'd save you the trouble o' tracking my ass down. I know you got a signal on me, so there ain't a point in running."
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« on: September 26, 2017, 03:45:26 pm »
Kaladin let out a sound that was more like a grunt than anything. He was a straightforward, no nonsense kind of person, so if she called him out on something, he wouldn't try to keep up an act. A dangerous smirk crossed his lips, and he snapped the gun back into its holster.
"Fuck off," he said. His raspy accent vanished, as he only used the slurred language as a way to keep people away. It sometimes slipped into his regular speech, but it annoyed him probably more than it did her.
"I'm a good shot, hun. Trust me, if I wanted to kill you, you'd be dead as well. I don't give a rat's ass what you were ordered to do. You ain't getting a story out of me. So, as I said before... Fuck off."
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« on: September 24, 2017, 04:43:34 pm »
Damn gal just as untrustin' as me, he thought, wanting her to come a bit closer.
Kaladin's large coat, provided sufficient cover for him to move his hands without the girl noticing. He took hold of his orb shooter and slowly brought it forward. He let an orb loose toward her, and it shattered the glass of whatever crap she was drinking.
He leapt to his feet, his hat falling off from the speed. The man slapped the orb shooter back into its holster and grabbed the cracker out just as quickly, aiming it at the girl with the blue hair before she had any real time to react. Looking at her, he spat blood onto the dirt and rubbed his dirty-blond hair back.
"You better got better shit den dat, hun, 'cause I start me day wit dat drunk." He saw almost what he thought was a level of pity in her eyes, which just rubbed him wrong. If there was one thing he hated more than misplaced arrogance, it was pity. "Why duh fuck you after my hide? Which one of dem bastards put a hit on me?"
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« on: September 21, 2017, 09:27:22 pm »
He turned halfway around, a scowl on his face. I fuckin' knew dat bitch ain't dere fer duh drinks, he thought.
Stumbling off of Spade's saddle, Kaladin chuckled raspily. "Aye, hun!" He shouted. "Dat's whatcha call a good drunk!" He looked at Spade stumbling and finally lying down. "Yah fuckin' put a dart in mah beast's arse!"
The man knew her kind. Bounty hunter, no doubt. Eh... It wasn't like he didn't expect them to catch up to him eventually. Kaladin stumbled briefly, then smirked. He pretended to collapse on the ground. He knew that she wouldn't approach without thinking he was out for the count, but she didn't know one wasn't enough to take the drunken ex-warrior. Instead, he laid on the ground, waiting for her to come to him.
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« on: September 21, 2017, 08:08:57 pm »
The ale just seemed to get weaker over time, like it just didn't have the same punch that it used to. Bastards tryna getcha to shell out more coppers, Kaladin thought to himself, eyeing the man behind the bar. Ain't gunna fall fer dat.
The man had no real reason to suspect the bartender was trying to rip him off, but the cynical eye of a damaged man sees what it wants to.
The opening and closing of the tavern door caught his attention. Kaladin made a point to know when people came into the establishment he was at. Call it his suspicious attitude, or lingering military instincts, but he had to know. The woman had an armored bodysuit with at least one visible gun on her hip.
"No bitch needs a gun in a place like dis," he grumbled to himself, throwing back the last of his ale. He didn't have the slightest buzz, which meant he was in even a more sour mood than he was in entering the tavern. Still...he didn't like the look of the girl. She had just sat down and obviously ordered something, though he had no idea what. Odds are, if she was interested in him, she'd follow him out of the tavern before getting her order.
Let's fin' out, huh?
The man dropped two coppers on the counter and got up, angling his hat in a way that she couldn't see his face. He walked out of the tavern and mounted Spade, whipping the reins loose and kicking him immediately into a gallop.
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« on: September 21, 2017, 12:41:53 pm »
Kaladin trotted atop Spade, the black horse now a grey-brown from the dust of the long run. The battered man in the worn saddle had fire burning in his nearly black eyes as he moved naturally according to the large animal's movements. Spade had been Kaladin's only friend, but then again Kaladin never really came to Edanith in search of friends.
He hopped down from the saddle with a thunk, patting the horse's thick neck and tying the reins to a beaten wooden post. He cocked his head to the side and spat, staining the ground red in that spot. Kaladin ran his hand over his mouth, feeling the blood in his beard. "Fuckin' cunnies," he groaned to himself, rubbing his hand on his chest and coughing briefly.
That fight was refreshing. It had been too long since he killed something besides for food - something standing upright with an intelligent brain. They shouldn't have tried to steal from a man trained to kill. Got what they deserved.
He walked into the tavern inn, coughing and mockingly tipping his wide-brimmed hat at the man behind the bar. "What'll you have?" The man asked. Kaladin glared at the man from beneath his hat, and the man sighed. "Hard ale. Coming right up." The man placed a pitcher of ale in from of Kaladin, who drank it without caring about it dripping in his beard.
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« on: September 21, 2017, 10:03:36 am »
__________QUICK STATSTheme Song: "I'm Still Here" from Treasure PlanetName: Kaladin Tyvalak Age: 29 Gender: Male Species: Human Height: 6'7" Ethnicity: Libran Occupation: Ex-soldier, cowboy bastard Residence: Edanith frontier __________IN-DEPTH STUFFPhysical DescriptionKaladin was once very handsome, but you probably couldn't tell when looking at the years of pain and hardship he wears proudly. He stands well over six feet tall, though his long, dusty-brown coat makes him seem a bit shorter. He has a strong jaw with what seems like a permanent frown on thin, slightly misshapen lips. His eyes are a deep, oaky brown, and the lines beneath reveal the torturous life he's led. He has dark, brown hair that hangs shaggily beneath a wide-brimmed, faded brown hat. He wears brown breeches with an amount of patchwork so extreme that it's shocking they haven't disintegrated. Kaladin carries three guns on him, never less, and nine knives around his body. Scars cover the man's body from head to toe, remnants of some good times in his life. Kaladin sometimes sports a dark beard, mostly to cover up as much of the horrible scar on the right half of his face as he can.  Face Claim: Jay RyanIf you want a description of Kaladin, look no further than that quote. He's had enough in his past to make a lesser man crumble. Making friends and connections is a distant second to Kaladin, his primary focus on survival, physical and mental. What few people he does keep in contact with could be described as like-minded and not exactly friendly. As far as this boy can see, he born into a damned situation and a game he never asked to play. If someone were to call him out on it, all they would get in response is a sociopathic laugh. Ever since his partner died, it's been him against every gangster, bandit, brute, and slaver. How would you have ended up, he might ask. There's a softer side to Kaladin, though very few have seen it. Honor and loyalty, once the way he lived his life, are dirty words to him. He now sees them as nothing but weakness in that dog-eat-dog world. It may be possible to earn the man's respect, maybe even affection. But a better way to understanding Kaladin...? Observation. From a distance. Magic/AbilitiesThough Kaladin rarely uses it, he was trained to use a special magic, for which the simple term is "black orb." It's a unique type of fire magic, where a black orb of glassy smoke forms between his hands with a small flame inside inside of it. When cast at something or someone, the blast has the power to level a small town. He is much more familiar and comfortable with manmade weapons. Kaladin always carries his: Orb Shooter - handgun capable of holding eight rounds, used for duels and non-lethal combat - stays in left belt holster Tagger - similar to a dart gun, bullets instantly splinter upon impact and send a tracking signal - stays in right thigh holster Cracker - similar in appearance to an old west revolver, holds twelve rounds, if the bullet don't kill ya, the poison sure gonna - stays in right belt holster Six Throwing Knives - as sharp as his tongue, perfect aerodynamics - keeps three on either side of his belt Dagger - used only in extreme circumstances - kept in his boot sheath Boot Knives - used only in extreme circumstances, deadly and unexpected - built into the sole of his boot and activated to shoot expose at the toe by kicking heels together He is also extremely skilled at piloting space ships, though that life is not one he cares for anymore. RelationshipsYeah, right!Horse: Spade - black horse 18hh (about six feet at the withers) with four white socks and a roughly spade shaped spot on his forehead HistoryBorn to a couple of drunks, Kaladin knew love from only the Libran knights. As a child, the boy desperately tried to win the love and affection of his booze-loving parents. Didn't last long. He was barely eight years old when his parents got into a fight. His mother pushed his father too far, and young Kaladin got in the middle of the mess. The old man took Kaladin's mother down, then opened the child's face with a dull blade, punishment for the boy's love. So, he moved on. There's no other way to put it. Alone and confused and trying to be accepted, he found his way to the Libran military, specifically the space fleet. He trained hard and made his way up to the rank of Knight, the highest in the fleet. Then, one day, there was a malfunction with his ship's weapon system. He accidentally shot down his partner's (and lover's) vessel, then crashed his own, hoping for his own death. Unfortunately, he failed. Kaladin emerged with scars covering his body. He could've called for help, but he didn't want it. To this day, he won't speak of how he survived or even got to Edanith. Instead, he headed out to the frontier, wanting to earn his own way in solitude and doing small tasks. Over time, his concept of honor and loyalty and duty just became corrupted and pointless. Against his own will, he gained a reputation around the place as a scarred man with a scarred soul, someone who couldn't afford to give a shit. If he did, he might actually start to care. He had nothing...no friends, no family, no hope...nothing that could be taken from him, except his life. And the rate at which he wasted any pay on alcohol told just how much he really cared for what was left of it. His skills can now be borrowed or hired, but he'll never truly be bought. The man knows his time is limited, so Kaladin does what he does to simply stay alive. __________THREAD TRACKERCurrentOld Guns and Glory [Private, Silv]Complete
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« on: September 06, 2017, 10:07:44 am »
You must believe me when I tell you I hear you and your words do carry great value for me.
I may preach idealism, but it is not nonsense. Besides, what have we become if not preachers? We are seen as the greatest rebel faction in Aedolis, but what true rebellion has there been as of late?
I do my duties as a Pilot, lying to friends and my dragon partner as we all do. And you have my word that I will abandon this mission as a sign that I am forever more dedicated to the Gospels than any personal endeavor. That being said, it pains me to do so when there is little taking place. Gangs and lesser rebellions are taking action and we shut them down as Pilots, but we seem to have stopped contributing as Gospels.
There is no greater secret in our society than our true identities, but what are we to do? Keep conversing under secret names, like an overly glorified social club?
- Valkyrie
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« on: September 04, 2017, 10:29:23 pm »
Thank you. We may not be heroes, but that doesn't mean we can't act heroically. This man is worth it to me, and I truly hope he will prove an ally to our cause.
My plan to rescue him will be put into action, not because it is the first course of action, but because it is the only course of action I see at the moment. If you have something better, please tell me.
- Valkyrie
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« on: September 04, 2017, 02:08:08 pm »
I understand what you're saying, and I know it's a harsh world now.
The ancient world of Adela was masterfully created, and nothing nowadays can compare. The Dragonriders of the past were an inseparable unit. It was like a brotherhood, or a sisterhood. No one would be left behind. I try to live with the same principles, even though it has become increasingly difficult with the Seekers watching for us.
If we live as every man for himself, what right do we have trying to hold onto or regain what Adelan society had?
I am all too aware of what happens to TRIM subjects, but if there is a chance this man could not only survive and escape from TRIM, but join the Gospels and help in our fight, why should he be abandoned?
- Valkyrie
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« on: September 04, 2017, 11:44:44 am »
I have a contact who's willing to provide transport.
And my friend isn't dead. It's not just a desperate act. I've received information that he is alive, but not well. He's a powerful psychic, but wasn't able to control it at such a young age. Might even be a great ally, should I be successful in retrieving him from TRIM.
I'll think of someway to get the information. Just need access to the lab. Might have a way in, now that I'm really brainstorming...
Thanks for the input.
- Valkyrie
34
« on: September 04, 2017, 09:05:42 am »
There's a dear friend of mine that was lost to me many years ago. He was in the Pilot Candidate Program with me, and as I young child, I was foolish. When he needed my help the most, I turned my back on him.
He was sent to TRIM early on in the program.
If I can't get him back, I at least want to get in contact with him. I don't know if it's something I could get help with, or even if it's something I could get intel on. Is there any true information on the security and layout of TRIM?
- Valkyrie
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« on: September 03, 2017, 08:32:15 pm »
This has not been easy. Being part of this is probably the most difficult thing I have ever done, lying to my friends and my partner. I really can't even remember the last time I was genuine in front of those I care about.
I knew what I was getting myself into, though.
Things have been crazy lately with so many events being blamed on the Gospels, but I have yet to see any real differences being made...
So, in the spirit of freedom, let me hear the voices of my brothers and sisters... The voices of the angels of the battlefield... Who is still with us?
- Valkyrie
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« on: September 03, 2017, 10:47:59 am »
It was a surprisingly long flight to reach what was once Hyoite. The wind currents were strong, pushing Vendremdirr and Gwyndolenn back. If she was superstitious, Gwyn would have taken the wind as an omen to stay away. With her scientific mind and Vendremdirr's general strength, they continued on.
The dragon's back was smooth, so Gwyn had a saddle with a handlebar created for him. Her arms were on top of each other with her chin resting on the top arm. She was off duty. If she was on duty or people were around to see, there'd be no way she would ride Ven with such an unprofessional posture. Off duty without anyone to see, Gwyn really couldn't care less how she rode.
Ven's flight was smooth, probably the smoothest dragon she had ever ridden. She hadn't flown any other dragons, but she'd been on other Pilots' dragons as a passenger of sorts. Ven just knew how to work with the air currents and energies. Gwyn didn't understand it, nor would she try to, but it was incredible to experience the flight of her bonded dragon.
"You have been rather noisy this flight," Vendremdirr said.
Gwyn scoffed, sitting up and resting her hands on her thighs. "I haven't said a word!"
You don't need to speak to be noisy, Gwyndolenn, he said telepathically. Gwyn rolled her eyes, unable to fight the grin creeping on her face. You are making the right decision.
She shook her head. "I know, but I can't shake the feeling that I should consulted others about this."
Vendremdirr chuckled. "You shouldn't concern yourself with the opinions of other Pilots. The only Pilot you need worry about is the Pilot Imperial. You are a Pilot Royal, so do not trouble yourself with thoughts of those below you."
"But that's what matters," Gwyn said. "If you don't have the love and respect of those beneath you, you're no leader."
Very good, Ven told her.
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« on: August 30, 2017, 07:23:18 pm »
The Pilot and the dragon sat next to each other on the aerie atop the building. Gwyn watched a few other Pilots perform aerials, trying to bond with and learn their dragons. She and Vendremdirr had instantly formed a connection, and the process of getting to know each other was taken care of two years before Gwyn even turned eighteen and graduated the Pilot Candidate Program. It was a fortunate and uncommon occurrence that a Pilot Candidate and dragon would bond so early on.
She placed the map on the floor between herself and Ven. "The clues are revealed on the map under lantern light, or mock-lantern light. I was able to simulate the light from a lantern and discovered it."
"So, where is our newest journey to lead?" Ven asked.
"It used to be called Hyoite in the old world."
The tundra in the north, he said, nodding.
"Do you know where it is?" Gwyn asked.
Vendremdirr smiled, looking into the sky. "I believe it is within my power to locate Hyoite. Are you sure of your decision?"
Gwyn looked at Ven with a smile. "Not even slightly."
Ven chuckled breathily with a slight shake of his head. "This is exactly the reason I chose you to become my Pilot."
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« on: August 29, 2017, 05:54:03 pm »
Gwyndolenn sat in her room at a table across from Fretollo. She leaned her head on her hand with drooping eyes. She was off duty, as was Ret, so they both were dressed casually. Ret spiked his blond mohawk in five three-inch spikes. Gwyn always found it funny to see him off duty because he spiked his usually braided mohawk.
"What're you gonna do?" Ret asked, leaning back in his seat.
She shook her head, just staring at the letter and the map. Never since she turned her friend in to the Pilots during their candidacy had she faced a decision so great. Does she ignore the letter and give up the once-in-a-lifetime adventure and connection to her ancestry? Or does she follow the map and abandon her post in search of knowledge?
Shrugging, Gwyn removed her jacket and stood with her back against the wall. "I don't know! Ret, this is kind of huge, and I really don't like making decisions that have a direct effect on me."
"Great quality for a Pilot Royal," he said sarcastically.
She shot him a sharp glare. "I might be off duty, but I can still kick your ass."
"I'm a Pilot, too!"
"Pilot Echo! Shut up! I have a real problem here!"
He stood, then sat on the table, his shoes on the chair. "Well, have you talked to Ven about it?"
She snorted, shaking her head. Ven was her best friend, most loyal companion, and ultimate confidant, especially since he was almost always listening to what she was thinking. "Come on, Ret. You know as well as I do that he's listening to both of us right now. He might be my best friend, but he's the most nosy dragon I have ever met."
Fretollo snickered and stood up, walking over and squeezing her arm. "Gwyn, we both know what you're going to decide here. If you could hurry up and make it official, I have a date."
Gwyn knitted her eyebrows together with a smirk. "Are you still seeing that Seeker guy?"
"You bet I am, honey," he said with a wink, walking out of her room. She changed into her flightsuit, grabbed the map and the letter, and ran out of her room to meet Vendremdirr again.
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« on: August 29, 2017, 07:41:41 am »
When Vendremdirr flew off after they returned, Gwyn sat at her desk and logged onto her computer. She started searching through the Aedolian records and discovered all kinds of maps and documents of the change from Adela to Aedolis. She printed it out and made her way to one of the Lead Rooms.
She often went to the Lead Rooms when she needed some peace and quiet from the psychic world.
Gwyn spread out all of the information and started making all kinds of connections, from same-root names to geographical similarities, from basic location to landscape alterations.
After hours of being locked in private thought, Gwyn clapped and jumped up, knocking her chair backward with a thud. She grabbed all of the print-outs and ran out of the room.
Slamming the door to her private quarters shut, she turned off all the lights except for the red one above the door. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply twice. "Lux," she said, extending her hand toward the red light and opening her eyes. Her golden eyes glowed in the darkness and she had seemingly stolen the light from above the door.
Illumokinesis came as naturally to her as breathing did, so the awe it inspired from others was confusing. That being said, the unique attention wasn't exactly a bad thing.
Gwyn held the red light in her right hand, using her left hand to arrange and rearrange the information. "Lux alba," she said, the red light turning to a faint white glow. Nothing. Thinking to herself, she remembered how long ago the letter and map were created. "Ignis lux," she whispered. The white light shifted to a flicker that resembled an old lantern.
Got it.
The parchment map started to reveal hidden pathways under the faux lantern light. It was real.
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« on: August 28, 2017, 06:53:35 pm »
They flew to a relatively remote part of Haviah, between Havina and Midhaven, as remote as one could be in the busy place. She stepped onto his shoulder, and Vendremdirr leaned his side down to the aeire platform. Gwyn stepped off and sat on the edge. He laid down with his arms crossed and tail swinging off the side. "What is it?" He asked.
Gwyn sighed, loosening the neckline on her flightsuit. She pulled out the letter out of the envelope and showed it to him. She knew the dragon wouldn't be able to read the tiny writing from afar, but she wanted him to acknowledge it. "Apparently, it's a letter from one of my ancestors," she said. "It comes with a map to a lost heirloom. My ancestor, Celegwen Perkhimote, was a Dragonrider from Adela."
Vendremdirr smiled again, nodding his head. "I know of her," he said. "A great woman with a great dragon. How do you know this is actually from her?"
"Fretollo dated the parchment. Authentic."
"What do you want to do about it?"
She shook her head. "You're the boss, Ven," she said, chuckling.
The dragon shook his head. "This is something you must decide, Gwyndolenn."
Gwyn wanted more than anything to discover the the truth behind the letter she was given, but her doubt started to cloud her. If she invested her time in finding the heirloom and it turned out not to be true, she would have wasted an incredible amount of time that could have been used to go an actual mission. Either way, she knew her curiosity wouldn't let her ignore the letter.
Vendremdirr chuckled breathily. Gwyn rolled her eyes, knowing the dragon had been listening to her thoughts through her little inner debate. "How did I know that was going to be your answer?" He asked rhetorically. "Where are we to start?"
"I have to find maps, old and new of Adela and Aedolis," she said. "Geography was never my strong suit, so I don't know how to match Aedolis geography to that of Adela. Do you know it?"
"I don't concern myself with those matters, Gwyndolenn," he said. "There are more important things that occupy my mind."
She smiled, running her hand through the hair on the left side of her head. "Well, will you be up for a trip when I finish my research?"
"I always love a flight, no matter the situation. Come. I'll bring you home."
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